The Tear-Stained Quarter

Since it's been over two weeks since my last post, I was looking for something I could re-post from several years ago. Originally, my intention was to find a post from a previous May 17, but in the process of looking for one, I came across this nostalgic story, which originally ran on May 13, 2010.

I've previously written about my fascination with the 1982 Milwaukee Brewers, but the first team other than one of my own that captured my interest was the 1977 Denver Broncos. Not surprisingly, it was their "Orange Crush" defense that really caught my attention, which included five Pro Bowlers—defensive end Lyle Alzado, linebackers Randy Gradishar and Tom Jackson, and defensive backs Bill Thompson and Louis Wright.

For some reason, though, my favorite player was explosive punt returner Rick Upchurch, who led the league in 1976 with 4 TDs and 13.7 yards per return. His 1977 wasn't quite as spectacular, but he still led the NFL in return yards while averaging 12.8 yards a pop. Whether true or not, I always felt Upchurch was overshadowed by Billy "White Shoes" Johnson. He certainly didn't have as great a nickname. Incidentally, both players rank in the top ten all-time in punt return yards and touchdowns, while neither is in the top ten in number of punt returns.

The fact I developed an interest in the Broncos in 1977 probably points more to my frustration with the Giants than to some early interest in Cinderella stories. I had become a fan while Big Blue were in the midst of an 18-year drought of not making the playoffs. They had gone 3-11 in 1976, didn't show many signs of impending improvement, and frankly, I was spoiled by the Yankees' recent success.

As had become tradition, our family visited my Uncle Joe and Aunt Kay on New Year's Day of 1978. Uncle Joe and Aunt Kay weren't really my aunt and uncle, but they were basically my dad's family, since he didn't have much of a real family. His father had abandoned he and his mother when he was just a little boy, and my grandmother wasn't really up for the role of raising him on her own, so Dad ended up being passed around from family to family during his childhood. As a result, I had three grandmothers, with the longest surviving being my dad's godmother, with whom he lived for six of his childhood years.

Uncle Joe was about 10 years older than my father, and he had taken him under his wing during his young adult years. Dad worked at Uncle Joe's service station and rented an apartment in Joe and Kay's house for some time. Needless to say, Joe was like the older brother my father—who was an only child—never had, so the fact my sister and I called him Uncle Joe was for much greater reason than because he didn't want to be referred to as Mister.

On New Year's Day 1978, the Broncos defeated the defending Super Bowl Champion Oakland Raiders in the AFC Championship, while the Dallas Cowboys earned the trip to their fourth Super Bowl by dominating the Minnesota Vikings in the NFC title game. The year before, Uncle Joe and I had begun a practice of betting a quarter on the Super Bowl. Of course, he let me pick my team, and I usually did so with my heart and not my head.

I chose correctly for Super Bowl XI, picking Oakland over Minnesota, but this year I was picking the overwhelming underdog. I had faith, however. After all, I was 10 years old.

As you probably know, Dallas defeated Denver rather handily, 27-10. But, I wasn't convinced the superior team had won. So, when I mailed Uncle Joe the quarter I owed him, accompanying it was a note outlining all the "what-ifs" that, had they happened differently, would have resulted in a completely different outcome.

Uncle Joe sent the quarter back, with his own note explaining why he couldn't accept my "tear-stained quarter." I was upset, of course, because I had lost the bet fair and square. I may have been making excuses for why my team had lost, but in no way was I trying to renege on the wager.

Uncle Joe died several years ago. Sitting in the funeral home, waiting for my turn to pay my last respects, an idea popped into my head. I reached into my pocket and found not just any coin, but a 1977 quarter. That tear-stained quarter will spend eternity in the breast pocket of the suit Uncle Joe was laid to rest in.

New York Giants All-Lifetime Team

Following the Giants' 21-17 victory over the Patriots in Super Bowl XLVI, I asked my old pal Brian in a text message where this one ranks to him among the Giants' four Super Bowls. His response, verbatim:

4th out of 4...This one I thought the Giants were likely to win going into it, unlike 2 and 3. The first will always be special because I never thought I would live to see it.

I don't disagree with this, although being a Giants fan in Patriots country makes this one a little more special for me, at least partly because it denied them a measure of revenge for four years ago. But, mainly because it's nice to be on top for a second time in five years, although any talk of a dynasty is tempered by their underdog status in both recent postseasons.

But, the one thing about my friend's statement that I found funny is the part where he said "...I never thought I would live to see it."

The Giants won their first Super Bowl in 1986. Well, actually the game was in January 1987, but it was the conclusion of the 1986 season. Brian was 20 years old, so the idea that he didn't think he'd ever live to see the Giants win a Super Bowl is a bit laughable. I get what he means, since the team was terrible during our formative years of fandom. But still, it's kind of like a kid born in 1984 considering himself a long-suffering Red Sox fan.

