Sports Editor

In a little while I’m going to be covering the Lee-Scott Invitational baseball tournament. It’ll be just the second baseball game I’ve covered this spring, so I’m looking forward to it.
There’s something about watching baseball live. I must admit, I’m not the biggest baseball fan out there. I’m more of a high-paced, a-lot-of-action-crammed-into-two-hours type guy.
But I do enjoy live baseball. Being outside at the park, hearing the chatter of players, the ping of the bat, the screams at the umpire ... it’s a beautiful thing.

The first professional sporting event I went to as a kid was a baseball game. It was the New York Mets at home in Shea Stadium against the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1982.
It was Kid Appreciation Day or something like that, where all the kids could come on the field and stretch with the Mets’ players and get autographs and all that stuff.
I, however, was too little. So, naturally, I threw a fit.
My older brother, Joe, got to go on the field and stretch with an up-and-coming Mookie Wilson (You might remember him as the guy who split Bill Buckner’s legs with a ground ball in the 1986 World Series) and I was left in the stands brokenhearted.

That was until Ed Lynch scooped me up and took me out to the field. Lynch, who started for the Mets for seven years, made my day. Actually, he made my life as a baseball fan. I got his autograph, had my picture taken with him, even got to high-five the man. That was cool. It was my first memory of baseball, and a great one.

I think about that, and my first trip to Yankee Stadium (with my dad and three brothers) almost every time I’m at a baseball game - regardless if it’s high school, little league, college or pro. I always remember those times while watching games, because the ballpark is like no other place on earth.
Everyone’s a little kid there. From the old men who yell at the umpire to the college kids who are just there to check out girls and chew tobacco to the little kids playing “pickle” behind the dugout, baseball reminds us of our youth and an innocence that cannot be taken away.

If you’ve got a favorite baseball memory, I’d love to hear about it.

Sports Editor

I did something Sunday I haven’t done in a while. I sat on the couch and watched sports. Normally, I’m out covering them. Sunday, I just watched. From the comfort of my couch. It. Was. Beautiful.

After putting four hours in on my yard and then another eight at work (I know, your heart bleeds for me), I deserved a day to relax and re-imprint my backside into the couch cushions.

And I had the clicker skills working. First of all, I am a grand master at remote controlling. I don’t even have to look at the buttons to know where I’m going with it. I know my clicker like a Billy Joel song. You could blindfold me, spin me around 10 times and kick me in the gut, and I would still be able to flip on ESPN before falling to the ground in pain. I’m that good.

Sunday, I was great.

I had the trifecta working ... NCAA basketball (Florida vs. Oregon and Georgetown vs. UNC) on CBS (Channel 3, if you live in Lee County), NASCAR’s Nextel race at Bristol (Fox Channel 8) and then the PGA Tour (NBC Channel 12). It was glorious. I was working that rotation better than the Braves of the mid-90s with Avery, Smoltz, Glavine and Maddux. Seriously, I had all my pitches working.

Timeout in hoops, quick flip to Fox to watch a couple laps just in time for a caution and a pit stop (and you know at Bristol, there’s a caution ever five laps), then over to golf to watch Tiger Woods make another freakin’ “how did he do that” shot, then back to hoops just in time for them to come out of break.
I’m telling you, it was magical. I haven’t had that much control since I’ve been married. What? What I say?

Speaking of being married, the Busy Girl was there with me the whole time ... in awe of my remote-control game. So much so, she said this ... “If I knew you had this much game, I would have gone out with you the first time you asked me.”
No, seriously. She went out with me the second time. The first, I crashed and burned. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t like to talk about it.

But, Sunday, I was the man. And it was good.

Sports Editor

OK, so I’m sitting here on our sports desk (well, actually not on it. I’m working tonight layout the paper and designing it and, well, I’m sure you don’t care). Anyway, I’m sitting here watching Florida vs. Butler (I’m also working) in the Midwest Regional semifinal ... otherwise known as the Sweet 16.

How much love does Joakim Noah going to get? CBS loves them some Joakim. Remember last year in the Final Four, Joakim was in every shot. Even if he was on the bench clapping, Bill Packer was like “just look at how Joakim claps, he’s the best clapper in the country.”
Or as Bill Rafftery would say “Joakim Noah, bestclapperinthenation.”
Actually, CBS love all things the University of Florida, but especially Joakim. I don’t have anything against Noah, but if CBS keeps showing him more than the score, I’m going to start developing a twitch.

Does anyone else notice this about sporting events? Either an announcer or producer/director fall in love with a player, and that’s all they talk about/show. It’s unbelievable. I know the new thing is to find a story inside a story and create a hero. But, if a hero needs to be created by the media, he’s not much of a hero. Is he?

Anyway, just had to get that off my chest. Carry on ...