Let’s just settle the MVP debate right now…in my house, it’s my wife. When it comes to our team, I play sidekick. I talk a lot, put up some solid numbers and take over for a little while—but in the stretch run, I defer to my wife when it comes to our newborn daughter—our daily opponent, who right now has a record like the ’96 Bulls. In other words, in our house, I’m Shaquille O’Neal and my wife is Dwyane Wade.

That worries me, because with Shaq Daddy, you don’t know what you’re getting anymore.

As I watched a Rocky marathon last weekend, I realized that Shaq is in the Rocky V stage of his career.

Long ago, O’Neal reserved his spot as one of the best NBA centers ever—his career 26.3 points, 11.8 rebounds and 2.5 blocks per game are a lock for the Hall of Fame. Off the court, Diesel has always been a fan favorite. He gives us good quotes, has a sense of humor and has a love of life we don’t often see from professional athletes. After all, Shaq is the person who gave us Blue Chips, six rap albums and of course, the Reebok “Don’t Fake the Funk on a Nasty Dunk” campaign.

But on the court, the inevitable is here—Shaq lacks the hunger, the skills and the attack to be as dominate as he once was. Basically, he’s every Rocky Balboa before the cool “regaining the hunger/turning point/training hard” montage.

O’Neal doesn’t impose fear anymore—in opposing centers, in opposing teams, or the refs. As expected, this is hard for Shaq (and us) to rationalize. When he’s sent to the bench for early foul trouble, as he often has throughout the playoffs this year, he can only be thinking something like this:

“But I’ve been doing the same moves my entire career—what’s different now? They’re all just floppers and the refs have it out for me.”

He sees every opposing center as a new version of Vlade Divac--massive jokes as defensive players, who fall down and don’t move their feet; praying to draw the charge.

In reality, Shaq’s a big man who can’t move his feet very good—his reaction times have slowed with age, and he really is committing fouls. Case in point: In the past five seasons, his personal fouls per game have gone from 3.0 in 2001-2002 to 3.9 this year.

The refs aren’t calling Shaq differently. Shaq is playing differently.

It goes much deeper than that. O’Neal needs extra time to recuperate—it’s clearly obvious he’s much better on an extra day's rest. When the playoffs come around, he always steps it up a notch—but now, even that’s getting to be a challenge. If Jason Collins (who isn’t exactly Ivan Drago out there) is giving you problems, you know you’re in your twilight.

The last few years of his run with the Lakers, Shaq openly admitted to using the regular season as preparation for the playoffs. When you’re an athlete in your 20’s physical prime, that mindset works. When you’re in your 30’s…eh, not so much.

In fourteen NBA seasons, Shaq has only missed the playoffs once—his rookie year with Orlando. But he’s playing fewer and fewer regular season games—for the first time since an injury plagued 1996-1997 season (excluding the ’99 lockout), Shaq played less than 60 games. Allen Iverson used to ask about the importance of practice…Shaq seems to be asking about the importance of the regular season.

History and logic tells us that all great centers start a rapid decline around age 30-32. It’s a time-told truth—like the inevitable fall of boy bands. Like most of the greats, one season you have it, then Kazaam!—the next your fighting injuries, age and fatigue.

Like Brett Favre, Randy Johnson and so many before, Shaq shouldn’t be told to quit—that’s his decision (and despite how we like to remember the mega-stars who were nearly as large as the game, it will always be their decision). With that said, he is far removed from his days of dominance and the Shaq-Fu.

Another case in point: for ten seasons, he averaged over 26 points per game. In the past three seasons, his points per game dropped to 21.5, climbed back to 22.9, and then dropped again to 20.9 this year. O’Neal only scored 30 points in a game four times this season. His last 40-point game in the regular season was December of 2003 against Washington.

It doesn’t help when Shaq loses role players like Eddie Jones and Damon Jones—who hit timely shots and played solid defense. Good team defense could hide Shaq’s slower mobility (almost inability) now to block shots. And when O’Neal is forced to help out, he’s moved away from the basket and can’t recover fast enough to hit the boards. For the first time in his career, he’s averaging less than ten total rebounds per game.

