Should We Expect Star Athletes to be More Socially Responsible?

An ESPN.com headline yesterday directed me to a story about Kobe Bryant and the video game “Call of Duty: Black Ops,” but from a decidedly different point of view. Interviewed for the piece was Todd Walker, a youth football coach in northern California who also happens to work at a funeral home. In the context of an urban gun culture that claims the lives of far too many young people, Walker argued it’s irresponsible for Bryant to actively promote a game that Walker believes glorifies gunplay.

Kobe Bryant shooting an automatic weapon, complete with his "Mamba" customization, in a commercial for "Call of Duty: Black Ops"

And with that, I had to ask myself: Just how socially responsible should we expect our athletes, and by extension entertainment celebrities, to be?

On the one hand, it could be argued that Bryant is just another person, allowed to think, speak, and behave as freely as any of us. Friends of mine let the world of Facebook know they’re spending all night playing Black Ops, so why can’t Kobe do the same? If those same friends were told they could make a few bucks promoting the game, they’d do it in a heartbeat. So why shouldn’t Bryant be given the same opportunity?

Critics like Walker contend that as a celebrity who is emulated by fans young and old, Bryant has a responsibility to set a good example. Happily supporting a game that focuses on guns and death effectively romanticizes the violence that plagues the very inner cities many of his fans populate. Opponents add that while people spend money on tickets and merchandise, ultimately benefiting Bryant, he is promoting a violent culture which claims the lives of those very same fans.

It’s been 17 years since Charles Barkley’s famous Nike commercial, which boldly opened, “I am not a role model.” In the 30-second, black-and-white spot, Barkley added, “Parents should be role models,” then ended with the statement, “Just because I dunk a basketball, doesn’t mean I should raise your kids.”

Now Barkley made a career of being his own, speaking his mind with quips like, “I can be bought. If they paid me enough, I’d work for the Klan.” And Nike has evolved into a cultural icon with provocative and artistic 30- and 60-second features. But none has sparked a debate like the Barkley spot, a debate that resurfaces again and again with stories like Bryant’s.

Do fans, particularly young fans, really emulate their sports and entertainment figures? Just because we are swayed to buy a pair of Air Jordans because Michael Jordan used them to soar to new heights, does that mean we’re going to gamble just like he did? We copied his tongue-wagging, his on-court swagger, but will we follow his off-court example?

The answer is no, but that doesn’t mean he, Barkley, or Bryant are free and clear to do whatever they want.

David Gelman discussed the Barkley commercial and the broader issue of social responsibility in Newsweek shortly after the spot debuted in 1993. Social science research, he said, demonstrates that children rarely adopt the behaviors of their sports role models. Gary Alan Fine, then the head of the sociology department at the University of Georgia, said in the article that children are “fairly sophisticated by the time they reach the preadolescent years,” and so they aren’t overly swayed by celebrities.

Interestingly, the impact of a celebrity’s missteps is far greater for adults. Children are far more likely to excuse a popular figure’s mistakes by simply dismissing the star and adopting a new one, a sort of free agency of celebrity. Adults, on the other hand, let the disappointment linger. In Gelman’s article, Dr. Gerald Dabbs, then the spokesperson for the New York Council for Child Psychiatry, recalled Paul Reubens’ (Pee-Wee Herman) arrest for indecent exposure in 1991. Though the incident received considerable national media attention, not a single child asked Dabbs about the star’s arrest. The only conversations on the subject were broached by parents.

I experienced a similarly unexpected dichotomy of sensitivity in my own sports career. Serving as general manager for a new minor league baseball team, the team name harkened back to a natural disaster that changed the host city’s history. In a sponsorship meeting with four representatives of a major regional bank, one of the executives was concerned about PR backlash from the team’s name… but it wasn’t the same executive that had lived through the disaster. The survivor had moved on, while his colleague dwelled not on personal impact, but concern over potential sensitivities.

So does this absolve today’s sports superstars of public responsibility? Not so fast. NBA Hall of Famer Karl Malone, then a perennial all-star, wrote to Barkley in a column for Sports Illustrated, “Charles… I don’t think it’s your decision to make. We don’t choose to be role models, we are chosen. Our only choice is whether to be a good role model or a bad one.” Gelman similarly observed, “Celebrities like Barkley may decline the honor, but their high visibility obliges them to behave with at least an awareness that they are being watched by millions.”

As an exec who has spent years handling team and league PR, I tend to see things from that side of the table. Whether a star acknowledges any sort of responsibility to his or her fans, I personally find it discouraging that they wouldn’t be cognizant of the strategic benefits of not behaving like a self-indulgent child. Just months after superstar Gilbert Arenas was suspended for half of the season because of gun-related charges, why would Bryant even risk the negative imagery? On top of that, why would his advisors and entourage, who are charged with the well-being of his image, allow him to do so? I can’t imagine the financial benefits are so outrageous so as to be worth the risk. So was it ignorance? A “bigger than the game” bravado? I wish I could explain it.

It’s this behavior that has fans at times decrying the demeanor of star athletes. It’s not so much a celebrity spoiling his or her opportunity and talents by getting involved in a self-destructive habit like drugs. It’s the distance between fan and athlete—physical, socio-economic, and emotional—that riles the public even more. The common mantra is that fans spend sums of money just to be able to experience a game in person or buy a jersey of their favorite player, yet athletes and celebrities pay mere lip service to their fans, if that. Is it hypocrisy or mere ignorance that led Lou Whitaker, showing up at union meeting during the 1994 baseball strike which cancelled the World Series in a limousine, to declare, “I’m rich. What am I supposed to do, hide it?” New York Post writer Phil Mushnick was equally pointed in his criticism after Barkley’s commercial: “Funny, how big shots accept all the trappings of role modeldom–especially the residual commercial cash–before they renounce their broader responsibilities to society.”

To be clear, I’m not asking every athlete and celebrity to be like Tim Wakefield, an eight-time nominee and 2010 winner of Major League Baseball’s Roberto Clemente Award for his community efforts. To be fair, it seems no degree of good works goes without criticism. Tiger Woods (long before he turned his own world upside down) was publicly criticized for not doing enough for the community. This despite the three charitable organizations founded by Woods collecting nearly $100 million over three years recently. Lance Armstrong, Andre Agassi, even Yao Ming have been ranked among The Giving Back 30, a list of top celebrity charitable benefactors, but each has suffered far more in the PR sector for their own failures, real or implied.

Charity rarely resonates for long, not with the public’s salacious appetite for scandal. Good works get a nice little feature from time to time on “SportsCenter,” and the Roberto Clemente Award makes for a lovely photo op for Major League Baseball and the award’s sponsor, Chevrolet. Scandal, legal troubles, police blotters… these drive the news cycle.

