Michigan/Michigan State

Now that's what I call a good old-fashioned ass-whupping. No, yours truly isn't a State fan. If anything, I've mostly rooted for the Blue over the years, though I don't know why. No one in my family ever went to UM, but somehow it worked out that way.

But a whuppin is a whuppin, and that's exactly what the Spartans did to the Wolverines. The wore their blue butts out -- all day. Given how the game went -- the final score of 29-6 seemed to be about right.

Oh my, "little brother" has grown up to become quite a brute indeed.

MSU had the #1 ranked defense in the country going in, and they certainly had it on display when UM showed up in East Lansing.

Michigan had -48 rushing yards? As in negative 48? For the whole game? Really? That's likely some kind of record. But combine their entire running game, hotshot QB Devin Gardner and all, getting stuffed at the line of scrimmage -- with 7 QB sacks to boot -- and that's what happens. Michigan's offensive line looked like the cavalry trying to defend against a charging Panzer division. In any battle of tanks versus horses -- I'll take the tanks every time.

MSU isn't noted for having a high octane offense, but they put up 400 total yards. Certainly respectable. On the other hand, UM managed a grand total of only 170. Again -- all day. Doing the math, and subtracting the -48 yards rushing, UM passed for 218 yards. In and of itself, that's not too shabby.

Thing is, prior to this game, UM's offense had been somewhat of a juggernaut. The fewest points they'd scored all year in a game was 24 against lowly UConn. They even put up a whopping 63 in their previous game against Indiana.

This time out, they got a grand total of 6, which required two rather long field goals. Other than that, the Green defense was busy taking the Blue offense to the woodshed. Did I mention all day?

Sorry, Brady Hoke, but you only get so many Akrons, Central Michigans, UConns and Indianas on your schedule. And Notre Dame ain't all that this year. Eventually, you have to play somebody good. The Spartans aren't national championship caliber, but they're the real deal when it comes to the level of Big 10 (actually 12) competition.

Given the beatdown Michigan just took, you just know the chants of "little sister" have already started in Spartieland directed at their currently rather "blue" cross state rivals, in more ways than one.

Hey, to the victors go the spoils, including bragging rights, and MSU earned it fair and square with a thorough trouncing of UM.

But you know what? In the whole scheme of things, it probably doesn't matter much. First, MSU will likely earn to the right to be trounced themselves by the behemoths in Columbus (Ohio State) in the Big 10 championship game.

Then they, along with their now little sisters in Ann Arbor, will both trot off to second-tier bowl games in January. Rah, rah, strike up the marching bands, and cha-ching.

The big boys like Alabama, Oregon, Florida State, and Ohio State will pay them no heed as they slug it out for what's really important. Little brothers indeed.

But on this day, MSU shined and good for them.

Idle thought: With most of the former polluting automobile factories having packed up and moved elsewhere, and MSU throttling UM, perhaps Michigan will become a "greener" state after all.

But don't mention that to the folks in Ann Arbor.

I'm pretty sure they wouldn't approve.

Detroit Tigers. A hard look

Now that the Detroit Tigers have long since cleaned out their lockers and gone back home to wherever they live in the off-season, perhaps an objective look at that team is in order. Sure, the team itself, the local fans, and their kool-aided scribes will currently view the glass as being half-full, if not overflowing, but yours truly suspects that glass might be emptier than they think. Here's a look at the flip side.

While the Tigers were expected to run away with the AL Central crown -- in the end -- they edged out the Cleveland Indians by only one game in the standings. The final regular season records for the AL leaders....

Boston. 97-65.
Oakland. 96-66.
Detroit. 93-69.
Cleveland. 92-70.

So despite all the Motown hype about having the best starting pitching staff and a regular murderer's row batting line-up, over the course of the full season the Tigers finished with merely the 3rd best record in their league, with those pesky Indians nipping at their heels until the last day.

Looking back, the Oakland A's took the Tigers to the limit in the ALDS before Detroit finally won the deciding game. Given their regular season records, that could actually have been perceived as a mild upset.