I bet my wife is hoping my career doesn’t decline to the point she can only count on me once every three days. She’s putting up Wade-like numbers against the baby: 3 hours sleep, nursing and taking care of the 4 year old. If we’re going to win a championship, I’ve got to step it up—just like Shaq.

If we are to witness a “Shaqaissance”, then Carl Weathers needs to get down to South Beach and whisper into O’Neal’s ear: “There IS no tomorrow…got to get it back, man—the eye of the tiger!”

And if neither Shaq nor I start contributing more to our respective teams, we’ll both be out of jobs.

He’s played 221 consecutive games (241 including the playoffs), basically turning himself into the NFL version of Cal Ripken. He returned a proud franchise to championship status with a win in Super Bowl XXXI and an appearance in Super Bowl XXXII. He’s become one of the most beloved quarterbacks of all time—and as fans he’s been given the benefit of the doubt on several (bad) occasions.

And with an off-season of posturing and indecisiveness, Brett Favre is throwing all those good things away.

The longer Brett Favre takes to decide whether he’ll come back to grace the Packers with his quarterbacking presence, the longer he falls into the abyss of egotistical star.

The dwindling number of fans who still stand by Favre say that he has the right to go out the way he wants—without being forced into something.

However, if Favre professes to love the Packers and their fans so much (and the game of football itself) he owes it to them out of courtesy for all they’ve done for him. Favre was given an extremely large grace period by Packers management, the media and the fans in deciding whether to retire or not. And he’s now abusing it like opposing defenses abused him last season.

Abused it by taking four months (so far) since the end of the Packers season to decide.

Abused it by forcing the Packers to delay their franchise’s plans for the future and the NFL Draft.

Abused it by letting a team that, to the point of extremes, values him and honors him to be this kind without any gestures of the same in return.

Abused it by saying last week about his indecision, “what are they gonna do, cut me?” Well, now that you mention it…

Abused it on Saturday by saying, “I know people are getting impatient, but enjoy baseball right now.” So is Brett telling the Green Bay front office, the players and the coaching staff to watch the Brewers and not worry about their jobs?

Is it me, or has he managed to make himself look like a hypocrite for his criticism of Javon Walker last summer. Pot, meet kettle.

Favre says he’s not sure if the team is going to be any better next season. To be fair to the Packers, with his stats from last year, it may not—injuries or not, Favre didn’t have a good year. It’s not like Brett is playing like Kobe Bryant and demanding talent from Green Bay because his prime years are being wasted.

Favre can’t use Roger Clemens as an example. Clemens is annoying enough for baseball fans who feel like he’s been courted harder than Cameron Diaz in Something About Mary (coincidently a Brett Favre film). Why? Because Clemens is independent of the Astros other plans. They may not be able to get another pitcher of his caliber, but they can get another starter who will be moderately effective, whether Clemens comes back, retires or jumps to another team.

It’s not that way with Favre. Whether or not Brett’s skills have diminished, or he just had an off year doesn’t matter—he’s the every down quarterback who controls and is in charge of this team. And Roger didn’t play his entire career for Houston. They were just pleased to have him for as long as they did.

No one, no matter who it is, is this much bigger than the team.

At this point, tensions are strained—and there’s a chance for Green Bay to part with their trademark superstar and not get torched by the media (even in the local papers). Favre’s negated his own leverage in the public eye, thereby giving the Packers the opportunity to set a deadline of 48 hours if they want.

If the Packers don’t hear from Favre and he’s still undecided, they can make the decision for him and cut him. This isn’t like cutting him two weeks after the season—or not giving him his time—they’ve been there and done that.

I’m not even sure Brett gets it; he’s Far-ve off on his interpretation of his place in history. He must not understand what he’s losing—his place among the all the time greats. Forget being adored from now until football eternity—Favre is in danger of having a footnote attached to his career and legacy.

He needs to get over himself and make a decision. We don’t owe Favre anything anymore for the show and the ride he’s given us. He owes us now.

Like a bad case of indigestion, the Terrell Owens/Donovan McNabb feud just won't go away. For nearly a year, Sports fans have been getting nauseous at the inexplicable comments made by Terrell Owens towards his former Philadelphia Eagles team mate and quarterback, Donovan McNabb. It's Groundhog Day and if this feud were the Punxsutawney Phil, he's just seen his shadow. In other words, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Yesterday in an interview with ESPN's Michael Smith, McNabb finally responded to all over Owens' criticisms of him over the past year--after remaining virtually silent the entire season. On the surface, most Sports fans wouldn't begrudge McNabb a couple verbal cheap shots on Owens considering what was said about him.

