One could argue Daly's Hall of Fame qualifications by pointing out that he wasn't as much as a coach but a prison guard who marched out convicts to physically assault the competition. The Detroit Pistons under Daly were tough, no question. You didn't drive the lane without getting hit, and a hard foul caused a retaliated response. But such was life in the NBA during the1980s.
For all their banging, bruising and belligerent behavior, the Bad Boys were one of the most intelligent teams of the era. The Pistons weren't fancy and never tried to be something they weren't. They knew their strengths and weaknesses, and played accordingly. Perhaps more important, they recognized their opponents' weaknesss and figured out how to exploit them. But for all Daly's teams did on the court, includes the original, 1992 Olympic Dream Team, his greatest accomplishment was somehow maintaining a balance among the strangest group of personalities, outside of the new-century Trail Blazers, ever to grace a NBA team. Outside of Joe Dumars, for whom the NBA named their Man of the Year Award, this was a three-ring circus.
Bill Laimbeer was a player only a teammate could like, Isiah Thomas a three-card monte hustler with a cover boy smile, and was it just a coincidence that Dennis Rodman went from hard-working defender to a basket case once Daly moved on?
The testimonies after his passing took on a familiar ring. So did the watery eyes among those who participated. He was a coach, a mentor and a guy for whom other people wanted to play, yet he still managed to leave people shaking their head when they wondered how could such a nice guy coach such a bunch of jerks.

In years to come, when Bud Selig looks into his chest of baseball memories to relive the glory days of his inconsistent reign, he'll no doubt gaze with reflective pride on the international tournament he envisioned and championed into existence. Other mementos of the past, such as any mention of his role as enabler in the largest illegal drug scandal in the game's history, have been tossed aside, along with the polyester leisure suits that made him the center of attention on the lighted dance floors of the 1970s.

The World Baseball Classic provided yet more proof that, though the names may be unrecognizable or unpronounceable, the skill is universal, even if it comes from areas far removed from the New Jersey meadow where the rules and dimensions of the modern game were born.

U.S. fans, used to big swings and even bigger misses, were treated, if they cared, to styles of play seemingly lost in the chase for immediate gratification. Anyone wondering what the game looked like before the advent of instant offense need only tune into any contest by the final pair to be transported back to a time when bat control, smart base running and crisp defense were mandatory and well-practiced keys to victory.

But no matter the merit of the Asian, Caribbean or European style of play, the WBC will not fulfill Selig's prediction as a true World Cup-type event until changes are made.

The biggest hurdle to clear before the games restart in 2013 is coaxing greater support from Major League owners. Selig, during an in-booth television interview, said the owners will have to put aside individual need for the greater good of the sport.

This is going to be a tough sell even for a commissioner who is basically a displaced owner. Owners and executives are rightfully concerned that an injury to a key player could deter a title shot and affect their bottom line.

This fear of lost revenue will change when the merchandising and television dollars start rolling in - which they will, as long as the series can be kept afloat.

According to bizofbaseball.com, domestic TV ratings for round one jumped 40 percent over 2006, with viewership up almost 90 percent.

But more important than U.S. ratings is how the game does overseas. ESPN reported that the five first-round games were the highest-rated non-soccer events ever broadcast on ESPN Deportes. In Asia, where Major League Baseball is trying to make a big impact, the March 13 game between Japan and Korea pulled in a 37.8 rating in Japan with even bigger numbers in Korea. The Classic also helps the exposure of foreign players, so look for teams to tap into the under-used Korean talent pool.

For all the outstanding competition and international grudge matches the Classic brings out, watching teams play each other four or five times just gets old. Reseeding teams in the second round would prevent boring repetition and make for additional compelling matchups. Who wouldn't want to see Cuba take on the U.S. and give Castro even more column fodder? The former revolutionary leader's op-ed piece in the Escambray was a bit rambling, but he had a point about the disparity of having three of the four top-ranked teams by the International Baseball Federation in one division.
As important as the international element is to the Classic, a huge part of its future depends on U.S. success and the participation of American athletes.