Of course the Bosox would oust the Tigers in the ALCS. Former manager Jim Leyland was quoted as saying he thought his team "let one get away". Perhaps, but Boston played in a stronger division all year, and still wound up 4 games better than the Tigers in the regular season. Based on their records, it could certainly be logically argued that the best team won and advanced to the World Series.

Most of the Tiger faithful likely expect their team to once again make a charge for the World Series in 2014 -- and maybe even win it. But there's a whole lot of reasons why the odds are against them. Consider....

The Tigers still don't have a regular left fielder. They've platooned a variety of players at that position, but nobody has stepped up to nail it down. Andy Dirks, Don Kelly, minor league prospect Nick Castellanos? Another named Matt Tuiasosopo was just released. So who knows?

Center fielder Austin Jackson can't seem to stay healthy.

Right fielder Torii Hunter will be 39 years old next July. Make of that what you will.

They have Alex Avila and a couple maybes at the catcher position. Avila himself isn't particularly notable defensively, and he batted .227. Plus, he seems to have a penchant for getting dinged-up in various ways.

The Tigers have slick-fielding, but weak-hitting Jose Iglesias at shorstop.

First baseman Prince Fielder just turned in another of his post-season swoons, that seem to be the norm for him.

The big man himself, Miguel Cabrera, will be coming off groin surgery. Will he return to being his usual terror at the bat -- or might the after effects of such an injury linger -- either physically or mentally? Nobody knows.

And here's the wild card. Who's going to be their next manager, and how well will he mesh with the players?

Obviously, Terry Francona did a bang-up job in Cleveland during his first year there. But brand new managers are a crap shoot. Witness just one year ago (the 2012 season) when Bobby Valentine tried his hand managing the Red Sox. Besides finishing last, the players damn near mutinied against him. Enter John Farrell this year and presto, they became world champions.

Many still consider Justin Verlander to be the ace of their starting pitching staff. But coming off a Cy Young award winning season, the fastball flakes man went a journeymanesque 13-12. I don't want to hear about lack of run support. Over the course of a full 162 game season, 13-12 is what it is. Average. Will he be better next year? Probably.

But fellow starter Max Scherzer went an insane 21-3. Nobody could have foreseen that coming. He's good, but nowhere near THAT good. Will he duplicate it next year? Highly doubtful.

The Tigers' front office has their problems too. Throw in trying to sign or re-sign free agents, other guys eligible for arbitration that will likely get huge raises, and an existing payroll that isn't exactly salary-cap friendly -- and Prez/GM Dave Dombrowski can likely look forward to a few migraines as well. Tough job, working for an absentee owner pizza man. Personally, for the reasons listed above, I think the Tigers will be in worse shape next year than they were this year.

Nonetheless, the wise guys in Vegas see it quite differently, and far be it from yours truly to argue with those folks. I've seen Lake Mead on a few occasions, but I'd really rather not wind up at the bottom of it wearing cement overshoes for the next million years or so. Like Dirty Harry once said, a man's got to know his limitations.

They have the Tigers pegged as the second most likely to win the 2014 World Series, at 9:1 odds. Right behind them at 10:1 are Boston to repeat, St. Louis and the Washington Nationals. Wait a minute. The Nats? Washington, as in DC? Really? Wow, it must be an election year or something.

The LA Dodgers are the favorites at 7:1. Hey, scoff if you will, but Earvin Johnson recently bought into that team, and everything he touches seems to turn to gold. It's like he's magic or something.

Ah, who cares anyway? Between the NASCAR chase winding down, the NBA, the NHL, the second half of the NFL season (with all their various glorious playoffs), March college hoop madness, golf and tennis majors, the Daytona and Indy 500's, and a whole lot of other stuff that will happen before baseball gets relevant again -- I think we'll get along just fine.

But as of now, yours truly still doesn't think the Tigers will be going to the World Series next year.

