You ever been involved in a relationship where you know everything about that person is wrong for you.  But you're drawn back, maybe she's eye candy, maybe you know she's out of your league and you can't believe she's with you, maybe she puts out more, maybe she's a little freaky when it comes to (Bob Eubanks reference) whoopie.  Whatever it is, you're drawn back, when every fiber in your being says "Run and get the hell away as far as you can."  So you're thinking what is this, a counseling session with Dr. Drew (sorry Dr. Phil......Dr. Drew is more hip).  My answer, No.

Sports on any level is at it's very nature a competitive contest that tests individuals in multiple facets of the human body.  Truth, I hate soccer....however, I appreciate the endurance and skill it takes and can admire the talent David Beckham has without selling my mind and soul to the sport.  So what's with the opening epilogue with women, I love sports.  I've been pulling out the sports page first since I was 8 years old, my father would get upset because I'd screw the Patriot Ledger up after rummaging to see the box scores and league leaders.  I'm 33 and I still remove the sports page ....FIRST.  True story, my mother was concerned because I didn't like to read Winnie the Pooh, and Dick and Jane (and for the politically correct Van and Debbie).  She actually brought me to Dr. Kay (shout out to the Brockton pediatrician who is still practicing I learned last week, b/c my daughter's doctor's office is about 300 feet away from where I went.)  Bottom line, I've been following sports since I was about 5....love it, breathe it, hold it near and dear to my heart.

I wrote about a year ago a blog, "Where have you gone Joe Dimaggio?".  A line from Simon and Garfunkel that represented a time of turmoil (60's) and a nation looking for the true American Image or Americana, purity in America's past time.  Here I am again, broken hearted and contemplating whether I take my love back...(now you see where this is going).  I'm not talking about my beloved Patriots, my Red Sox, Notre Dame football or any individual team; collegiate or pro.  Just the WHOLE DAMN THING!!!!!!!!!  Baseball, football, basketball, collegiate sports, Olympics, and now golf.....golf are you f'in serious.

You may think for certain at this point you know where I'm going, but you don't.  I'll leave you flailing at a curveball like Wesley Snipes trying to portray a baseball player in The Fan (why can't actors who play athletes look like athletes...props to Costner, Reed, and Newman....nice job and athletes at one point).  I, like many of you am disgusted with the "Steroid Era" we live in.  Like it or not folks, it's here, it's going to get worse before it ends.  I'm not talking about Big Mac and company 2 years ago or Fraudger Clemens (and for the record, I was a huge Clemens fan....even when he was in those f'in pinstripes). 

But once again she (professional sports) batted her eyes at me and I took her back for the umpteenth time.  I look to sports to get away for a couple of hours of my routine.  I appreciate it more because at my age I'd be considered a broken down running back in the NFL (see Curtis Martin)..and again that's at 33.  I want to admire these pantheon of athletes and their skills, but how can you look at it without a furrowed brow.  Illegal substance enhancers is everywhere and those athletes I thought were "clean" are now suspect to me, and if you can believe it my point is still not made in this article.

Sports is a business.  Shocker, huh?  Obviously it's billions of dollars invested in these organizations, paying these athletes salaries, taxes for stadiums etc..  As part of any business revenue is the driving force.  How to generate revenue so the owner's pockets are supplemented to pay for all these amenities.  Marketing is number one, look at the backstop of any MLB stadium.....they're rolling billboards.  I play softball on Sundays and my uniform is Under Armour Apparell...$30.00 for a pair of shorts.....$50.00 for mock turtlenecks....and if you're not wearing anything with the )( ...(that's the best I could do, so appreciate it....by the way that's the Under Armour insignia)....you're cheap.  Now we're infringing upon the last shred of Yester year in America's past time (although I think it's football....for reference we'll say it's baseball).

The Cape Cod League in our own proud home state has been a haven for stars of the future.  Where else can you go and possibly find MLB talent for $3.00 and pass around a hat to help pay for the bills.  Set up a lawn chair, catch a foul ball, and get this....hear infield chatter, the pop of the mitt and the crack of the bat.  Yes, the crack of the bat.  Many of these guys are college studs from USC, Cal State, Omaha, Texas..etc..where "ping" was often heard.  Now to compete at the next level they have to swing the flame tempered wood that is required at MLB.