Anyway, here are my thoughts on those four Giants Super Bowl championship teams:

1986-87: The team was almost as dominant as the Bears team that did the Super Bowl shuffle the prior year, but as the long-suffering fans we were (tongue firmly in cheek), there was still some concern they'd come up short on the big stage. When they trailed John Elway's Broncos 10-9 at halftime, those doubts seemed warranted, but the Giants exerted their dominance in the second half of a 39-20 victory. Although it was a one-sided affair, Big Blue's first Super Bowl was pretty special.

1990-91: The Giants were underdogs to the Buffalo Bills in this one, mainly because of the Bills' high-powered offense and the fact Phil Simms was injured and replaced by Jeff Hostetler. Hostetler proved a more than capable backup, though, and the Giants slowed Buffalo down by controlling time of possession with a grinding running attack. Running Back Ottis Anderson won the MVP, but the game is most known for Scott Norwood's last-second missed 47-yard field goal. Because it went right down to the wire and was somewhat unexpected, there was something a little more satisfying about it than the first.

2007-08: Possibly the greatest upset in the history of professional sports, I don't think there are many Giants fans who don't rate this at the top of their list.

2011-12: Despite being slight underdogs, the Giants were kind of expected to win. Personally, going into the game, I thought they were good enough to win by two touchdowns, and the way most of the first half went, it looked like I could be right. But, I also had a feeling the game was going to be tougher than that, and when Brady engineered two consecutive touchdown- scoring drives in a span of about eight minutes, you could see why. In the end, all the Giants' Super Bowl wins have been special for their own reasons, but this one was probably the least so.

Anyway, let's finally get to the all-lifetime team that the post's title promises. This, of course, is an all-pro team consisting of players who played at least the majority of their careers with the Giants from the mid-'70s to present.

In researching this, I came across an advanced statistic on pro-football-reference.com called Approximate Value, which more closely resembles Bill James' Win Shares than the more commonly used baseball metric, Wins Above Replacement (WAR).

Since I was going to look primarily at games and seasons as a starter and Pro Bowl selections, especially for the non-skilled positions, this metric was a helpful alternative to that. I did, of course, add a little extra credit to those who were starters or played significant roles on Super Bowl champions, but otherwise Approximate Value really helped me measure the contributions of those who played positions without quantifiable statistics.

An asterisk (*) denotes an active player still with the Giants.

Offensive Skills Players
QB - Phil Simms (1979-93)
RB - Tiki Barber (1997-2006)
FB - Maurice Carthon (1985-91)
WR - Amani Toomer (1996-2008)
WR - Plaxico Burress (2005-08)
TE - Mark Bavaro (1985-90)

Most people are ready to anoint Eli Manning as the greatest QB in Giants history, and I think he'll get there eventually. But, as of right now, I still think he trails Simms. Let's not forget his legendary performance in Super Bowl XXI.

Carthon's career started around the time the fullback position was transitioning to more of a pure blocking role. At the time, it was pretty rare for a true blocking back to make the Pro Bowl. I'm convinced he would have been selected for a couple otherwise.

You're probably surprised to see Burress here, and I don't blame you. But, after Toomer, there was really no obvious choice. Burress's game-winning catch in Super Bowl XLII gives him the edge over Chris Calloway, Ike Hilliard and Lionel Manuel.

Offensive Line
C - Bart Oates (1985-93)
G - Chris Snee (2004-2011)*
G - David Diehl (2003-11)*
T - Brad Benson (1978-87)
T - Doug Riesenberg (1988-95)

I don't think it's any coincidence that these five guys have eight Super Bowls among them. On the offensive side of the ball, in fact, Barber is the only player who doesn't have at least one ring.

Defense
DE - Michael Strahan (1993-2007)
DE - Leonard Marshall (1983-92)
DT - Keith Hamilton (1992-2003)
LB - Lawrence Taylor (1981-93)
LB - Brad Van Pelt (1974-83)
LB - Jessie Armstead (1993-2001)
MLB - Harry Carson (1976-88)
CB - Mark Haynes (1980-85)
CB - Perry Williams (1984-92)
SS - Beasley Reece (1977-83)
FS - Terry Kinard (1983-89)

When I started following football, 4-3 defenses were more common than 3-4s. Then, the 3-4 became all the rage, but now the 4-3 is back in vogue. Because picking Armstead as a fourth linebacker option was better than Erik Howard or Jim Burt as a second defensive tackle, this defense plays a 3-4. This does mean I picked three outside linebackers and only one inside linebacker, but I couldn't justify leaving Armstead or Van Pelt off in favor of Brian Kelley or Pepper Johnson.