Shhh. The wise guys might be listening. And I have plans to go back out there in the spring.

An official rant

You've seen it before. It happened a couple more times earlier tonight during the NFL game between the Cincinnati Bengals and Miami Dolphins. An official throws a penalty flag for a violation -- but a few seconds later, after the zebras "consult" -- the boss official (referee) will turn on his microphone and announce to all that no foul occurred. The flag is picked up and the game goes on like it never happened.

But it did happen, and that raises a couple questions. What gives with these guys throwing penalty flags for violations that never occurred? Shouldn't it be like a court of law, where all the evidence has to come in before a guilty verdict is rendered? After all, in the case of NFL plays, it would only take a couple more seconds to get it right in the first place. It's like some of these guys have a predetermined notion as to the outcome of a particular play before it's actually played itself out. They're reaching for and throwing their yellow hankies -- sometimes on what turns out to be phantom fouls. And I'm sorry, but that's not good enough. Sure, mistakes will be made, because while the refs usually get 99% of the calls right -- they're human too. I get that. But judging a particular play while it's still in progress, based on how they think it will LIKELY turn out, is unacceptable at ANY time.

The umpires in major league baseball have long been the same way, and you've seen that too, but it's much more subtle. Yes, MLB is done for this year after the Bosox just won the World Series, but check it out when they fire up again next year. It will still be there, because it always has.

Given any close play at a base, particularly first because more action occurs at that base than the others, watch the umpire closely just before he makes the call. You will find they usually have their right hand cocked to call the runner out, and have to pull it back to signal the safe sign if the runner actually beats the throw. Like their NFL counterparts, it's like they want to call something before it actually happens.

Even in the recently concluded World Series, a 2nd base umpire was blatantly guilty of making a phantom call. In a potential double-play situation, a ground ball hit to the 2nd baseman was flipped to the shortstop for a force play. 99.9999% of the time, that's going to be an out. And the ump called it so. But the ball deflected off the shortstop's glove and fell to the ground. Both teams, the crowd in attendance, and the billions of people watching on TV saw what happened -- and what didn't happen. The runner was obviously safe. But the ump had made up his mind that an out was highly likely to occur, so he called it before the play was over. Not good enough.

Worse yet, unless that ump was biased towards one team -- which is also highly unacceptable -- or an arrogant mental midget incapable of admitting wrong-doing, he should have corrected himself immediately. But of course, for the most part, major league umpires are a narcissistic bunch, and they aren't wired like that. They can do no wrong -- in their own eyes.

So while everybody else the world over that was watching the game twiddled their thumbs, the whole umpire crew -- all 6 of them -- had to huddle up for a confab to sort out what even Stevie Wonder or my dog Spyke (who's been buried behind the shed for 12 years) would have seen a little better.

God bless em -- at least the umps finally got that one right. Like cops, soldiers, judges, political partisans, and a few others -- getting them to admit one of their own made a terrible mistake doesn't happen very often -- despite the overwhelming evidence against them.

But that doesn't make it right.

And after all -- we're the ones paying for all this in one way or another.

The least we deserve is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

And quicker rather than later........

David Ortiz. A new record in sight?

As I write this, Game 6 of the 2013 World Series between the Boston Red Sox and St. Louis Cardinals had yet to start. Last thing I saw was some guy playing an accordion leading the rabid fans at Fenway Park through the national anthem. So obviously, yours truly has no idea how this game will turn out. If the Bosox win, it's over, and they're champs. If the Redbirds win, it goes to a winner-take-all Game 7.

A lot of crazy things have happened in this World Series so far. But without getting into all that, an all-time record has a very good chance of being set. Yet, so far, the possibility of such a thing happening has flown beneath the radar of even the talking head stat monsters.

Anybody that has followed the Series so far knows that Boston slugger David Ortiz has been on a holy hitting terror. Since the Fall Classic started, "Big Papi" is batting a whopping .733, having gone 11 for 15 in plate appearances over the first 5 games. That's definitely getting on a roll at the right time.

