Reading Terry Driscoll is like listening to Miles Davis — it’s all about the notes he doesn’t play. Luckily, we here at CDH happen to be expert Driscollologists trained in the art of deciphering bureaucratic bullshit. (Also, it was a slow weekend.)

So, I present to you, with a tip of the hat to Fire Joe Morgan, the official CDH guide to William and Mary’s statement on CAA realignment.

…

A Statement from the William and Mary Athletics Director Terry Driscoll on Conference Affiliation:

As a founding member,

(Suck it, Towson.)

the College of William and Mary’s Athletics Department remains committed to the Colonial Athletic Association.

(…unless anyone else will take us. Please, somebody take us. We are so lonely and scared, and the Patriot League keeps awkwardly throwing its arm around our shoulder like a drunk at a party. Please, oh please, don’t force us to go home with them. Have you ever had sex with someone from Colgate? Extremely unpleasant.)

Throughout its nearly three decades of existence,

(our students have had sex at least twice)

the league has managed change in membership

(the way an Oklahoman trailer park “manages” change during a tornado)

and has consistently emerged stronger for it.

(D I-AA FOOTBALL CHAMPS!!!!!!!1!!)

With due diligence,

(<Driscoll puts down pen, takes 12-day nap. Wakes up and shaves comically long Rip Van Winkle beard. Resumes writing>)

I am confident it will do so again.

(D-III FOOTBALL CHAMPS!!!!!!!1!!)

The Tribe Athletics Department has been able to celebrate over 100 CAA Titles

(thanks mostly to its track and field program from the late 90s)

while maintaining one of the top graduation rates

(<Driscoll makes fart noise with mouth>)

among its student-athletes

(most of whom took Math Powered Flight, the only college course in history to feature two-question quizzes that you could take with a partner)

for public institutions

(Kindly inhale it into your oral cavity, Harvard.)

in the nation.

(TROPHY PLEAZE!)

The College is committed to its core values

(Slavery?)

of creating the best possible experience for its student-athletes

(without winning games)

and will continue to compete at the highest level

(of southeastern Virginia high school football, excluding all public schools east of Newport News).

of Division I Athletics.

(<Driscoll drops pen and walks out of office, failing to notice the raging fire engulfing the entire office>).

There’s a buzz in the air at the University of Missouri. With classes completed and graduation ceremonies concluded, there are no distractions between now and football season. For many Mizzou fans, a sense of anticipation always accompanies the first snap of the season. But with the Tigers entering their first season of play in the Southeastern Conference, this summer’s buzz includes something else — a sense of arrival.

For the first time since the 1960s, Missouri has the chance to be in the national spotlight on a regular basis. The seats at Faurot Field will be sold out, viewers will tune into broadcasts, and the games will count. But receiving the benefits of playing with the big boys in the SEC means actually having to play against them. How will Mizzou fare in its first trek through the south? Even with the perils of competing in a conference that boasts eight of the last nine national champions, the Tigers stand a good chance of shining in their first SEC campaign. An 8-4 record seems a likely possibility.

Perhaps the biggest advantage Missouri has going into 2012 is its schedule. The Tigers will play seven games at Faurot Field this season. In the last five seasons, Mizzou played only six games in Columbia. In fact, the Tigers start out the season with three consecutive home games before they take to the road. That opening stretch at home provides a good opportunity for the team to build up its confidence before entering the heart of its conference schedule.

Mizzou could also benefit from a schedule that avoids many of the SEC’s better teams and more harrowing venues. Two of the Tigers’s more difficult matchups on paper — a week 2 game against the University of Georgia and a week 7 contest against the University of Alabama — will be held at Faurot. The Georgia Bulldogs posted a 10-4 record last year, and the Crimson Tide was even better, going 12-1 en route to the 2011 BCS national championship. Missouri appears to be the underdog in both games, but the Tigers are more likely to pull off upsets while playing at home than they would be at Sanford Stadium or Bryant-Denny Stadium.

The rest of Missouri’s home schedule looks more amenable. The Tigers start the season against the FCS Southeastern Louisiana Lions. FCS teams occasionally pull off the upset over FBS teams, but this won’t be one of those occasions. The Lions went 3-8 in the Southland Conference and were outscored by over 100 points last season. In week 3, the Tigers take on Arizona State University. The Sun Devils narrowly defeated the Tigers last season in Tempe as they stumbled to a 6-7 finish. Shifting the venue to Columbia should be enough for the Tigers to prevail.

After two consecutive road games, Missouri will spend October at home, facing off against Vanderbilt University, Alabama and the University of Kentucky. Missouri looks to be favored in two of those contests. The Vanderbilt Commodores made it to the Liberty Bowl last season, but they’ve been awful for a decade, finishing over .500 twice while losing 10 games four times. Although they haven’t been nearly as bad as Vanderbilt, the Kentucky Wildcats have also been in a football funk. After five consecutive bowl appearances, the Wildcats dropped to 5-7 under second-year head coach Joker Phillips. With no clear starter at the quarterback position, Kentucky has a lot of ground to make up before October 27.

The Tigers finish out their home schedule November 17 against Syracuse University. Big East football is quickly falling apart, but the Syracuse Orange started crumbling long ago. Since 2002, the Orange have made only two bowl games —  and have finished above .500 only once. The Orange went 5-7 last year. The potential remains for them to improve on that in 2012, but the Orange’s defense has been depleted by the departures of Chandler Jones and Philip Thomas to the NFL. Missouri should be favored in this game.

Mizzou’s away slate could be a more difficult assignment, however. In recent years, the Tigers benefitted from “away” games held at neutral sites. The popular Arch Rivalry game against the University of Illinois was held at the Edward Jones Dome in St. Louis for the six meetings from 2002-2010, while the Border War rivalry with the University of Kansas was played at Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium from 2007-2011. Although Missouri technically gave up a “home” game in each of these contests, it’s difficult to argue that the Tigers were hamstrung by road trips to neutral venues in their home state. But those comfortable road trips have been replaced by three jaunts to the east coast. The Tigers are going to have to start getting used to the Eastern Time Zone.