The CCL is a fan's utopia.  The purity of the game where you can bring your family on a nice 75 degree night on America's greatest vacation spot (it's mine anyways....the Cape).  You can share a cookies n cream cone with your toddler (yes, I'm speaking from experience) and watch some good baseball.  So why, why of all things is MLB infiltrating this.  Don't you feel like saying to MLB, hey here's the middle finger....look at the circus you're running with these overpriced primma donnas and now you're going to pollute the greatest conglomeration of young talent for MLB in the country (and that's fact....not b/c it's in MA). 

The annual budget of the CCL is 1.5-2 million.  As pointed out by the Cape Cod Times, the annual salary of 1 MLB backup infielder.  MLB wants an 11% royalty on merchandise sold by 6 of the teams with MLB names in the CCL.  The Chatham A's, Yarmouth-Dennis Red Sox, Harwich Mariners, Bourne Braves, Orleans Cardinals, and Hyannis Mets.  CCL paid $1 for the MLB insignia that is on the fields, programs in the past.  MLB has ordered the CCL to stop using it.  Failure to submit to these demands has resulted in a ransom by MLB.  MLB provides a $100,000 grant to help the CCL function (gee...how generous, or how much Barry Bonds spends on HGH in 2 months).  Given that 1,000 former major league players and at least 200 playing currently at the major league level (Cape Cod Times)....this is disgusting.

I applaud these teams for contemplating changing their names to not cave in to MLB.  Professional sports, not just MLB,  has suffered a black eye and looking worse than Rocky Balboa after his second fight with Apollo Creed, but this is going too far.  What this tells me is that as die hard fans, we're getting the middle finger.  Telling us, "we don't care what you want, this is all about $$".  Which I always knew, but it is so blatant now.  I guess it's like Michael Corleone knowing that his brother Fredo ordered the attempted attack on him, but poor Fredo thought he got away with it. (If you've got nothing to watch before the MLB season starts and March Madness....pull out anyone of the three Godfathers...it'll pass at least 3 hours). 

I know once again, that she (sports) is going to pull up her skirt and show a little leg and I'll go crawling back like Jeff Conway to crack (have to admit Celebrity Rehab wasn't bad).  But I'm really getting tired of taking her (sports) back......it's almost becoming insulting, no......Roberto Alomaresque (yup, spit in your face).  I sum up my feelings with the famous scene of Michael Corleone and his brother Fredo in Havanna......"You broke my heart Fredo, you broke my heart.  I know it was you."   Professional sports, you're continuing to break my heart and there isn't much left to keep attacking.  So please, clean up your own respective leagues before you strip every last thing that is good about sports (especially amateurs) and pollute them with your own insidious practices.  Joe Dimaggio, where have you gone?

Sports are a huge part of my life. It effects just about everything I do. It effects what I watch, what I read, what web sites I visit. It effects who my friends are, what I talk about, what radio station I listen to. It effects how I feel, my moods, what I teach my children, just about everything. It affects my work; it gives me something to relate to with my clients from other parts of the country. And this has been the case since I was little. When I was little, it determined what I did with my allowance (as I spent more money than I care to remember on baseball cards that aren’t worth the paper they are printed on today). It effected how my father and I connected (it still does for that matter). It effected who I wanted to be when I grew up. It effected how I decorated my room. It effected what I did in and out of school, as if I wasn’t watching sports, I was certainly was playing some sport somewhere. Whether it was an organized game or a pickup game in the neighborhood, I always seemed to be doing something sports related. It affected me so much then and so much now for one reason, I fell in love with sports. I love the competion. I love watching sports. I love learning all I can about sports. I love the behind the scenes stuff in terms of what it takes to build a team and what it takes to be successful. I love reading all about the NFL and NBA draft, what potential trades are being discussed, who is playing well and who isn’t, what players are free agents, playing fantasy football. I love debating who is better the Sox or the Yanks. I love going to Fenway or the Garden.

