Over at Yahoo, they did a piece called, "America's Ten Worst Cities to be a Sports Fan." Of course, the headline on the main page was accompanied by a picture of a fan sitting in the stands with a paper bag over his head, something that has been done so many times by now that it should be considered the Madonna of sports cliches, topped only by (maybe) that silly "DE-" and then the picture of a fence which apparently has been mandated by law to be featured at every professional and college football game in the country.

I mean, really. The bag over the head thing was funny and original back in the seventies when poor, beleaguered New Orleans Saints fans were doing it, but where has the originality gone? Archie Manning's kids are now playing in the NFL; can't we find a new way to show our disgust with the home team?

Anyway, in this article at Yahoo, the author "compared the latest median household income figures from the Census Bureau to the Fan Cost Index for each team compiled by Team Marketing...Those ratios were then compared to team performance, with regular season won-lost records and playoff outcomes combined for all teams in a given city."

Got all that?

No? Me neither, although their fancy formula determined that the city of Miami is currently the worst place to be a professional sports fan in America, so it must have something going for it. Undoubtedly Cam Cameron wouldn't argue with that assessment; not after going 1-15 in his only season as head coach of the Dolphins.

But, really, as sports fans, arent we all accustomed to failure? If you follow teams in any of the four so-called major professional sports - baseball, football, basketball and hockey - which is what Yahoo's writers considered in their analysis, then you can't really be completely happy with your team's season unless they won their league's championship, right? And you can throw college football and Nascar into the mix, too, since they have championships of their own.

The team almost universally considered to be the most successful ever, with the longest and most storied history, would be the New York Yankees of Major League Baseball. They've won an astonishing 26 world championships since 1900, nearly triple the number won by the next-most-successful team, the St. Louis Cardinals.

Impressive numbers, until you consider the fact that by winning 26 times in 108 years, they've lost 82 times! 26 championships in 108 years means they have been ultimately successful just 24% of the time, zero percent in the last eight years; no wonder Hank Steinbrenner seems so upset all the time.

You could argue with my choice of team to use as an example - the Montreal Canadiens of the NHL and the Boston Celtics of the NBA are also widely considered to be the most successful in their league's history - but the point is still the same: even these teams with such great traditions of winning championships have lost a lot more than they've won.

When you think about it, it's really a wonder we all don't wear bags on our heads. It's not easy being a sports fan.

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If youlove fiction and have a few minutes to spare, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com                                                              

The current management group of the Boston Red Sox has done, for the most part, an admirable job of protecting young pitchers while still developing them to the point where they have been able to help the big club, in many cases much sooner than people expected. The recent successes of Jonathan Papelbon and Jon Lester are two good examples.

The Red Sox dropped the ball with Clay Buchholz, though, in a big way. Maybe it was the lure of all that talent that shone through last September 1 when Buchholz, then only 22 years old and in his second big league start, threw a no-hitter against Baltimore, striking out nine, in a 10-0 victory.

Maybe it was the notion that the problems Buchholz started having in early May could be worked out while in the rotation. Or maybe it was simply a situation where, with injuries to Curt Schilling, Bartolo Colon and Tim Wakefield, the Red Sox felt that they simply could not afford to demote the youngster to work out his problems.

Whatever the reason, Boston's handling of a young pitcher with a tremendous upside has backfired. After his start on May 2, when Buchholz went 5.1 innings, giving up five hits and one run in a 7-3 victory over Tampa Bay, he had evened his record at 2-2, with a very respectable 3.71 ERA.

Since that time, however, everything has fallen apart in what has been a slow-motion train wreck that has been excruciating to watch and undoubtedly even more painful for the 23 year old to live through. In ten appearances since then, nine of them starts, Buchholz has pitched just 42 innings, giving up 43 earned runs on 62 hits and 27 walks, for an ERA of 9.21!

Oh yeah, and in those appearances the kid has racked up an impressive 0-7 record. His season ERA has jumped from that 3.71 mark on May 2 to where it currently stands, 6.75. He has given up runs in every single appearance and pitched a total of just 6.1 innings in his last three, giving up eleven earned runs. The wheels fell off the bus a long time ago, and now the entire bus has fallen apart around him.

You didn't have to be a pitching coach to see this coming, either. For at least the last six weeks, it has been obvious to anyone watching that Clay Buchholz has been pitching without the slightest confidence that he can get anyone out, and yet the Red Sox have been sending him out there time and again to put on a blindfold, smoke one last cigarette, and get the firing squad treatment from an assortment of different teams.