Carl Banks being left off in favor of Van Pelt and Armstead might seem surprising, but Banks is not necessarily the most deserving linebacker not on the team. Brian Kelley just might be that guy.

Hopefully, Justin Tuck will take Marshall's place in a few years, but he's not quite there yet.

Special Teams
K - Lawrence Tynes (2007-11)*
P - Sean Landeta (1985-93)
KR/PR - Dave Meggett (1989-94)

Brad Daluiso might otherwise have been my pick at kicker, if not for Tynes's two overtime NFC championship-winning field goals.

Sad Days and the Road to Recovery in Happy Valley

In my four years at Penn State, I attended every home game but one, which I missed to attend a cousin's wedding. I also traveled to away games at Pitt, Maryland, West Virginia and Syracuse (twice). In fact, the first game I ever witnessed was their first of the 1985 season, a road game at College Park, Maryland. In total, this adds up to somewhere around 30 games in just four seasons.

I haven't been to many games since I graduated, and now I kind of regret that.

This weekend marked the end of an era, and certainly wasn't the joyous, special occasion I always imagined it would be. Although, in reality, I didn't really think Joe Paterno would announce his retirement in advance. I honestly figured he would go out without fanfare, making the decision public only after his final game. Well, as it turns out, there was no official farewell game anyway.

I don't have a lot to say about the scandal at Penn State that hasn't already been said. I will admit to being upset that the majority of people stampeded to judgment of Paterno and the other secondary figures in this mess. I've since come to better accept the gravity of the situation brought out a lot of emotional responses, on both sides of the equation. And it's not wrong for either group to feel the way they do.

I did, however, appreciate this blog post written by Sports Illustrated writer and Paterno biographer Joe Posnanski, although he has since taken a lot of heat for it. Check out the 1500 or so comments. Or don't.

But, I'm not writing this as a defense or a condemnation of Joe Paterno or anyone else, although obviously there is at least one person who most likely deserves the latter.

The angle I want to discuss is that of the Penn State alumnus, which is not meant to discount the real victims in this tragedy, of course. I certainly realize I'm one of hundreds of thousands of people who are way down on the list of those who deserve sympathy here, but this is my blog and it's a place I choose to share my personal feelings from time to time.

This scandal is the most devastating heartbreak I’ve ever experienced as a sports fan, as it goes far beyond sports, and far beyond being a fan. It has to do with being a Penn Stater and being proud of what that means.

As I said to an old friend—who's also a fellow New York Giants fan—last week, "If we learned that Bill Belichick did this, it's not necessarily a black mark on the '86 Giants, but this incident is a black mark on an institution I'm otherwise proud to consider myself a part of."

Honestly, if you had asked me to rank my favorite teams across all sports, it would probably go like this:

1. New York Yankees
2. New York Giants
3. Penn State Nittany Lions (Football)
4. Penn State Nittany Lions (Basketball)
5. New York Knicks

So, Penn State football is not the team I live and die for. Maybe I did while I was in school, but that was over 20 years ago.

Still, despite the fact sports fans love to use the word "we" when discussing their teams, I've always been against that practice, except when it comes to Penn State. I'm not a member of the Yankees. I'm not a member of the Giants. Although I'm not, and have never been, a member of the Penn State football or basketball teams—except that I used to joke I was going to try to walk on as the placekick holder—I am a Penn Stater.

So, I take some personal ownership in this one, even though I know in reality, it has nothing to do with me.

Let's go back to those four years I spent in Happy Valley for a few minutes, though. They included the 1985 to 1988 football seasons, which means I was there for the 1986 National Championship. That season, and the 1987 Fiesta Bowl that capped it, is one of the most important sports memories of my life. In fact, if you asked me to rate my favorite championship teams, that list would look something like this:

1. 1986 Penn State Nittany Lions (Football)
2. 2007 New York Giants
3. 1996 New York Yankees
4. 1978 New York Yankees
5. 1986 New York Giants

The only championship parade I've ever attended was the January 1987 celebration of Penn State's 14-10 Fiesta Bowl victory over the University of Miami. I still pretty vividly remember taking a photo of Jerry Sandusky waving to the crowd, and considering him the real hero of that championship game. It was his defensive game plan that stifled the vaunted Miami Hurricanes offense, led by Vinny Testaverde, although it was also the players on that defensive squad who executed it.

I no longer know what to make of that memory. While my Penn State pride may eventually fully recover, I don't know that I'll ever look back on that tremendous year with the same level of reverence. I certainly won't ever look back on Sandusky as such.

I was going to end this post by sharing a Posnanski observation from Wednesday night, one that he tweeted shortly after the announcement that Joe Paterno was fired:

"I saw a girl crying tonight. When I asked why she said: 'Because everybody lost.'"