And so, to get back to the original question, how socially responsible should today’s athletes and celebrities be? We really don’t expect much. In fact, in light of behavior that’s oftentimes reported, we have come to expect the negative. From Ty Cobb to Babe Ruth to Pete Rose, our sports heroes have always been fallible and human, notwithstanding their sometimes superhuman efforts during games.

It’s not surprising that Bryant is promoting Black Ops. It also wouldn’t be shocking if he didn’t think it’s a big deal to gleefully brandish a personalized automatic weapon, especially if he cashed a check for his appearance. But the same day the article appeared on ESPN.com, Southern Miss officials reported that one of three football players shot over the weekend is paralyzed from the waist down, and another can’t speak because the gunshot tore through his vocal cords. News like this puts Bryant’s actions in a decidedly selfish context.

Of course, Walker knows all too well about similar scenes, with younger victims and graver circumstances. That’s why, in yesterday’s article, he invited Bryant to tour the funeral home where Walker works, so he can show the NBA star some of the results of casual gunplay. “He damned sure needs to see it,” Walker was quoted as saying.

Would we like more social responsibility? Perhaps, but even then, we would look at it a little suspiciously. If I were to advise an athlete right now, my advice would be to be personally responsible, first and foremost. Recognize the context of your actions, along with their scope and reach. I don’t ask for athletes to go out of their way to do positive things, because they’re already offering us so much. After all, sport is a billion dollar business because of the games themselves, the incredible achievements. They lift us. In sports we can escape and indulge, forge bonds and sometimes find ourselves.

So I’m not asking for more social responsibility from athletes. Just less personal ignorance.

A Tiger Return at the Masters is the Right Thing

Will Tiger's return include a fifth green jacket?

Ever since Tiger Woods announced his indefinite leave from golf on December 11, the single biggest question hanging over him and all of golf has been: When will Tiger return?

If Tiger is bold, confident, and savvy, there’s only one answer to this question: The Masters.

Before I go on, let me say one thing. This isn’t a judgment of what Tiger Woods has done, what he’s been accused of, or the rumors, innuendo, and conjecture surrounding his past. At issue is what makes the most sense for Tiger the golfer to begin rebuilding what Tiger the person has so tragically dismantled.

Tiger’s return to practice two weeks ago sparked discussion about his imminent return. The arrival of coach Hank Haney has only served to turn up the heat on this raging debate.

Many pundits predict Tiger will return to action at the Arnold Palmer Invitational, which opens ten days from now at Bay Hill. Tiger’s very familiar with Bay Hill – he’s won Palmer’s event six times, including the last two in dramatic fashion. He’s also quite close to Palmer, making the tournament that much more welcoming as he looks to get back into the swing of things.

NBC golf analyst Johnny Miller, in an ESPN.com article, suggested Tiger “needs to get one tournament under his belt” if wants to have any choice at winning the Masters. “Even if you don’t play well at Bay Hill, you just have to get things going,” said Miller, who added that Tiger needs to “get the cobwebs out, get his confidence going.”

Steve Stricker, a PGA veteran and a friend of Tiger’s, believes there’s more to a tune-up, however. “It’s going to be hard for him to not only worry about playing but all the hype,” Striker said in the same ESPN.com article. Playing in a tournament or two before the Masters would allow Tiger and the media to get all the hysteria out of the way before embarking on the season’s first major.

Stricker even intimated that a Tiger return at Augusta would take away from the Masters. “Whenever he comes back it’s going to draw a lot of attention to that tournament and the focus is going to be on him coming back… To turn it into Tiger’s comeback instead of the Masters Tournament itself.”

Miller, Stricker, et.al. make valid points. Popular opinion is that Tiger will not be able to return at the championship level to which we’ve grown accustomed. Any pro who hasn’t appeared in a tournament since November 15 will need some time to get back up to speed – even Tiger, who has proven to be human after years spent establishing his reputation as a machine. In fact, even with a tune-up, he isn’t really expected to compete at the Masters.

Which is exactly why that should be his first tournament back.

Imagine the historical significance of Tiger winning at the Masters if it’s his first tournament back. After the layoff, the scandal, under the burning glare of this spotlight – no matter how self-imposed it may be – to win a major in his first event… it would be an historic victory.

Don’t think the history would be lost on Tiger. He understands his place in the annals of golf. The man has won four times at Augusta, setting records in the process. From his historic victory in 1997 to his title defense in 2002, and his sudden-death win in 2005, the Masters has been a large part of Tiger’s legacy. Like it or not, that legacy has been tarnished, and what better way to begin restoring it than a win right out of the gate at Augusta.

Not that any athlete wants to think about failure, but it’s another reason Tiger should consider starting his comeback with the Masters: diminished expectations. He really has no downside when it comes to his performance if Augusta is his first tournament. After all, seemingly every quotable source deems a tune-up absolutely necessary for Tiger to even have a fighting chance at the Masters.

If he plays poorly, it’s effectively what would be expected, considering all the factors (layoff, major, media, etc.). The better he plays, the more he’s defied expectations; a win or anything close would go a long way to restoring his legacy.

So while every athlete plays to win, the suddenly PR-aware Tiger has to realize that losing is a very real possibility. Should he work out the rust at with an appearance at Bay Hill, he won’t have the layoff to blame for a poor showing at the Masters. But if Augusta is his first play, he can understandably spin his performance, even if spin control hasn’t proven to be a strong suit for him. (Sorry, I know I promised not to bring up the scandal, but in this case, it was pertinent. Forgive my indiscretion.)

Also, Stricker is right: The media will descend on Tiger’s first tournament in a way the sport hasn’t seen in some time. The circus is bound to be distracting, not just for Tiger, but for everyone. Why not use it to his advantage at a tournament that matters? If Tiger were to return at Bay Hill, the Masters, or the Orange County Chip & Putt Open, every competitor is going to be deluged with questions. From a purely tactical standpoint, he would get the most benefit not simply by getting in everyone’s collective head, but by doing so at a major.

Don’t think this isn’t a consideration for Tiger. He has done more than beat his PGA brethren over the years, he has demoralized them. From the red shirt on Sundays to fist pumping all weekend long, he plays the mental game as well as anyone else on tour. If the media can be an asset to frustrate and distract his competition, don’t expect him to leave it in his bag.

Yes, a decision like this is bound to ruffle feathers… so be it. The players who complain have all benefited from Tiger’s very existence ever since he arrived on tour. And they will certainly benefit again, because there will be a lot more that’s green than just a jacket if Tiger makes his comeback at the Masters. CBS News and Sports president Sean McManus told SI.com that Tiger’s return “will be the biggest media event other than the Obama inauguration in the past 10 or 15 years.”

