A Grab-Bag

I've been remiss in writing for a few days ... so today, you get a mash-up of a few topics.

1. The future

Last night, I was invited by my alma mater, Kent State, to speak at a "Careers Over Coffee" event on the subject of journalism. Yes, the irony was profound.

The panel was an interesting mix ... a 1953 grad and longtime Plain Dealer reporter, the 1989 grad and former Beacon Journal editor turned instructor, then there's the '93 grad and representative of the broadcast genre (me!), and the 2003 grad and writer for Cleveland Magazine.

A couple tips for anyone hoping to have a session like for journalists.

First, leave more than 45 minutes, because we can TALK. And talk. And talk.

Secondly, it might be better to have more upperclassmen than underclassmen in this session. I got the impression this group didn't really know what they wanted to do with their lives just yet.

Thirdly, a positive step. None of the panel hid the fact that the media is in a tough spot right now. We stressed that opportunity is there, but it's going to be harder than ever to break in. It seems their professors are giving them the same message. Which is good, because, while I loved my profs back in the day, I think they failed in setting us up with the "real-world" view that was needed once you went pro.

All in all, a decent night, the current crop of Kent State students was way too quiet for my liking ... they may have been too young to be anything more than overwhelmed.

2. The past

Like a lot of baseball fans, I was glued to the A-Rod/Steroids interview on ESPN.

My first thought was, "Wow, a body language expert would have a field day with this."

What was with him constantly looking to the right? Was his lawyer standing there? Was Gammons on the clock? Was Madonna pole dancing in the corner?

Also, you could tell A-Rod had been prepped with talking points, as he loses his way about midway through his first answer.

What's my take?

Well, I give him credit for the admission, even if it did follow a lie to 60 Minutes.

But, someone asked me what the fallout would be?

To me? None.

Look, this may sound jaded, but there is absolutely not a single name that could come out as being a steroids user that would surprise me. Ripken? Nope. Gwynn? Nope. Maddux? Maybe (but only because his gut was a thing of legend in baseball clubhouses.)

Also, look, the players weren't alone. The trainers, GMs, and owners were just as complicit in perpetuating the Steroid Era as the players taking the junk.

After all, chicks dig the long ball.

3. More Of The Past

Staying on the baseball theme, this morning's news about a lawsuit contending Robby Alomar and AIDS is a little stunning.

But, this goes back to my prior point.

When I was a kid, I idolized players. Mike Hargrove, Roger Clemens, guys like that.

Now, I find myself rooting for the team, the uniform ... not the individual players.

Sure, I love watching Grady Sizemore hit as much as the next fan. But, I do so knowing that he's likely leave the Indians after 2012, and I can't get too attached.

Also, and I've learned this the hard way, a lot of pro athletes aren't the best role models off the field.

Face it everyone, baseball (and sports) is filled with young, single, hard-partying, sexual conquesting Alpha males.

Always have been, always will be.

If I was in their shoes, I'd probably be the same guy, sadly. Young, single, and rich, without a care in the world.

However, the closer I got to these guys over the last 15 years, the more I realized that I could no longer put them on the pedestal they once sat atop.

I'll always be a baseball fan ... but I love the sport, the game, the story, not necessarily the players.

4. Born To Run.

I know I talked in depth about my love for Bruce Springsteen and his halftime performance at the Super Bowl.

Some loved it, some hated it.

But, I will say this, Bruce Springsteen can WRITE. And not just songs.

Please, read this diary that he wrote about the Super Bowl experience.

Never have I read something so well-written about a 12-minute performance.

It really does put you in his shoes as to why he wanted to do this, and what goes through a performer's mind when they're on the largest stage in the world.

Also, to give you more incentive to read, Cleveland gets name-dropped as Bruce finally playing before an audience he always hoped to see. Good stuff there.

It's just one more small reason that this is one man who will always be a favorite of mine.

Ode To Omar

I couldn't help but smile when I read this piece in the Plain Dealer this morning.

For the record, I'm way too old to idolize ballplayers like I did when I was a kid. Baseball has always been a business, and these guys are commodities. Especially in Cleveland, you can't afford to get too attached to them.

That being said, Omar Vizquel was the one guy I loved to watch ON the field.

We had a rough start however. I was living in Rockford, Illinois in 1994, the year then-Jacobs Field opened. Being a lifelong Indians fan, it killed me to be out of town when the new ballpark swung open its gates. So, I booked a flight, and came back into town to see the place.

The Tribe had the makings of a good team. And we had traded for a good-field, no-hit shortstop named Vizquel.

Needless to say, I wasn't real thrilled to see this glove wizard make not one, not two, but THREE errors in the game I traveled in to see. (A 12-9 Indians loss to the Royals on April 16, 1994)

But, gradually, his plays became more and more amazing in the field. But, it was what he did BETWEEN innings that turned into my greatest memory.

I had somehow gotten 2 passes into my then-employer's loge, and took my buddy Mike. Needless to say, we were greatly enjoying the free food and beer, when the moment happened.

The Indians were warming up in the field between innings, when the catcher (Sandy Alomar, I think), rifled his throw down to second. Omar was fielding at the bag, and as the ball arrived, he just crossed his arms.

He didn't so much catch the ball, as deflect it directly off his glove, right to Robby Alomar, who was standing next to him. Alomar then fired it around the horn to end warmups.

My reacton in the loge was something like "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

That's when Mike said, without even turning to look at me, "I'm so happy you saw that. Because I wouldn't even know how to describe it to you."

We may have been the only ones in the ballpark that day to see it. And it remains a great story to this day.

When Omar's career is done, I'd love to see the Tribe sign him to a 1-day contract, like some others have done, and allow him to retire as an Indian.

(And while I'm at it, good luck to a fellow Kent Stater, Emmanuel Burris, who will likely succeed Vizquel as the Giants shortstop.)