Really, NHL?

The video clip you'll see below is disgusting. You'll see one hockey player try to behead another one.

What's even more disgusting is that the perpetrator, Raffi Torres, is such a known quantity, such a repeat offender, that his very presence on the ice is an indictment of a sport that says it's trying to clean up its act, but does nothing about it. In fact, Torres was not even penalized for the hit on Chicago's Marian Hossa.

He will, of course, be suspended. But Torres has been suspended and fined many times in the past for exactly this same sort of play. And yet he's continually allowed back on the ice. The NHL, the Phoenix Coyotes (his current employers/co-conspirators) and all who profit from hockey mayhem (yes, hockey broadcast and cable networks, I mean you) share in the blame here.

Torres is not the only thug in hockey. He's incredibly lucky to have made millions playing a sport that allows his sorry act to continue. But he's hardly alone. The NHL has taken baby steps toward addressing violence, brain damage, and dirty play--yet every time it allows a Raffi Torres to assault a Marian Hossa, the sport falls deeper into the slime.

Torres' despicable act occurred during live action. Much of the NHL's brutality happens after the whistle, when the ritualized Kabuki of the hockey fight occurs. Lame apologists will tell you that fighting is part of the sport but of course, it's not. College and Olympic matches don't tolerate it. The NHL doesn't need to, either.

But the same losers who let Torres keep going to work are making it clear: they're fine with all this. I ask you, hockey fans: are you?

Small Sample Size

Random thoughts after the first weekend of the baseball season (OK, I know the A's and Mariners played in Japan a while back, but still...) :

• The Giants probably won't go 0-162. But watching their Big Three starters get hammered in Phoenix can't be good for the confidence. Barry Zito as stopper? You may now exhale.
• Thanks, MLB, for giving the A's a Sunday off day. That'll help build fan interest.
• Yoenis Cespedes is the real deal. The A's Cuban import homered in his first two Oakland starts. The Friday night blast is still rattling around out there somewhere. The Saturday shot came after he'd been drilled by Seattle ace Felix Hernandez earlier in the game. Cespedes made a point after the game of saying he though King Felix hit him on purpose. This guy is a big-leaguer.
• Am I making too much of Buster Posey's shaky defense in the first series of the season? A bobbled chopper, a throwing error on a stolen-base attempt and a mental mistake (failed to touch the plate on a force-out play). Not the Buster we know and love.
• I may be forced to eat these words later, but I think Brandon Crawford is going to be fine. The Giants' young shortstop made a key error against the Diamondbacks but also made several impressive defensive plays--and delivered a nice opposite-field RBI double.
• Brandon Belt needs something. He earned the Giants first base job with a solid spring, but had a rough weekend against Arizona.
• I like the A's outfield of Coco Crisp, Cespedes, and Josh Reddick (left to right). The A's have a near-zero chance of slipping past Texas or the Angels, but their offense ought to be a little more interesting this year.
• Bobby Valentine and the Red Sox are 0-3. Again: Bobby Valentine and the Red Sox are 0-3.

A Star In The Making

The records will show 6,644 paying customers saw it in person at Phoenix Municipal Stadium, and a few thousand more tuned in to watch on Bay Area TV.

What they saw on Saturday may someday be remembered fondly as the coming-out party for a guy who could easily become a Very Big Deal.

Yoenis Cespedes is a 26-year-old legend in Cuban baseball but a virtual unknown here in the States. My guess is that, despite playing in the relative anonymity of Oakland, Cespedes will soon be a household name in baseball circles.

Until Saturday, he was little more than a myth to most fans. An imposing physical specimen, Cespedes looks like he could easily be an NFL running back. His defection from Cuba last summer opened the door to a Major League Baseball career, and the A's surprised a lot of people when they nailed down a 4-year-deal with him just before Spring Training opened.

Until Saturday, Cespedes was doing all his damage in batting practice and "simulated games", which are a slightly-more-realistic form of BP. Reporters and the small handful of fans who hung around the A's Papago Park complex were impressed, but batting practice is batting practice.

And then Cespedes dug in for his first real at-bat in a Major League uniform (which, by the way, he wears like a superstar). On the mound: Johnny Cueto, the Reds righthander whose 2.31 ERA last year ranked as one of the best in baseball.

Anyone would have forgiven Cespedes for trying to do something heroic in a hurry. Instead, he displayed the patience and pitch recognition of a veteran hitter and drew a walk off Cueto. In his second at-bat, he lined a single up the middle. He punctuated his coming-out party in his final at-bat, fouling off several pitches before ripping a loud, no-doubt-about it home run.