If 20 million watched his press conference, how many would tune in for a Masters comeback?

Hyperbole aside, if it’s at Augusta, McManus may be right. The SI.com article cites an estimate that more than 20 million people watched Tiger’s scripted public apology last month. It would be no stretch to say that a Masters return would shatter the tournament record 14.1 television rating earned by the final round in Tiger’s 1997 victory.

Tiger has gone from legend to polarizing figure. He will attract viewers who want to see him win again, others who hope for his failure, and still more who just want to experience the spectacle of it all. If 43 million people watched at least part of that final round in 1997, and more than 20 million tuned in for his press conference, it’s amazing to think what the event would garner in these circumstances. And if he’s in the hunt on Sunday? The mind boggles…

So with all these considerations, Tiger has every reason to continue practicing with his coach at home for next few weeks. Make your return on April 8. In Augusta. At the Masters.

Whether people like it or not, it just makes sense.

A Policy in Vain – Italian Soccer’s Crackdown on Blasphemy

Domenico Di Carlo can be excused for looking a little exasperated - so long as he doesn't say "dio"

“Oh God!”

The phrase can mean a lot of things in the context of a sporting event: Exasperation after a bad play, disagreement with an official’s call, or merely a casual request for divine intervention, for instance.

Utter those words on the pitch in an Italian professional soccer match, though, and you might get more than you bargained for.

Like a red card and a subsequent one-game suspension.

Italian soccer officials recently concluded that blasphemous outbursts fall under the umbrella of “offensive, insulting or abusive language” and therefore should be penalized with an ejection and suspension. That’s right, make a comment about a deity in the wrong tone of voice, and you can hit the showers.

And if you think Italian officials are taking this new edict lightly, think again. They even have technology on their side. Last week, Chievo player Michele Marcolini was captured by a camera apparently muttering “dio” (God) as he left the field after picking up a red card.

That’s right, a camera. He didn’t scream it at the top of his lungs, making nuns weep, mothers hide their children, and eliciting a bolt of lightning from the heavens. No, he may have been seen saying something.

Such an offense warranted a review by the College of Cardinals – sorry, I meant to say, league officials – who instead determined that he was referring to someone named “Diaz.” There was no player on either roster with that name, but why should that matter?

Marcolini’s coach, Domenico Di Carlo, wasn’t so lucky. Three minutes into the second half of the same match, Di Carlo reportedly said “porco dio,” which equates God to a pig in an unkind manner. Those two words earned him an ejection from the game and a suspension for Chievo’s next contest.

Now, I have never been to Italy. I won’t profess to know Italian sensitivities over any reference to God. By geography alone, I would suspect that a country that encapsulates The Vatican may be a little touchier than, say, the United States.

Even so, does this really deserve an ejection and a suspension? Is it a more egregious offense than sliding, cleats high, at an opponent, which normally would earn just a yellow card? Is a statement to no one in particular more offensive than an insult directed at an opponent?

At least Marco Materazzi didn't blaspheme towards Zinedine Zidane

Remember, this is a country that won the World Cup in 2006 only after Italian defender Marco Materazzi so insulted French star Zinedine Zidane in the final match that Zidane head-butted Materazzi.

So just to get the record straight, questionable use of the Lord’s name in an Italian professional match is prohibited. But creating new ways to insult a French star during the World Cup in an effort to infuriate him, well, that’s downright patriotic.

It’s interesting that the powers that be have chosen to create this new use of the offensive language rule, instead of enforcing the original intent of the rule – that is, the verbal abuse of other players. Nothing is made of the caustic exchanges between players during a match, which are likely enough to make a sailor blush. Cameras and lip readers aren’t employed when players go nose to nose to hurl insults at each other.

This smacks more of Italian officials creating an opponent they can beat, instead of taking on real issues and failing.

For instance, Europe has seen a massive influx of immigrants in the last several decades, resulting in a rise in racial tensions. Soccer stadiums across the continent have been the site of racial and neo-Nazi chants from fans. In Italy, fans have been heard singing “a black Italian does not exist” towards opponents. Worse insults have been hurled by Italian fans, even at their own players.

Italian officials publicly agree that this sort of behavior can’t be tolerated. The president of the Juventus club angrily called out his own team’s fans after their demeaning behavior towards Mario Bolatelli, who is Italian-born but of Ghanaian descent.

But beyond rhetoric, little has been done to stem the racial tide. Small fines have been levied on clubs, with stiffer penalties threatened but never imposed.

So what do you do when you can’t correct the evil you know? Find a much lesser evil, and fix that one, even if no one really cared about it in the first place. (Of course, this is proof positive that Italian soccer officials are taking tips from politicians, who have employed this strategy ever since the sound bite was invented.)

And who gets to judge what’s offensive and not? Kaka, who starred for AC Milan before his transfer last year to Real Madrid, would routinely point to the sky after he scored a goal as a gesture of thanks to God. Would it have been blasphemous, if he missed a shot, to spread his arms wide and implore to the heavens? Does a player who looks skyward and shakes an angry fist get the same punishment as someone who verbalizes his disappointment?

If all of these questions sound like childish hair-splitting or meaningless topics of debate, you’re right. Italian officials have chosen to argue over the dust in the corner and ignore the elephant in the room. And every time they decide another player or coach should be suspended because of this rule, I have but one reaction:

“Oh, God!”

Johnny Damon Blew It

Johnny Damon how Sox fans remember him - if they choose to

Johnny Damon blew it.

And not by signing with the Detroit Tigers a few days ago. That was just more fallout.

No, Damon blew it in December 2005, when he agreed to sign a free agent contract with the New York Yankees.

Let me start by saying this: I’m a Boston Red Sox fan, but this isn’t a fan’s rant about how Damon turned his back on Red Sox Nation to join its most hated rival. The thought never really crossed my mind.

This is simply a practical look at a short-sighted decision made by Damon and his camp four years ago, one that will haunt him for years.

The Red Sox were a year removed from a miraculous World Series title when Damon’s four-year contract concluded. Of course, this wasn’t just any World Series championship, and in New England, it wasn’t just any miracle. This was the championship that ended “The Curse,” the victory that soothed years of heartbreak, the title that had eluded generations. That the Red Sox downed the hated Yankees in a first-of-its-kind comeback only made the win that much sweeter.

It was won by a team of personalities. Manny was being Manny, Big Papi was clutch, and Bronson Arroyo was in cornrows. Curt Schilling was forging a legend with his bloody sock when he could pull himself away from calling in to local radio shows.