Unfortunetly, sports seem to be changing. I am actually wondering what happened to the big part of my life that I love so much. I worry about sports. Today all you hear about are the off the field issues. I hate steroids, congressional hearings, Spygate, Barry Bonds, Pac Man Jones, Roger Clemens and the all of the negativity that surrounds sports. Just a few years ago, the first thing I did when I woke up was to turn on ESPN and find out what happened in last nights games, what trades were made, what injuries occurred. Who did what on the field. I would grab the Boston Herald and immediately flip to the back page, the sports page. Like most sports nuts my favorite and most watched show was SportsCenter. I couldn’t go a day with out watching SportsCenter at least twice. Nowadays, I can’t seem to be able to watch 10 minutes of it anymore. They don’t seem to show any game highlights anymore and that is what I am looking. I turned on SportsCenter last week and it took 15 minutes before they talked about anything that actually happened on the field. Sports today seem to more Law and Order than actual sports. Then when they do talk about actual sports, they commentators can’t seem to do it with out yelling. I don’t need anyone yelling at me. The innocence of sports that made me fall in love with it when I was younger seems to be disappearing.

That is why I hope will all my might that the thing I fell in love with so many years ago returns to way I remember it. I hope this not only my sake but for the sake of my children. I want sports for them to give them as much happiness as it did me and if things continue the way they are I don’t see that happening.

While I was watching the All Star 3 point shootout last night, I couldn't help but to think of this great moment from 1998.

If you're reading this in the enxt several hours, have ten grand to spare, and enjoy old crap, do i have a deal for you here.

If you clicked, then you saw that it was a link to an eBay item where you can purchase a "Real Ring Used WWF Wrestling Title Belt."  But this isn't any old belt.  This is supposedly the belt from a 1989 episode of Saturday Night's Main Event that was destroyed by Mr. Perfect to add a little fire to his feud with then-Champion Hulk Hogan.  I actually remember this happeneing, and honestly, it was a pretty cool moment, because the Hulkster was growing tiresome in my mind, and someone doing this to him was pretty awesome.

Now, rumor has it that the same belt that was hammered to pieces that night was resurrected in November of 1998 as the WWF Hardcore title, a pseudo-fake belt given to Mick Foley, proving that was was essentially a real bad-ass.  The smashed belt was emblazoned with a piece of tape with the word Hardcore written on it in marker.  Despite the humorous beginnings, the title was recognized by the WWF and defended in matches that had no rules and often no ring or time constraints (called the "24/7" rule).  Virtually every wrestling fan who remembered that Saturday Night's Main Event assumed that this was the same belt, because they like to wink-wink at us like that sometimes.

Now, this ebay seller claims that former WWF Ring Announcer (he says referee, but I'm pretty sure he was a ring announcer) Mel Phillips took possession of the belt and added it to his personal collection, until this seller bought it at his estate auction.  Apparently, Mel has fallen upon hard times.  It may have something to do with the fact that he was supposedly terminated by the WWF in 1992 for fondling the ring boys.

I'm no wrestling insider, but I know that those belts cost money and become the property of the wrestler while he is the titleholder (the old NWA used to ask every champion for a $10,000 deposit whenever he won the belt).  Many people take it very seriously, with belts representing title lineages that go back decades. 

Of course, this is why I keep saying things like "supposedly" and "claims."  For one thing, the very nature of the wrestling business is fake.  The championships aren't won so much as awarded.  It is a big deal for a wrestler to be told that he will be winning the belt because it means that the bookers and high-ups have faith in him to carry the torch for the company.  Hulk Hogan sold T-shirts, so it made sense for him to be champion.  But the idea that they would smash up a belt and simply give it to a low-level employee so it can be sold years later at auction seems fishy.

As such, Detective Dursin did some digging, and discovered this: a website that creates replica belts for fans to buy (which, oddly enough, they appreantly do.)  I don't mean the toys for kids, either.  I'm talking the big heavy ones that these guys pretend to beat each other up for.  When you look at the dimensions and even the name that this guy uses in his auction, it can all be found on that site for $599 (which is a small investment, considering that he's selling this one for $10,000).

