ITS THE 40TH ANNIVERSARY OF PAUL HENDERSON'S GOAL AGAINST THE RUSSIANS.

Son--"Dad, tell me about that hockey game where that guy scored that goal"

Me--"Do you mean Paul Henderson in 1972?"

Son--"Yeah, we studied it in history class.  What was the big deal?"

Me: (taking a deep breath) "Well, let's see.  It was the 8th and final game of a monumental series between our democratic way of life and the Communist way of life in Russia."

Son--"What's Russia?  What's Communism?"

Me--"Ask your history teacher.  The reason the goal was important is that it not only won the series for Canada, it proved that passion, dedication and the sheer will to win are admirable Canadian traits that we should celebrate every chance we get".  It also proved to Canadians that our way of life is better, but we need to respect other cultures. 

Son- "So it was more than just a hockey game?"

Me-- "Are you kidding?  It was life and death, my boy. Us versus Them.  We had the greatest players in the world and we were told that the Russians were no match for NHL players.  Why, those 'Commies' would be lucky to win one of the eight games"

Son- "Who told you that?"

Me "All the writers and broadcasters.  They all predicted a Canadian victory.   They were absolutely certain. I mean, even the players were starting to believe their own press"

Son-  "So what happened?"

Me--"The first game was in Montreal and we took an early lead and the fans were laughing out loud. It was going to be a Canadian rout.   Then all of a sudden, bang, bang, bang, the Russians came back and beat us badly.   A day of National Mourning.  But in Game 2 in Toronto, Canada came back to even the series and we started to feel better.  But then the Russians came back to tie us in Winnipeg, and then in game 4 in Vancouver, we lost a terrible game and the fans booed the Canadians off the ice and Phil Esposito went on national TV to tell Canadians that the guys were trying their best and the fans should support them and not boo them. As a Canadian, I was ashamed. 

Son "So we only won one of the four games in Canada."

Me "Right, and then our team went off to Sweden for a week of exhibition games and conditioning.   Then we played the next 4 games in Moscow, and wouldn't you know it, we blew a 3 goal lead in game five, and lost.  Now we had to win the next 3 games to take the series.  Henderson scored the winner in game 6.  Then he scored the winner in game 7, and then, with 34 seconds left in the 8th game, he scored the most famous goal in Canadian hockey history, thereby restoring honour and glory to Canadians everywhere.  In a nutshell, that's what happened when Paul Henderson scored for Canada."

Son- "Wow!  Now I get it. 40 years ago, eh?  Dad, I can hardly wait for the NHL season to start."

Me--"Are you sure you don't want to hear about the 1987 Canada Cup?  We've got plenty of time"

Now that the NFL has bowed to public pressure and admitted they were wrong (sort of), let's see if the National Hockey League can do the same thing with their players.  This is a perfect opportunity for Tweedle-Dee (Donald Fehr) and Tweedle-Dum (Gary Bettman) to take themselves out of the spotlight and put the players back in it.  Hockey fans should demand that the two of them be locked in a room with just bread and water (OK, maybe Pumpernickel and Perrier) and not come out until a deal has been reached.  Frankly, I would've shot myself in the head had I been assigned to cover this story.  Getting shots of guys in suits walking into a nondescript building isn't exactly my idea of compelling TV.   And to have to stand around with a microphone and extract a useable clip or two for your story is sheer agony.  And the worst part?  Not the suffering of the fans.  Oh, they'll find other hockey games to watch.  Maybe "Hockey Night in Minsk" with Ron and Don wearing those Cossack fur hats..  The worst part of it is the NHL and the players  are hurting the economy and putting people out of work.  I hope you guys are happy.

I didn't think the drama of last year's baseball stretch run could be duplicated, but here we go again.
 With a one game wild card elimination added to the playoffs this year, it's anybody's guess as to who will win, and that's a good thing.  It would be Oakland vs. Baltimore and St. Louis vs. Atlanta in the wild card games if the season ended today.  But the season doesn't end until next Wednesday and then, two days later, the wild card teams square off.

Of course, the Bluejays won't be one of those teams because they imploded this season amid higher than high expectations.  Forget the injuries.  Look what happened to Romero, Rasmus, Kelly Johnson, Lind and that homophobe Escobar.  But the biggest disappointment of them all has to be John Farrell.   I really thought this guy was the right fit for this team, but it's clear he's not.   He was a rookie manager when he arrived in Toronto, and two years later, he is still being badly outmanaged on a nightly basis.   He's not fiery enough and he won't sit players down if they continue to screw up.  Also, the Jays lack the fundamentals in such areas as baserunning, bunting and understanding the signs they get from the coaches.  Farrell and the coaches should be let go, but not until Terry Francona is hired to take over.  No more rookie managers for this team!