Damon was one of those leading personalities. Popular in the clubhouse and the stands, his moniker for the team – “The Idiots” – was embraced by Red Sox fans everywhere. But he was more than just long hair and a caveman beard. Batting leadoff, he finished in the AL top ten in hits, walks, and runs. His two home runs, one a grand slam, helped clinch Game 7 of the ALCS and seal the history-making series against the Yankees.

Had Damon never done another thing in his life, he would have been revered in Boston and throughout New England. He could have retired on the spot and made a living doing endorsements, signing autographs, and simply being Johnny Damon.

I grew up outside Philadelphia, and I remember Tug McGraw. Tugger was a Philadelphia institution after he retired, appearing in commercials and getting a regular gig with a local TV station. He was everywhere – and Tug never even won a World Series! Imagine the life Damon would have had!

But Damon wanted to keep playing. I don’t begrudge him for that. In fact, he wanted to keep playing for a while, more than the three years the Red Sox were offering. Scott Boras, Damon’s agent, was asking for five years or more. With the Boston front office in relative disarray after the resignation of Theo Epstein, Boras wasn’t getting it. The Yankees swooped in and offered four years. What was a guy to do?

Damon did the unthinkable.

Just months after famously saying, “I could never player for the Yankees,” Damon was looking for a barber so he could conform to New York’s dress code. He said about his decision, “They [the Yankees] showed they really wanted me… I tried with Boston.” And then, in classic Damon fashion: “I wasn’t quite sure what happened.”

To a fan base where the Red Sox are religion, Damon’s desertion was blasphemous. Discussions of years and dollars did nothing to explain away the betrayal, even in this modern age of sports as a business.

Red Sox fans weren't shy when Damon returned to Fenway

When Damon returned to Fenway Park as a Yankee in May the following season, he was met with an outpouring of vitriol that only Judas would have known, had he ever played center field. Red Sox fans made it quite clear to Damon that they didn’t want him anymore, ever.

Fast forward four years to the end of his Yankee contract. Damon is richer, and he won a world series in New York. Still, I imagine he’s come to the private realization that it was nothing like the title in Boston. It was historic in that it was a championship, but it wasn’t an achievement that changed the psyche of city, if not an entire region. It’ll get him invited back for Old Timer’s Day at Yankee Stadium, but he’ll be just a role player, not a marquee attraction.

This off-season, Boras bungled Damon’s negotiations and misinterpreted the market for his client. He kept Damon in the news in all the wrong ways until the sad merry-go-round stopped with the Tigers. Detroit was “where I wanted to be, from Day 1,” said Damon. Really? I mean, really?

In watching all of this unfold, and reading Damon’s comment, I couldn’t help but think. If there were a place Damon should have always been able to return, a ballpark that always should have welcomed him, it was Fenway Park. Whether his trademark locks were flowing as he rounded third or he crept across the grass with the aid of a walker, Damon would have always been at home with Red Sox fans.

I could picture Damon throwing out first pitches for years, visiting the Sox television booth to offer absolutely nothing of substance but a smile and fond memories. He’d be doing commercials for products he couldn’t comprehend and companies he couldn’t pronounce. No one would care.

When Damon passed away, we would have wistfully recalled a season that changed anyone who experienced it. We’d have talked about the man who bestowed upon us “The Idiots.” We would have recalled a grand slam that, by then, we’d probably say actually left Yankee Stadium.

Instead, he’s just that guy who played center field before Coco Crisp. And he has no one to blame but himself.

Rivalry Day – Pressure, Hate, and Too Much Talent

A few thoughts two-thirds of the way through Rivalry Day in Winter Olympic hockey…

Zach Parise & Ryan Kesler celebrate

Intensity: I have watched hockey all my life, and never have I seen an entire period played with the emotion shared by both the Americans and Canadians in the first period Sunday night. In fact, the first twenty minutes reminded me of the opening round of “The War” between Marvin Hagler and Tommy Hearns in 1985.

The two squads delivered an opening period of preliminary round action with a fire that is usually reserved for the final minutes of a gold medal or decisive Stanley Cup game. That the pace and intensity didn’t waver for the full twenty minutes was mesmerizing.

The teams did more than bestow upon us some tremendous hockey, though. They reinforced two points:

1) The Americans are not here just to build experience for the next Olympics. Many of the familiar names are gone from Team USA, leaving fans to think this year’s young squad was acquiring experience to make it more of a force the next time around. Not so. With goalie Ryan Miller standing on his head, veterans playing like leaders, and young stars proving they belong, the United States may just have a chance.

2) The Canadians are feeling the pressure. Team Canada entered the tournament as one of the gold-medal favorites, hoping to become the first host nation to win hockey gold since the U.S. in 1980. Canada eked out a shootout win against Switzerland, a victory in the standings but a loss to the nation’s hockey-mad fans. The team knew it needed a win to not only gain a bye into the quarterfinals but to stave off the growing doubts, and they played with that desperation.

The biggest question for the Americans is whether they can maintain this intensity into knockout play. It’s very possible they may have peaked too soon, with the possibility of a letdown after an emotional victory. It’s a risk with such a young team.

A day off to get angry – at themselves, at each other, at their expectations, whatever – is a good prescription for a Canadian squad that now has to play into the quarterfinals. I would hate to be their next opponent. On the other hand, I would hate to be player wearing a maple leaf if this team doesn’t figure it out, and soon.

It’s possible to be too talented. Nearly every player in the NHL has exceptional hockey skills, and they can all do wonderful things with the puck. But being a great player means knowing when to do the simple things. It’s like being able to do a 360 dunk, but knowing when a layup is appropriate.

Unfortunately, I noticed more than a few times during the Canada-USA game when players attempted the extra pass or a fancy play when the simple option was the right one.

I can’t say whether it’s the desire to create that highlight-reel goal – the so-called “SportsCenter effect” – or if it’s the result of having so much talent on the ice.

Case in point: Sidney Crosby passed to Rick Nash from six feet in front of the goal; Nash was cutting to the post, blanketed by a defender, while Crosby had space enough for a clear shot on goal. It would have been a picture-perfect goal, and had Nash been able to bury it (he shot the puck through the crease) we’d all be talking about Crosby’s vision and Nash’s finishing ability. The appropriate play was for Crosby to put the puck on net; the odds are much better that he scores, or that a crashing Nash deposits the rebound.

Yes, you could say I am being overly critical or that I’m reading too much into one play. But the fact is that it happened more than just once, and this was the play that was the shining example to me.

