July 18th, 2000 is a day that I will always remember.  No, I didn't lose my virginity that day (although as a high school student on the cusp of my senior year, that was always my biggest goal), nor did I go to some crazy drunken teen party.  On that sunny afternoon, I went with a few of my friends to watch a doubleheader at McCoy Stadium in Pawtucket, RI, home of the Pawsox, or as they're better known throughout America, the Pawtucket Red Sox.  I don't have a clue what happened in the second game of the double dip, for the first one stole the show.  The young hurler for the Pawsox, who had just been demoted from the parent Boston Red Sox days earlier, threw a seven-inning no-hitter (games in minor league doubleheaders are only seven innings long) against the visiting Ottawa Lynx.  My friends and I marveled at the pinpoint location and sharp breaking pitchers of this young pitcher, and we envisioned him helping the Sox win games for years to come.  This young stud quickly became one of my favorite players at any level, right up there with Nomar Garciaparra, Pedro Martinez, and Ken Griffey Jr.  I vowed to follow his career no matter what path it took.  Unfortunately, the pitcher's career path came to an abrupt dead end due to injury problems, and he never realized his potential.  That pitcher is Paxton Crawford.

In last week's issue of ESPN the Magazine, Paxton Crawford admitted using multiple performance-enhancing drugs during his tenure in the Red Sox organization.  Considering that there have been several stories of steroid abuse among professional athletes in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I should have been ready for a relevation from somebody connected to the Red Sox of the Dan Duquette era (besides Jose Canseco).  I didn't think that a young prospect that faded from the game too quickly, perhaps directly because of steroid abuse, would ilicit an emotional response from me.  Much to my surprise, it did.  When I opened up the Providence Journal last Thursday, the facts of the story hit me like a ton of bricks.  How could Crawford, a young player with his whole career, his whole life ahead of him, have essentially been cheating the whole time?  Bearing witness to Crawford's seven-inning no-hitter had been one of the highlights of my life as a Red Sox fan, right up there with the 2004 World Series and my first visit to Fenway Park as a child.  It was as if one of my former heroes was a fraud, a false idol that I had wasted my fan worship on.  It was worse than getting punched in the stomach, it was more like getting smacked from behind by a cinder block.

For the next couple of days, I remained angry at Crawford for what he did.  I would bristle at the inevitable mention of his otherwise-forgotten name on ESPN and other sports channels.  When Red Sox highlights came on I would change the channel, hoping to miss the inevitable follow-up story on the clubhouse culture of steroid abuse that Crawford described in his interview.  My realized that my anger had turned into denial.  I was no longer viewing Crawford as a phony, rather as a cheater that had the balls to own up to his past misdeeds.  But I couldn't accept the image of the Red Sox clubhouse that he had painted, an image of a clubhouse where steroids were accepted and drug abuse was a fact of life.  A part of me felt that Crawford was stil lying, and that he was in the minority among baseball players.  Another part of me, however, believed that, at least partially, Crawford was telling the truth.

Yesterday, I had a moment of clarity.  I woke up and realized that, while I didn't condone Crawford's actions, I was still a fan of his.  Nothing, not even a drug scandal, could taint the memory of that special afternoon at McCoy Stadium.  Suddenly, I understood how San Francisco Giants fans can cheer Barry Bonds every time he comes to the plate.  These fans are not judging Bonds as an alleged liar or an alleged cheater, they are judging the body of work and the memories he has given them over his great baseball career.  For the fans that were in attendance when Bonds hit his 715th career home run, nothing that happens from here on out will ever erase that memory.  Those fans got to witness a great player reach a great milestone.  Just as I remain a fan of Paxton Crawford, major league pitcher, there are many people that are fans of Barry Bonds, legendary outfielder.  While not all these fans condone the actions of alleged cheaters, they remain fans for the lasting memories these players provide.

Until last week, I had always viewed the steroid issue in baseball as a distant issue, one that really had no impact on me.  Jose Canseco, Jason Grimsley and Rafael Palmiero were not players that I had ever been particularly fond of, therefore I had no clue as to why any sports fan could remain fans of these athletes.  When Paxton Crawford admitted that he used steroids, it was an eye-opener for me.  One of my favorite ballplayers had too been a cheater.  Although I was initially angry with him, I came to the realization that Crawford's these accomplishments.  I highly doubt that Paxton Crawford's admission of steroid use affected as many fans as much as it affected me, but he was the player that put the whole steroid issue into perspective for me.  Paxton Crawford woke me up to the realities of steroids in baseball.