A's fans who've been griping about what they see as management futility may still not be satisfied; the team is in a tough division and may remain far short of competitive. But they should take heart in the knowledge that in Yoenis Cespedes, the A's have a player you have to watch.

It's a long way from starring for Granma Alazanes in the Cuban National Series to starring in the Major Leagues. But anyone who saw Yoenis Cespedes' debut has to believe it's more than possible--it appears probable.

Jeremy Lin: Not An Overnight Sensation

With the warp-speed reality of life in the Media Age, it's a bit unsettling to realize that the Jeremy Lin Phenomenon is barely a week old. But in the space of five games over eight days, Lin blew up.

At the beginning, a nice little story. "Hey, isn't that cool? A guy from Harvard in the NBA!" "Yeah, and he's Asian-American, too! Wow!"

Lin warmed the bench for the Warriors last year and the whole Harvard/Asian-American thing made for some nice feature stories, but little more.

And then he ended up playing for the Knicks, in the Center of the Media Universe. And then, against all odds, he got a chance to play. And then...well, you know the story. A 26.8 point scoring average as the Knicks won 5 straight. A 38-point outburst against the Lakers. A game-sealing free throw by an obviously-fatigued Lin to ice win over the T-Wolves. And a memorable quote by Knicks coach Mike D'Antoni, who said he was riding Lin "like friggin' Secretariat" as long as his young guard kept producing.

We've all been fascinated by Lin's remarkable week. We all know it won't last forever. Many of us hope Lin will become a solid NBA player for a long time.

But here's the part of the story I hope takes root: Jeremy Lin has been a success at every level of basketball, while the so-called "experts" managed to be wrong every time. After leading an undermanned Palo Alto High team to a state championship win over powerhouse Mater Dei, not one Division 1 program offered him a scholarship.

After helping turn Harvard basketball into something other than a punchline, Lin went undrafted by NBA teams, several of which had invited him to work out for them. But it turns out that an NBA "workout" isn't actually "basketball". It might be a two-on-two or three-on-three drill, but not a full game--which is where Lin's subtle game begins to shine.

He managed to wangle an invitation to play on the Dallas Mavericks' summer-league team in Las Vegas, where they play actual games--and where he began to get noticed. Still, after signing him, the woeful Warriors plopped him on the bench. He managed to get up all of 72 shots all year, or 6 fewer than he's taken in his 4 games as a Knicks starter. Again: the Warriors saw but short bursts of a guy whose game is only evident over the long haul.

Jeremy Lin may seem like the new new thing, but in fact, his story is one of the oldest ever told: that of the tortoise versus the hare. Sure, Lin is rabbit-quick on the court. But his career arc is more tortoise-like; a guy who just keeps showing up and performing and when you get to the finish line, there he is waiting for you. An overnight sensation? Not really. It only looks that way to the experts who missed the story over and over again.

End The All-Star Games

Brandon Marshall set a Pro Bowl record with four touchdown catches in Honolulu. It's not something about which he should be proud.

The latest Pro Bowl, a 59-41 win by one side over the other (don't ask me which conference won, I'm still numb) should once and for all prove the need to kill off the Pro Bowl. And while you're at it, put a fork in the NHL All-Star Game too (the 12-9 final score in Sunday's game doesn't even begin to tell you how silly the whole thing was).

The problem with these games is that they don't fairly represent their exciting sports. Pro football and NHL hockey feature hard hitting and, yes, defense. You won't see any of that in the Pro Bowl or NHL All-Star Game. I do note that this year's NHL folly produced exactly one recorded hit. I'm guessing it was a mistake on someone's part.

If you love football or hockey, you'll have to agree. "But," some will argue, "it's fun to watch those great quarterbacks and receivers throw for all those yards!" Well, yeah, but when the defense isn't really playing defense, does it matter?

Once upon a time, these games looked like real football and hockey games. Players didn't earn so much money, and the bonus they got for playing made them willing to play hard. Now, no sane player wants to risk injury in a meaningless exhibition.

The baseball All-Star Game is the granddaddy of these contests and, despite the tendency in recent years of some players to skip the event, still the only one that really works. It's easy to see why: baseball players seldom get hurt in this game (I know, Ray Fosse and Dizzy Dean prove otherwise; both suffered career-altering injuries in All-Star games). The baseball All-Star Game provides a full display of the sport's magic: pitching, hitting, defense, baserunning.