But, Saturday's game made me feel like ending this on a positive note instead. In their highly emotional return to the playing field, the team fell behind a good Nebraska squad 17-0 in the second half. It would have been easy to pack it in and write it off as a game they really had no chance of winning due to all the distractions. However, they persevered and launched an impressive comeback—for an offensively challenged team—that fell just a little short in a 17-14 loss.

Of course, there are many who felt the game never should have been played, and I can't fault them for that. But, they did play the game, and it was one that obviously meant a lot to 100 or so Penn State players who had absolutely nothing to do with this recent tragedy.

It was the fans who most impressed me, though. Following the embarrassing chaos of Wednesday night, Penn State fans—including tens of thousands of students—were well behaved throughout the game. And their post-game gesture, in which they gave the team a rousing ovation, followed by the patented "We Are...Penn State!" chant, made me feel once again that there are plenty of reasons to be proud to be a Penn Stater.

That fact won't be changed by the actions of one man and the inaction of several others, and I can say for damn sure it will not be affected by the folks out there who have decided to use this occasion to denigrate Penn State and all Penn Staters rather than take aim at those culpable in this ugly situation.

Those folks do not define Penn State. They are not Penn State. We are Penn State!

Leatherheads College Football Poll

I've always had a fascination with college football polls. I'm not really sure why. Obviously, a poll, rather than a playoff, is a less than ideal—to say the least—way of determining a national champion, or which two teams get to play for said championship. But, ever since I was in high school, I've played around with developing my own rankings.

I would usually wait until at least mid-season to get started. It was always my feeling that early season polls were really just predictions of who were going to be the best teams, rather than evaluations of who had earned those distinctions. Sometimes I toyed around with the philosophy that last year's final should be this year's opening rankings. But, I never really followed through with that idea.

Over the years, I've even worked on my own rankings system, complete with points awarded for each victory on a scale which assigns a higher value for beating better teams, then adds bonuses for road wins and "decisive" victories, without going overboard to reward running up the score. Let's just say this system continues to be a work in progress.

So, it was only fitting, when my pal Joe started a football blog called Leatherheads of the Gridiron, and encouraged me to contribute, that my first project would be to spearhead a weekly college football poll.

We put together a group of 13 contributors to the site—including me and Joe—who've been voting regularly for the past four weeks now. If you're interested, you can check out all of the posts related to the poll here.

Our poll is a top 16, rather than a top 20 or 25. Why, you ask? For starters, it's for the sake of time. I don't necessarily think it's really worth the effort to spend a lot of time laboring over picks 17-25, when a top 16 truly comprises college football's elite. But, most importantly, 16 is kind of a magic number for a potential mock playoff system, and we have an intriguing plan for that.

Interestingly enough, our latest rankings are pretty darn close to the AP poll's. In fact, our top ten is exactly identical, while numbers 11 through 16 are the same teams, but in a different order. I'm not necessarily saying that's a good thing, just that I find it interesting.

Of course, I know far less about football than I do about baseball, but somehow I got talked into co-hosting a podcast, which airs this Saturday night at 9pm (EST) on BlogTalkRadio. Tune in if you're so inclined, or feel free to download it after the fact.

Nittany Lion Cagers

Is the word "cagers" still used to represent basketball players? When I attended college at Penn State I was introduced to the term, but I haven't heard it used much since. In case you're curious—which I was—in the early days of the sport, the court was literally enclosed in a cage, which made for a much rougher game than exists today.

In honor of my alma mater, Penn State, and their men's basketball team's return to the NCAA tournament for the first time in ten years, I present you with the top five players to come out of the program since my days at the school, a quarter-century ago.

Honorable mentions: Pete Lisicky (1994-98) Calvin Booth (1995-99), Titus Ivory (1999-2001) Geary Claxton (2005-08), Jamelle Cornley (2006-09)


5. John Amaechi (1992-95)

Amaechi began his college career at Vanderbilt, but transferred to Penn State after his freshman year. In three years in Happy Valley, the team's first three in the Big Ten, he averaged 15.6 points, 8.9 rebounds and 2.3 blocked shots in 84 games, and was twice named a first-team Academic All-American. The team improved from their dismal Big Ten debut (7-20, last place in 1992-93) to 21-11 and a third-place NIT Tournament finish in his senior year.

Amaechi went on to play 294 games in five NBA seasons for three teams, but is best known as the first openly gay NBA player, coming out several years after his retirement.


4. Tom Hovasse (1985-89)

Hovasse was the star of the Nittany Lions basketball team during my time as a student there. The 6'8" forward was a four-year starter who averaged 14.7 points and 6.3 rebounds over 99 games in four seasons. The team improved from 12-17 and 8th place in the Atlantic 10 in his freshman year to 20-12 and an NIT berth in his senior year. I traveled with friends to witness their second round game at Villanova, which unfortunately was the final game of their season, and of Hovasse's Penn State career, a 76-67 defeat.