The Tigers have a tough week 4 matchup against the University of South Carolina. The Gamecocks tallied an 11-2 record last year, including a 30-13 win over the University of Nebraska in the Capital One Bowl. Coming off of the best season in school history, head coach Steve Spurrier’s squad, led by returning quarterback Connor Shaw, will be a difficult obstacle for the Tigers to overcome. Missouri follows that game with a contest against the University of Central Florida. The Golden Knights had a disappointing 2011 season, including a string of close losses. UCF’s offense — which now includes Missouri transfer Tyler Gabbert — looks stronger going into 2012 and could make for a competitive game.

After a three-week home stand, Missouri will be on the road for three of its next four games. The University of Florida is still trying to find its way in a post-Urban Meyer world. The Gators finished 7-6 last season and won the Gator Bowl, but Florida was only 3-5 in conference play. These aren’t the Tebow-Meyer Gators of the last 2000s. The Tigers next travel to Knoxville to take on the University of Tennessee. The Volunteers have been a mixed bag since Philip Fulmer’s final season as head coach, but this season could be a rebirth for Tennessee. The Volunteers have a restocked and experienced offensive corps that could do lots of damage in 2012.

The Tigers finish the season against a familiar foe — Texas A&M University. The Aggies came to the SEC as Missouri’s cross-division rival. With a new coach and a new conference, the Aggies have a lot of uncertainty going into 2012. Combine that with the departure of quarterback Ryan Tannehill, and 2012 could be a disappointing year for Texas A&M.

After leaving the shaky Big 12 for ostensibly the best conference in college football, Missouri fans have high expectations for the 2012 season. And they should. The Gary Pinkel era has been one of the most successful times for Mizzou football. But success in the new SEC era rides on several factors: the health of quarterback James Franklin, tailback Henry Josey’s knee injury, and the introduction of wide receiver Dorial Green-Beckham, just to name a few. Despite all of the uncertainties surrounding the 2012 Tigers, one thing is certain: The new era starts September 1.

Lance Lynn pitched arguably the worst start of his brief career May 7. He labored through five innings, gave up three hits, walked four, and struck out seven. It was an unremarkable outing for the rookie, but it showed just how impressive his season has been. Since his first start April 8 at Milwaukee, Lynn has thrown 38.2 innings, posted a 1.40 ERA, and struck out 37 batters. His ERA is the second-best in all of baseball, and his strikeout total puts him in the top 20. He’s averaging 8.6 K/9 and is tallying more than three times as many strikeouts as walks. He’s received a decision in each one of his outings — all wins. He’s given up the fewest earned runs — six — in all of baseball. That’s outstanding for any pitcher, regardless of age.

His advanced metrics are even more impressive. Through six starts, Lynn has posted a 261 ERA+.[1] That’s completely unsustainable, but it shows how good Lynn has been so far. His 1.21 WPA is the best in the National League and the sixth-best in baseball.[2] His FIP is 3.15, 10th-best in the National League and 16th-best in baseball.[3] In what appears to be a second “Year of the Pitcher,” Lynn is quietly putting together an outstanding rookie season.

What accounts for Lynn’s remarkable start? At least part of his success is due to his [you need an adjective here] repertoire. Lynn throws five pitches: a four-seam fastball, a two-seam fastball, a cutter, a curveball and a changeup. But the real story is his fastball. Lynn’s four-seamer sits in the low 90s — his 2012 average is 92.4 mph — but can reach up to 95 mph. Not only does he throw 90+ mph heat, but he throws it often. Through six starts, 68.3 percent of Lynn’s pitches have been four-seam fastballs. He’ll throw off a batter’s timing with a curve (20.5 percent of his pitch totals), but his go-to pitch has been the four-seamer.

Lynn has kept opposing hitters off balance. He’s gotten ahead of hitters, throwing 63 percent of his first pitches for strikes. Twenty-nine percent of his strikes have been called strikes, and 18 percent have been swinging strikes. He strikes out nearly nine batters per nine innings, and he’s whiffed 26.1 percent of all batters that he’s faced. And when opposing batters aren’t striking out, they’re hitting ground balls. Lynn’s ground ball percentage is 52.1, compared to 30.9 percent for fly balls. For perspective, the major league average for ground balls is 45.4 percent

Lynn has also had a little bit of luck. While he’s held opposing batters to a staggering .168 batting average, he’s benefitted from an extremely low .209 BABIP.[4] When hitters do make contact, those balls have ended up in St. Louis’s glove a disproportionate number of times. Additionally, Lynn has been helped by a low home run rate. So far, Lynn has averaged .7 HR/9, and only 10.3 percent of his fly balls have turned into home runs. Both statistics will probably change as his BABIP regresses to the mean and the weather begins to heat up in St. Louis.

We’re 30 games into the 2012 baseball season. With a little less than one-fifth of the season completed, we’re leaving the period of “small sample sizes” and entering the real grind of the summer. Lance Lynn has been outstanding thus far. Will he be able to maintain his impressive pace? We’ll have to wait and see. But when it’s May 9, the Baltimore Orioles are in first place, the Boston Red Sox are last, and Albert Pujols has one home run, anything is possible.

It’s springtime in Virginia. The year’s shad has been planked, flowers are blooming and the days are meandering through that languid period between bitter winter and oppressive humidity. If you’re a sports fan, last season’s shortcomings have vanished amid the seductive promise of recruiting updates and conference reshufflings.

Unless you’re a William and Mary sports fan.