In the end, I think it's all a big scam.  When you add it all up, the fact that it would have been really hard for this guy to get his hands on this particular belt, and the fact that anyone can buy this replica and take a hammer to it and claim it's the real thing, and the fact that it's eBay and it's full of crap like this (and I know if what I speak.  I'm a rabid ebay seller myself), all points to a big scam.  When you read the description and the flowery prose, it really seems like baloney.  Part of me is jealous I didn't think of it first, but it's still an odd way to make $9400.  And this is what we've come to I guess.  The most saddening thing is that this guy has received tons of of offers and will probably get at least the ten grand he is aksing for.  I guess Einstein was right when he said, "Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal."

Or a hammer in the hands of Mr. Perfect.

In the wake of Transformers making eleventy kabillion dollars this summer (well, $300 mill, but still nothing to sneeze at.), and Spider-Man being a ridiculously profitable franchise, and even that Narnia movie spawning some inevitable sequels, it should come as no surprise that it was announced in all the Hollywood trades that Paramount is rolling out its big-screen, live-action film version of childhood fave G.I. Joe.  Director Stephen Sommers of The Mummy series is taking the helm, with the film scheduled for a summer 2009 release.

Obviously, the studio bigwigs see this as a potential goldmine, especially if they cast it right (I'm thinking Angelina has the stuff to play evil witch The Baroness, but she may too busy saving the world to play a baddie).  I naturally will reserve judgment until I see some clips and see who they get to play Snake-Eyes (who was always my personal favorite), but I'm really praying for someone out there to write an original movie.  Anyone?

Okay, that's the cynical, starving screenwriter in me talking.  Honestly, I'll probably see the movie when it comes out, if for no other reason than I was a huge Joe mark when I was a kid, and I really never will grow up.  I laid down my ten bucks to see Transformers because I loved that when I was a kid, even though those previews were woefully unimpressive.  And even though the movie itself failed to win me over, I know I'll see G.I. Joe, because, well, Snake-Eyes was really cool.

But I recently realized something while playing Transformers Monopoly with my seven year-old nephews (where the rules were slightly changed so that any player could take any amount of money from the bank anytime they wanted.  I definitely want these kids to handle my real-life finances.)  I realized that they really don't make these movies for people like me (single, losery thirty-somethings).  I had my run at Transformers and G.I. Joe twenty years ago, and while the nostalgia thing is good for a lark, I'm not going to be buying any of the toys this time around, so they'll be getting my ticket money and that's about it. 

For my nephews, however, it'll be awesome.  It'll be new and cool and stuff will blow up and there will be these neat tanks and jets, and it will also be pure.  And it should, because G.I. Joe, and Transformers and all of that stuff from the eighties down to the stinking Smurfs was about good guys beating bad guys.  Even though the Transformers movie threw in Meghan Fox for a little sex appeal, the main idea was good vs. evil, and that's really what we should be teaching people today.  Hell, with the war going on now, I wish there was a real G.I. Joe team to send in there, because they never lost.

In the end, even though I cry to anyone who will listen for originality in my movies, I do think it's good that we keep bringing these ideas back for a new generation every time one rolls around.  I mean, Sesame Street never gets old.  Barbie never gets old.  Why should G.I. Joe be retired?  The toys have actually been around for decades, when they depicted real-life soldier-types, not black-clad, silent ninjas.  But what it all coems down to is that when I was a kid, I thought that ninja was really cool, and I turned out just fine.  I'm betting this generation will, too.

Yo Joe!

One of the crazy movies I saw as a kid was Pee Wee's Big advebture starring Paul Reubens (who I think is a good actor). He also stared in his own TV show Pee Wee's Playhouse which I never really got i to. Anyway the reason I'm wtiting this is because everyone likes a good come back story. Reubens was basically blacklisted in Hollywood after he was arrested for using his "Pee Wee Herman" in public during a police sting in 1991. Well it appears that his past is now behind him. As he's coming off 2 great guest spots on Dirt and "30 Rock,"  and will star in a new show "Area 52" as an alien who's housed at a secret government facility.

He is also currently filming Pee-Wee's Playhouse: The Movie

A little while back one of my bloggers Jamie, wrote about his over 30 basketball league that he was playing in. It now looks like I've found some video of this league.