Except McNabb doesn't exactly have a gift of gab. He was a little too candid; opening up a can of worms which largely focuses on race. Once again, race is brought to the forefront of a Sports issue. It will be interesting to see how the rest of the national media handles this, considering the cast of characters involved and the fact we're three days away from Super Bowl XL.

As for the controversial comments, McNabb's racial undertones took place mostly during the interview's segment regarding Owens comments from last November, in which T.O. agreed with an interviewer that the Eagles would be better off with Brett Favre at quarterback.

“In that situation, it was kinda like, 'That's unreal.' That's just like me saying, 'If we had Steve Largent, if we had Joe Jurevicius, we'd be undefeated. He'll now have to answer the question for the whole week about me saying it.

It was definitely a slap in the face to me. Because as deep as people won't go into it, it was black-on-black crime. I mean, you have a guy that has been criticized just about all his career and now the last criticism is that I'm selling out because I don't run anymore, by an African-American.

And to say if we had Brett Favre that could mean that if you had another quarterback of a different decent or ethnic background, we could be winning. That's something I thought about and said, 'Wow.' It's different to say if we had Michael Vick, Daunte Culpepper, Steve McNair, Aaron Brooks, Byron Leftwich. But to go straight to Brett Favre, that slapped me in the face...”

I hate to do this, because I don't like Terrell Owens. But there are some things that need to be pointed out here. First, Owens didn't bring up Brett Favre, the ESPN reporter did. Owens answered the question--which was first speculated on by Michael Irvin before the interview took place. Had Owens been the one to say 'Brett Favre', then maybe things would be different.

Why is it a 'slap in the face' to be compared to Brett Favre? Is it merely racial? Not that race is a small issue; it's much larger and more prevalent in Sports than probably any other facet of our society. It must be racial in this situation, because there's no other way McNabb could be offended. He's a good player, but he's a little like Peyton Manning, he's going to get criticized until he wins the big one. Um, wait...did I just compare him to another white quarterback? Uh-oh.

What you've got to wonder is this: notice how none of McNabb's Eagles' team mates stuck up for him? Even after it was obvious that T.O. was going somewhere else, even after McNabb tried unsuccessfully to play through his Sports hernia, none of the Eagles' spoke up and defended McNabb.

Of the list of quarterbacks up on his list, only McNair has even played in a Super Bowl, and it was only one--like McNabb. Favre's played in two and actually won Super Bowl XXXI. But I'm getting a little off topic, this isn't about Favre and McNabb, it's about McNabb's insinuation that Owens answering in the affirmative to the Favre question makes it a "black on black" crime.

So Owens can, in McNabb's mind, attack his character by questioning his stamina in the Super Bowl last year, he can attack Donovan's abilities as a quarterback and a leader--as long as it's not to a white guy? How are these comments any worse or any less racial than the things Rush Limbaugh said on ESPN in 2003 to get fired? Looking back on it, how much of what Limbaugh said was purely racial and how much of it was wrong because it was racial? How much of it was because Limbaugh was a white conservative radio host offering an opinion on football?

Limbaugh said in the fall of 2003 that McNabb was "not as good as the media precieved him to be." He continued by saying that "I think what we've had here is a little social concern in the NFL. The media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well. There is little hope invested in McNabb and he got a lot of credit for the performance of this team that he didn't deserve. The defense carried this team."

Limbaugh resigned (though he was basically fired) for his comments. By all accounts, there were racial undertones in those comments that were undeniably wrong. But I've rehashed it for you because I wonder what the difference is between McNabb being offended by Limbaugh's comments and responding in the Philadelphia Daily News that "It's sad that you've got to go to skin color. I thought we were through with that whole deal."

Funny, Donovan, so did we.

Now, McNabb's lost a major portion of his credibility with Sports fans, because he finally gave in and retaliated. Not only did he retaliate though, he brought in race--something he has said often before shouldn't be a qualifier. For months, we've backed him up. We said, as a collective group, we liked how he was a bigger man and didn't need to respond to Owens directly. And by holding his head high, he earned even more respect from his peers and those who cover him.