Fresh off a disappointing slate in football and a disastrous year at Kaplan Arena, the last month’s machinations have not been kind to the Tribe. With Virginia Commonwealth University and George Mason University likely moving to the Atlantic-10 and Old Dominion fleeing to Conference USA, the Colonial Athletic Association, a conference in many ways a near-perfect scenario for the Tribe, might be entering its death throes.

In reality, it was never going to last. Rising programs at sizable schools in significant media markets are targets for desperate second-tier conferences, and few are more attractive than the aforementioned CAA schools. Richer conferences were always going to come calling with promises of an elevation to the next level of three- or four-bid leagues or FBS football.

William and Mary, long the awkward stepchild of the CAA, holds little allure. As if the school’s equally limited and unreliable fan base and small student body size weren’t handicapping enough, the Tribe has also found itself unable to tap into any major media market. Surrounded by schools with the aim of building national reputations, William and Mary is as invisible as can be.

This fact is to the eternal frustration of the small portion of the Tribe’s fan base that is as fervent as any other, but it’s true. The CAA, under its present constitution, represents the ideal of what the Tribe could gain from its conference — a very good league that is elite in FCS football, strong in basketball, and competent in many of the smaller sports in which William and Mary has found considerable success. The Tribe was never going to be invited to join a league as strong in basketball as the CAA is now, and the conference’s evolution in that area was an added bonus. It also featured as fearsome a collection of football programs as exists in FCS, making this conference the perfect fit for the Tribe.

Some of those programs became a bit too good, created a bit too much financial potential, and are now reaping the rewards. The future of the CAA now looks bleak to nonexistent.

So, what options do exist for William and Mary? To preempt one line of thought, any suggestions of FBS football are delusional to the point of concern. The Tribe lacks the necessary fan base, student body and profit margin to accommodate such a switch. That won’t change.

That leaves the Patriot League or the Southern Conference, as the conventional wisdom goes. Should it come to that, the school would have to choose between peer programs that are an academic fit and those that are a regional fit. Across all sports, the former would be the superior choice, but would severely underserve a football program with a long and storied history.

The best potential for an ideal future may lie in a radical realignment of the college football landscape. Hinted at here and there, a plan has been discussed around the margins of reliability that would see four to six major conferences, likely with a total number of around 64-70 teams, break off to form a league not governed by the NCAA, possibly one in which players were paid. These schools, flush with the media money, would then compete amongst each other, hopefully with a playoff system in place. Then, a second league would be formed, remaining under the NCAA, which incorporated the bottom half of the current FBS and the top part of the current FCS. Those schools would compete under the system already in place and governed by NCAA rules and regulations. Incidents of schools profiteering at the expense of players and the NCAA’s excessive governing hand could be diminished, and the Tribe could find a level of play tailor made for its abilities and tradition.

Similarly, all other sports would exist separate from conference restraints imposed by football, allowing the Tribe to select the league that best suits it across the board: the Patriot League. Basketball would compete at a level much more suited for the program’s available funding, and olympic sports would find a solid and varied collection of opponents of a similar academic clime.

To be sure, this scenario is in no way imminent (and may never even make it off the drawing board). But it is the Tribe’s best hope for an ideal future in a post-CAA world.

It was not the most embarrassing thing ever to happen in Newark.

The players did not remain on the court to wish a final good-bye to a half-filled Prudential Center, and, as live footage of Bruce Springsteen performing “Born to Run” flashed across the Jumbotron, what remained of the New Jersey Nets fan base didn’t stick around for them to do so.

The Nets played their last game in the Garden State Monday, capping a history marked, more than anything else, by the passage of time. Theirs was a team defined by anti-climaxes, an inferiority complex and a nomadic existence that saw them play in Piscataway, East Rutherford and Newark over a 35-year history.

The tepid outpouring of essays and think-pieces from the New York and New Jersey media marking Monday’s occasion consistently noted that the Nets always seemed to be visitors on their own court (wherever that may have been), playing to audiences either too cheap or too indifferent to go to Manhattan for Knicks games. Only one week before, the arena  had been filled by Bostonians who crowed and gave standing ovations when Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett were pulled from the game in garbage time, drowning out those who had come from Newark or Secaucus or any of the vaguely urban New Jersey suburbs that blend together unceremoniously as they slide away from New York City.

The Nets spent most of their time in New Jersey at the Izod Center in East Rutherford, within the confines of the Meadowlands Sports Complex and across the street from the home of two NFL teams that had opted to maintain New York monikers despite playing west of the Hudson River. Buck Williams led a successful string of teams there in the 1980s. Drazen Petrovic flourished briefly at Izod before tragically passing away in a car accident on the Bavarian Autobahn. A decade later, Jason Kidd played his best years there — leading the Nets to back-to-back Eastern Conference titles in 2002 and 2003.

But even the Nets’ successes were not enough to combat the team’s fuzzy anonymity and the stench of mediocrity that seeps into every joke about the state of New Jersey. It wasn’t as though they were a complete laughingstock. The team never really stooped to the kind of low through which the Charlotte Bobcats are going currently. Their history is well established and carries more credibility within the league than those of both Golden State and the Clippers. Clearly, that is faint praise.

The Nets were never great, but they were also never the scrappy or lovable loser archetypes at which New Jerseyans tend to throw themselves. Kenyon Martin cannot generate the level of affection showered upon Bon Jovi, The Sopranos[1] or even, inexplicably, Kevin Smith movies — although it wasn’t for lack of trying (except in the case of Vince Carter).

The Nets are a tough team to love because their entire identity is transient. To avoid being folded up when the ABA merged with the NBA, the team had to sell its best player, future Hall of Famer Julius Erving, to their new conference rivals, the Philadelphia 76’ers. The proceeds of that sale went directly to the New York Knicks, who had to be compensated as per the merger agreement for the Nets “invading” their territory[2].