He would have to wait six years before making his professional debut with the Atlanta Hawks in 1994-95. Signed in October and released in November, he played four minutes in two games in a very brief NBA career.


3. DeRon Hayes (1989-93)

Sports-Reference.com's College Basketball pages—which I used for most of the statistics cited in this post—are seriously lacking information from the years that Hayes played at Penn State, but one of his teams provided me with my most memorable Penn State basketball moment.

The 1990-91 team qualified for Penn State basketball's first NCAA tournament in more than a quarter-century. The 13th-seeded Nittany Lions pulled off a stunning first round upset over 4th-seeded UCLA—a team that included six future NBA players—in Syracuse's Carrier Dome.

I was a recent college graduate living in Syracuse at the time, and was lucky to be in attendance at that game. That game still stands as the only time Penn State and UCLA have ever met in men's basketball, so the Nittany Lions can proudly say that they lead the all-time series with the most storied program in college basketball history.

According to a site called PSU Hoops Alumni Tracker, Hayes scored 1570 points in his Penn State career, which was 4th on their all-time list as of four years ago (so probably 6th now, with Talor Battle and Jamelle Cornley having since passed him). He was also named Atlantic 10 Freshman on the year for 1989-90 and All-Atlantic Ten in 1990-91. He never played in the NBA, but instead has enjoyed a successful career in the European Leagues, where apparently he's still playing.


2. Joe Crispin (1997-2001)

Crispin led the team to their last NCAA tournament appearance in 2000-01, a run that ended with a Sweet 16 loss to this year's first-round opponent, Temple. He and his younger brother, Jon, teamed up to make Penn State's back court one of its strongest ever, although Jon would transfer to UCLA following Joe's senior season.

Joe Crispin is Penn State's third all-time leading scorer, with 1976 points. In 126 games over four years, he averaged 15.7 points and 3.8 assists. Most importantly, though, he led the Nittany Lions to two Big Ten tournament victories—including an upset of Michigan State, a team that went on to make the NCAA Final Four—and two NCAA tournament wins, the highlight being a round-of-32 defeat of North Carolina.

Crispin had a slighly longer cup of coffee in the NBA than Hovasse, playing 21 games for the Los Angeles Lakers and Phoenix Suns in 2001-02, before moving on to European basketball for the nine years since.


1. Talor Battle (2007-11)

This year's star, Talor Battle, became Penn State's all-time leading scorer with his game-winning shot against Wisconsin in the Big Ten quarter-finals. He then scored 25 in their semi-final victory over Michigan State. He's connected for 2190 points in his four-year career, averaging 16.5 points, 4.7 rebounds and 3.9 assists in 133 games.

In addition to leading the team to their first trip to the NCAA tournament since the Joe Crispin-led 2000-01 squad, Battle teamed with seniors Jamelle Cornley and Stanley Pringle to pace the Lions' run to the NIT championship in his sophomore year of 2008-09. He was named first-team All-Big Ten in both his sophomore and senior seasons, while being honored as a second-teamer in his junior year.

Battle's story, of course, continues on Thursday night, with the Nittany Lions cagers matching up against Temple in the opening round of the West regional.


It just occurred to me that I could make a starting five from the names on this list: Battle and Crispin at guards, Hayes and Hovasse at forwards (although Hovasse is hardly the prototypical power forward), Amaechi at center. Also, the honorable mentions fit perfectly into a second-team squad: Lisicky and Ivory are the guards, Claxton and Cornley the forwards, Booth the center.

So, there you have it. The All-Penn State Nittany Lion basketball team covering the period of 1985-2011.

The Miracle on Ice (1980)

This is part 9 in the From Hank to Hideki series, chronicling the 40 most memorable sports moments of my lifetime.

Previous: Good Night, Captain (1979)

I had zero interest in hockey prior to the 1980 Winter Olympics. In fact, I really don't remember exactly what about that version of Team USA drew me in, or exactly when it happened. But, I do know that it was prior to the game that is the namesake of the title of this post.

Team USA lost 10-3 in an exhibition game to the Soviet Union just prior to the games. They were seeded 7th heading into the tournament, and their first two matchups were against the teams given the best chance to upend the Soviets, 3rd-seeded Sweden and 2nd-seeded Czechoslovakia.

I think it was that first game, a 2-2 tie versus Sweden—a contest that I didn't watch—that piqued my interest, but it was game two—an impressive 7-3 victory over Czechoslovakia—that reeled me in. From that point on, there seemed something magical about that team, as they reeled off three straight wins—over Norway, Romania, and West Germany—to finish pool play 4-0-1.