The all-time record for most hits in a single World Series in shared by 3 different guys. Bobby Richardson of the 1964 NY Yankees first the set the mark with 13. It would be equalled by Lou Brock of the 1968 St. Louis Cardinals. It would be tied yet again in 1986 by a little known player named Marty Barrett of 1986 Red Sox squad. But 13 remains the magic number. Nobody has ever surpassed it in the entire history of the Fall Classic. Babe Ruth once had 10 hits in only a four game World Series way back in 1928, and had that Series gone the full seven games, who knows how many more hits the Bambino would have got? But it didn't, and coulda, woulda, shouldas don't count.

But right now, Ortiz has 11, with at least the game recently started, and possibly another one yet to be played. He needs two more hits to equal the record, and three to go into the record books as the all-time hit leader in any single World Series.

When you consider all the greats, immortals, legends, etc, that have come and gone during the whole history of baseball -- to set ANY all-time record would be impressive indeed.

And you know what? Yours truly hopes he gets it, because though not necessarily a Red Sox fan, Ortiz is just an all-around good guy. Kind of like Sara Lee. Nobody doesn't like him.

We'll see.

You go Papi. Cut that meat. No wait, that was Peyton Manning. Sorry.

Beat that shift. That's better.

Back to the game.

MLB. Warriors turned wimps

These days, in major league baseball, it's pretty much a given that every team has to have five starting pitchers. How that came to be seems to be a very good question, and yours truly has yet to hear a plausible explanation.

Not that long ago, four starting pitchers were the norm. Further, in those days, nobody kept track of pitch counts. The starter stayed out there until he either began serving up batting practice, or just ran out of gas -- often the same thing. Indeed, there were times when a starter could not only go a full nine innings, but even longer. A couple days ago marked the 22nd anniversary of the Minnesota Twins' Jack Morris' ten inning 1-0 shutout of the Atlanta Braves in Game 7 of the 1991 World Series. It would be 12 years, and over 50,000 major league starts later, before Roy Halladay would match Morris' one day longevity on the mound back in 2003. It hasn't been done since, and likely never will again.

That's because somewhere along the line, for reasons still unknown (as mentioned above), the powers-that-be in baseball concluded starting pitchers needed an extra day of rest between outings. When you think about it, it really doesn't make any sense. After all, they're still throwing the same baseball the same distance to home plate they always have since the game began back in the 1800's.

Yes, some things have changed in the art of pitching. Nobody throws a screwball anymore and knuckleballers are definitely on the endangered species list. Other pitches are a matter of terminology. You'll never hear an announcer talk about a "slider" these days. It's called a "cutter", but it's the same thing. A fastball with a twist. To be sure, the "split-finger" pitch is relatively new to baseball, and Jack Morris himself might have been the first to perfect it. But that pitch, along with all the others, isn't taxing the arms of modern day pitchers any more than they ever did.

These days, thanks to radar guns, we supposedly know how fast every pitch thrown travels. But yours truly is highly skeptical that modern day pitchers throw any harder than their forefathers. An "average" major league fastball is in the low 90's, and an exceptional one in the high 90's.

We'll never know, because radar guns weren't around back then, but I'm pretty sure the guys in the old days could bring the "heat" every bit as much as the modern day studs. Names like Bob Feller, Sandy Koufax, Jim Palmer, Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver, and Roger Clemens come to mind for starters, no pun intended. There were likely many more.

Who's the hardest throwing pitcher these days? Many would say it's Cincinnati reliever Aroldis Chapman. He routinely tops the 100 MPH mark on the radar gun. Blazing stuff, not to be confused with Blazing Saddles. Don't get me started on that movie. Ahem.