That sale set the tone for what would ultimately be the legacy of the New Jersey Nets, if you could even call it that. Unlike the Knicks or the Celtics or the Lakers or any of the league’s blue chip franchises, there are only a handful of perennial All-Stars who spent their strongest years holding it down for Jersey. That didn’t bode well for drawing in casual fans, and it’s the regular presence of casual fans that fosters an environment where die-hards can hone their appetites for a team. Those die-hards create an atmosphere that draws in better players and makes an otherwise unattractive franchise appealing.

That is what separates a team like the Oklahoma City Thunder from the New Jersey Nets, even though the Thunder play in the middle of nowhere and the Nets play 15 miles from the largest media market in the United States. True, the Thunder’s cultivation of talent would be nearly impossible to replicate, given the level of skill and luck it took to land Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and James Harden in the draft. However, trading draft picks for Gerald Wallace isn’t even trying, and it’s tough to convince fans to make some noise for a team when that’s all you have done to placate their waning demand for a win.

That the Nets didn’t even start their biggest player in their last home game reinforces that point. Even though starting NBA All-Star Deron Williams would have made no sense objectively — the Nets’s season was effectively over and risking injury to a star player you’re hoping to resign in free agency is insane — watching a handful of die-hards try to generate enthusiasm over a resurgent Gerald Green was just sad. There was little effort on the part of the team to make their last hurrah in New Jersey a memorable one, and the fans responded in kind.

An on-the-court red carpet ceremony at halftime celebrated the successes and failures of the franchise as those in attendance trickled out from the aisles to use the restroom, grab a bite to eat, or chug beer from plastic cups emblazoned with the logo of Prudential Center’s true owners — the New Jersey Devils. Nets luminaries in attendance, like the lifetime-banned Michael Ray Richardson and Derrick “whoop-de-damn-do” Williams, were tepidly applauded, and the 2002 and 2003 Eastern Conference Champion teams were given the respect they were due. Kidd, Carter and Martin each appeared on the Jumbotron to bid farewell, and even Brian “White Mamba” Scalibrine showed up to say goodbye.

The whole thing seemed as though it was designed by the owners to ask Nets ticketholders — respectfully — please don’t look back in anger.

It’s hard to imagine that they will. The indifference in the arena was palpable, so much so that I almost wished I’d had a scientific instrument to measure it — a la the embarrassing noise meter that shows up whenever the Nets show signs of rallying. With the game more or less decided in the final minutes, fans started filing out as though it were any other regular season game, opting to beat traffic rather than watch the team’s bench players kill time.

It was tough to blame them. The game itself was unsurprisingly dull. Even though the Nets pulled within one point of the 76’ers during the third quarter, Philadelphia never yielded the lead or momentum in the second half to an offense spearheaded by MarShon Brooks’s isolation plays and Kris Humphries’s (atrocious) 15-footers. The production on the court was weak, and it will remain weak unless the team makes some serious moves to retain Williams and acquire Dwight Howard in the off-season. Changing the geographic prefix of their name won’t adjust quality, just like changing arenas three times in 35 years didn’t.

Within the context of this season, the game was most important to the Sixers, who needed the 105-87 victory to clinch the eighth seed in the Eastern Conference. Their celebration took place, mercifully, behind closed doors, and not at center court where the handful of people who stuck around to savor New Jersey basketball one last time would be forced to watch.

They’ve already been through enough.

It’s fitting that a relic from baseball’s dead-ball era contributed another chapter to one of the game’s major 21st century issues. Wrigley Field is the second-oldest stadium in Major League Baseball. Some hail it for its preservation of baseball tradition. Some malign it for its turn-of-the-century anachronisms like obstructed-view seats, cramped arrangements and trough-equipped bathrooms. Opinions on Wrigley come down to traditionalist versus modernist. The same goes for instant replay, and the outcome of Tuesday’s game reignited that debate.

The Chicago Cubs defeated the St. Louis Cardinals 3-2 Tuesday night. It took 10 innings for the Cubs to top the Cardinals. More than a few people think it should have taken at least one inning more. With one out in the bottom of the 10th, Chicago centerfielder Tony Campana broke for second base. St. Louis catcher Yadier Molina threw a strike to Tyler Greene in a bang-bang play. Umpire Bill Welke called Campana safe.

There was just one problem — Campana was out. For viewers at home, instant replays showed that Greene’s foot blocked Campana’s hand from reaching the bag before he was tagged. Campana accepted his gift. Greene was astonished. Cardinals manager Mike Matheny was irate and earned the first ejection of his managerial career. Three batters later, Campana scored the winning run off a single from Alfonso Soriano.

Baseball was the last of the Big Four sports in the country to incorporate instant replay, but it’s also the one that uses it the least. Only home runs are eligible for review under MLB’s current rules, but that’s really the least useful application of replay. A disputed home run doesn’t become an out after a replay call. More often than not, the batter is credited with a ground rule double. Now, that can potentially deduct two runs from a team’s total, but it’s unlikely to change the course of a game — the number of outs remains the same, and the team at bat has at least one runner in scoring position. If it’s going to use instant replay, baseball needs to apply it to calls on the field. Calling a batter out on the base paths when he was actually safe at the very least cheats a team out of an out, and at the most can potentially kill a rally and change the momentum of a game. Correcting the call on Campana’s stealing attempt sends Tuesday’s game into the 11th. Both teams still get three outs to score a run, and neither side is penalized.

Baseball purists espouse the traditions of the game. For debates on replay, this often comes down to arguments over the “human element.” With no replay, there is a certain margin for error in each game for balls and strikes, fair or foul and safe or out, and that that somehow makes the games more interesting. That margin for error certainly makes baseball unique, but it doesn’t make it better. Baseball doesn’t have umpires to make the games more interesting. It has them to get the calls right. And if the technology exists for viewers at home or (heaven forbid) Al Hrabosky in the booth to make more accurate calls than the umpires on the field, baseball should incorporate it. In hindsight, I’m sure Jim Joyce, Don Denkinger and Rich Garcia would have welcomed a second opinion.