What, technically, his problems are is a mystery to me, and apparently to the Red Sox, since they weren't able to fix him. After his last disastrous appearance against Baltimore on August 20, when he went just 2.1 innings and gave up five earned runs, he was given his ticket down to Double A, where, hopefully, he can work his problems out without the pressure of a pennant race hanging over his head.

Clay Buchholz was not ready for this, and Boston management should have seen it by mid-June. He may very well get his act together in the minor leagues and come back and be a dominant pitcher for years, but if that doesn't happen, some people should be made to answer some very tough questions about why they let this kid twist in all the wind generated by guys running around the bases on him for three months before they did anything about it.

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If you love fiction and have a few mintes to spare, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com

3) A twelve foot putt on the eighteenth green to win a match - Whether it's the Masters on the line or a five dollar bet against your buddy, everything seems to slow down as the affected player tries to control his breathing and blot out distractions. Palms sweat and knees knock as what looks really easy is in fact really hard. It's beautiful.

2) A goaltender moving thirty feet out of his crease to stone a shooter on a breakaway - Maybe I'm partial to this one because I was a goalie, but who doesn't hold their breath on a breakaway in a hockey game, whether you're rooting for the team on offense or defense? A breakaway by a player on skates moving about thirty miles an hour is one of the most breathtaking moments in sports, and when it ends in a great save - beautiful.

1) A career minor leaguer getting his first big league hit in a meaningless September game - Isn't there a little Crash Davis in all of us? Don't you just love it when a guy who has toiled in minor league obscurity for upwards of a decade in some cases stands at the plate and drives the ball to the opposite field for a single against an established major league pitcher? Even if he never gets another hit, he will have a baseball on his mantle that he can show to his children and grandchildren, and tell the story of how, at least for one day, he was as good as anyone.
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If you love fiction and have a few minutes to spare, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com

A little more proof, just in case you needed any, that a lot of people in this world just aren't that freakin' smart:

According to the AP, Herbert Alex Simpson, 30, of Philadelphia, had a grudge against two female ex-coworkers, so he did what anyone would do in that situation - he wrote threatening letters to New York Giants football coach Tom Coughlin, pretending to be those two women, and threatening Coughlin with "a living hell" if he didn't pay $20,000 to $30,000 to keep phony sexual trysts with them quiet.

I know exactly what you're thinking. This story stinks on so many levels it's not even funny, although it really is kind of funny. Even Mrs. Coughlin didn't believe that ol' Tom would have what it takes to get two other women into bed; not even ones that don't know him.

When you think of smooth-talking ladykiller types, the intense and focused Coughlin isn't exactly the guy who springs to mind. Unless the young ladies were flaunting Washington Redskins playbooks, Tom Coughlin probably would never even have noticed them in the first place.

And how, exactly, did Herbert Alex Simpson, who clearly needs to work on his reasoning skills, think his big plan was going to hurt the two women he had such a problem with? Coughlin gets the letters and goes immediately to the authorities, who have seen interviews with Coughlin and thus have no problem believing he didn't sleep with the two women. The authorities then go to the women, they say "Never seen the letters before and never slept with Coughlin" and prove it (at least the first part) by giving samples of their handwriting, and they go on with their Coughlin-less lives.

Meanwhile, the authorities ask the obvious followup question, "Who do you think might do such a thing?" and, surprisingly, both women immediately think of, you guessed it, Herbert Alex Simpson. Sheesh. Homer Simpson looks like a Mensa candidate compared to this guy.

So now, in addition to pissing off Tom Coughlin and barely inconveniencing the two women he was angry with in the first place, Herbert Alex Simpson becomes a national laughingstock. His response? He claims he "never thought the coach would get them and he never intended to harm his family."

And, really, why would he think the coach would get them? Writing the man's home address on the envelope and sticking proper postage on it hardly ever results in a letter ending up where it was sent.

Poor Hebert Alex Simpson. He is now facing a sentence of up to two years in prison and potentially a $250,000 fine. Just a wild guess here, but I'll bet Herbert Alex doesn't have that kind of money. Luckily for him, there are still 31 other NFL head coaches just waiting to be suckered like Coughlin. No doubt he is busily writing up the letters even as we speak.