And we get an added bonus this weekend.    It's the Ryder Cup, the annual golf love-in where you're either rooting for the Americans to win and strut around in all their American arrogance, or you prefer to see the Europeans crush the Yanks and make Tiger and Phil and Jim Furyk look like they're playing with hickory shafted clubs.   Personally, I want to see the best golfers in the world hit great shots.  All too often in the Ryder Cup, the pressure is so great, it comes down to who sink a 3 foot putt, or drive the ball into the fairway.   I've seen some monumental choke jobs in this event, and the aforementioned Tiger and Phil are two of the worst culprits.   Take a look at their Ryder Cup records.   Terrible.   This may be their last shot at Ryder Cup glory.   Even so, I'm taking Rory McIlroy and the Euros. 

Hebsy blog for Sept 26/ 2012

One of the proudest moments of my childhood occurred when I was 9 years old.  The great Sandy Koufax, L.A. Dodger lefthander and WMEJB (World's Most Eligible Jewish Bachelor) refused to pitch a World Series game against Minnesota because it fell on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year.   I remember hearing on our way to synagogue that Koufax  "hadn't made a decision as to whether to pitch" according to the radio report.  As a Jew, I was proud of Koufax, but secretly hoped he would pitch, because I was a Dodgers fan and this was the World Series.  After Yom Kippur services were over, we heard that Koufax did not pitch and wasn't even in uniform.  Don Drysdale took his place and the Dodgers lost.  When manager Walter Alston came out to pull Drysdale from the game, the big righthander said "I'll bet you wish I was Jewish too!"

The Bluejays could use a Koufax type. Religious affiliations aside, they need a guy who can eat up innings.  That season, 1965, Koufax pitched 335 innings and struck out 382 batters.  No, those aren't typos.  Think about it.  Over 300 innings.     The Jays top pitcher this year, Henderson Alvarez, has thrown 181 innings.  Ricky Romero?  178 innings.   These days, a big number for a starter is 200 innings pitched.  That's an average of 6 innings over 33 starts in a five man rotation.   In '65, Koufax started 41 games in a four man rotation and averaged 8 innings per start.   When was the last time a Jays pitched went 8 innings?  I rest my case.   Go and get a workhorse, a guy who can eat up innings.  So what if he blows his arm out?   Koufax was done at the age of 30 because of an arthritic elbow.  He had just won back to back Cy Young's and had completed a six year run where he was the most dominant pitcher in the game.   But to a 9 year old kid, he'll always be remembered as a man who was closer to his religious convictions than he was to the game he loved.

I can't help but follow, with interest, the exploits of White Sox third baseman Kevin Youkilis at this time of the year.  It's common knowledge among us tribesmen that Youkilis is a Jew, but would he play on Yom Kippur?  The Whitesox were originally scheduled to play an evening game on September 25th, the start of Yom Kippur, but after listening to concerns of their fans, they moved the game back to 1 pm. so it wouldn't conflict with the High Holidays.   Classy move.  Too bad the same can't be said for the Hamilton Sports Hall of Fame.  They held their annual induction ceremony and gala dinner on Yom Kippur, which is like the B'nai Brith Sports Dinner being held Easter Sunday at 11 a.m.    Did they not look at a calender a year in advance just to make sure there wasn't a conflict before they booked the banquet hall?   You can do that, you know.  The internet is a wonderful place.  Do a little research.

Hebsy blog for Sept 23/2012

My head is about to explode.  In a good way.   I have just finished up one of the wildest days on the sports calender and I'm exhausted.   I know it's part of my job to stay informed and abreast (I love that word) of the goings on in the world of sports, but today I went above and beyond the call of duty.   Since my wife had to leave for work at 6:30 a.m., I was already up and channel surfing when I happened upon an Italian soccer match between Udinese and A.C. Milan.  A bit later, the English Premier League was on, so I caught Manchester City and Arsenal play to a 1-1 draw, and saw Man. U. knock off Liverpool 2-1.   Fortified by three soccer matches, a pot of coffee, two loads of laundry and a quick trip to Wal Mart, I settled in for an afternoon of clicking, flicking, shouting, cajoling and praying......and that was before I even returned to the TV. 
The Jays and Tampa was a great pitchers duel, and the one thing I love most about baseball is the ability to change channels and know exactly when to flick back.   I had the Buffalo Bills taking on the Cleveland Browns on this channel, the Detroit Lions against Tennessee on that channel, the Jets and Dolphins, the Saints and Chiefs and a couple of other games I can't remember now.  By the way, three of those games went into overtime and one of them, the Lions and Titans, featured a botched quarterback sneak on fourth and inches by Detroit that handed the win to Tennessee.  