When everyone on the ice is an all-star, playing on an international stage, the urge sometimes is to create a play that isn’t there. If you have the skill to make that happen, the impulse can be blinding. But the great players know how to let the game come to them. The heroes from these Olympics will be the players who realize a great play might make SportsCenter, but the right plays will be remembered for years.

Patriotism trumps team loyalty. Every player for Canada and the USA plays in the NHL, and the entire Olympic tournament is full of NHL players. But for these two weeks, those NHL teams are just backstory for fans, like where players went to school or played junior hockey.

It’s an extension of my philosophy that when the Olympics arrive, I hate everyone. During the Games, all that matters is your flag.

Marleau, Heatley and Thornton are Canadians right now - not Sharks

Fans of the San Jose Sharks are probably very proud that their line of Joe Thornton, Patrick Marleau, and Dany Heatley remains intact as key cog for Team Canada. But I imagine Silicon Valley was happy the trio couldn’t muster a victory over the Americans Sunday night.

The same holds true for fans all over the hockey world. While it would be nice for your favorite players to make a splash at the Olympics, you don’t want to see it happen at the expense of your country.

As a die-hard fan of the Philadelphia Flyers, I’m excited that captain Mike Richards and defenseman Chris Pronger are in the Games. But it wasn’t until late in the third period, when the Americans had a 4-2 lead, that my mind turned to those Flyers.

“Richards could score a goal right now, get on the scoresheet and the U.S. could still win,” I thought. That notion was quickly discarded when Sidney Crosby scored a power play goal to close to within 4-3.

Interestingly, there’s an opposite effect as well. As a Flyers fan, I have a special distaste for the New York Rangers. But when Chris Drury scored to put the Americans ahead 3-2, he was momentarily forgiven his sin of being Rangers captain.

That Team USA jersey can mend a lot of fences. Well, temporarily, at least.

In a week, I can go back to loving Richards and Pronger, and shuddering at the mere mention of Drury’s name. But in the meantime… well, you know how I think.

Final thoughts:

Aside from Miller, the player who stood out most in the Canada-USA game was Nash. He was an absolute beast out there. He threw his weight around like a man playing pee-wee hockey, and he showed elite stick skills. As a Flyers fan in Texas, I don’t get to see Nash very often. For hockey’s sake, either Columbus has to become a contender, or Nash needs to find his way to a better team.

Alex Ovechkin can be the Tasmanian Devil of hockey, and no one knows that better today than Jaromir Jagr. Ovechkin’s open-ice pasting of Jagr was a thing of beauty, especially since it directly led to a goal. Even without the puck, he can be a dominating player.

The Winter Olympics, And Why I Hate Everyone Now

The flame was lit in Vancouver... eventually

The Winter Olympics are under way. I know, I know, you may not have known had it not been for all the Olympic-themed commercials hitting the airwaves. And maybe missing the beginning of the games wasn’t a bad thing for you; after all, the games were awarded to Vancouver in 2003, yet in the ensuing six and a half years, the organizing committee couldn’t figure out how to make all four trap doors work so they could light things on fire.

One of the most common phrases these next two weeks is going to be “Olympic spirit.” Friends and foes will live together in the Olympic Village and compete as equals in Olympic events. Fans from different worlds will sit side-by-side in the stands and cheer their heroes to gold.

The Olympics, they say, bring us all together.

I heartily disagree. When the Olympics come around, I can’t help but dislike everyone else in the world equally.

Yep. There, I said it.

I live in the United States and I want to see our athletes win everything, whether that’s reasonable or not. I am not going to be consoled by the thought that the British athlete who won is a friend of ours, or that the gold medal triumph of some skier from Uzbekistan is a great story.

When another anthem plays, it means we lost.

In everyday life, friends are friends, foes are foes, and the Swiss are neither. But in an event invites the entire world to compete, it just stands to reason that the entire world is now a foe.

I’m not being childish about it, I’m just rooting for the Americans. I will cheer heartily for our athletes and I will celebrate our victories. I believe the Olympic ideal is wonderful, with events such as these in which everyone can compete and find glory.

I’ll just save my cheering for American glory. The rest will get a nod of acknowledgment… maybe.

One thing I don’t quite understand about the Olympics is timing. We all concede that part of the reasoning for the Olympics is for the participating countries to set aside their differences, gather together in the spirit of competition, and generally all feel warm and fuzzy together.

If that’s the case, why not schedule the Summer Olympics to take place this time of year, and the Winter Olympics when the Summer Games are usually held? If we’re looking for the games to make us feel better just by turning on the TV, seeing the sunshine and 85-degree weather of the Summer Olympics would do me just fine. And when we’re all sweating from near-100% humidity in July, wouldn’t a glimpse of a skier throwing some powder give us the right kind of chills?

It’s not like summer in February and winter in July is a crazy notion – after all, that’s what the entire southern hemisphere experiences. And since 90% of the world’s population lives in the northern hemisphere, the change would serve the vast majority of the world’s people.

Hey, at a time when it seems Vancouver is the only place north of the Rio Grande River that is struggling to accumulate snow, it’s just a suggestion.

The next two weeks will be filled not only with the events we know – hockey, figure skating, skiing – but also some sports that I struggle to wrap my brain around. The first one of those is the biathlon, which started awarding medals today.

What exactly is the purpose of the biathlon? I know, when you boil it all down, there really isn’t much logic to most sports. But the biathlon pairs two seemingly unrelated activities in cross country skiing and shooting stuff. Participants ski for a while, stop and shoot at targets, ski more, shoot more, etc.

I get it, it’s difficult to ski your hardest, settle your body, breathe easy, and shoot a rifle at a target. And I don’t begrudge those that train for years to become the best in the world at their chosen event.

But there are lots of activities that are difficult when paired together. Juggling while riding a unicycle is not particularly easy, but I have yet to see the IOC hand out medals to a Ringling Brothers clown. If we’re looking to combine the practical with the dangerous, why not speed skating and bear wrestling comes to mind. What is the summer equivalent, the 5,000 meter/blindfolded knife-throwing relay?

Flowers and a note mark the site of Kumaritashvili's death

On a more somber note, we are all well aware of the tragic death of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili on Friday.

We are bound to hear debate about access to the track for practice runs. Is the world’s fastest track too fast?

I know nothing about the luge, except that it looks like bobsledding without the bobsled. My questions, therefore, are less technical and more practical.

My first thought is, why is it necessary for there to be support posts so close to a straightaway, especially coming out of a fast corner? Whatever they’re supporting, can’t it be pushed back, even if just ten feet? Some sort of buffer zone between the track and any obstructions simply seems like common sense to me.