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If you love fiction and have a few spare minutes, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com

I normally try to stay away from re-posting something that I've written here before, mostly because I figure it's good to try to force a little creativity out of my feeble brain.  In this case, though, I'm posting something I wrote originally this past March. 

The Jimmy Fund is the long-time charity of the Boston Red Sox, dedicated to fighting cancer in children.  Today and tomorrow, Boston sports radio station WEEI and television network NESN, the New England SportsNetwork, are holding their seventh annual Jimmy Fund Radio-Telethon, hoping to raise millions of dollars to fund cancer research.

Here is the post I wrote last March dedicated to the subject:

Between fans of the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees, even over the winter the sniping never really ends, it just becomes a little more muted than during the regular season.

This year in particular, the offseason seemed more bombastic than usual, what with members of both organizations getting involved and ratcheting up the noise. First, A-Rod stepped on Red Sox toes with the ill-timed World Series announcement that he was opting out of his contract. He says it was his agent's idea and that he regrets the timing, but that was just the first volley anyway.

After that came Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon's remark to a reporter that the Series-clinching ball, the one he supposedly had in his possession, had been eaten by his dog. The dog's name? "Boss," of course, what else?

Move on to spring training, where Hank Steinbrenner railed against Boston's "Red Sox Nation," much to the delight of Red Sox fans everywhere. Steinbrenner promised to restore order to the universe by beating the Sox, and everyone else, and earning a Yankee World Championship.

Finally, Boston management responded by enrolling Mr. Steinbrenner in Red Sox Nation and sending him a David Ortiz autographed hat as a peace offering. Needless to say, that peace offering went unaccepted.

From a Red Sox perspective, then, the Yankees are the hated enemy, the thorn in their side, the bane of their existence. As a kid born and raised outside Boston, I can testify to the truth of that statement, and undoubtedly the same thing is true of Yankee fans everywhere, who used to say, "You have to win once in a while for it to be a rivalry," in a not-so-subtle nod to the fact that while the Red Sox were going 86 years without a championship, the Yankees were racking them up with regularity. Well, now that the Sox have won a couple, it seems the rivalry has become invigorated and reached a renewed intensity.

But here's the dirty little secret that Hank Steinbrenner surely doesn't want you to know, whether you are a Boston fan or a New York supporter: The Steinbrenner family has been incredibly generous to the charity the Red Sox organization adopted 55 years ago and has supported ever since, the Jimmy Fund.

Established in 1948, the Jimmy Fund of Boston's Dana-Farber Cancer Institute is dedicated to raising money and awareness in the fight against cancer in children. In the 60 years since it's inception, the Jimmy Fund has raised over $400 million dollars, with more than 90 cents out of every dollar raised going directly toward research dedicated to "eradicating cancer and related diseases."

For the past seven years, Boston sports radio station WEEI, and NESN, the New England Sports Network, have teamed up with the Red Sox organization to run a weekend radio/telethon in support of the Jimmy Fund. Each of the first six telethons have raised a larger amount of money than the one the previous year, culminating in last year's total of $3.74 million, with a grand total in the six-year history of the event of nearly $12 million raised.

What does all this have to do with the Steinbrenner family? Since it's inception in 2002, George Steinbrenner has supported the fundraising weekend with an annual donation of $10,000, which he upped last year to $25,000. He is not by any means the only celebrity/rich guy making a donation - Dodgers owner Frank McCourt and MLB Commissioner Bud Selig are two others who have opened their wallets generously - but the others aren't the owners and public faces of the supposed sworn enemies of the franchise.

Rivaries are great for sports. They add drama and excitement to the season and give fans and media something to talk about. But some things are more important in life, and it's nice to see that The Boss and the entire Steinbrenner family have an appreciation for that fact.

This year's 7th Annual Red Sox WEEI/NESN Jimmy Fund Radio/Telethon takes place the weekend of August 14-15, and for the seventh straight year will attempt to break the previous season's record for money raised. Undoubtedly the Steinbrenner family and thus the New York Yankees will again be a big part of the fundraising effort.

For more information on the Jimmy Fund or to make a donation, just click this link. Or this one.  Or this one.  Anyone who has watched a relative or close friend suffer through cancer - and who hasn't? - knows how difficult it is to sit by as a loved one is ravaged by the disease. Now imagine that someone is a young child, maybe even your son or daughter. Take a moment to check out the Jimmy Fund, and if you have a few bucks, think about pledging something - you just might save a life today.

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If you love fiction and have a few spare minutes, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com