Dear Jed

John Edward,

You’re like the rich kid who takes over his family’s thriving, super successful business and runs it into bankruptcy and irrelevance simply because you can’t see passed your own ego. Wait, no, you’re not like that kid at all, you ARE that kid. Congratulations. You have managed to single handedly take one of the NFL’s proudest franchises and turn it into a laughing stock. You must be so proud. No, seriously, you must sit back and marvel at your craft. There is no other explanation for the choices you have made during your tenure as inherited owner of the San Francisco 49ers other than pure, unabashed, intention.

I was fortunate (or whatever) enough to hear you speak at a small political function soon after you took over at the Niner ownership helm. Rumors had just begun swirling about the team moving to a new stadium in Santa Clara – the San Francisco 49ers moving to a new stadium in Santa Clara (read: not San Francisco, as the name would suggest). You spoke so well and seemed to really get it. You addressed the rumors head on, said the team would be moving, but would always be a San Francisco team. You spoke about your uncle (Eddie, if you’re reading this- we LOVE you, please come back. PLEASE!), the legacy he left and how much he taught you. You spoke of learning from him and wanting to be, and run the organization, just like him. K… well… fail.  

First rule of professional sports ownership – It is not about you. I’m going to pause briefly to allow you to read that aloud to yourself a few dozen times. You didn’t like Harbaugh, he didn’t do whatever you said, fine. That is no reason to run him out of town. You mean to tell me that Eddie, Carmen and Bill always saw eye to eye? Please. However, like divorced parents putting the kids before themselves, Eddie, Carmen and Bill put the team first. The result – 3 super bowls and one of the proudest franchises in all of sports. I suppose it’s not entirely your fault, you didn’t build this organization, or anything really, so you don’t have the same pride or responsibility to it.

The jig is up. As I type this, the team, OUR team, is 2 and 6. We’re 2 and 6 with a head coach who resembles a deer in the headlights week after week on that sideline, a quarterback who has less and less confidence in himself as each week passes, and a team so depleted that even the most die-hard of fans has to Google half of the names on the backs of the jerseys your coaching staff sends out on to the field each week. All of this coming off of the worst off season, arguably, in league history where about 50% of the team voluntarily either left or retired. You’re kidding yourself if you think that isn’t directly your fault. You publicly ripped out their head coach, you undermined and embarrassed their Defensive Coordinator, and you promoted to head coach a defensive line coach with no discernible qualification, aside from jumping when you say go. You provide no stability, no loyalty, and have instilled the fear that if someone speaks against you, they’ll be tarred and feathered in a public square, and then fired. This is not a dictatorship, bro, the proof is in your record.

Come out of hiding. Apologize. Call your uncle. Apologize, again,  to the faithful. Atone for your sins. Actually, just call your uncle and give him his job back. I’m sure Guggenheim would love to have you back.

C

P.S. Bowman, Staley and Boldin. Thanks for being the badass ballers that you are. We love you.

Colin's Character

As a society, we are so much more comfortable when people, places and things fit in their designated roles. Summer is supposed to be warm, winter is supposed to be cold. Rabbits are supposed to be fast, turtles are supposed to be slow. Boys are supposed to like sports, girls are supposed to like fashion. Cartoon heroes are supposed to be good looking and have good hair, cartoon villains are supposed to be scary looking and have horns or something. “Good guy” athletes are supposed to be clean cut and say all of the right things, “bad guy” athletes are supposed to be those with a lot of tattoos and big egos. Don’t ask, don’t question, that’s just how it is. Period. Except when it’s not.

Colin Kaepernick, the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers is a “bad guy athlete” straight out of central casting. He only speaks to the media when he absolutely has to, and even then he never says much. He is unwaveringly confident in his abilities as an elite NFL quarterback. He has tattoos covering his body. He parties, has dated multiple women, and likes to post pictures of himself, and his abs, on social media. I shudder at the thought of the horrible person he must be even typing these words. Except- he prefers to let his performance speak for him. His confidence is what helped him get to the NFL and helps make him an elite quarterback (one who has lead his team to two straight NFC Championship Games in as many seasons as starting QB). He is a man of Faith and his tattoos are an outward representation of that. He is a single, 26 year old man, who is living his personal life similarly to most other single, 26 year old men (key word being personal). Our collective disapproval of Kaepernick and his choices don’t make him a bad guy. In fact, if we took a closer look, I think we’d find that the exact opposite is true.