For those of you that were hoping the title of this post didn't refer to the post itself, I apologize.  It's been over a week since I've actually had the time to sit down and update my blog.  Over that time frame, I had about three or four good ideas to post about.  Unfortunately, after working 56 hours this week, I've forgotten each and every one of them.  I vaguely recall wanting to write about former Red Sox pitcher Paxton Crawford and his admission to using performance-enhancing drugs, but my feelings on that issue are fairly deep and complex, and expressing them would be better suited for a better-planned post, perhaps to be written sometime Monday.  For now, here is another example of an overworked/stressed/hung-over blogger's best friend: random musings and one-liners (or as Shooter calls it, the Random Crap Blog).

- I know this is technically sports-entertainment and not sports itself, but the new ECW absolutely SUCKS!  If I wanted to see a hastily-perpared, poorly-written, hour-long wrestling show I'd watch TNA.  i can't wait until this time two years from now, when ECW has failed and Kurt Angle returns to regular WWE programming.

- For the first time in my life, I've been watching the World Cup, and I've actually been enjoying it.  I watched the USA-Ghana game on Thursday on a portable TV at work.  When I went out to eat dinner tonight, I made sure I had a table where I could see the Argentina-Mexico overtime thriller.  (Ahh!  I just called a soccer game a thriller!)  How could I, a full-blooded, NASCAR-loving, beer-swilling American have turned into a soccer fan?  I have to blame this on one of my old college roommates.  Every Saturday morning he would wake up at 10:00, no matter how many Coors Lights (aka wussy beers) he drank the previous night, and order the Manchester United game on pay-per-view.  This overexposure to world-class soccer has now ruined me as an American sports fan.  It's no use.  I shouldn't even have the right to write a blog anymore.

- Not that I'm condoning Ozzie Guillen's insensitive comments, but my buddy's girlfriend swears that Jay Mariotti has his eyebrows professionally waxed and moisturizes.  Just thought I'd throw that out there.

- I once took a class with an individual that utilized a most unusual method to quit smoking.  First, he switched from cigarettes to chewing tobacco.  Switching from one cancer-causer to another seemed at first to be a lateral step, but when you tie in the next step, it starts to make sense.  From chewing tobacco, this person then switched to Big League Chew.  Yes, the stringy bubble gum in the paper pouch from our youth seriously helped somebody quit smoking.  We don't need any Federal money for stop-smoking programs, we need Federal subsidies of bubble gum that was meant to imitate the look of dip.  Hop on that bandwagon, Al Gore.

- I still maintain that, over time, the deal that sent Bronson Arroyo to the Reds for Wily Mo Pena will turn out to be a fair trade.  I also maintain that the earth is flat, the Cadbury Bunny craps out creme-filled eggs every Easter, and OJ will indeed be successful in his search for the real killer.  Besides, how can I go against a guy (Pena) that I once declared a hetero man-crush for?  It's not possible.

- I love it when NASCAR goes road course racing.  It provides one of the few annual chances to check out Boris Said's afro in full affect.  Said has the best looking white boy afro since Disco was king.  Sunday's race at Sonoma/Sears Point/Infineon is worth watching just to catch a glimpse of that groovy 'do.

- Finally, has anybody else ever noticed the similarities in the theme music for "MacGyver" and "Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers"?  It just occured to me the other day that the tunes are almost exactly the same.  Was Rescue Rangers meant to be a parody of MacGyver that flew right over the heads of a generation of 8-year olds?  Now I'll spend all day Sunday watching the two shows on DVD and compare and contrast episodes.  I may even call out of work Monday just to get a complete analysis.

And no, I'm not stoned right now.    

I feel awful for Sean Tracey.

All Sean Tracey did Wednesday night was do the job that a pitcher is normally asked to do.  Summoned from the bullpen by White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen to start the seventh inning against Texas, Tracey managed to get Hank Blalock, one of the most feared sluggers in the game today, to hit into a ground ball out.  Normally, recording the first out of an inning against a great hitter like Blalock would be a very good acomplishment, especially for a rookie pitcher with little major league experience.  But Tracey's reward did not come close to fitting his accomplishment.  Ozzie Guillen walked out to the pitcher's mound and angrily removed his young pitcher from the game.