McNabb still held that stance merely three days ago when he told the New York Times, "My name was thrown around like a cheap rag that just couldn't make it to the washing machine. But sometimes in life you have a learning experience, something you can learn from and hopefully it will make you stronger. With everything that's happened, you sit back now and smile about it and move on."

You can steam and moan in private, but complaining in public is something people don't like.

Here's why: let's say you've got a friend or friends (married) who silently struggle to make ends meat, they work hard, rarely talk about their finances and when asked about it, they might discuss it briefly, but they say little and eventually change the subject. Well, if they started complaining to you about how poor they were, what is the first thing you'd do? Look for some dirt. You would start analyzing how many times a week they go out to eat, what they buy, what kind of car they drive, etc. It's in our nature. Don't throw it in our face if you don't want us to see it.

This is what makes this McNabb retaliation so hard to understand. It was going away. As Sports fans, we were almost there, almost to the point we didn't have to read about it in the newspaper everyday. Almost to the point that Sports Center didn't have a story or expose on it...well, maybe not that. But we were almost to the point were once T.O. was on a different team, it would become a smaller story down the road.

Terrell Owens, with all his hoopla and Drew Rosenhaus mouthpiecing, is by no means now a victim in all of this. But no longer is Donovan McNabb.

Just like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, we keep living it over and over and over again. Bill Murray in that film represents what we are as Sports fans watching this drama. We can't escape it. We can change the channel or the station or throw out the paper, but it's always there. Just like Bill can drive off a cliff, electrocute himself and step in front of a moving truck. For Sports fans and for Bill, we just keep waking up the next morning to the same song, the same story. The Terrell Owens and Donovan McNabb feud is our Groundhog Day--except we're not the ones who can't get it right.

For Sports With Moore, go to http://sportswithmoore.blogspot.com

"What the hell's going on out here?!?"--Vince Lombardi

I know Lombardi was talking about his Green Bay Packers play when he made that famous quote years ago--but I've got to wonder if it's not a adequate statement concerning the world of the coaching ranks today.

Lombardi's old team just hired Mike McCarthy, the offensive coordinator from San Francisco. Yes, that 3-13 San Francisco.

Look, I'm all for innovating tactics, for hiring a hot coaching prospect like a Lovie Smith, a Herm Edwards or whoever is the flavor of the month. The thing is, the Packers didn't even do that. McCarthy isn't hot. He's the New Lindsay Lohan. He might have had promise once, but he's proved himself not very good. Kinda like Lindsay losing too much weight, dying her hair nineteen different colors, reportedly admitting to bulimia and drug use. She kind of lost her hot factor.

McCarthy was the QB coach for the Packers back in 1999--where Brett Favre posted one of the worst QB ratings of his career and threw 23 interceptions. But as someone said today, "He's a creative offensive mind--and he helped develop Aaron Brooks in New Orleans." I'm sorry, is this the same Aaron Brooks that isn't going to play for the Saints anymore and has a career QB rating of 79.7?

The Kansas City Chiefs just hired (or stole) Herm Edwards from the New York Jets. All it took was a fourth round pick. Are you kidding me? I get a better deal paying Chuck E. Cheese $45 in games to win a poorly made toy for my son.

Why is it that Edwards was allowed to walk away without his ethics being questioned? Especially from someone who claims to be a "right way" coach? As SI's Peter King mentioned multiple times in his online column this week, Edwards, until a week ago repeatedly said he was staying in New York, that he was committed to the team and to building a winner.

Money talks. We should know that. The "right way" coaches aren't any better than the ones that are up front about it. Larry Brown's traveled more in his coaching career than a KISS did in their farewell tour. He does it each time for two reasons: 1) Money 2) Power.

Plain and simple.

Is coaching slightly overrated? Let's stick with Brown for a minute. He left Detriot (who's gotten better offensively without him to restrict free movement), now currently battling the Bulls for best start to a season. Ever.

Brown goes to Detroit at was 7-21 at one point. Sure, they've reeled off six wins in a row--but they have stats (like leading the league in turnovers with 17 per game) that smell a lot like the after shave known as "Bad Coaching". I think it's a Calvin Klein brand.