Team USA's reward for their strong showing in the opening round was a medal-round matchup with the feared Soviet squad. As well as they played versus their cold war rivals, it still always felt like they were in over their heads, and it was only a matter of time until the U.S.S.R. put them away. It felt that way until they took their first lead of the game, 4-3 with ten minutes remaining. If you don't know what happened next, I don't know what to say, but I'll bet Al Michaels does:



"The Miracle on Ice" moniker is commonly used to refer to this tremendous upset victory over the Soviet Union, the game which gave them the opportunity to secure the gold with one more victory. But, to me it represents the team's performance during that entire Olympic tournament, which was capped off by a three-goal final period in a 4-2 victory over Finland.

I'm not an intensely patriotic person, although I probably was much more so when I witnessed these 1980 Winter Olympics at the age of 12. But, to me, these games also represent the birth of the goose-bump-inducing "USA! USA! USA!" chant.

While Al Michaels' famous "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!" call lives on forever, just as memorable to me is his call during the final seconds of the Americans' gold medal victory over Finland:

Five seconds to the gold medal, four to the gold medal...This impossible dream...comes true!



Next: The Louie and Bouie Show (1980)

Miracle at the Meadowlands (1978)

This is part 7 in the From Hank to Hideki series, chronicling the 40 most memorable sports moments of my lifetime.

Previous: Ode to Ron Guidry (1978)

Baseball was my first love, but among spectator sports, football definitely came next. I became a fan of the New York Football Giants in '75 or '76, but didn't start really following them until 1977, the rookie season of Joe Pisarcik. That would be his NFL rookie season, of course, because the 25-year old native of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania played in the Canadian Football League for three years prior to that.

As I've previously written about, I wasn't as spoiled by the early success of the Giants as I was the Yankees. In my first few years as a fan, I considered myself a bit of a die-hard, though, as I would watch every game to the end no matter what the outcome.

Pisarcik and Co. were 5-3 at the midway point of 1978, with two of their three losses to the defending Super Bowl champion Dallas Cowboys. So, things were looking promising following a victory over the previously 6-1 Washington Redskins, until six consecutive losses nixed that. But, it was the fourth in that string of defeats that was the most painful.

I was watching in my parents' basement with Brian. Leading Philadelphia 17-6 going into the 4th quarter, it looked as though the Giants were going to end their brief skid, pull into a tie for third place in the NFC East with the Eagles at 6-6, and get their playoff hopes back on track. The Eagles managed a touchdown to pull within 17-12, but missed their second extra point of the game. Since a field goal wouldn't be enough to overcome the deficit, the Jints clearly were in control, possessing the ball inside of the two-minute warning, and only needing to execute a few plays to run out the clock.

After kneeling on the ball on second down, the Giants incredulously called a running play on third down. Where the breakdown in communication came from is still subject to dispute, but Pisarcik clearly wasn't ready for a quick snap from center and running back Larry Csonza didn't look prepared to take the handoff.

We watched in stunned disbelief as Pisarcik fumbled the attempted exchange, and Eagles cornerback Herman Edwards recovered the loose football and ran it in for the winning touchdown with 20 seconds left. I assumed the announcer would tell us that the play was coming back—that either the whistle had blown or there had been a penalty, or something. There had to be some reason that what I was witnessing wasn't really happening, but it wasn't just a bad dream, unfortunately.



I never referred to this game as "The Miracle at the Meadowlands" until I met a bunch of Eagles fans at college. The Wikipedia article on the subject says that Giants fans refer to it as "The Fumble."

There's another such distinction that I find quite interesting. I recently saw a book called Game Six at a Boston area store. The book is about Game Six of the 1975 World Series, in which Carlton Fisk wills his game-winning home run inside the left field foul pole to force a decisive 7th game. I'm pretty sure "Game Six" has an entirely different meaning to Mets fans, one Red Sox fans certainly want to forget. But, we'll get to that later.

Next: Good Night, Captain (1979)

The Tear-Stained Quarter (1978)

This is part 4 in the From Hank to Hideki series, chronicling the 40 most memorable sports moments of my lifetime.

Previous: Mr. October (1977)

I've previously written about my fascination with the 1982 Milwaukee Brewers, but the first team other than one of my own that captured my interest was the 1977 Denver Broncos. Not surprisingly, it was their "Orange Crush" defense that really caught my attention, which included five Pro Bowlers—defensive end Lyle Alzado, linebackers Randy Gradishar and Tom Jackson, and defensive backs Bill Thompson and Louis Wright.