If the support posts absolutely have to be there, why leave them naked and exposed? Those posts should be padded. I just can’t think of any practical reason why they were not protected. Maybe the padding wouldn’t do much for a luger flying out of control at more than 85 mph. But if they do enough to stave off that athlete’s death, isn’t that enough?

I’m no sports architect, and I have never been to a luge track. I have no idea if these design elements are the norm or if they’re unusual. I’m sure organizers have very valid answers to all of these questions, but in light of this tragedy, how truly valid are those answers?

Responsible parties have taken some steps in the last 24 hours. The posts are now being padded. The pads look like they were borrowed from a sixth-grade gymnastics class, but at least it’s something.

A wooden barrier has been erected to hopefully contain any athlete who flies off the track in a similar manner. The starting points for the luge have also been adjusted, which should help cut down speeds at the bottom of the track.

Kumaritashvili was remembered at the opening ceremonies, where flags were lowered to half-staff and a moment of silence was held. The small Georgian delegation, every member adorned in a black armband, received a sustained applause as well.

I would imagine the Georgians will become the sympathetic favorites for the remainder of the Winter Olympics, receiving polite applause from the international fans. Should a Georgian win a medal, it will make a heartwarming story.

I might even applaud during the Georgian national anthem.

Then again, maybe just a nod.

Briefs Bits

Mark Cuban

Word out of Dallas is that Mark Cuban, the outspoken owner of the NBA’s Dallas Mavericks, is interested in owning part of the NHL’s Dallas Stars. He insists his interest is simply as a money guy, and he wouldn’t dedicate the same passion nor would he become as involved in the hockey operation as he has with the Mavs. But don’t think of this as a power play for Cuban to assemble a Dallas sports conglomerate. This is really a case of the maverick owner protecting his own interests. The Stars share the American Airlines Center with the Mavericks, and the new Stars owner will also take on a 50% ownership stake in the arena. Getting a seat on the Stars’ side of the table allows him to protect his interests with the Mavs and ensure there is no power play between the two organizations. Moreover, should he join in purchasing the Stars, expect Cuban to insist on a right of first refusal clause should there be another change in Stars ownership – once again, for protection. This would give him the power to buy out the Stars if it looks like they could fall into the hands of someone that would be counter to Cuban’s interests.

Despite the strictly financial motivation, it would be nice for the NHL to have Cuban in the fold. He would learn the game, express a passion, and maybe even generate a greater share of the public consciousness for the Stars.

A few weeks ago, I wrote that the Indianapolis Colts were the NFL’s equivalent of the NBA’s San Antonio Spurs (when the Spurs were winning titles), in that both were machinelike winners. After the Colts’ dramatic loss to the New Orleans Saints last weekend, I am beginning to wonder if Indianapolis is actually more akin to MLB’s Atlanta Braves. The Braves won their division 11 straight years and 14 out of 15 seasons from 1991 to 2005. Similarly, the Colts have reached the postseason eight consecutive times and ten of the last 11 years. The Braves were led by businesslike stars who dominated the game, not unlike the Colts of recent vintage. Yet despite the way both teams re-wrote the record books, they each managed to win only one championship: Atlanta in 1995, and the Colts three years ago. (It could also be argued that both teams won their titles against opponents that weren’t exactly championship-worthy, but that’s another story.) If the Colts rebound and capture another Super Bowl in the next few years, this analogy will fade away, but until then, it’s a growing albatross around the neck of Peyton Manning and the entire Indianapolis organization.

Did you know the Winter Olympics get under way tomorrow?! It very well could be me, but there seems to be a distinctly ho-hum attitude about the Winter games. Let me begin by saying that I like the Olympics; I’m a die-hard hockey fan, and I enjoy the Olympic hockey tournament whether or not the Americans make a good showing. But this iteration of the Winter Olympics feels like it’s being fed to the public more than being anxiously consumed by us. We’re being confronted by profiles of hopeful American athletes in an effort to get viewers emotionally invested in their quest. I don’t know if it’s working with anyone else, but I’m more interested in watching a Dorito’s commercial than yet another Apolo Ohno tear-jerker. Maybe it’s because the U.S. is not considered favorites in some high-profile events. Perhaps the rise of the Saints will doom even the Olympics to a secondary story. I’m sure the excitement and interest will pick up come Friday’s opener, but right now, I’m just not all in… yet.

Why You Should Care About Brendan Burke

Brendan Burke, seen here in a family photo after his father captured the Stanley cup as GM of the Anaheim Ducks.

Brendan Burke died Friday.

Never heard of him? Maybe I should rephrase it in a way that you might better recognize him.

One of six children of Brian Burke, president and general manager of the most valuable hockey franchise in the NHL, the Toronto Maple Leafs, and GM of the United States hockey team for the 2010 Winter Olympics, Brendan Burke died Friday.

For those who have heard of Brendan, you likely would have best understood this:

Brendan Burke, the openly gay son of Brian Burke, died Friday.

And unfortunately, that is what made Friday’s tragic event newsworthy.

I’ve never met Brendan, never knew him personally. Like most people, I only became aware of him when ESPN’s John Buccigross wrote a moving piece about Brendan in November.

With the Buccigross story, Brendan became a household name. His father, one of the most powerful and polarizing figures in hockey, showed his softer side. The University of Miami hockey team, led by coach Enrico Blasi, became a haven for open-mindedness and inclusion.

The article also made Brendan a question-in-waiting, namely: Will the hockey establishment be able to accept an openly gay man? Brendan was a manager of the RedHawks hockey team, but he was also planning to attend law school, with the hope of working in an NHL front office like his father.

Whether or not Brendan would have been able to craft a career in hockey will never go answered, though I’m inclined to say he would have. The issue prompts the natural follow-up, though: Would hockey, or any major league-level team sport, accept an openly gay man?

The immediate reaction to the Buccigross story on Brendan was that the NHL would accept him. Hockey, people reasoned, was more grounded and open than the other “Big Four” sports. Besides, he had Brian Burke on his side, a regular on The Hockey News list of the most powerful people in hockey.

But would an openly gay man survive as an active player in a team sport? It’s an astonishingly divisive question, if only because of the variety of answers and their rationales.

The “We Are The World” answer is, yes, of course. Sports accept athletes from all walks of life, regardless of skin tone, nationality, religion, and upbringing. That may be because at its highest levels, all that matters are results. Put on a uniform, outperform your opponents, and the sport and its fans will forgive anything from racial inconveniences to manslaughter.

Sure, such an athlete will hear it from opposing fans. But that just becomes noise to players, an energizing force whether it supports you or despises you. The media? Once again, that’s an accepted element to being an athlete.