His replacement, Flip Saunders, is now considered a genius, kind of the same way that Rick Carlisle was looked at in Detroit before he was fired for Brown. 

Furthermore, what makes Larry Brown and Herm Edwards any better than Terrell Owens. If I think T.O.'s wrong, an #### and a season sabotager, then why wouldn't I think that about Brown? Edwards?

The answer is I wouldn't. I think Edwards and Brown's antics disgust me because of their hypocritical "right way" talk. Orchestrating your way out of New York is quickly becoming a prerequisite like being near Tom Cruise means selling your soul to Scientology.

My questions are fair enough, I think. Why does Norv Turner keep getting head coaching jobs? Won't some organization eventually just say, "Look, Norv, we think you'd be a great O-Coordinator. We like your work with the Cowboys and Redskins in that capacity...but...let's just look at your track record here--you've been thrown under the bus more than Keanu Reeves in 'Speed'."

Why didn't the Lions notice that Jeff Garcia and the 49ers didn't exactly go to bat for Steve Marriucci a few years ago? (Oh that's right, Matt Millen's still there).

Why is it that we retain coaches, even if it's obvious they've lost the touch (or maybe never had it)? This category includes Brian Billick. I mentioned this last week, but if Billick's such an offensive genius, why hasn't he found a QB to run his offensive in seven years? Don't tell me he hasn't had the opportunities, he was involved in the selection of Chris Redmen, Kyle Boller, Anthony Wright and Kordell Stewart, either through draft or free agency. He shouldn't have a job--though we would be missing the Brian Billick Face, pictured at left.

Sometimes you shouldn't hand over the keys to the car so quickly. Sometimes coaches should just coach.

Basketball's just as guilty of it. We throw stones at Bob Knight for cursing at his players and berating them, but we easily forget that 99% of his players swear he made them a better person in life, and on the court. But we'll let a roll-over and play dead coach like Brian Hill coach every few years hoping he's developed some sort of spine. 

Why does Chris Ford keep getting hired as an NBA coach? Mike Dunleavy? Doc Rivers? Bob Hill? Bill Simmons wrote a great piece on why the Celtics should fire Rivers here. I'm not a Bob Weiss supporter--never even heard of him until this season. But you've got to give these new guys time--even if that means time to screw up the franchise and prove they shouldn't be a head coach.  So when the Sonics pulled the plug after 30 games--a 13-17 record I wondered aloud why they even hired him. Plus, he even had the support of the players.

If we can blame the athletes, why can't we blame the coaches, right? Well, sometimes we give the coaches too much credit. Phil Jackson's a smart man, but I wonder now what he might have done had he been coaching Kobe 15 years ago. Would old Phil be doing what new Phil's doing in L.A.? Because he's basically collecting a paycheck (albeit a hefty one). 

Maybe it's the GM's fault. Maybe they're the ones that give these guys jobs continually. Maybe it's our fault, as fans and media members, that we criticize the selection o####uy like McCarthy before we give him a fair shot.

Perhaps we're just jaded and we question it too much. But I do ponder the relevance and the difference between Patriots Coach Pete Carroll and USC Coach Pete Carroll. Same guy (aren't they?) Same game. Different levels and entirely different results. Why? Did he get the raw deal in the NFL or just get really lucky in L.A.?

It remains a mystery, one that neither I--nor Coach Lombardi--can figure out.

There are not many times we find similarities between Football and Baseball in the Sports World, except in a very abstract way--unless it's in Hollywood. On Monday Night, as I watched the quarterback formerly known as Brett Favre be humiliated on national television by some punk named Kyle Boller and the Baltimore Ravens by the score of 48-3, I realized, like many we were watching a legend for the last time. And it was a sad time of reflection.

When I'm in these states, I often turn to a song or a film that can make the mess a little clearer. I needed to find meaning in the deconstruction of one of the greatest and gutsiest quarterbacks of all time.  And I found it in a baseball film. 

For Love of the Game is yet another Kevin Costner baseball flick.  But unlike his other baseball flicks, his character Billy Chapel is a mega-star pitcher at the twilight of his career for the Detroit Tigers.  Chapel is 40 and the Tigers are, well, the Tigers.