The NBA puts on a scorefest every year that falls somewhere between the fairly-pure baseball event and the putrid NFL and NHL embarrassments. There's not much defense at your typical NBA All-Star Game either, but then many would argue there's not that much at a typical NBA regular-season game.

My guess is that the Pro Bowl will be gone sooner rather than later. NFL conscience John Madden tells KCBS he'll soon be making exactly that pitch to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. There's really no constituency to stick up for the Pro Bowl; even the TV networks accept it as a sort of mandatory throw-in, something they have to swallow so they can get the rest of the broadcast rights package.

The NHL situation is different. A league that remains incapable of getting rid of ritualized fighting has already shown itself to be well short of clueless. Of course, maybe there's some weird logic here: the stat sheet for the NHL All-Star Game showed zero penalty minutes...and zero fights.

The Phenomenon

He's more than a quarterback, although some argue he's not really a quarterback.

Tim Tebow is actually a living, breathing, funky-throwing Rorschach test. What you see in him probably tells us more about you than it does about him.

The latest improbability, Denver's overtime defeat of the Steelers, doesn't merely add a layer to the Tebow legend. It means at least another week of national attention. It lets all those who revel in Tebow's exploits exult, and lets the bile rise further in those who just can't stand Tebow and/or all the attention he's gotten.

Let's not kid ourselves for a single moment: if it wasn't for the Christianity he wears on his sleeve, Tim Tebow would garner far less attention. He'd still be an interesting thing to watch: an exuberant kid with an unusual skill set whose play is alternately frustrating and exhilarating.

But you can't escape the religion thing. For some, it makes Tebow their guy, even if they never knew Denver had a football team. For others, there's a profound discomfort in listening to Tebow praise his Lord and talk about how lucky he is to play with so many great guys.

This "Tebow's great!" vs. "I can't stand that guy!" debate is not very much about football, but very much about our conflicted feelings regarding faith and the public display of it. What you see in Tim Tebow reflects your own beliefs.

I've had people tell me that the media created the Tebow phenomenon. Baloney. Tim Tebow is a spectacle you can't ignore (and we would have ignored it if the Broncos had gone 5-11), but what makes the thing so big is the debate.

Look at that photo again. What do you see?

A Bleak Future

Let me say it right off the top: it's not Billy Beane's fault. It's not Lew Wolff's, either. But I don't blame Oakland A's fans for wanting to blame somebody for the latest dismantling of the ballclub.

And make no mistake about it, the A's are being broken up. It's not like they were a juggernaut; the A's finished 14 games under .500 in 2011 and have about as good a chance of catching up to the Angels and Rangers as I do of cracking a big-league roster myself. Now? Minus Gio Gonzales, Trevor Cahill, Andrew Bailey, Josh Willingham, Ryan Sweeney, David DeJesus, Coco Crisp et al? Fat chance.

Of course all this is being played out against the backdrop of the team's stalled efforts to move to San Jose. It's no longer just idle talk; Beane is out-and-out saying that the cheapening of the A's is a way of hunkering down until the team can move to a brighter financial future in a new stadium.

Some think Wolff and Beane are blowing up the ballclub in hopes that it'll pressure The Lords of Baseball into approving the San Jose plan. Maybe so, but that gambit has a low probability of success. Remember, the roadblock here wears orange-and-black. Until and unless the Giants are compensated to their satisfaction for an A's intrusion into Giants territory, this deal is dead. And do you think MLB would step in and anger one of its marquee franchises (the Giants) in favor of one of its weak sisters (the A's)? Not likely.

So back to my opening line. If not Beane and Wolff, who do A's fans blame? Well, actually, they should be angry at the entirety of Major League Baseball. The sport continues to operate under an absolutely unfair set of financial rules which allow the wealthiest clubs to run payrolls more than 5 times the size of the poorest clubs. The "luxury tax"? A complete joke. Only two teams are paying it in 2012--the Yankees and Red Sox--and the total of around $18 million doesn't even begin to address the disparity between baseball's haves and have-nots.

Look, money is no guarantee. The Tampa Bay Rays are proof that you can win with a low budget, and the Cubs (and others) have certainly managed to spend plenty with little to show for it. But wouldn't you rather see baseball teams compete on a level financial playing field? OK, Yankees and Red Sox fans, you're excused from the conversation.

While baseball's rich get richer, A's fans get screwed. What the A's really should do is express solidarity with the Occupy movement. In fact, maybe that's the answer. Re-name the team "Occupy Oakland". Refuse to leave the Coliseum until the 1 percenters share the wealth.

Oh, and don't forget to buy a program on Opening Day. It's the only way you'll be able to identify the guys wearing green and gold.