For some reason, though, my favorite player was explosive punt returner Rick Upchurch, who led the league in 1976 with 4 TDs and 13.7 yards per return. His 1977 wasn't quite as spectacular, but he still led the NFL in return yards while averaging 12.8 yards a pop. Whether true or not, I always felt that Upchurch was overshadowed by Billy "White Shoes" Johnson. He certainly didn't have as great of a nickname. Incidentally, both players rank in the top ten all-time in punt return yards and touchdowns, while neither is in the top ten in number of punt returns.

The fact that I developed an interest in the Broncos in 1977 probably points more to my frustration with the Giants than to some early interest in Cinderella stories. I had become a fan while they were in the midst of an 18-year drought of not making the playoffs. They had gone 3-11 in 1976, didn't show many signs of impending improvement, and frankly, I was spoiled by the Yankees' recent success.

As had become a tradition in recent years, our family visited my Uncle Joe and Aunt Kay on New Year's Day of 1978. Uncle Joe and Aunt Kay weren't really my aunt and uncle, but they were like my dad's family, since he didn't really have much of a real family. His father had abandoned he and his mother when he was just a little boy, and his mother wasn't really up for the role of raising him on her own, so he ended up being passed around from family to family during his childhood. As a result, I had three grandmothers as a child, with the longest surviving being my dad's godmother, with whom he lived for six of his childhood years.

Uncle Joe was about 10 years older than my father, and he had taken him under his wing during his young adult years. Dad worked at Uncle Joe's service station and rented an apartment in Joe and Kay's house for some time. Needless to say, Joe was like the older brother that my father—who was an only child—never had, so the fact that my sister and I called him Uncle Joe was for much greater reason than that he didn't want to be referred to as Mister.

On New Year's Day 1978, the Broncos defeated the defending Super Bowl Champion Oakland Raiders in the AFC Championship, while the Dallas Cowboys earned the trip to their fourth Super Bowl by dominating the Minnesota Vikings in the NFC title game. The year before, Uncle Joe and I had begun a practice of betting a quarter on the Super Bowl. Of course, he let me pick my team, and I did so based not on who I thought would win, but who I wanted to root for.

I chose correctly for Super Bowl XI, picking Oakland over Minnesota, but this year I was picking the overwhelming underdog. I had faith, however. After all, I was 10 years old.

As you probably know, Dallas defeated Denver rather handily, 27-10. But, I wasn't convinced that the superior team had won. So, when I mailed Uncle Joe the quarter I owed him, accompanying it was a note outlining all the "what-ifs" that, had they happened differently, would have resulted in a completely different outcome.

Uncle Joe sent the quarter back, with his own note explaining why he couldn't accept my "tear-stained quarter." I was upset, because I had lost the bet fair and square. I may have been making excuses for why my team had lost, but in no way was I trying to renege on the bet.

Uncle Joe died a few years ago. Sitting in the funeral home, waiting for my turn to pay my last respects, an idea popped into my head. I reached into my pocket and found not just any coin, but a 1977 quarter. That tear-stained quarter will spend eternity in the breast pocket of the suit Uncle Joe was laid to rest in.

Next: The Boston Massacre (1978)

My BCS Solution

Year after year, those of us who follow college football are forced to listen to numerous complaints about the lack of a true championship in that sport. The BCS was supposed to have been created to settle this controversy, but it doesn't seem to have solved anything. Some folks say that the endless debate adds a certain element that makes this interesting, but these are probably the same people who enjoy listening to the DH vs. no-DH arguments. Enough already, I say—on both subjects—but let's stick to the college football discussion for now.

I'm a Penn State alum, so if not for an upset loss to Iowa a few weeks ago, my team may have benefited from the lack of a true system, and would already be slated for a title game showdown with one of the powerhouses from the SEC or the Big 12. If this were the case, there would be much clamoring about the fact that 3 or 4 other teams from these conferences are more deserving due to the much tougher schedules they've faced. Of course, that's a moot point, but it doesn't mean there aren't going to be quite a few rightfully unhappy programs that are as deserving of a shot at a national championship as one or both of the teams that are selected for the BCS title game.

I've been working on a mini-BCS playoff system in my mind for over a year now. This is actually the first time I've attempted to write it down and make some sense of it.

• The BCS ranking system is still used, but in this case for more than just to determine the two teams who get to play in the "national championship".
  
  
• Conferences are free to determine their championship game participants in whatever way they choose, but are encouraged to scrap their division formats and simply pit their top two BCS teams against each other. This would avoid a situation such as in this year's Big 12, in which the top four teams in that conference are in the same division.
  
  
• Four additional teams are awarded at-large bids, also based on their BCS rankings, and are seeded 7 through 10. These four teams are selected from among the remaining conference champions, teams that did not win their conferences, and independents.
  