But yours truly would maintain he also had a forerunner that was even more formidable. His name was Ryne Duren. He was a relief pitcher for the Yankees and LA Angels during the late 50's and early 60's. Duren was mostly known for having a blazing fastball and very poor vision. Something like 20-200 with coke bottle glasses. In other words, damn near legally blind. No batter dared "dig-in" against Duren, because they didn't know where the hell he was going to throw it either, but it was going to be really hard. He likely topped the 100 MPH as well. Here's a factoid for you I bet you didn't know -- Duren was the inspiration for the character Ricky "Wild Thing" Vaughan in the movie Major League, according to it's author and director. Plus, Hall of Famer Ryne Sandberg was named in honor of him.

Regardless, pitchers seem to be way more coddled these days than they ever were in the past. Be they starters or relievers, the poor dears need their rest. Good grief, back in the old-old days, a really good pitcher would pitch both games of a doubleheader, with just a few minutes rest between games. Nowadays, on the rare occasion there even IS a doubleheader, it's one game in the early afternoon, and the second at night, with a 3-4 hour break in between. Evidently, it's not just the pitchers that have wimped out. The rest of the players now require a little nappy time too, lest they overtax their precious fragile bodies. The old-timers would scoff at such a notion. Maybe a quick shower and a change of uniforms, and they couldn't wait to go out and play the second game.

Times have changed indeed. From warriors to wimps. From players that worked real jobs in the off season to make ends meet, to the fat-cat arrogant multi-millionaires we routinely see today. From happily signing autographs for all the adoring kids to smugly signing endorsement deals for even more millions. From guys that played for the love of the game to guys that only care about a huge paycheck. From an average fan being able to take his/her family to a game and enjoy all the amenities with only a small adjustment to their budget -- to skipping a house payment to do the same thing.

And I, for one, think this whole thing spun out of control a long time ago -- and it's likely to only get worse in the foreseeable future. Enough with the overpaid wimps. I want the warriors back. And being able to afford going to see a few more games wouldn't hurt either.

Hmm. Pretty sure I started this out talking about pitching -- then got carried away with other stuff. Sorry.

But I do have a revolutionary idea on how major league pitching could undergo a radical change. And it just might someday.

Stay tuned....

The Detroit Lions chat. Part II

Following up on the previous post, I plopped down on a barstool next to my friend Dave shortly after the Lions had defeated the Dallas Cowboys in the waning seconds of the game. Also, in fairness, Dave was and is unaware of my long history with the Lions, as explained in the previous post as well. Had he known that, perhaps his attitude toward me regarding the Lions would have been slightly different -- or maybe not -- but sometimes conversations can be more informative when people DON'T know some things going in. At any rate, it went something like this:

Me: What's up, bro? I see the Lions lucked up and won the game at the last second.

Dave: Luck had nothing to do with it. It was skill.

M: Maybe, but....

D: No maybes about it. They drove the length of the field with under a minute to go, no time-outs, and scored the winning touchdown. Didn't you see it?

M: I caught the very end of it at home when I happened to click over during a yellow flag or a commercial. I had company and they were into the NASCAR race. So that's pretty much what we watched.

D: You didn't watch the Lions playing the Cowboys? Are you nuts?

M: Actually, the Lions aren't that important to me anymore. Long story.

D: You missed out big time, dude. This place was rocking a little while ago.

M: I suppose, but the company was pretty good too, and they wanted to see the race. Didn't much matter to me.

D: If you'd have seen it, you'd know the Lions are a great team. Only great teams come back and win games like that.

M: Maybe, but from what little I saw -- I still think they got lucky too.

D: How do you figure that?

M: Well, I did see Matthew Stafford jump over the goal line on a surprise quarterback sneak. If Dallas stuffs him on that play, the clock runs out and the Lions lose. Sometimes that's what it comes down to -- a little luck.

D: So you don't think the Lions are a great team?

M: Not really. In the whole scheme of things in the NFL, they might be a little bit better than average.

D: Yeah, well they're 5-3.

M: Exactly my point. A little better than average.

D: With a few breaks, they could have been 6-2, or 7-1. Maybe even 8-0.