When an umpire blows a call, everyone loses (unless the call went your way, of course). The Cardinals lost a chance to win the game in the 11th inning — Campana’s steal was followed by a Starlin Castro strikeout, which would have been the third out with the right call. Bill Welke lost some respect from players who now don’t think he can make the basic calls. And the fans missed out on another inning of one of the greatest rivalries in baseball. Matheny himself put it best: “It’s a shame is all.”

He’d gotten careless. He’d fooled the rookie Martinez into biting on the 1-0 change. Rookies ate that kind of stuff up. You’re just up from the minors. You need to impress someone — this might be your only chance. So, you wait for that fat 1-0 pitch, and you’re going to knock the hell out of it. But instead of cowhide, all you hit is air — not a crack, just a whoosh. Rookies were a lot of things, but smart wasn’t one of them. Rookies didn’t know 1-0 was the perfect count for a changeup.

Jamie Moyer wasn’t a rookie. After 25 years, he’d learned 1-0 was a changeup count. He’d also learned the importance of keeping the ball down. Nobody likes the ball low and away, but if you leave it up, every hitter is Babe Ruth. Jamie left it up 1-1, and he paid for his mistake.

There had been a lot of those moments in his career. After 25 years, there had to be: The first one he gave up as a rookie to Juan Samuel, the lead-off he gave up to Tracy Jones, the walk-off he gave up to Alfonso Soriano. He was mad at himself each time, but he’d learned — next time, stick with the curve, next time, pitch him inside, next time, knock him on his ass. He’d file this home run in his mind to save for future at-bats, future 1-1 counts. He was mad at himself now, but it would pass. It would pass because the Rockies were only down 3-0. It would pass because he was still in this game. It would pass because the pitcher’s mound was still his. It would pass because he was still playing baseball.

…

Baseball has a unique effect on those who watch it. Hockey fans are loyal. Football fans are devoted. But a baseball game turns every fan into a poet. The lazy days of summer, the green of the grass, the passage of time tracked through at-bats and innings pitched: each element of the game seemingly turns into a verse from some forgotten romantic stanza.

But for the players, baseball is something else entirely — fleeting. The average rookie plays his first major league game at 24. He can expect his career to last 6.85 years. In the entire history of Major League Baseball, fewer than half of all players have made it to a fifth season. Moonlight Graham didn’t even make it to a second game.

The conventional wisdom holds that a player reaches the peak of his performance around age 27. When he turns 30, he enters his decline phase, and the baseball version of the Elysian Fields is not far away. Less than 1 percent of all players make it to season 20. And the older you are in your first season, the less likely you are to return for a second. Baseball is a young man’s game.

…

The Chicago Cubs drafted Jamie late. They didn’t take him until the sixth round of the 1984 draft. He hadn’t expected to be a first-round pick, a “bonus baby” whose development would be scrutinized like a science experiment. Everyone knew that Mark McGwire out of USC would be drafted in the first round, and Jamie knew that he wasn’t Mark McGwire. He could even understand the Atlanta Braves taking a chance on a high school pitcher like Tom Glavine before him. High school guys were high risk, high reward. The message from a team that drafted you in the sixth round was clear: “We hope you can help us win, kid. But keep your suitcase packed.”

Jamie pitched well in the minors, well enough that the Cubs called him up to the major leagues in 1986. Congratulations, kid. Enjoy your 6.85 years. His first assignment: Take on the Philadelphia Phillies, a team that had won 88 games in 1983, that started Mike Schmidt at third base, and that had just played in the World Series. Those Philadelphia Phillies. And who were the Phillies sending to the mound? Steve Carlton. Four-time Cy Young Award winner. Ten-time all-star. That Steve Carlton. Jamie was a Philadelphia kid, and if he couldn’t pitch for the Phillies, this was the next best thing. Twenty-seven outs later, and Jamie was in the record books. His line: W, 6.1 IP/2 K/5.68 ERA. Maybe being Moonlight Graham wouldn’t be so bad.

…

If the average major league career lasts 6.85 years, Jamie was right on track. He finished out 1986 with the Cubs with a 7-4 record and a 5.05 ERA. Not bad for a rookie. In 1987, his first full major league season, he went 12-15 with a 5.10 ERA. Not good for a starter. By his third year, he settled down. He shaved a run and a half off his ERA, lowered his walk rate, and pitched 202 innings. The Cubs traded Jamie to the Texas Rangers in 1989, but a sore shoulder kept him on the disabled list for most of the season. After a disappointing 1990 season, the Rangers released Jamie. He’d been in the majors for four years — half of a career was gone.

The St. Louis Cardinals signed him in 1991 as insurance, a low-risk, high-reward player. But after seven starts and no wins, the Cardinals sent him to the minors. In the off-season, St. Louis released him. Jamie attempted a comeback with the Cubs in 1992, but Chicago cut him after spring training. The Detroit Tigers called, made an offer, and Jamie accepted. Seven years after his first game, Jamie went back to the minors.

He was probably finished. He had just turned 30, baseball middle age. The Tigers had released him. He’d had his time, and it was over. Eventually, you knew when your playing career was over. You could fool yourself into thinking that you still had a few years — they called it, “something left in the tank” — but sooner or later the aches didn’t go away, the ball didn’t jump off the bat, and the curve didn’t bend like it used to. Jamie thought he had something left in the tank. Averages be damned, he thought he could still play.

…

“Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.”