Even with the majority of talent and viewers coming from places other than the United States, as goes the U.S. so goes the Classic. America still produces the best baseball talent, and fans in all countries want to see the best compete. Just as fans in the Netherlands celebrated like it was Nieuwjaar after their club defeated the mighty Dominicans, so do fans elsewhere want to take down an even more dominant U.S. team. But for this to be the case, changes have to be made to make it more attractive to players.
Baseball is an everyday game, and stretching a nine-game tournament over three weeks doesn't give players the necessary time to prepare for both the Classic and their upcoming Major League season. Fixing this is a two-step process. Slicing a week off the schedule will eliminate the unnecessary down time players hate, and beginning training earlier will ensure proper health and team coordination. The later will be toughest to implement.

Counting spring training, the Major League season lasts nine months, which leaves very little off time to heal wounds or eliminate the stress of a marathon season. Getting 28 player to make such a commitment will be difficult. Therefore, use fewer players. This is not Little League. Not everyone needs to play. Pick a starting nine, plus pitchers, who are going to play each game and keep the rest in reserve with their clubs in spring training. Should an injury arise, fly in a replacement.

One final suggestion: Lower ticket prices. While the price tags may not have been out of order when compared to quality seating in Boston or New York, triple-digit prices are a bit much to watch Panama take on China. While the final numbers were good in Los Angeles, mainly because of its large Korean population,  TV viewers were greeted far too often with too many open seats to indicate they were tuning into an event worth watching.

And if seeing Derek Jeter cheer on Kevin Youkilis or David Wright celebrating with Shane Victorino doesn't send you running to create your own Mastercard-inspired proclamation of financial support, nothing will.

smurray@midweek.com 

In his first few months in office, Barack Obama has stirred supporters, stoked the wrath of opponents and, like every other man to have ever taken the job, has handed out appointments to election supporters. When the president named Pittsburgh Steeler owner Dan Rooney as ambassador to Ireland, it no doubt provided even more fodder for followers of the famed  Feminazi instigator to take their shots. But while we debate what qualifies Rooney to represent the European Union's second-richest country, we can ponder a few other names Obama may consider for administration posts.

Ricky Williams - Ambassador to Jamaica. OK, I readily admit this is a cheap one. Sending sports' biggest pothead to the land most identifiable with this tasty, sticky and pungent weed may seem like pure caricature, but it has some real merit. The U.S. presidency is the toughest job on the planet, and who better to take the pressure off the top job and infuse the Oval Office with a little Rasta man vibration than a holistically trained running back.

Martin Brodeur - Auto Czar. No doubt that naming a Canadian to head the most American of industries will have people clamoring to condemn the nomination as just yet another example of badly timed outsourcing. But the U.S. auto makers are in desperate need of a win, and no one has done that better than Brodeur. The New Jersey net minder is a frequent visitor to Detroit, and is just a short drive or train ride from the D.C. powerbase from which he'll have to lobby on behalf of his charges. Auto workers need someone who is hard-working and has taken a few hits of his own. During his soon-to-be Hall of Fame career, Brodeur has smothered some 29,000 shots, or about the same as the Ford Edsel.

Larry Brown - Secretary of Transportation. After 13 stops in his 32-year coaching career, no one is better at wrapping the glasses and limiting packing damage than Brown. The nation's infrastructure, of which much was created during the administration of Obama's kindred spirit of free spending, has been left to rot and is in dire need of repair. Obama can certainly find someone more politically connected, but not even the most-experienced Beltway backroom dealer is better to direct the reconstruction of said byways than the man who has spent more time on more highways while leaving more teams.

LeBron James - Secretary of Defense. James is not the first name that comes to mind when talk turns to NBA stoppers, but in appearance, poise and performance he embodies everything our military is about. James is pure GQ in his clothing options, and carries himself with a level of professionalism that most athletes never understand - not to mention that the dude is downright terrifying. And isn't that the exact message a country should send to its enemy? LeBron is unmatched in his combination of strength, speed, ferocity and willingness to be part of a team. He's a virtual recruiting poster.

Alex Rodriguez - Drug Enforcement Agency. Another easy shot. A-Rod has international connections in the world of illicit drugs and colleagues with a wealth of experience. Hiring Jose Canseco as his assistant would be smart and would keep him off reality TV. And since a high level of secrecy is necessary to infiltrate cartels, he could also bring in Bud Selig to brag about enforcement after denying any such problem exists.

Tiger Woods - Treasury Department. With his demand for secrecy it is indeterminable whether Tiger is an aggressive investor or prefers to limit his dollars while following the calm sensibility of Jim Cramer. What we do know is that the former Cardinal is a one-man growth industry. Earl's boy has, near singlehandedly, turned PGA purses into a bull market with payments of $280 million, up from the $80 million investment a mere 13 years ago.