M: (Sigh). Perhaps, but if those breaks go the other way, they might be 3-5, 2-6, or maybe even 1-7. Plus, they've had a weak schedule. Last time I looked, the rest of it gets even weaker. The way the NFL has shaken out this year -- in the second half of the season, the only good team they face is the Packers, and they get them at home. Because of that, they've got a shot at the playoffs, but they'll get blown out quick. Too many other really good NFC teams out there.

D: Oh, so now you're Mr. Doom and Gloom. Is that it?

M: Not exactly. I think the Lions themselves have provided the doom and gloom for the last half century or so. No offense, but have you been paying attention to reality?

D: That doesn't matter. This is a new year and I think the Lions have a good chance to make it to the Super Bowl.

M: We'll have to agree to disagree on that one.

D: But no matter what -- there is always hope -- right?

M: Sure is. Ever been to Las Vegas? The casino operators out there rake in billions every year based on hope. Same with the state lotteries. You could be a big winner -- but I wouldn't bet on it -- no pun intended.

D: Well, I still think the the Lions have a shot.

M: Come again?

D: A shot?

M: Thanks for the offer, but no. I swore off shots a long time ago. Pretty much stick to beer these days.

D: Huh?

M: Nevermind. It wasn't important.

D: Whatever, dude, but you're acting a little weird.

M: Yeah, but I used to be a lot weirder, especially when it came to the Lions.

D: What's that supposed to mean?

M: Nothing, but you just caused me to have a blast from the past rattle around in my head.

D: Oh man, don't tell me. It's about an ex that didn't work out.

M: Something like that, and you're right. It would probably be better if you didn't know.

The Detroit Lions. A conversation. Part 1

Earlier today, shortly after the Lions/Cowboys game was over, yours truly wandered into a local watering hole and plopped down next to a friend of mine. Let's call him "Dave". A conversation ensued about the Lions, and I'll get back to that.

But first a little background. For the better part of three decades, I was a super die-hard Lions fan. Dating way back to their Tiger Stadium days, and through most of their years at the Pontiac Silverdome, yours truly found a way to attend 3-4 home games every year. I don't know the exact total, but add it all up, and I probably went to around 100 of their home games over all those years. Many head coaches, front office personnel, and generations of players came and went during that time.

Another thing I don't know, and probably don't want to, is how much money I shelled out while following my beloved Honolulu blue and silver dream, up close and in person. Consider gas, tickets, parking, various concessions while in the stadiums, etc, multiply it by 100 games -- add in the team paraphernalia purchased along the way to boot -- and what do you get? Beats me, bet I'd bet it's enough to buy a small house. Unlike the reporters that get in for free with their press passes, or sniping TV armchair quarterbacks, I think I can safely say I paid my dues.

When not able to attend the home games themselves for various reasons (usually $$), and for all road games, it was a certainty yours truly would be watching on TV rooting them on. Back in the day of TV blackouts when a home game wasn't sold out, I had another friend, the late Bruce, who was as rabid a fan as I was. We'd hop in one of our cars and drive to Saginaw on Sunday morning, which was beyond the blackout zone. There was a K-Mart store there that very conveniently had the furniture department right next to the bank of TVs that were also for sale. We'd kick back in Lazy Boys and watch the Lions on a whole bunch of screens. An Arby's was right across the street for halftime chow. A pretty sweet gig. We saw Lions' receiver Chuck Hughes die on the field at Tiger Stadium while sitting in those K-Mart chairs in Saginaw.

Many years later, I was there at the Silverdome when Lions' guard Mike Utley got paralyzed on a freak play against the LA Rams in 1991. Also when linebacker Reggie Brown suffered a spinal cord injury against the NY Jets in 1997, ending his short career.