-Satchel Paige

…

After stints with the Baltimore Orioles and Boston Red Sox, Jamie landed with the Seattle Mariners. He was 34, with his seventh organization, and surrounded by low expectations. But something happened. Something was different. Jamie started winning. He won 17 games in his first full season with the Mariners. He won 15 games the next year. In 1999, Jamie went 14-8, struck out 137 batters, had a 3.87 ERA — and finished sixth in the Cy Young Award voting. He was 36. In 2001, Jamie won 20 games for the first time in his career. He placed fourth in Cy Young Award balloting. Then he celebrated his 39th birthday. Two years later he was named to his first All-Star team — Bob Feller was an All-Star at 19. (He also retired at 37.)

Jamie spent 11 seasons with the Mariners. He won 145 games and became Seattle’s all-time franchise leader in wins, starts and innings pitched, all after his 33rd birthday. He could have gone home in retirement. Instead, he went home in a trade.

He had made his major league debut against an aging Steve Carlton. Now, Jamie had taken Carlton’s spot as the aging veteran. He won five games for the Phillies in 2006. That was good enough for Philadelphia to offer him a two-year contract. Jamie would be around until at least age 45.

Athletes try a little harder during their contract years. Sure, they’re supposed to play hard every game, but when money is on the line, everyone gives a little extra effort, stretches out further to make that catch, and hustles faster to beat out that ground ball. In 2008, Jamie pitched like an athlete looking for a new contract. He went 16-7, tallying a 3.71 ERA in nearly 200 innings pitched. Jamie won more games than Cole Hamels, a man who could have been his son. He struck out more batters than Joe Blanton, a man who could have watched Jamie pitch during a field trip. And at the end of the season, he rode in the Phillies’s World Series championship parade, just like the one he’d cut class to watch in 1980.

The Phillies rewarded Jamie with another two-year deal, one that would keep him in Philadelphia through 2010 — his fourth decade in the major leagues. He won his 250th career game in 2009, but he tore three muscles in his groin that September and missed the rest of the season. In 2010, he strained a ligament in his elbow while pitching against the Cardinals. He didn’t pitch again that season. His contract expired, and the Phillies didn’t offer him a new one. Jamie was 47, out of work, and he had a damaged elbow. Reporters asked him if he’d pitched his last game: “It could be. It potentially could be. But so could have last year. So could have two years ago, so could have five years ago.”

The Colorado Rockies visited the Houston Astros April 7, 2012. Jamie Moyer started the game for the Rockies. He pitched five innings, surrendered four earned runs, and took the loss. He struck out Brian Bogusevic, 28, and Lucas Harrell, 26, both of whom were born when Jamie was preparing for the MLB draft. He surrendered a home run to Jordan Schafer, 25, who was born after Jamie’s major league debut.

Jamie is 49. Yesterday, he became the oldest player in major league history to win a game. It was his 268th career win. He is the third-oldest man ever to play in the majors after Satchel Paige and Jack Quinn. The average major league career lasts 6.85 years. But all averages have outliers.

Another “Curious Case” put it well: “Some people were born to sit by a river. Some get struck by lightning. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers.” And some people are born to be left-handed pitchers. They just get a late start.

There are exceptions, of course. If you sit me down in front of a television and “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” or “Pulp Fiction” is on, it’s a Men’s Warehouse guarantee that my overall productivity for the day will be cut in half (like Zed!)[1].

The level of enjoyment people receive after the first viewing has a short half-life. The most compelling element of any good comedy, drama or thriller is unpredictability. And while that suspense is a function of high-quality writing, acting and directing, it is also the only thing that keeps us in our seats for movies like “The Fast and the Furious,” which had none of the above.

The same unpredictability is true in sports. Any team can beat any other team on any given day.

But there is one key difference.

When the same group of actors, directors and writers reconvene to replicate the magic that transpired during the first film, it’s called a sequel, and it’s rarely as good the first go-round. For every “Godfather, pt. II”, there are seven rehashes like “Ocean’s 12” or “The Hangover, pt. II” that replicate the original — minus the surprises.

With sports, the same group of players could face each other an infinite number of times, but there would always be an incalculable number of intangibles to make the outcome unpredictable. The best we can do in sports is make educated guesses based on statistics — but even those can’t account for out-of-nowhere phenoms like Jeremy Lin[2], except in hindsight, when a sabermetrician will justify that success with backdated metrics.

This is why the college basketball fanatic in your office NCAA tournament pool never wins, and why the guy who made his picks at random does. By their very nature, athletic events rely — to a certain extent — on luck, fate, God or Tim Tebow. And that’s why we enjoy them.

Suspense is what makes the games exciting. It’s what keeps us from tuning out. But it also allows us to attach narratives to a quarter, a game or a season.

Like authors plotting a novel, analysts foist arcs and archetypes upon certain athletes based upon their personalities, origins and talent, or alternatively, as projections of the analysts themselves (something of which no one from Crim Del Harris has ever been guilty). It makes for better copy, and it adds another layer of mythology to the men and women we celebrate. Furthermore, it allows us to create (and inflate) conflicts.

Which brings us to Kevin Durant and LeBron James, the two best players in the NBA.

…

Last week’s game between the Oklahoma City Thunder and the Miami Heat was important for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was a matchup of the teams favored to win the Eastern and Western Conferences. Secondly, Durant and teammates Russell Westbrook, James Harden and Serge Ibaka had gone buck wild on James and the Heat only two weeks before, setting the stage for a rematch. Thirdly, and most importantly, it offered James a chance to reclaim the throne as this season’s consensus most valuable player from Durant, who had staged the basketball equivalent of Sherman’s March to the Sea since winning the MVP award at the All-Star Game.

The game was marketed like a small-scale Ali-Frazier II. In Part I, Durant contributed one of the most astounding efforts of his career, shooting over 50 percent for 28 points along with 9 rebounds and 8 assists. James, on the other hand, was almost a non-entity (by his standards), dropping 17 points and 7 assists in an effort that included 4 turnovers, which notched him a +/- of -10 on the night.