Kurt Warner - Secretary for Aging. Warner would be a great advocate and role model for the gray-haired set. Like many elders, Warner has been repeatedly cast off as someone past his prime and of little value, only to show remarkable knowledge and ability when given a chance. Who better to let a nation infatuated with youth to understand that, though there may be snow on the roof, it doesn't mean there isn't one last-minute Super Bowl drive on the fire?

Greg Maddox - CIA Director. Maddox sure doesn't fit the G-man prototype of the wide-bodied, cold-staring public servant. With a less-than-threatening physical makeup, and soft, puffy eyes that make it look like he just removed his tape-supported spectacles, he appears more apt to check in late books at the local public repository than head one of the world's most-talked-about and secret history-altering agencies. But like the men he'd direct, Maddox is a master of secrecy, misdirection and the unexpected. With almost no speed and a delivery that looked better suited to backyard barbecues than big league ball parks, he's bobbed, weaved and beguiled his way into certain Hall of Fame inclusion.

smurray@midweek.com

For one, it was a week of redemption. For the other, yet another bridge burned.

Stephon Marbury and Terrell Owens are skilled players who are cursed with more ego than talent, and who have brought more attention to themselves for their actions off the court and field then on. For the time being, Marbury has found a home with a structured team that doesn't really need his help. Owens, however, will be in search for the last team willing to put up with his nonsense.

The Marbury experiment in Boston has gotten off to the start everyone had hoped: quiet and uneventful. In three games (as of this writing)  the Celtics' new point guard has eight points and nine assists in 40 minutes. More importantly he's yet to alienate his teammates, coaches and owners, with no hint of misbehavior. For most players and teams, that would be the expected minimum of decent behavior, but it's been some time since the man with the $21 sneaker went very long without becoming a distraction. It remains to be seen how long he can hold out before venturing down that well-beaten path.

Owens' time in Dallas was the soap opera everyone should have seen coming. The three-year docudrama starring the former 49er and Eagle was highlighted by tremendous skill, dropped balls, bizarre behavior, muscular superiority, locker-room bickering and one alleged suicide attempt. Even though Owens cried famously in support of the man tasked with getting him the football, and then later blamed said quarterback and tight end Jason Witten for conspiring to keep the ball away from him, it became clear that Owens and Tony Romo couldn't co-exist, and no one, not even Jerry Jones - who, like all owners, favors performance over professionalism - is going to choose an aging receiver over a Pro Bowl quarterback. When Dallas imported Roy Williams from Detroit, it was only a matter of time before Owens left the Cowboys in search of sucker No. 4. He'll find that team soon enough.

Though Owens is likely to have a bigger impact on his team, of the two, Marbury is the safer hire. Yes, he's self-involved and is yet to find fault in any of his actions, but unlike Owens, who has literally torpedoed three teams, Marbury doesn't seem to warrant immediate psychological assistance. So far the Coney Island native has deferred to Boston's Big Three and has taken his minutes as they have come, but Marbury needs close watching because history, as they say, repeats itself.

In 2003, Rasheed Wallace was a technical foul-prone Pacific Northwest problem child who entered a very tight Detroit Pistons locker room and helped lead them to a championship. The suddenly well-behaved post man silenced all doubters, and the Pistons seemed to do the impossible. A team of strong leaders was able to rein in a temperamental star and convince him of his evil ways. But the good times didn't last, and slowly but surely Sheed went back to his Jailblazers' ways and began sabotaging his team with bad behavior and disinterest. The Celtics could be next.

Every team thinks it has the structure to rehabilitate troubled athletes, but the successful ones rarely enjoy much long-term success. One of the reasons the Celtics work so well together is they are not afraid to share the spotlight or to get in one another's grill. Marbury couldn't handle playing second plantain in Minnesota when Kevin Garnett was still too young to take on a strong leadership role.

What's going to happen now that Garnett has shown the ability to make teammates cry? His new coach summed up the challenges ahead perfectly, saying that Marbury's problems were in New York and everywhere else -the last two words being most important.