  
• Obviously, the fact that they would only be eligible for the at-large berths puts the independents at a bit of a disadvantage, but if they're among the top eight teams in the country, they're virtually assured of a bid. There are currently only four FBS independents, and with the Notre Dame program being a bit of a mess, this seems less important right now, but these teams would be encouraged to join a conference.
  
  
• The quarter-finals are played the third weekend in December, with the semi-finals on New Year's Day and the finals a week later.
  
  
• The remaining two quarter-final games and the 7 vs. 10 and 8 vs. 9 games are awarded to the Cotton, Capital One, Outback and Gator Bowls, or whatever four are considered next in the pecking order.

I can't say for certain that this system addresses all of the concerns that seem to have been preventing such a playoff system from happening, but I'll try to cover as many as I can think of. First, the bowls remain as prestigious as ever and, in fact, take on added importance due to the fact that every one of the eight involved in this system are elimination games.

Second, the automatic bids to the top six conference champions virtually assure that a team that didn't win their conference won't make the playoffs over a conference rival that did. Also, the inclusion of the conference championships essentially adds an extra round to the tournament without having to extend the schedule. Additionally, this significantly extends the pool of teams that are playing that game for a chance to make the BCS tournament, essentially making it comparable to a playoff game for them.

There are a couple of minor drawbacks that I'm aware of. First, if all of the top six conference champions are not ranked in the BCS top ten, then there will be top ten teams that don't make the playoffs. Still, no matter what the solution, some team will be disappointed at being left out, but it's much better when that team is at #9 rather than #3. Furthermore, I think it's important to assign a high level of importance to the conference championships.

Another potential drawback is the fact that this will extend some teams' seasons to 15 or 16 games. I'm not really sure how seriously the NCAA would frown upon this, but I do know that my plan only extends the season into the holidays, so I don't think it should be considered a major problem.

Lastly, by using so many of the bowl games for this playoff system, and therefore having several teams play in multiple bowls, it reduces the pool of teams that get to play in one of these games. This is the major downside of this plan, in my opinion. I'm not sure of a way around this. Obviously, it's easy for me to say that a few bowl games could be added, but I have no idea how feasible this is.

The bottom line is that this season's outcome, in which there will be as many as two undefeated and five one-loss teams locked out of the BCS title game, just reinforces that it's about time that major college football instituted some type of playoff system. But, of course, we've all heard that one before.

Brush with Greatness I

I graduated from college in 1989, and my first real job brought me to Syracuse, NY in the late summer of that year. I searched for, and successfully found my first apartment, other than the one I shared with four of my college friends during my junior and senior years at Penn State. It was at 306 Polk Street, right near the line between Syracuse and Dewitt, not far from the intersection of Thompson Road and Erie Boulevard, and only a few blocks from the campus of LeMoyne College.

My new landlord was quite tall, but not freakishly so, about 6'6" or 6'7". I was in his office, paying my security deposit, signing the lease, getting the keys, and all that. I recall my monthly rent was $350 for a decent, but not spectacular, one-bedroom apartment. My neighbors turned out to be really nice, particularly the couple that lived downstairs from me with their two kids, and the guy across the hall who regularly beat me in chess. There was an incident in the parking lot with a curmudgeonly old man who accused me of not parking close enough to the car next to me, but that was the only negative.

But, back to the landlord's office. As he was getting the paperwork together, I was admiring the posters on his walls. There were a few of the current NBA greats: Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan (maybe, although he had yet to lead the Bulls to an NBA championship at that time). There was also one of a rather unspectacular NBA big man, who I happened to recognize because I was a Syracuse basketball fan from the days of the Bouie 'n' Louie Show through the under-achieving Pearl Washington and Rony Seikaly years.

"Is that Danny Schayes?" I inquired. "That's my boy!" he responded. "You're Dolph Schayes?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. I must have found the apartment through a rental agent, or it simply didn't sink in if he had introduced himself to me prior to that. Regardless, NBA Hall of Famer Dolph Schayes was my landlord for the next 14 months (I got a 2-month extension on a one-year lease because I thought I was moving to Albany, then actually stayed, but decided to find a new apartment).

He was actually kind of impressed that I knew who he was. Despite being named one of the NBA's 50 greatest players of all-time, a list was unveiled to celebrate the league's 50th anniversary seven years after our meeting, it seems to me that he was a little less well-known than his contemporaries George Mikan and Bob Petit. Furthermore, the end of his career was greatly overshadowed by beginning of Wilt Chamberlain's.

I never asked him for his autograph, although I believe I still have a copy of the lease in my box of nostalgia. Hard to believe that actually exists, huh? As far as I know, Dolph Schayes, now 80 years old, still lives and owns rental property in Syracuse. I'm also pretty certain that he was the first major sports Hall of Famer whom I ever met.