And while all this was going on, and the Yankees were trying to sweep the Oakland A's (they couldn't) and the Twins were in the midst of sweeping the Tigers in a doubleheader (they did), I almost forgot about the 10 million dollar prize up for grabs at the Fed Ex championships (golf).   It was supposed to be a battle between Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods, but instead it ended up being a guy named Brandt Snedeker who won the whole thing.   Snedeker is the opposite of a methodical golfer.   He steps up to the ball, gives a quick waggle and, before you know it, has whacked it 300 yards down the fairway.   If he played by himself, he'd finish 18 holes in about two hours.   Anyway, after a quick dinner, it was an evening of Tom Brady and the Patriots against the Baltimore Ravens and Joe Flacco (I love that name) sandwiched around the Dodgers and Reds.

As I write this, at 10:52 p.m., the Patriots are leading, my eyes are getting heavy and I'm happy for one thing:  There is no NHL hockey to talk about.   Even if there was, I'm not sure I'd have room for it.
When all was said and done, I watched all or part of 3 soccer matches, 7 football games (I forgot the Argos-Alouettes), 3 baseball games, one golf tournament and numerous wrap up shows, pre-game shows, halftime shows and highlight shows.   Now if that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.  

Hebsy Blog for Sept. 19/2012

As a sports fan, I always fantasized about becoming a famous athlete.  In this case, I’ll settle for having my own column…..sorry, I mean “blog”.  I will update this blog frequently, as I have a lot of thoughts on a lot of things and I need a creative outlet, so here goes.

When I was 8 years old, my favorite player was Denis Menke. (Only one “n” in his first name, very French)  He was an average major league baseball player.  I was an average house league softball player.  I could relate to his mediocrity.  When he injured his knee, I walked around with a limp for two weeks.  Seriously.  I was eight.

Years later, when I was starting in radio, I got to meet Menke, who was coaching for the Toronto Bluejays, in the clubhouse after the game.   When I told him he was my hero growing up, he gave me the oddest look, as if this were a practical joke. “Why me?”  he asked.  “Because you were just like me--average”  With that, he nodded, cleared his throat, stripped naked right in front of me, and, without saying another word, headed for the showers. 

I had other sports heroes.   Alan Stanley of the Maple Leafs, a tall, plodding defensive defenseman. Number 26.  I played defense in house league, and imagined myself poke checking the opposing forward the way Stanley did.  Rarely did it happen.  In football, my team was the Cleveland Browns and Paul Warfield, an elegant split end, number 42, was a big-play receiver.  He later went on to play for the Miami Dolphins and won a couple of Super Bowls. I always wanted to make a leaping catch for a touchdown the way he did.    I’m still hoping it will happen.

Basketball was tougher.  I liked Wilt Chamberlain (way before I ever heard about his sexual conquests) but my favorite was a bench warmer named John Tresvant (Lakers, Baltimore Bullets and many more) who was a terrible shooter, decent defender and pretty good rebounder.  I aspired to play like John Tresvant.

As for other sports, I liked Arnold Palmer, Rod Laver, Willie Shoemaker, Willie Mays, Bobby Hull (because I met him in an elevator as a kid, and he tousled my hair)  And Muhammad Ali.   I thought he was very cool.

Because of this “hero worship” (perfectly healthy of course) I wanted to be involved in sports.   Since I couldn’t PLAY the game, I was hoping to make a living following the game. 

This is why creating a sports fantasy for you will keep me active and off the streets.     It also allows me to imagine the scenario happening right in front of me.   Sort of a witness to sports history.  When you present that moment as a gift to your loved one (or arch-rival) you will have re-defined the term “It’s the thought that counts”.

I feel sorry for all my friends who derive their living from the NHL.   Not the players, but the broadcasters, ushers, concessionaires, security guards, kitchen staff, wait staff, ticket takers, parking lot attendants, restaurant and bar owners and everyone else who depends on NHL games.  Sure, they’re pissed off, but unlike the fans, they are taking a deeper hit in the pocketbook.  And it’s money they’ll never recover.  One friend of mine depends on NHL games for her Christmas money.   Imagine explaining that one.  “Sorry Sweetie, there’s nothing in your stocking this year because Mr. Bettman and Mr. Fehr won’t play nice.”

On my show, “Sportsline”, myself and co-host Bubba ONeil refuse to talk about the lockout.  We will not give out any information until they sign an agreement.  We don’t care how much progress has been made.  We don’t care about the latest video on You Tube that the players have posted either.  In fact, I can’t look at another hockey player in flip flops, backwards baseball cap and shorts.  They look like they just came back from summer camp.  You’d never see the NBA players dressed like that if they were being locked out.