But there were better times as well at the Dome. During the Wayne Fontes head-coaching era (1988-1996) the Lions really weren't all that good (67-71), but they had a way of making their fans think they were. Indeed, after winning a few games, the team adopted the Queen classic song Another One Bites the Dust. It would blare from the stadium loudspeakers. As it turned out, every one of those teams would eventually bite the dust themselves, but it was easy to get caught up in the hype of the moment back then. As a footnote, at that time the Lions also had a safety that was nicknamed "Spiderman". When away from football, he seemed to be allegedly on a mission to impregnate every woman he came in contact with. Last I heard, after winding up homeless for a while, he's hunkered down somewhere in southern California. A gang of knocked up women, especially if they get together and find out the same guy fathered all their babies, can sometimes have a way of trapping a spider in his own web, and eventually eating him alive. But enough about that.

Many a time I showed up at the Dome at 5 or 6 o'clock in the morning to stand in line with the other crazies hoping to get a couple end zone tickets for the upcoming game. Most times it worked, but sometimes they would sell out before I reached the ticket counter. And ALL times, I would wind up going into work a couple hours late. Either way, it was going to cost me, but I didn't care. Back then, it was worth it. I had the fever.

Most Lions' fans know their team has only won one playoff game since the Super Bowl era started way back when LBJ was President and the Viet Nam war was raging. That was in January of 1992. Through a stroke of incredible good fortune -- but mostly by knowing someone that always had an amazing knack for getting whatever tickets he wanted to whatever games -- truly a forerunner of the don't ask, don't tell policy -- yours truly and a few friends managed to score tickets for that game.

Yep, I was there when the Lions trashed the Cowboys 38-6. I have never heard anything louder in my whole life than the crowd in attendance at that game. The noise was not only incredible, but actually painful to the ears. The Lions would get trashed themselves to the tune of 41-10 the following week by the Redskins in the NFC championship game, but I'll never forget that experience at the Dome. What a day.

The hordes of Lions' fans, as they have been so inclined to do over the decades, saw brighter days coming. Alas, they were once again mistaken. A few short years later, the Lions would begin yet another of their death spirals into oblivion. Fontes would be fired, which would usher in an era of merry-go-round other losing head coaches, including the infamous Matt Millen reign.

Thing is, along the way, an epiphany happened. In July of 1999, Barry Sanders, certainly amongst the best running backs of all-time in the NFL, abruptly quit, while still quite in his prime. At the time, Sanders was within easy striking distance of Walter Payton's all-time NFL rushing record. (It should be noted that Emmitt Smith would eventually surpass Payton and remains the all-time leader -- but if Sanders had played a few more years, he likely would have set the bar so high, it would never have been approachable again.) Further, Sanders walked away from over $8,000,000 that he could have made by returning to the Lions for another season. Why? Barry, always a humble man, would later say it best. He had grown weary of the losing culture of the Lions and didn't see them getting much better any year soon. Turns out, he was exactly right about that. To him, the money and/or records didn't matter. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

Initially, yours truly was dumbstruck when Sanders quietly walked away from the Lions. But after a short while, Sanders' epiphany clicked into my feeble head as well. Why even bother anymore with the Lions? So when Barry walked -- that was good enough for me. I took a hike too, leaving behind decades of what I now realize was a futile mission as a misguided fan in the first place.

In the interim, I've never been to Ford Field, and have no desire to go there for a Lions game. I've even been offered free tickets on a few occasions by season ticket holders that couldn't go to a game for whatever reasons -- and politely declined.

To me, the Lions are a lot like my ex-wife. I don't like them nor dislike them. They're just out there somewhere and I wish them well. Sometimes I'll objectively write about them (the Lions, not my ex) and I'll get accused of "hating" on the Lions. Not true. I just call them like I see them, but I went cold turkey on the blue and silver koolaid back in 1999 when Barry showed me the way.

And you know what? No regrets. The Lions haven't been remotely close to Super Bowl caliber ever since. Nor are they now, or likely to be in the near future.

To boot, I don't know how much money I would have spent on the Lions in the last 14 years, but not having done so, I've been able to take several trips and buy a few things I never would have been able to afford if I was still shelling it out to the Ford family. Funny, or maybe not, how that worked out.

This has ran on a bit long. On to the conversation between Dave and I on the bar stools -- next time.