Category: Blog

I’m 17 at the time, and I’m sure I was incredulous at how the Boston Celtics thoroughly dismantled the Los Angeles Lakers in Game 1 of the 1985 NBA Finals on May 27, 1985, known as the “Memorial Day Massacre.”

This thumping came only days after the Lakers crushed my hometown Denver Nuggets 153-109 in the Western Conference Finals. It was the closest any of my beloved Colorado-based teams came to a championship since the Broncos played in Super Bowl XII in 1978. My hopes for an NBA title coming to the Mile High City were dashed by Magic, Kareem & Co.

As I moved on from the loss, I had to choose a side—like the rest of America—in the biggest burgeoning rivalry in sports. Magic or Bird. West Coast or East Coast. Lakers or Celtics.

Truth be known, even though I rooted for the Nuggets, I was fascinated by Magic Johnson and the Lakers. I loved the glitz of L.A. and glamour of fast-break basketball. I owned a pair of Magic’s Converse Weapons shoes. And the Laker Girls? Big fan.

If I remember correctly, on that day—possibly around the same time that Game 1 of the Finals was going on— my cousin George and I were playing through the latest of our series of epic 1-on-1 bouts in my family’s front driveway.

He had advantages in height (about two inches) and experience (he was a solid junior high and high school baller) and he used those effectively. Fortunately for me, I had an outside shot that I honed over years of shooting on my home court. He was tough to guard and extremely difficult to drive on. I had to be “on” with my outside jumpers or I was pretty much toast against him.

George was also a Boston fan. While he came at me with smart, disciplined play characteristic of the Celtics, he would also announce a move with “Parish with the block!” or “Bird launches the three!”. He would then take it a step further by dominating with Celtics bench players. Meanwhile, I would counter with a few dashes of Lakers Showtime. In my mind, I pictured myself dribbling and spinning like Magic, and firing from long distance like Byron Scott or Michael Cooper. I imagine I even attempted a Kareem sky hook at some point.

I’m sure my cousin was thrilled with the score of the Lakers-Celtics Finals opener. Boston seemed poised to claim a second consecutive championship over L.A. It’s also a good bet that he dominated me on the court that day.

However . . .

A comeback was in store, both for the Lakers and myself. L.A. bounced back from their humiliating Game 1 defeat at Boston Garden to win the series in six games. For my part, I recall a day—and I can’t pinpoint the date exactly—when I felt comparable to how the Lakers did following their eventual 1985 Finals triumph over their chief rival.

It was a day where, in the words of Marv Albert, I was, “on fire!” George and I played several games on this particular day, and I basically had his number every time. I kept him off-balance with deft shooting and new tricks (points in the paint!). It was a terrific feeling and provided me with a huge shot of confidence. George continued to remain tough to beat, but that one day was all mine. My determination, will to win, and the multiple 1-on-1 wins that I earned over my cousin that day still emboldens me in everyday circumstances that really challenge me.

This is just one example of how sports inspired me in my life. To the 1985 Lakers, I thank you!

Longtime sports fans usually have a substantial list of favorite players they have admired over the years. Yet there is a special place reserved in their hearts for players who left indelible memories for them in their youth.

If you’re a sports fan, you know what I mean. Whether they played for the home team, or in a faraway city, you kept tabs on those players in the box scores. You jumped at the chance to watch them live at the stadium. You tried to imitate their signature moves when you were out playing the sport with your buddies.

That was me, and the ballplayer at the top of my chart was Tim Raines, who went on to fashion a spectacular 23-year major league career and was today named named a Class of 2017 inductee into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. I remember he got my attention with his combination of speed and power, and his amazing athleticism in the field. Most fascinating to me were his daring lead-offs and explosive charges to stolen base after stolen base.

As a 12-year-old living in Denver, I was fortunate to watch Raines perform on the diamond before his major league career took off.

Playing second base for the Denver Bears, the Triple-A affiliate of the Montreal Expos, Raines was electric.
“I remember having the best year of my career in Denver,” Raines told me during a phone interview.

“(Denver) was probably the most exciting city (for) a team. We had a great team. I think we were something like almost 50 games over .500 that year.” (The Bears finished the year 48 games above .500 with a 92-44 record).

With today’s announcement of the 2017 Hall of Fame class (Jeff Bagwell and Ivan Rodriguez also were named inducteeds), Raines made it in on his last year of eligibility. Earlier in the day, my interest in the final vote was at a fever pitch.

If I had a ballot, I would have voted for Raines in his first year of eligibility (2008), and not just because of the memories he generated for me during his stint with the Bears, but mostly for his impressive list of achievements that he rung up over a major league career spanning 23 seasons.

Raines was a seven-time All-Star, won one World Series championship, and tallied 1,571 runs, 2,605 hits, 3,771 total bases, 808 stolen bases, and a lifetime batting average of .294.

True to his nickname of “Rock,” Raines was solid.

The native of Sanford, Florida, received strong media attention leading up to the Jan. 18 Hall of Fame announcement, and now it will continue on through to his formal induction. I would like to add to the appreciation of Raines by providing a unique perspective of the early stages of his baseball career.

A fifth-round selection by the Montreal Expos in the 1977 MLB June Amateur Draft, Raines began his ascent to major-league stardom by playing for the Class A West Palm Beach Expos (1978) and the Double-A Memphis Chicks in 1979. His performances with the Chicks earned him his first cup of joe in the majors – a six-game stint with the Expos.

