New Year’s resolutions? No, thanks. I don’t believe in ’em. If you have to wait until Jan. 1 to start working out, stop smoking or quit watching reality television, your commitment is fleeting as a soap opera marriage, anyway.
As for reorganizing other people’s lives under the umbrella of a spankin’ new year, hey, any columnist worth his beer gut is willing to overlook the hypocrisy and make a list.
Putting myself in the shoes, sneakers and skates of the following sports personalities, I’ll save them the trouble and take these pledges on their behalf:
Maine Principals’ Association and all athletic administrators: To get tough on steroids, pronto. If you insist performance-enhancing drugs aren’t an issue, consider it a preemptive strike. New Jersey will begin screening players in state tournament games next year, and at least five other states have discussed the possibility. Perhaps Maine doesn’t need to go that far. Maine also doesn’t need to take a see-no-evil tack and watch a whole generation of athletes follow in the footsteps of WWE wrestlers and drop dead in their 30s.
Boston Celtics management: To release some sort of 20th Anniversary DVD of the last championship before The Curse of M.L. Carr, so we 30-somethings can prove to our sons and daughters that the C’s weren’t always the dregs of hardwood humanity.
Boston Red Sox “consultant” Theo Epstein: To resign that meaningless job, become a silent partner in the New York Yankees’ front office and help them end their six-year world championship, uh, drought, simply to teach Sox ownership a lesson about the dreadfulness of disloyalty and perils of penny pinching.
Lewiston-Auburn youth hockey programs: To work together and eliminate whatever dysfunction has crept onto the ice between the learn-to-skate and high school levels. The sooner, the better, before it’s 2020 and we’re all left to contemplate the good ol’ days as Cheverus and Brunswick meet in the Class A championship game for the 12th consecutive year.
TV and radio football pundits: To not shred their collective hamstring or get a hair out of place while jumping face-first off the New England Patriots’ bandwagon. Please, guys, at least reminisce about Bill Belichick and Tom Brady’s career-long ownership of the Indianapolis Colts before you pronounce soon-to-be Super Bowl champion Peyton Manning the greatest quarterback since Michael Vick.
Area basketball fans: To renew their interest in University of Maine women’s basketball. True, the Black Bears still draw a home crowd four times larger than any other team in America East, but it’s half the number that flocked to Alfond Arena in the heyday of Cindy Blodgett and Amy Vachon. You still have a season-and-a-half to enjoy homegrown talents Bracey Barker, Ashley Underwood and Katie Whittier (assuming Whittier takes advantage of a redshirt year), and neither snow nor sleet nor rain nor gas prices are valid excuses.
Pete Carroll and Charlie Weis: To let any calls emanating from Houston, New Orleans, Green Bay or St. Louis go into voice mail, and then to forget the access code. Yeah, I know they signed contract extensions. I also know that most contract extensions are less binding than New Year’s resolutions.
National Hockey League fans, both of ’em: To figure out how the heck to get Outdoor Life Network before the Stanley Cup playoffs.
Baseball writers with a Hall of Fame ballot: To spend the entire year truly examining the issue, and to conclude in January 2007 that Jim Rice’s contributions to the game in the pre-supplement era were more significant than Mark McGwire’s contributions in the Michelin Man era.
All Division I-AA, Division II or Division III football players: To take offense when any stuffed shirt from the NCAA uses the asinine argument that we cannot possibly have a Division I-A football playoff because it will keep kids out of class. Really? Hmm, all those other divisions settle their championships in single-elimination fashion. Should we assume academics aren’t as important for smaller schools because their games don’t line your pockets with as much filthy lucre?
Parents, grandparents and curiosity seekers at youth sporting events: To recognize that it’s all about kids playing a game, to accept the fact that the guy or gal in the striped shirt knows more about the game and had a better view of the play than you, and to understand that the reporter doesn’t care which team wins. Trust me, your kid is mortified at thought of you behaving any other way.
Kalle Oakes is a staff writer. His e-mail is koakes@sunjournal.com
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