Well last night marked the return of the Men's Over 30 Basketball league. The league is held in the same gym were I played by high school ball. Good old Abington High School. Every time I walk into the school I get a little nostalgic. When I was in high (Class of 1993) I was the starting point guard on the boys basketball team. And what a team it was. If you are from Abington, you might remember that year. During the 92-93 season I guided my team to a sparkling 2-16 records. Yes 2 and 16!!. We might of been the worst team in the history of organized basketball and I might of been the worst player ever.

One of my favorite wrestlers from back in the day when I was into the WWF, Bam Bam Bigelow has passed away at the age of 45. He was found dead in his home on Friday, his brother Todd Bigelow said Monday. Preliminary autopsy results did not show signs of foul play, but a cause of death will not be known until toxicology tests are completed in a few weeks, Pasco County sheriff's spokesman Doug Tobin said.

Bigelow's flame-tattooed head and 400-pound frame made him recognizable in and out of the ring. He'll probably be most remembered for his match vs. (LT) Laurence Taylor in Wrestlemania XI. He might also be remembered for his unstoppable cartwheel move from the old Nintendo Wrestlemania game. Here's a tribute.

I know as a life long Pats fan I should be devoting my time to one of the most thrilling games in Patriots history yesterday.  But this website is committed to bringing you EVERYTHING.  I too got caught up in the hype of the matchup in San Diego, who couldn't if you lived in a 200 mile radius of Boston.  But there was some news that broke early last week.  It reminded me (to take a short snippet from my last article) of my junior high years.  The Hall of Fame balloting for the class of 2007 was announced.  So what?  You're thinking this in an article about Jimmy Ed (Rice) don't you?  No, it's about guys my age growing up with no "icon" that is just everything we see on tv and why we root for him and pour our hearts into "them".

I had this article in mind because although he'd never admit it, he too was fooled (ahem....our CEO).  Mark McGwire humiliated himself in front of a congressional hearing on St. Patty's Day 2005.  Earlier last week he appeared on less than 23% of the writer's ballots.  This man clubbed 586 career home runs, and came about as close to getting on the ballot as I would obtaining Jennifer Aniston's phone number.  Big Mac, we wanted to root for him, he was a huge man an intimidating presence at the plate and a guy who hit tape measure home runs.  Ask our CEO he had every McGwire poster, baseball card, bat signed, balls signed, hats.....McGwire may have even been frozen in his closet. 

I admit I myself was willing to overlook Big Mac and Sammy when they were saving baseball in 1998.  I knew deep down he was juicing, he looked like a WWF (it was back then) star coming to the plate.  But 2 years ago, the cover got blown off the whole thing.  We became fluent in Bonds' human growth nonsense, BALCO, Victor Conte.  I was crushed, I now know how the fans of Baltimore feel when they're team was moved over night in 1984.......sucker punched.

I grew up surrounded by sports.  My father and grandfather were sports enthusiasts.  They both would share with me what it was like growing up in Dorchester in the 30's and 50's.  My Dad rooted for Mickey Mantle and still talks about his heroics to this day.  My grandfather was a die hard Stan Musial fan.  My father actually gave me clippings from 1951 about Mantle playing in Class C Joplin before he came up to the bigs.  My father was a few years younger than Mick, but followed him passionatley throughout his career, and saved every news paper clipping until his retirement in 1974 and his death in 1995.  My grandfather used to bring my father to Yankee Stadium to see Mick and my grandfather's second favorite player Joe DiMaggio.  One of my grandfather's favorite stories was catching a double header and the Yankee Clipper went 0 for 9 in 1951, my father was crushed.

What's my point?  I envied both of these men,

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Reading Mike Symes article from yesterday, I was moved, which is tough for me.  Growing up and getting older is my one fear in the entire universe (Well, that and skiing.)  Working at BU with Freshmen and Sophomores, I often remark on the frightening fact that every year I get older and every year they stay the same age.  When I started working there I was twenty-three and could still relate to them on some level (even though one of them, when asked if she knew who Bob Dylan was, replied, "Isn't that Jakob Dylan's dad?"  *Sigh*.)  Now I'm thirty, and now I'm like their old, wierdo uncle.

Not only are they too young to remember Buckner's blunder, or Morgan's Magic (the incoming Freshmen were actually born that year) or even life without cable, they are also mostly from New York or New Jersey, so their perception of the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry stretches back to maybe 2004.  They have no idea who Bucky Dent was, nor do they care, and therein lies the rub.  They don't really need to know.  To 18 year-old New Yorkers-turned-Bostonians, it's just two teams beating the Hell out of each other, and that is all it needs to be.