Now, please don’t get me wrong, there is plenty about Colin that I don’t like. His inability to read a progression, his habit of throwing fade route passes a couple yards too short and a couple feet too low (one, in particular, comes to mind immediately), his penchant for wearing the colors of other NFL teams. It’s all absolutely maddening. None of it, however, changes his work ethic, or his skills, or his character.

We don’t have to like Kap, or agree with his personal choices, or even root for him or his team, but we do owe him our respect. Let’s remember that before we gang up on him, or any other, assuming guilt in very serious accusations simply based on how we’ve typecast them. It would all fit so much more easily if CK7 were just another punk kid, but that simply doesn’t make it so.

C

P.S.- Go Niners!

He’s Baaaaackkkk

Remember the time it would have been all but impossible to believe that Barry Bonds would ever not be a part of the institution of Major League Baseball? Remember the time when it would have been all but impossible to believe that the MLB, and specifically the San Francisco Giants, would ever allow Barry Bonds be a part of the organization in any official capacity? The man who captivated the world with his dominance at the plate, a once in a lifetime race to break an until then forever untouched record, and the man who also happens to be the Godson of baseball royalty, also happens to be the man who became the biggest disgrace to all of it. And guess what, he’s baaacckk!

It has just been announced that the man, the myth, the legend (as it were), Barry Lamar Bonds will be a special instructor for the San Francisco Giants during their spring camp this year.

Special indeed. Barry is such a Jekyll and Hyde. On one side, he has always been a bright eyed student of the game. A player who, while being blessed with all of the physical talent and baseball acumen available in 1964, never seemed to stop studying the game. He was never satisfied and was continually striving, working to be even better. However, your greatest strength can also be your greatest weakness, and that same drive could be exactly what lead Bonds to sell his soul to the devil, err Stan Conte. Enter Mr. Hyde. On his other side, #25 became obsessed with the accolades, with the attention, with the individual celebrations that follow any player who even comes close to threatening one of baseball’s longest standing records. It was seemingly no longer about the love of the game and the desire to be great, it was instead all about Barry becoming the man, the player, the one and only.

Many love Barry’s Mr. Hyde. They love him for the pure entertainment, excitement and sparkle that he brought to the diamond. Baseball is a game, and he played it perfectly. No harm, no foul, enjoy the show. Many more, however, believe Bonds to be a cheat; a cheat who hijacked the game and turned it into his own personal parade. He could have been one of the greats, but instead of being the next Hank Aaron, he became the next Pete Rose.

Much like Rose, I truly believe that Bonds never considered the consequences. Correction: I truly believe Bonds never considered there would be consequences. Whether he was blinded by the flash of the cameras or by his own ego, I believe Bonds expected to ride off into the fall sunset, wearing his crown built by homeruns, the celebrated king, while a retirement filled with personal appearances and countless coaching opportunities awaited him. Mr. Hyde, your humble pie is ready.

It’s hard not to have this rush of emotion and anger come back upon hearing the news that he’s back, especially as a Giants Fan. Like a bad break up, baseball fans were left empty and without closure. For god sakes, Barry, just admit it already! It will feel so much better, for all of us. Having him back is a slap in the face reminder of how it was, The Barry Bonds Giants of San Francisco. Nonetheless, all of the above does not take away the fact that Bonds’ approach and eye at the plate are that of baseball lore. To say that he has nothing to teach this team of Giants would just be a blind dumb lie. My hope is that Barry takes this opportunity given to him to start anew and perhaps even repent. I do believe in second chances. I know he misses the game, it’s who he is. I hope that he comes back to it that eager and excited Dr. Jekyll version of himself realizing that as much as he has to teach the young players of today, there is so much more that they have to teach him.