The film is set in late September, the end of a long season for both Chapel and the Tigers as they prepare to face the New York Yankees. We follow Chapel as he chases a perfect game in Yankee Stadium, while at the same time he flashes back to key moments of his life while trying to make the decision to play for another team the following year (we find out the Tigers have been sold) or simply retire with his legend in tact. 

And I couldn't help but wonder if Brett Favre was thinking those same things on Monday evening. I found the answers in this movie.

A Hard Time Letting Go:
Jane Aubrey: "You ever had your heart broken?"
Billy Chapel: "Yeah, when we lost the pennant in '87."

Like Favre, Chapel was a warrior, a gamer. He played for nearly twenty years and nearly didn't make it back from a horrific hand injury. Aubrey is his lady love who can't understand his passion with baseball. At one point, she's telling him to quit during rehab on his pitching hand after the accident and Chapel says he can't, "haven't you ever loved anything that much?"

Isn't this Brett Favre?  You can tell by the way he slings the ball, the joy which he takes from each snap that he loves the game. This is just a guess, but I bet Brett and his wife had a somewhat similar conversation the last couple years when it came to the subject of retirement. 

Like Chapel in the film, who won the World Series with the Tigers in 1984, Favre has his one Super Bowl ring. He's been MVP like Chapel; he's won every major award, what more does Favre have to prove?

What nobody understood about Chapel in the film, not Aubrey, not his trainer Mike, not his lovable goof-ball catcher Gus is probably what nobody understands about Favre right now: it's not about proving something to anyone else. It's about loving a game you've known your whole life, a game you can still play well.

Say what you will about Favre and his mistakes this season, but Brett could be under the most pressure of his career to win with the least amount of talent. Sometimes that "Got-To-Fit-This-Pass-Between-Three-Defenders" is the best option he's got. 

The Media Bias:
"After 19 years in the big leagues, 40 year old Billy Chapel has trudged to the mound for over 4,000 innings. But tonight, he's pitching against time. he's pitching against his future, against age, against ending.  Tonight, he will make the fateful walk to the loneliest spot in the world, the pitching mound at Yankee Stadium, to push the sun back into the sky and give us one more day of summer.--Vin Scully in For Love of the Game

On Sports Radio talk shows across the country, people still sing the praises of Brett Favre and rarely criticized his decision making. The same was not true for Chapel in For Love of the Game.  As a Yankee fan in a airport bar states, Chapel used to be something great, but now he's got nothing left. Chapel was trying to prove to himself he did have something left in the tank.

Favre might be trying to prove that to himself at this point, but perhaps he is trying to prove he can still win football games on his own like he did when he was 26. The longer the fall, the harder the landing. My worry is that Favre will stick around only to not find the success (however he would define it) that he's look for. He's probably not winning another Super Bowl. But is he looking for his version of the Perfect Game?

See, Chapel's perfect game represented a fitting ending. It wasn't a perfect season or a World Series title, just one game that turned out to be great. Is that what Brett's after? If he threw for 450 yards, 4 TD and won by 30 over the Bears this weekend at home would he hang them up?

 'Tell Them I'm Through'...

Shortly before the final inning, Chapel finishes contemplating his future. He gets a spare ball, takes a pen and writes, "Tell Them I'm Through,' For Love of the Game'-- Billy Chapel" and sends it to the Tigers owner. 

Late Monday night, Mike Flanagan, the Packers center and close friend of Favre, approached him on the flight home to sit next to him like he always does.  Flanagan and Favre usually chatted about the game--win or lose--every time.  This time, Flanagan and Favre didn't, because Flanagan didn't sit next to Favre.  Why? Favre was sitting with his face buried in his hands, looking extremely fatigued. When Flanagan asked him how he was, Favre only responded, "I'm fine."

It's no one place to tell someone what to do, especially retire. I wonder if the "What Else Do You Have To Prove" comments, like the ones given to Chapel by all the characters in For Love of the Game, might eventually make Favre see there's nothing left in football but his legacy as one of the greatest quarterback's ever and the first Super Bow title in Green Bay in 30 years.

Maybe then, and after a heroic performance in one of these last two weeks, Brett will take a football and sign it something like this:, "Tell them I'm through, 'For Love of the Game'--Brett Favre".