Like Symes and the Boss of this site, I also grew up on Colonial Road and spent many glorious hours of my youth playing Nintendo at one house or another.  Unlike Symes (and most normal people), I don't have any children to help me relive those days gone by.  I don't actually ever intend to have any, so all I have are the 18 year-old work-study students who work for me.  It's the closest to fatherhood I'll ever be (or need to be.  No dirty diapers), so I'm happy to have them.  They may see me as their boss/weirdo uncle, but I hope one day they look back with a little perspective and realize that I was right about some things, and that no, Bob Dylan is not Jakob Dylan's dad.  Jakob Dylan is in fact Bob's son.     

Let me paint a picture of what is going on right now as I type this.  I've been up since 5:30Am, went to the gym did some stairmaster came home and THEN my workout began.  Let me back up, the last time Bostonsportz was in high gear I was expecting a new member of Patriot Nation.  On July 7, 2006 at 1:19PM, the newest member of Red Sox Nation and Patriot Nation arrived, my daughter Laura Nicoletta Symes, arrived.

We watched our first Red Sox game in the South Shore Hospital, a 7-2 win over the defending World Champion, Chicago White Sox, along with a laundry list of other "firsts" and milestones.  So what does this have to do with my article for this website.

Now jump to present time, meaning here and now (January 8, 2007 at 12:49 PM EST.).  I have been up for an entire work day and I haven't even started my regular job which I work from 4PM-12AM.  I then go to mine (and my colleagues alma mater), old AHS where I hit the weight room for an hour....that's right at 1AM.  Then back up at 5:30 or whenever Laura is bored with looking at her mobile and we start all over again.

Again, you ask where are you going?  Well, yesterday I was fortunate for the upteenth time to be a guest with the CEO of this website and the patriarch of his family along with my friend I've known since junior high (and who's wife I trust to watch my daughter when I leave for work until my wife picks her up at 5PM).   If you've ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day off (Happy 21 years old...wow that's how old it is) the last line Matthew Broderick states is, "Yup.  Life moves pretty fast.  If you don't stop and take a look around, you could miss it." 

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Well last night marked the return of the Men's Over 30 Basketball league. The league is held in the same gym were I played by high school ball. Good old Abington High School. Every time I walk into the school I get a little nostalgic. When I was in high (Class of 1993) I was the starting point guard on the boys basketball team. And what a team it was. If you are from Abington, you might remember that year. During the 92-93 season I guided my team to a sparkling 2-16 records. Yes 2 and 16!!. We might of been the worst team in the history of organized basketball and I might of been the worst player ever. I did average double figures.... in turnovers. I put up about 1.2 points per game with .8 rebounds. Looking back my assist to turnover ratio had to be 1:10. Now, I was about 5'6" and slow. I had no business being on the basketball court, but I made the team each year (which is scary) and the coach kept putting me out there (which is even scarier).  In 1993, the MIAA let every team into the tournament regardless of record. The old Indiana/Hossiers way. We were so bad though that we actually declined to play. No one wanted to practice during February break just to get destroyed. Everyone wanted to start focusing on their spring sports.

All of this is a lead in to my current playing days. A couple of weeks ago my neighbor told me there was a Mens Over 30 basketball league starting up. He wanted to know if I wanted to sign up. I figure sure, why not, we have played a lot of during the summer and I was dominating on my neighbors 8' foot net and if you have seen me recently you know that I could you the exercise. Well as soon as the season started, I realized I was delusional. I am still awful. The goods news is most everyone else is as well. We play full court, games to seven by one. These games can sometimes take up to 30 minutes. I am not even kidding. It is that bad. I am thinking of bringing a video camera next week and posting it on youtube. But the games are fun and no one takes it to serious which is good. I actually look forward to playing for some reason. Now, last night might of been my worst night of all. I was just down right awful. The final stat line for last night was 3-13 FG, 3 RBS, 2A, 8 TO's, 1 sore back and 1 sore ankle. I feel like it is 1993 all over again. Ah, the good all days!!!