Welcome back, #25. Please don’t make me regret saying that.

Go Giants!

C

P.S. Before all of our smurf colored friends work themselves into a tizzy over this, allow me to remind you that your official, on the payroll, hitting coach is the Godfather of this shameful PED family. 

A Tale of Two Guards

Two Guards. Both basketball players. Both members of an NCAA Division 1 basketball program. Both guards. And, as far as I can tell, that is the extent of their similarities as players. One a guard for Kansas’ Rock Chalk Jayhawks. The other a guard for Villanova’s Wildcats. One a highly touted, highly recruited, Canadian transplant, expected to be a lottery pick, if not the first overall pick, in the 2014 NBA draft.  The other a local suburban Philly kid who, while undoubtedly the hardest worker on the court at any given time, may not even be the best athlete in his family. One is Andrew Wiggins. The other is Ryan Arcidiacono.  Lucky for us, their very different paths crossed on the 2014 Battle 4 Atlantis floor.  Who were you watching?

My guess is that most tuned in to the coverage of the tournament with little to no knowledge of Villanova’s 6’3” guard, Arcidiacono. I’d also be willing to bet that most, if not all, who tuned in not only knew of Andrew Wiggins, but at least in part tuned in specifically to see him play. I really can’t say that I blame them. Not only is Kansas a storied behemoth of a college basketball program with a fan base that I would argue rivals any in sports, but Wiggins himself has been dubbed the second coming of LeBron. How could you not want to see his basketball magic for yourself? There was no shortage of tournament magic at this year’s Battle 4 Atlantis: upsets, double-digit comebacks, game winners, multiple games that required overtime to be decided. Yet none, none of it was supplied by Kansas’ #22. If your tournament crush was Andrew Wiggins, then I’m sorry to say you were probably left a bit empty and unfulfilled. Minimal playing time, deferred shots, lackadaisical strolls up and down the court, and an overall lack of interest in the game. After watching all three of Kansas’ Battle 4 Atlantis tournament games in person, I could not tell you with any real conviction that Andrew Wiggins even enjoys playing the game of basketball. What a shame.  Ryan Arcidiacono, on the other hand, with a humble confidence and a game winner over Perry Ellis to upset preseason #2 Kansas in an arena that, if you closed your eyes, could have been mistaken for Allen Field House thanks to the some 2,000 plus Jayhawks fans who made the trip to Paradise Island. He not only provided a healthy heap of magic but, more importantly, made his team better and put them in a position to win.

I was fortunate enough to have seen Arcidiacono (“Arch”) play in the Big East Tournament earlier this year. Going into Battle 4 Atlantis, I had already seen the now sophomore point guard lead his team on the court with the gumption and grace of an NBA veteran years his senior, so I had a little inside information on who to draft as my #1 who to watch for the tournament. And here’s what I, and anyone else who was watching Villanova’s #15, saw- A player who has the utmost respect and complete trust of all of his teammates and coaches. A point guard who sees the entire game in slow motion and manages it much like a football quarterback. A teammate who does everything he can to put the other 4 Wildcats on the floor in a position to succeed. A selfless leader who will not be outworked, and who won’t force a shot just to score, but who isn’t afraid to take THE shot, either. We saw someone who makes everyone around him a better player. That game winning trey was pretty sweet, too. To be fair, I am pretty sure I did see Wiggins give one of his teammates a high five, once.

Two guards with two very different paths that happened to cross in Paradise. Wiggins is the guard who is fulfilling his mandatory one year in college on his way to declaring for the NBA draft. The next Shabazz (two z’s) Muhammad, perhaps?  Arch is the guard who could be one of those NCAA athletes who goes pro in something other than sports. Whatever he decides to go pro in and wherever he ends up, his is the path I’ll be watching.

C

P.S. A huge congratulations to the Villanova Wildcats, 2014 Battle 4 Atlantis Champions. That entire team, every one of them, made it happen. 