Why would a manager be angry with a pitcher that just recorded an out?  Because, in Ozzie's mind, Tracey had not done his job.  It seems that prior to facing Blalock, Guillen had instructed his pitcher to hit the Texas third baseman with a pitch to retalliate for two earlier beaings of White Sox catcher A.J. Pierzynski.  Tracey's first pitch was inside, but it failed to strike Blalock.  Guillen, enraged that his pitcher had not followed up his order to strike an opposing team's batter, pulled the pitcher from the game and threatened to demote him to AAA.  On Thursday, upon acquiring relief pitcher David Riske from the Red Sox, Sean Tracey was indeed demoted to the minors.  Granted, a roster move was needed to make room for for Riske, but it doesn't seem like a coincidence that Tracey was chosen to be sent to the farm club.

Did Sean Tracey fail to accomplish his assigned task of hitting a batter?  Most certainly.  Should Guillen have reacted in the way he did?  Absolutely not.  Guillen's reaction to the situation was completely out of line.  It's fine to be disappointed at a player for not performing as expected.  Heck, it would even be acceptable to berate the player behind closed doors after the game.  Instead of keeping his anger in-house, Guillen chose to vent in the dugout, in plain view of thousands of fans and media personnel.  Tracey appeared to nearly be in tears after the verbal beat-down at the hands of his own manager.  What lesson was Tracey supposed to learn on Wednesday?  I guess Guillen was trying to send a message that even the slightest amount of non-compliance is unnacceptable, especially if it goes against the manager's wishes to cause physical harm to an opposing player.

The reaction of Ozzie Guillen to the situation involving Sean Tracey was completely unacceptable.  Just because a player failed to injure a fellow player on another team is no excuse to punish him.  The only person that deserves to be punished for his actions is Ozzie Guillen.  I hope Bud Selig grows some balls and does something about a controversial situation (for once) and at least fines, or perhaps suspends, the White Sox manager.  A suspension would fit Guillen's crime.  A plane ticket to play AAA ball in Charlotte doesn't fit Tracey's crime.

Recently, I got into an argument with a friend of mine regarding profession (i.e. WWE-style) wrestling.  In the paste debated the merits of The Rock versus Hulk Hogan and high-flyers versus powerful big men, but this debate was much different.  This time, we were arguing about professional wrestlers and whether or not they have the ability to be top-notch athletes in other sports.  I told my friend that there are a great many professional wrestlers that possess the natural gifts to excel in the real sports world, such as 1996 Olympic gold medalist Kurt Angle.  My friend fired back with the one name that I had no defense for, and that was Brock Lesnar. 

As you may or may not recall (I'm leaning towards "not" given the decline in the popularity of the WWE since the late 1990s), Brock Lesnar was one of the biggest names in pro wrestling in early part of the 21st century.  With an impressive physique and amateur wrestling background, Lesnar soon was on the fast track to stardom.  His road to success culminated in August of 2002, when Lesnar won the WWE undisputed championship.  (Before I get comments regarding my knowledge of pro wrestling, I know it is fake)   Less than two years after this triumph, Brock Lesnar left the WWE for good to try his hand at professional football.  This career move turned out to be a miserable failure, and Lesnar was very quickly out of the NFL.  Maybe he should have played on the basketball team in college instead of joining the wrestling team, that seems to be the resume preferred by NFL personnel men these days.

Determined to prove that I both correct and a stubborn SOB, I have done some research to determine if professional wrestlers do possess some of the skills required to play real sports at a high level.  After a weekend of digging up figures when I could have been trying to get laid, I have compiled a list of professional wresters that have also participated in real sports in a career that was at least slightly more successful than Brock Lesnar's football career.  Enjoy.

"Alpha Male"Monty Brown, NFL (Buffalo Bills, New England Patriots), TNA Wrestler

Although the first image is extremely difficult to make out, it is a photo of "The Alpha Male" Monty Brown during his college football days at Ferris State.  Brown would follow up his collegiate career by playing four seasons as a linebacker in the NFL, spending three years with Buffalo and closing out his career with the New England.  Brown appeared in 43 NFL games, recording 106 tackles.  Today, Monty Brown is one of the most visible superstars in TNA wrestling.