After getting a taste of the big leagues, Raines knew he needed to produce a big season at the Triple-A level in 1980 in order to get back to the majors and stay.

“I knew I had to open some minds because I had a taste of the big leagues the previous year,” Raines said. “I had been called up in the middle of the season for about two weeks. I didn’t fare too well, but it kind of opened my eyes to what I had to do, and I had to go prove myself, prove that I was better than the minor leagues and the next step was the major leagues. I feel like I went back to Denver and did that.”

Denver was in for a treat. The Bears were the Expos’ top minor-league affiliate since 1976, and in their history, had the likes of Tom Lasorda, Billy Martin, Marv Throneberry, Ralph Houk and Andre Dawson in uniform either as a player or a manager.

I remember trips to Denver’s Mile High Stadium during the Bears’ 1980 season and watching one truly entertaining team. In fact, in the Bears’ 1981 game program, columnist Dick Connor of The Denver Post was quoted as saying, “It’s as close to certain anything ever gets that you aren’t ever going to see a minor league club this good again. Ever.”

The club had a terrific balance of power, speed and pitching. Raines was the crown jewel. He led the American Association with a .354 batting average and stole a league record 77 bases.

To me, the number 77 became magical, like Babe Ruth’s 61 or 714. I still recall playing games of Pickle in my front yard and trying to steal bases like “Rock” Raines.

After the Bears claimed the American Association Western Division pennant on Aug. 17, 1980, the team later went on to lose in the league championship to the Springfield Redbirds.

“We had a team that just felt like we could beat anyone and I think down the stretch, we (lost) most of our pitching staff to the major leagues,” Raines said. “(It) just didn’t allow us an opportunity to win it that year. I just felt like we had the best team in all of the minor leagues and we just weren’t able to have enough to win it.”

During that 1980 season, a number of players on the team signed a baseball for me on a team autograph day. I got the signatures of Randy Bass (the future home run king in Japan), Dan Briggs, Tim Wallach, Jerry Manuel, Jamie Easterly, Steve Ratzer, Dave Hostetler, Brad Mills, Rick Ramos, Bob Reece, Dennis Sherow, Bob Pate and Kevin Mendon.

Unfortunately, Raines was not in attendance and so he didn’t sign my ball.

Over the years, I would occasionally take the autographed baseball out of its display case, read the names and remember the fun watching that team. However, each time, I couldn’t help but notice an important player’s signature missing from that baseball.

Similarly, since 2008, I couldn’t help but notice an important player missing from the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Last summer at Major League Baseball’s All-Star FanFest, I met Tim Raines and added his signature to my 1980 Denver Bears baseball.

Today, Raines earned his rightful place among the game’s all-time greats.

The wait is over for both of us.

Congratulations, Rock, and truly, thank you for the memories.

It’s the time of year when I love baseball the most – when September turns into October, when leaves turn golden, and the drama and excitement of play down the stretch turns our attention toward the diamond.

Wild Card fever stretches across North America this weekend as seven major-league baseball teams continue to fight for a spot in the Wild Card Playoffs.

I must disclose that I haven’t followed MLB as closely in 2016 as I have in previous years, but I’m still magnetized to the game, especially now. The amazing storylines of October baseball are waiting to unfold. Which players will be the heroes? Will the Boston Red Sox give soon-to-be-retired David “Big Papi” Ortiz a championship send-off? Is this finally the year for the Chicago Cubs?

Before we get to baseball’s denouement with the World Series later this month, our appetite is whet with the last two days of regular-season jockeying for Wild Card positions and the Wild Card games themselves. The meat of the postseason soon follows with Division Series and League Championship Series confrontations.

This weekend, we’ve got four American League clubs trying to clinch one of two Wild Card berths – the Baltimore Orioles, Toronto Blue Jays, Detroit Tigers and Seattle Mariners. Over in the National League, three teams – the New York Mets, San Francisco Giants and St. Louis Cardinals – are in the mix for the two WC spots.

I will be checking in via the MLB At-Bat app on my phone, which beats how I used to check on my L.A. Dodgers teams in the late 70s and early 80s via a phone – calling a 1-900 sports scores hotline. Technology has changed, but excitement for fall baseball is decidedly familiar.

Excellent.

Insert meme of The Simpsons‘ Mr. Burns here.

As I write this blog post, it’s just a few hours before the kickoff of the 2016 Champions League Final between record 10-time European Cup winners Real Madrid and their inter-city rival, Atlético Madrid.

I think the reference to Mr. Burns is fitting. I’m not only excited to watch the match, but the game – with its big, you-can’t-miss-this-or-you-have-to-turn-in-your-sports-fan-card status – offers me a potential reprieve from hours’ worth of “Honey-Do” work. (Notice I said potential repreive. Sweating out in the yard or in the garage is still a possibility between the hours of 11:45 a.m. PT and 3 p.m. PT. In fact, I’m setting the DVR now. Back in a moment.)

The game presents a number of interesting storylines. From Zinedine Zidane’s first Champions League Final as a coach, to the two Madrid sides squaring off in a rematch from the 2014 Final (won by Real Madrid). Oh, and let’s not forget the plausibility of Cristiano Ronaldo delivering a score for the ages.

Let’s get it started. (The game at 11:30 a.m. and the lawnmower later.)