P.P. S. If you’re in the market for a new Jayhawk, might I suggest Joel Embiid? Much like Arch, that kid is also all kinds of hard work and wonderful.

Thank you, #75.

Earlier this week, the San Francisco Giants quietly placed Barry Zito (LHP) on waivers. Quietly, Zito cleared waivers and is now available to be traded. Barry Zito’s career in San Francisco, and possibly his career period, is quietly coming to a close.

Thank you, Barry Zito.

No, seriously, hear me out. Barry Zito, the left-handed pitcher who was a 3 time All-Star, the 2002 AL Cy Young Award winner and had an average ERA of 3.49 in his 7 years as an Oakland Athletic. Barry Zito who then signed a 7 year, $126 million, deal with his once Bay Bridge rivals, making him the highest paid major league pitcher at the time. In his 6 full seasons with the Giants since signing that monster contract, Barry Zito is a zero time All-Star, a zero time Cy Young Award Winner and boasts an average ERA of 4.65. Barry Zito and San Francisco Giants fans- the very definition of a love/hate relationship. Let’s be honest, the emphasis has most certainly been on the hate.

We all know the storyline and how it played out. The Giants, in 2007 when Zito joined the team, were 5 years removed from completely blowing it in the World Series against the Angels (no, I still don’t want to talk about it), 4 years removed from their last playoff appearance, and were desperately searching for some star power (ok, a lot of star power) to replace the other Barry’s, who’s power had been reduced to a sad “pow” at that point. With Bonds’ career all but over, the Giants’ brass- ahem, Peter Magowan- decided that Zito was the answer, the second coming of the Barry, if you will, and put all of its eggs, pennies, pebbles, marbles, and anything else that they could find, into his basket. To say that actuality fell short of expectations and hope would be a gross understatement, but we all already know that. What we don’t know, or perhaps fail to realize or appreciate, is that Barry Zito maneuvered his way through the last 7 tumultuous seasons with absolute grace.

Not once did he speak badly about his coaches or teammates. When the team made that all but impossible late season run in 2010, winning 20 of their last 40 games, to make the playoffs, Zito was left off of the post season roster. Left off the roster! I urge you to take a look at the tape from the end of each of the games that postseason and pay special attention to the first person out of the dugout and on to the field to congratulate and celebrate.

Not once did Zito complain about the way he was treated by the city and the fans. We heckled him, we booed him, we jeered him, we did just about everything short of spitting in his face and threatening his family- and you know I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that did in fact happen. The night Jonathan Sanchez threw a no-no against the Padres, I was on my way out to celebrate with the rest of the city and happened to walk passed a liquor store on Chestnut, the same liquor store that Barry Zito happened to be stocking up on supplies for his own post-game activities. Just as I walked passed, a model Giants fan walked in and screamed “Barry Zito that is the closest you’ll EVER get to a no hitter.” I stopped in my tracks, cringed, and waited. You know what Zito did? He looked at that jackass, smiled, and said “Go Giants”.

He has embraced his community and used his platform and celebrity for good. In 2005, he founded Strikeouts for Troops (http://strikeoutsfortroops.org/), an organization that supports injured military members and their families, and provides the comforts of home to military families as their loved ones fight to keep us comfortable and safe. An organization that now has the support of over 100 players and managers, giving back to those who give their all for all of us. Equally as impactful, a friend and I happened into All Star Donuts on Chestnut Street one evening (morning?) sometime past midnight (never you mind why we might have been at a donut shop so late). Z and his fiancé, now wife, were at the counter in front of us. When the cashier recognized him, she turned around, grabbed a bunch of baseballs and asked him to sign them. Without skipping a beat, he took the pen and the first ball and began signing, stopping only to turn around to apologize to us for the holdup.

Thank you, #75. Thank you for being a model teammate and a gentleman. Thank you for embracing us even when no one would have blamed you had you fired right back at all of it. I am sorry it has taken us so long to appreciate you, but thank you for being one of the best guys to wear this uniform. And, especially, thank you for Game 4 of the 2012 NLDS and Game 5 of the 2012 NLCS.

C