James has been dogged, with reason, by the well-worn perception that he fails to show up in the clutch. He left the Cavaliers after a disappointing series against the Boston Celtics in the 2010 Eastern Conference semi-finals, when he appeared to quit on his team during Game 5. Coupled with his disappointing performance in the 2011 NBA Finals, as well as his failure to capitalize on his own hot hand during the 2012 All-Star Game, he is considered by many to be empty calories.

Since the All-Star Game, his box scores have remained impressive. However, he appears to lack the drive to swing games in crunch time — a perception exacerbated by his first attempt against the Thunder.

Durant, in the meantime, was being celebrated as the second coming of Larry Bird. His lowest per-game point total in the period between the All-Star Game and his second match-up with the Heat was 18 points. In that same six-week period, he shot below 40 percent from the field only four times[3]. Perhaps most importantly, the Thunder had won six of its last seven games going into Miami, a run that included Durant’s first matchup against the Heat.

Up until the rematch, LeBron had failed (in the eyes of observers) to substantiate his self-anointed “King James” moniker. By making himself out to be his team’s best player — but only its second or third option in the fourth quarter — he revealed what we all assumed to be a weakness: The same man who fervently craved the attention of South Beach, of being part of a superteam, also shrank in moments when that spotlight would be most warranted.

His role as the league’s most dominant player had been put in question. The issues that had festered since 2010 were being replayed on a loop. And after flirting with redemption in the first half of the season[4], the narrative had changed on him once again. In the run-up to the rematch James was cast in a familiar role as the heel.

However, while we’re quick to celebrate Durant’s effectiveness in clutchsituations, we forget similarmoments in James’s career. There are many valid reasons to dislike LeBron[5]. Reconfiguring his game to adapt to a different team is not one of them.

In that respect, Durant and James have more in common than the media would like to recognize.

Both emerged from humble beginnings and joined the NBA while still in their teens. James arrived as the number one overall pick out of St. Vincent-St. Mary High School, Durant was picked second four years later after one season at the University of Texas. Both were recognized early on as the powerhouses of their respective draft classes. And both elevated otherwise mediocre teams to new heights in short periods of time.

Durant plays on a team that is absolutely loaded with young talent. He has evolved from early in his career, preferring the role of distributor while also being the primary scorer, which allows his trigger-happy point guard Westbrook to remain an explosive scoring threat. Although older, James plays the same role for an equally (or more) talented Heat squad. In that capacity, his leadership has led Miami to (as of April 11) the second best record in the Eastern Conference.

Statistically, LeBron is the stronger player. James is averaging 26.9 points, 6.4 assists and 7.9 rebounds per game this year. He also has a 30.6 player efficiency rating that would put this season in the top-12 ever recorded. Durant’s numbers are stunning as well, but considerably less impressive: 27.6 points, 3.5 assists and 7.9 rebounds per game with a 26.4 PER.

Those facts, and those moments, laid the foundation for the narrative arc that created the suspense that made this sequel worth watching — and gave it the dramatic weight to be the most re-watchable matchup of his career.

After an intensely physical first three quarters, James forced a crucial turnover from Durant in the fourth, which pushed the momentum decidedly in the Heat’s favor. His defensive presence in the final minutes made it impossible for the Thunder to reclaim an advantage, and he was instrumental in preventing Durant’s two failed shots. On the night, he scored 34 points on 10-of-20 shooting, picking up 7 rebounds, 10 assists and 4 rebounds along the way.

Durant, on the other hand, gave up a career-high 9 turnovers.

To those had predicted the Thunder would end Miami’s streak of 16-straight home game victories, LeBron had answered his critics. Was it expected? No. Will the team’s next game follow the same pattern? Of course not. Will people watch it? Definitely.

Shortly after the game, ESPN analyst Chris Broussard tweeted: “MVP race neck-and-neck after LeBron’s outstanding game tonight. Race to the finish btwn LJ and KD[.]”

At the end of the season, writers will point to the games in which this pair squared off and analyze it based on who was more likable, using vague terms like “dominance” and “ability to win”. We’ll use their statistics to predict playoff success, knowing that either player is capable of throwing up a dud every once in awhile. In the end though, there won’t be a clear answer.

And even though the MVP votes will have been long tallied by then, that race may include a trip to the Finals for both.

I hope we get to see it again. It really wasn’t bad for a sequel.

Congratulations, you bastard.

I really want to yell at you, but I can’t, you smug son of a bitch. There’s absolutely no way this will be taken away from you, is there? Unless it comes out that Anthony Davis’s conspicuous 1-for-10 shooting night was the product of some half-brained, pointshaving scheme manipulated by the Miller Lite version of Arnold Rothstein, there is no way the chickenshits at the NCAA will take this away from you.

But hell, you deserve it. You really do. You put together the best team in the country — far and away. North Carolina was the team to beat at the beginning of the year, then other teams like Missouri and Murray State and Marquette (and like 46 teams from Ohio) all made runs, but you’re the one who pulled it out. Not only that, you coached the hell out of them, too. When it looked like Bill Self was going to upstage you (again), you went to your trusty point guard Teague, who managed to absolutely nail a pair of threes at just the right moment after a season of being the odd man out in your offense. You weren’t forcing this one to the free throw lines again were you, you arrogant prick? Of course not, because like every virus, you adapt to your environment, making it impossible to develop a vaccine that could truly inoculate against you.

There is nothing I want more than to wipe that grin off your face, especially right before you go out and recruit another batch of McDonald’s All-Americans to repeat the whole cycle.

You survived the hype! You, you of the 500* career wins. You, who brought us Marcus Camby and his $40,000 pay-off, and Derrick Rose and his ersatz SAT scores. The same asshat who once referred to a reporter from the Newark Star-Ledger as a “f*cking Mexican idiot”. It’s your life, John Calipari! And I’ve only gone through the stuff Wikipedia has on you. Who knows what other shenanigans are tucked away in the fleshy crevices of your screaming, bloated head? Not me.