Whoever takes a gamble on the former Cowboy is going to face a challenge. Owens is a No. 1 option who, if he desired, could still earn a Pro Bowl spot. Physical receivers are a premium in the NFL, and any team on the edge of the playoffs or more will be tempted to breakdance with Beelzebub. And it may even work out for a year, but hoping for anything more is just foolish. If the Cowboys, who took  the fun out of dysfunctional, can only handle three seasons, how's a team lacking blood lust for victory in ownership going to do any better?

Marbury and Owens are gambles. Vegas was built on such excitement. It's the lure of sudden richness with only the house coming out ahead. Boston got a seat at the table. Will Minnesota or Oakland?

smurray@midweek.com

The uniform was different, but the feeling inside Joe Louis Arena was vintage 1990s.
Well, almost. Eleven years has a way of calming hostilities, even those toward uber villain Claude Lemieux, who a decade ago was as welcomed in the Brown Bomber's playhouse as octopi on the ice in Denver.

The images are still clear: Lemieux's check that sent Kris Draper hard into the boards and then to the hospital with a broken jaw, cheek and concussion - which, even though it came from behind, upon further review looks more accidental then purposeful. And, most famously, the March 26, 1997, retaliation by Darren McCarty 301 days later that sent the Avalanche's instigator to the ice for protection, which included a scrap between goalies Mike Vernon and Patrick Roy, and a second show of strength four seconds into the second period when Adam Foote and Brandon Shanahan tied up. It was hockey at its best.

The 43-year-old former master of the sucker punch played his first game for San Jose Jan. 20 and has been rewarded with 19 penalty minutes in 15 games, but it wasn't until he skated against Detroit did his comeback become noteworthy. For better or for worse, after four Stanley Cups, a Conn Smythe Trophy, 785 points and 1,756 penalty minutes, Lemieux will be remembered most for the fights he instigated and for the rivalry he helped start. After five-and-a-half years away and seemingly a lifetime since the NHL has seen confrontation in all its former gory glory, the NHL could use a few agitators and retaliators.

In all truth, the league doesn't need players such as Lemieux or McCarty, who before his groin injury had scored one goal and 25 penalty minutes, all for fighting majors. The league is blessed with international talent that has raised the skill level to unseen proportions. Commissioner Gary Bettman wanted his league to be celebrated for its athleticism and not fisticuffs, and from that aspect it's been a success.

But the lack of fighting and story-ready characters has caused the league to lose some of its identity and attractiveness at a time when even the NFL is making cuts. The realities of the economy and a salary cap won't allow teams to employ punch-first-and-ask-questions-later players such as "Tiger" Williams, whose 3,966 penalty minutes has made him a penalty box legend. The league will never completely go back to the days of paid enforcers, nor should it. Even hockey needs to evolve. But the league does need something or someone to stir the pot and create matchups that make the regular season something more than an 80-game preview to the post-season. It wasn't going to be Steve Avery and his camera-mugging comments and, as much as the league is trying, it's not going to be Sydney Crosby and Alexander Ovechkin.

Ovechkin is the game's best player, Crosby its most-famous and best-marketed. The NHL and its broadcast partners are pushing these two as a latter-day version of Howe vs. Richard, but neither really fits the role. Ovechkin has the jaw-dropping talent, but Crosby is more inclined to hit and hide than menacingly stalk an opponent for a true face-to-face tussle against a force majeure. Then again, saving one's aggression for a smaller target is standard operating procedure for Broad Street bullies in every city. And for 20 seasons, no one exhibited that belief more than the man named the No. 1 Most Hated Man in the NHL by ESPN in 2006.

Claude Lemieux was a jerk with the marvelous ability to get under the skin of his opponents. Detroit fans should have recognized a similar skill in its own well-loved 6-foot-11-inch, 260-pound Bad Boy. If they did, they'd never admit it. Such is the nature of pests. They are loved in their hometown, despised on the road and needed in today's NHL - a fact that hasn't escaped the now calmer vet.

"It's good for hockey,"  said Lemieux in the Detroit Free Press. "I think hockey was at its best as far as TV ratings and the interest of the hockey fans (then). They couldn't wait to watch those games, and I think we need more rivalries of that kind to develop to promote our game."

There was a time when Toronto vs. Montreal, Edmonton/Calgary, Islander and Rangers and, yes, Red Wings/Avs meant something more than an evening out and playoff position. It was nearly life and death. The NHL needs to get that back, and Lemieux and McCarty are too old to lead the way.

Though they'll help any chance they get.
smurray@midweek.com