The greatest divide for an openly gay athlete to cross will be with the players themselves. Athletes are stereotypically men’s men, explosive vessels of testosterone waiting to be unleashed upon the opposing team. But being gay is generally observed, especially among the hyper-masculine, as being less than a man. Locker room chatter is littered with derogatory comments about gays, directed towards players or actions that seem less than manly.

Jackie Robinson, left, with his Brooklyn Dodgers teammate, Pee Wee Reese.

In this respect, it’s not altogether unlike the breaking of the color barrier, the influx of athletes from Latin America, and the arrival of European players in the NHL. Negative attitudes were common and locker rooms were divided. But leaders like Pee Wee Reese, who famously put his arm around Jackie Robinson, bridged those barriers and helped make integration possible.

Buccigross wrote about a similar evolution in his article. After Brendan made it known he was gay, the University of Miami locker room changed. The players were not only accepting, but their homophobic chatter even changed. But it’s only one step to adjust locker room language. That is as much as case of being more careful about the timing or audience in which someone uses a term as it is eliminating the term from one’s vocabulary. But when the language changes, the attitude must follow.

There’s an added element to crossing the rainbow divide in team sports, though. Before a locker room becomes a place of team bonding and banter, it serves a functional purpose as a place to change clothes and shower. For players to accept a gay teammate, they have to do more than just accept him on the field or in interviews. They have to become comfortable dropping their, well, guard.

Bob Costas observed this after interviewing former NFL player Esera Tuaolo, who publicly declared that he was gay after his retirement. “It’s a hyper macho atmosphere,” Costas said. “[A] number of players expressed almost Neanderthal views about sharing a locker room with a gay person, and being a teammate with a gay person and what the consequences of that would be.”

Equally as difficult to overcome are the religious or ideological attitudes about homosexuality. The player who believes a gay teammate violates natural law or is doomed to hell might never see him as just a teammate. Players with this attitude may never see the teammate, and instead only focus on these perceived “faults.”

That there would be a gay athlete in a major team sport shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. Studies show at least one to several percent of the population is gay; at one percent, that would make for more than three dozen at the major league level of the “Big Four” sports. John Amaechi and Billy Bean, like Tuaolo, have famously “come out” in recent years, though they did so only after their playing careers were over.

The players still became lightning rods. Former NBA guard Tim Hardaway commented that he “wouldn’t want [Amaechi] on his team.”  He added, “I would… really distance myself from him because… I don’t think that’s right. And you know I don’t think he should be in the locker room while we’re in the locker room. I wouldn’t even be a part of that.”

Pat Riley, his former coach with the Miami Heat, replied, “[Hardaway's attitude] would not be tolerated in our organization.” Riley continued, “That kind of thinking can’t be tolerated. It just can’t.”

That’s not to say that attitudes like Hardaway’s can’t change. The recently passed Bobby Bragan was one of the most outspoken members of the Brooklyn Dodgers, ardently against the arrival of Jackie Robinson and the integration of baseball. Then he watched what Robinson went through and the way he handled himself. Historian Steve Treder said Bragan “saw that he’d been wrong all along, that what he’d been taught to believe was nonsense.” He would go on to found the Bobby Bragan Youth Foundation, which every year awards scholarships to dozens of kids in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, regardless of color or creed.

What would it take for an openly gay athlete to find acceptance in a major league team sport, an environment that Costas referred to in this context as one of “hyper-heterosexuality”? Costas observed it would take “a person of guts and commitment to do it.” This thinking isn’t unlike that of Branch Rickey, who searched some time for a player to cross baseball’s color line before he found Robinson. To be more than just a token gesture, Robinson had to be the best athlete that could handle the transition, not simply the best athlete.

Still, it would require talent. Jim Bouton, author of the myth-shattering Ball Four, commented, “The first [openly] gay [MLB] player is going to have to be a good player.” Sports organizations are willing to overlook even the most grievous issues if a player can produce. They will jettison a fringe player that brings them more grief than he may be worth, though.

Bouton made a fine point when he said, “You can’t wait for every single player to accept a gay player.” In fact, 63 years after Robinson won the Rookie of the Year award, you’re likely to still find pockets of bigotry in baseball. 100% acceptance is a fantasy, a practical impossibility, be it acceptance of race, nationality, or sexual orientation. And it’s naive to expect a Bragan-like transformation of every player who opposed a gay athlete.

One fact is quite certain, though. The first openly gay player in a major team sport will always be that, before he is anything else – and he will have to come to grips with it before he ever makes the announcement. Regardless of any awards bestowed or championships won, he will always be the gay athlete that achieved them. Costas opined, in the context of sports, “[A] heterosexual person’s sexuality, generally speaking, becomes just a part of a larger persona… whereas the gay person’s sexuality becomes a definition.”

Which brings us back to Brendan Burke. The 21-year-old was by all accounts an intelligent, thoughtful, passionate man with a bright future. But on this cold Saturday, a day after his passing, we find ourselves discussing this young man not because of his past or his future, but because he was gay.

Someday, maybe someday soon, this won’t be the case.

South Carolina and the $25,000 lesson

The South Carolina Gamecocks basketball team knocked off #1 and previously unbeaten Kentucky Tuesday night, setting off a raucous celebration that saw fans storm the court.

One day later, South Carolina’s coffers were $25,000 lighter, the result of a Southeastern Conference fine.

Gamecock fans exuberance cost the program $25,000

It turns out the SEC has a policy in place to levy progressive fines if fans at a basketball or football game rush onto the playing field during or after a game. The first such incident earns a $5,000 penalty, which increases to $25,000 for the second offense and $50,000 for the third offense.

South Carolina guard Devan Downey, who implored fans to join the celebration, was unrepentant after the game when asked about a potential fine: “I’m pretty sure the university’s got some money somewhere to pay the fine.”

The prevailing attitude when a school is fined for rushing the court is mild surprise. In a world where the sports pages are invaded by offenses of varying nature, exuberant celebration appears to be the least of our worries. After all, the same day the fine was announced, the NBA saw fit to suspend two players, including superstar Gilbert Arenas, for drawing guns on each other. So a few fans got excited because of a landmark win ignored the “Authorized Personnel Only” signs. Big deal, right?

Not exactly.

People casually point to the SEC’s rule as being instituted just weeks after the infamous “Palace Brawl” that saw Indiana Pacers and Detroit Pistons players fight with fans at the Palace at Auburn Hills. But the rule was actually put in place as a result after a University of Georgia fan was accused of punching Florida Gator Matt Walsh after a basketball game.

The policy was quickly put in place for the safety of all parties involved – although the rule falls under the conference’s sportsmanship guidelines. To date, the SEC is the only conference to have such a rule.

