Tonight, the NFL is going to hold their annual all-star game, the Pro Bowl, in Miami... a week before the Super Bowl. It's the first time that they've tried this, and already there has been a serious uproar from just about everyone involved. Many complain about the fact that the NFL is requiring the two teams who have reached the title game (the Saints and the Colts) to send their Pro Bowl players to Miami a week early, just to stand on the sideline and participate in the pre- and post-game activities. Naturally, this doesn't sit well with the coaches and owners of the teams since they want
those players in practice and preparing for the big game itself, especially since you're talking about the very best players on their teams. Others are complaining about the fact that the whole point of staging the Pro Bowl a week before the big game was solely to get more viewers for a game that would normally be played two weeks later in Hawaii. Instead of all the focus being on the championship, it's being shared with an all-star game that, for whatever reason, no one really cares about in the first place. Every year, there are plenty of players who opt to stay home and rest, to relax with their family and friends and do whatever they want rather than take a trip to Hawaii to play a meaningless exhibition game. Some claim injury, some claim indifference, but all of them have a reason for getting out it. There are 87 players in all when you combine both the AFC and NFC rosters. Want to take a guess at how many of those players are replacements for those that couldn't/wouldn't come?32.
That's over a third of the roster that will be players who didn't earn enough votes to be a part of the all-star teams. That means that you won't be seeing the best of the best out there on the field in Miami tonight; you'll be getting the second best of the best, in some cases the third best of the best. For whatever reason, so many of these players just don't care about being on the Pro Bowl anymore. Maybe it's a joke to them, a glorified popularity contest that they're content to win and then not participate in. Maybe they just genuinely don't care. I don't know. All I know is that the NFL gets most everything right: they get the highest ratings, sell the most tickets, and have the most captivating sport in America... but they consistently get their all-star game wrong. There are more people that would rather watch the NHL all-star game than the Pro Bowl. Baseball went out and made the winner of the game get home field advantage so that there was literally something to play for. Every other league puts their game in the middle of the season, but the NFL can't do that because they're afraid that guys will get hurt. Who's ever gotten hurt at an all-star game? Anybody? They're not even trying to play defense out there, it's all a show! They're mostly goofing off and trying to make razzle dazzle type plays; they're not trying to cut a guy's legs out from under him or deliver bone-crushing hits. It's ridiculous.
In thinking about how ungrateful some of these players are, it made me reflect back to when I was in Little League. My first year of Little League baseball, I played for a team sponsored by Sod Laid. We wore green shirts and hats too big for our heads and we were terrible. I think we may have won two or three games that year. I played mostly second base, but a little bit of everything else as well. At the end of the year, everyone got a trophy, but I got a special announcement from my coach: I had been selected for the all-star team! I was the only player from our otherwise awful squad that got the nod. As excited as I was, I was still a rather shy child, and so I was nervous about playing on another team where I didn't really know anyone. As it would turn out, however, I knew a couple people on the all-star team from my elementary school, so it wasn't all bad. For whatever reason, the two other kids that I knew also got to sit on the bench with me for most of the all-star season...
One of them was Danny Zuchowski (I never could spell his name right), who sat out because had a broken arm. As bad as Sod Laid was, his team was worse. Danny's dad was the coach for both his own, car dealership sponsored, one win (over OUR team) battalion as well as the all-star team, which, I'm sure, is how Danny made it despite a broken arm and a terrible team behind him. The other kid that I knew was named Cortez... I forget his first name, but I know for sure his last name was Cortez because I remember not knowing any other Hispanic children. I also remember because the coach shouted, "Cortez! Berry!" when we were summoned to enter our first game with maybe a couple innings to go. Of course, having never coached either of us before, Mr. Zuchowski decided that we would be best in the outfield, where we likely couldn't cause any damage to the team's struggles. Little did he know...
Since I wasn't used to playing the outfield, I just approached it how I normally would at the second base position. However, there's a sizable difference between right field and second base, and I learned this when a ball was hit down the right field line. I approached it how I would approach a ball that was just out of my reach when playing the infield, with a backhanded glove. Of course, while this works on dirt where the ball is likely to hop into your mitt, it doesn't work on grass where the ball is much more likely to roll right past you and keep rolling all the way to the outfield fence. I learned this lesson the hard way. The hard way, as in, everyone yelling for me to chase down the ball that just got past me and I managed to embarrass myself in the first and likely last play I would get to be a part of as an all-star. While I likely mocked Danny Zuchowski for being a glorified cheerleader for a team that he wasn't qualified to be a part of, he could now mock me for allowed two runs to score on a routine outfield ground ball. It was awesome.
Needless to say, the Sebastian River All-Stars didn't make it very far. We played three games total, and were eliminated in the third after our second loss in the double-elimination tournament. I at least got to play an infield position in that game (third base), even though the ball never came my way. I never got the chance for redemption... but I've kept the hat and the jersey from that all-star experience ever since. I don't want to forget that someday, somewhere, I was good enough to be considered among the best of the best, singled out in a sea of kids as someone who was good enough to represent the entire league. I didn't take that experience for granted. I didn't brush aside the vote of confidence given to me by my coach and others around the Sebastian River Little League. It was a feeling that I'll never forget.
Maybe the overpaid, over appreciated players in the NFL could take a lesson from that.
No comments:
Post a Comment