Know what the worst part of this is? The 33,782 contradictory think-pieces written about you by sportswriters, praising your knowledge of the game and willingness to take a not-that-morally-dubious-and-totally-legal stance on recruiting one-and-done players. I agree with them! I totally buy into that . You’re offering young players the chance to attend NBA Philips-Exeter or Andover for a year before they are inevitably drafted by the Washington Wizards or the Toronto Raptors. I can’t hold that against you, not even in the slightest.

But why does it have to be you? It’s like conceding victory to the office d-bag: the smart guy with the Dane Cook-ish f*ck you attitude and a propensity to over-quote Will Ferrell movies to the point where their luster has been tarnished by association with such a complete and utter toolbag. God, I hate that guy.

Have we really come so far from the days of men like John Wooden and Phog Allen? Are our coaching idols really defined by Rick Pitino’s callous gaze, Coach K’s emotionless stare or Calipari’s flopsweat?

No, I suppose not. Maybe it’s always been like this. Adolph Rupp’s players were busted for point-shaving. Bob Knight choked a kid. Even John Wooden’s saintly visage couldn’t keep his players from being seduced by wealthy UCLA boosters. And that doesn’t even go into all the weird stuff that went on with the Fab Five.

Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe this is just the evolution of the college game. By several accounts, you’ve offered up solutions to the NBA and NCAA’s nebulous relationship as it relates to the one-and-done rule. You haven’t tried to oversell us on the “I really care about these kids” angle. Maybe you’re just a great coach and a better recruiter, and maybe that’s all there is to say about that.

I still can’t stand you.

Yours truly,

Crim Del Harris

P.S. I totally picked you to win it all this year, by the way. Not to gloat, but I even nailed the eight-point spread over Kansas. Big ups for that.

Baltimoreans view the Orioles the way a parent might view a young child who is struggling in school. We may occasionally snicker along with the other parents, and we may often compare them to their better-looking, more successful older sibling (the Ravens). And God knows we don’t attend parent-teacher conferences anymore. But we still love them, and when they demonstrate a flicker of aptitude, like a low B on a pop quiz, we still take them out for ice cream.

The 2012 Orioles, however, are not here for your pity. They ask not for your prayers or your sympathy. Amazingly, after a year that qualifies as one of the most dismal in team history, the Orioles could actually be worse this season. And it’s okay. We’ve accepted it. We’re not with waiting in anger or with flowers, but rather with a comfortable chair and a cold beer, ready to watch one of the most storied franchises in baseball history burn to the ground.

Let’s start with the front office. Better writers than I have chronicled the disastrous general manager search that led to the Orioles settling on Dan Duquette, but that was only the first two months of the Orioles offseason. Since then, the Orioles traded two players and gave $750,000 and a 40-man roster spot to a player they cut before spring training. They signed a 31-year-old pitcher with no major league experience — who will start the season on the disabled list — to a two-year, $8.15-million contract. They traded away last year’s Opening Day starter and cut their fourth starter without any promising replacements waiting in the wings.

The Orioles Opening Day starter this year, Jake Arietta, has a career 16-14 record in 219.2 innings pitched. Their most likely number two starter, Tommy Hunter, was traded by the Texas Rangers last year after shuttling between Texas’s bullpen and starting rotation. The third starter Jason Hammel, gave up two runs on three hits, a walk and a wild pitch in one inning during his latest outing versus the aforementioned Manatees. Fourth starter Wei-Yin Chen has never pitched in the major leagues. And fifth starter Brian Matusz had such a bad 2011 that if you search his name on Google, the second result is “Brian Matusz worst season ever.”

Luckily, those pitchers get to throw to Matt Wieters. Wieters is the closest thing the Orioles have to a star and is perhaps the best defensive catcher in the game. Wieters, shortstop J.J. Hardy, and outfielders Adam Jones and Nick Markakis would make up an ancillary phalanx of solid players on a good team. On the Orioles, they are counted on to be more than they are. Only Wieters has shown that he could one day be a star.

The rest of the lineup is a cavalcade of inanity. The starting first baseman will either be Chris Davis, another Rangers cast off, or Nick Johnson, who has played 24 major league games over the last two seasons. Even so, there is still a good chance Johnson leads the team in on-base percentage this season. Second baseman Robert Andino is famous for two things. One is driving a stake through the Red Sox vampirous heart in game 162 last season. The other is for a segment that aired on the jumbotron at Camden Yards called “Andino at the Movies,” where Andino sums up the plots to movies such as “Gone With the Wind” and “Rio” in 45 second or less. “Rio” received two thumbs up. “Gone With the Wind” was abandoned halfway through.

The Orioles left fielder, Nolan Riemold, is competent but aging, and he will most likely be mismanaged by the team for one more year before losing his spot to Endy Chavez. And then there is Mark Reynolds, Orioles third baseman. Reynolds had one of the all-time worst defensive seasons for a third baseman last season, yet the Orioles seem content to run him out there again this year. The only difference is that Reynolds lost 20 lbs. in the offseason, supposedly to improve his quickness and agility.

Watching Reynolds play third last season was like watching a Deep Purple cover band invite a bear on stage to play the guitar riff for “Smoke on the Water.” The Orioles watched the bear slice the strings, smash the base drum and maul a couple of the fans in the front row and apparently thought, “You know, if we got a smaller bear…”

That is the team the Orioles will field against the best division in baseball in 2012. Lucky for Baltimore fans — and there are fewer and fewer of us ever year — Camden Yards is still a gem of a ballpark. Tickets are cheap, and you are allowed to bring beer into the stadium. And we get to see some of the best teams in baseball visit multiple times a year. That is it.

Orioles fans are not here for your pity. We’re just here to watch the 2012 Baltimore Orioles.

Burning burning burning burning.