John "Bradshaw" Layfield, NFL (Los Angeles Raiders), former WWE Champion

Pictured in his college days at Abeline Christian University, John "Bradshaw" Layfield, or JBL as he's known to his jeering fans (he certainly isn't a fan favorite), played briefly on and off for the Los Angeles Raiders of the NFL and in the World League, but injuries cut short his promising playing career.  Now a self-proclaimed Wrestling God, JBL held the WWE championship for nearly ten months between 2004 and 2005.  It was announced this past Sunday that JBL will now become the color commentator on Friday Night Smackdown.

Kurt Angle, 1996 Olympic Gold Medalist, 6-time World Champion (Pro Westling), Current ECW Wrestler

It appears I've made it back to when I began my agrument, back to Kurt Angle, quite possibly the greatest ring technician the WWE has ever seen.  Wrestling for Team USA, Angle captured the Gold Medal in freestyle wrestling in the 1996 Atlanta Summer Olympics.  After winning the greatest honor possible in his sport, Angle went on to an extremely successful career in the WWE, becoming a six-time world champion.  One of the most popular superstars ever to grace the WWE ring, Angle now works his craft in the new incarnation of ECW, which the WWE has very recently brought back from the dead.

Although Angle can be described as one of the best pure athletes in professional wrestling, the same cannot be said for either Brown or Layfield.  The fact that these two men had careers in professional football without being renowned for their athleticism in professional wrestling proves to me that there are many pro wrestlers that are athletic enough to play professional sports.  Perhaps if Lesnar had tried his hand at football before wrestling he would've had a chance.  Still it would be interesting to see what kind of marks likes of Bobby Lashley, Kane, Chris Jericho and Undertaker (who has given workout advice to Shaquille O'Neal in recent years) could have left on the world of professional sports if they had chosen that path instead of pro wrestling.  We may never know for sure, but I'd bet they would have been at least moderately successful as professional athletes.

Last night, the Carolina Hurricanes defeated the Edmonton Oilers to take a 2-0 lead in the best of seven Stanley Cup finals.  This series has the potential to have a great impact on the future of the NHL.  Carolina is a team that represents the new era of the NHL, a more wide-open era where speed kills and skill dominates.  Carolina also represents the proliferation of the NHL into new markets where hockey would've never had a foothold in the past.  Fifteen years ago the thought of a Stanley Cup contender playing home games in the hotbed of college hoops and NASCAR would've been unheard of. 

Originally, I was going to write a post bemoaning the loss of the Hartford Whalers, a team I always will consider more of a "hometown favorite" than the Boston Bruins, to an experimental market south of the Mason-Dixon line.  Upon realizing that I'm about eight or so years too late to complain about that, I have considered another issue that's been grinding my gears about the NHL.  The new NHL is making history as we speak, and I can't watch a game of it.

My local cable company doesn't carry OLN as part of its basic service.  I'm not going to mention the company by name, but I will mention that it begins with  C and ends with  X.  It seems that prior to the start of the current NHL season, OLN was a network where you could watch all the duck hunting and bass fishing you could ever desire (speaking of non-events...), but had no value to the non-outdoors type.  The NHL is now availible on OLN, but that station hasn't been added to my basic package as of yet.  I get plenty of other obscure channels (E!, Sci-Fi, HGTV and the like), but OLN isn't one of them.   Without OLN, I'm shut out of catching the new NHL. 

I know I'm not the only person in this situation.  I've spoken with many friends that have the same complaint about OLN and it's limited availibility limiting the visibility of the NHL.  I could upgrade to digital cable, but my salary sucks, so that's not an option.  Also, DirectTV and other satellite services are not an option because I have a protected nature preserve with many large trees to the west of my house, which would adversely affect my satellite signal (at least that's what I've been told by a DirectTV sales rep).  Sadly, it looks like I'm going to have to go to great lengths to see any Stanley Cup action this postseason, unless any games are to be aired on NBC.  I was really looking forward to seeing the Stanley Cup finals, and especially watching the former Whalers play, but it seems that may not be possible. 

Hopefully, the successful return of the NHL will lead to greater television exposure in the playoffs next season.  Whether OLN is added to my basic package by C(blank)X or the NHL picks up another television partner, it is imperative to the continued growth of the league that more games are visible to more viewers.  No sport can grow without decent exposure.  I have been a fair-weather hockey fan since I was a child, and the only way any fair-weather fan will ever become a full-fledged fan of the game is by having the opportunity to watch top-quality hockey on a regular basis.