And there’s a damn good reason to have such a rule. Let me rephrase that: There’s a hollow reason to have the rule – it’s called public relations. But there’s a far better reason to enforce the rule, and we’re seeing more and more evidence of it.

The Palace Brawl is probably the most egregious spectacle to date, but it’s hardly an isolated incident, nor is the trend limited to pro sports. A year before the SEC saw fit to pass the rule, Nebraska football player Kellen Huston knocked out a celebrating Missouri fan with a sucker punch. Gators basketball player Brandon Powell threw a punch at a Vanderbilt fan who had stormed the court after the Commodores knocked off then-#1 Florida in 2007.

Blount (white stocking cap) being restrained by an Oregon coach

More recently, we watched as officials restrained Oregon running back LeGarrette Blount when he tried to engage several fans, just minutes after Blount punched a Boise State opponent. Even Tuesday night, rumors circulated that Kentucky player DeMarcus Cousins punched a South Carolina fan during the mayhem.

Not every example of fan pandemonium results in violence. Sometimes, it’s just tedious, as it was when Texas Tech fans rushed the field three times before the game was even over in the Red Raiders’ upset of Texas in 2008.

In fact, one of the most famous plays in college football history is considered so in part because of extra people on the field. The Cal-Stanford game in 1982 ended with “The Play”, a series of Cal laterals and Kevin Moen scoring the game-winning touchdown… as the Stanford band scattered from the playing field and end zone.

But more and more, fans on the field or the court can lead to nothing good.

Emotion runs high in athletic contests, and occasional violence can be the result of such passion. When violence occurs between participants, it is quelled quickly and punishment is meted out. It’s called sports justice.

But the more we blur the line between the field and the stands, the more we also blur the line between player and fan. It’s not so much that fans become players, but by invading the players’ realm, they subject themselves to whatever might happen on the field of play. And from here on the couch, any fan that crosses that line, be it alone or with thousands of his closest friends, deserves just about whatever happens to him.

Besides, what can reasonably be expected from this equation:

Several frustrated visiting players who just suffered a crushing defeat, plus

Thousands of delirious fans celebrating a victory, minus

Security necessary to shield the players from the fans or provide safe passage off the court or field?

It’s a recipe for disaster, one that someday will make the Palace Brawl seem like a kindergarten tiff.

Ultimately, precautions must be proactive. A few senior citizens in yellow jackets or a simple rope line, as was used in South Carolina, can’t hold back a wave of fans, no more than they can hold back waves at the shore. More substantial barriers between fans and the playing surface are out, since they devalue all those big money seats down below.

Which means it comes down to security. And what is security but manpower and training? If an athletic department wants to evaluate this by the numbers, they’re one day going to realize that increased security for an hour or two is far less expensive than increasing fines. Or escalating incidents.

Sure, maybe it’s a sign of the times. We’ve taken an innocent act of pure jubilation shared by a team and its fans, and we’ve injected trepidation and fear and violence.

So more conferences need to follow the SEC’s lead and institute rules. And athletic directors need to take this more seriously than South Carolina’s Eric Hyman, who joked that fans were giving him $1 bills to pay the fine. And fans need to remember they’re fans, they bought a ticket to revel in the stands.

Stay where you belong, so monumental victories can remain memorable because of the triumph, not because of what they spawned immediately afterward.

Superstar vs. Enforcer: The rules of the rink

Thursday night, the Philadelphia Flyers skated to a 2-0 shutout of the New York Rangers, a game that sparked debate throughout the hockey world. (Editor’s note: Before we get to far into this, and in the spirit of full disclosure, let the record show that I am a lifelong Flyers fan.)

No one was arguing about whether the resurgent Flyers are a playoff team, or if goalie Ray Emery is back in form following abdominal surgery. The fact that there were four fights between the fierce rivals wasn’t a surprise, either.

Daniel Carcillo fighting Sean Avery

But fisticuffs were at the core of the controversy – that, and the unwritten code that players in all sports adopt when they put on a uniform. In this case, it was a fight between Philadelphia enforcer Daniel Carcillo and Rangers sniper Marion Gaborik, a leading contender for NHL MVP.

In hockey, fighting is a penalized but still legal element of the game. But while anyone can skate, pass, and shoot, it’s understood that only fighters fight. Leave the other team’s star players alone, unless you want your own stars targeted.

And so the Rangers were all sorts of fired up.

When order was restored and the penalized were escorted to the box, Brandon Dubinsky let fly some unprintable words at Carcillo, prompting off-ice officials to calm both players. Rangers coach John Tortorella turned his verbal abuse towards the Flyers bench and coach Peter Laviolette.

The final whistle did nothing to temper emotions.

“I think it’s disrespectful,” said New York defenseman Marc Staal. “He doesn’t look that smart to me, and he showed it tonight,” quipped goalie Henrik Lundqvist.

Added Tortorella, “There’s simply no honor in that at all. It’s pretty embarrassing.” Later, he sarcastically called Carcillo a “brave guy”.

The one thing these Rangers have completely ignored is this simple fact: Gaborik dropped his gloves first. When the scuffle began in front of the Philadelphia net, Carcillo ended up paired with Gaborik, and the two locked together and spun behind the net. The Ranger forward was the first to drop the gloves and begin swinging… well, maybe flailing is a better term.

So what was Carcillo to do? Wait for a more appropriate opponent to step forward and then engage him? Stand there and take it with a smile?

Laviolette said it best after the game: “Gaborik dropped his gloves first. Danny [Carcillo] can either get punched or drop his and fight.”

The unwritten rule about protecting star players offers one equally unwritten caveat: You can’t protect an opposing star player from himself.

If Gaborik was going to drop the gloves with Carcillo, he knew quite well what he was getting into. After all, Carcillo had twelve fighting majors thus far this season, and he’s led the NHL in penalty minutes each of the last two years. In contrast, Gaborik had one prior fight in 550 career NHL games.

Gaborik slapped at a surprised Carcillo a few times to open the bout. Then the Flyers tough guy lobbed back a few solid punches that sent his opponent to the ice. Once Gaborik fell, Carcillo stopped punching, adhering to another part of the code: A pugilist doesn’t hit an opponent once he’s gone down or he’s defenseless.

Maybe Gaborik figured he could surprise Carcillo. Perhaps he’s tired of getting pushed around, so he thought a well-timed fight could send a message to future opponents. Or maybe he wants to plead temporary insanity.

John Tortorella was fighting mad

The truth of the matter is that all the Ranger vitriol should be directed at each other, particularly New York defenseman Dan Girardi. Girardi was only feet away from his star teammate at the time of the fight, and he did little more than lean over and ask Gaborik if he was OK when the altercation concluded.

Which brings us to another tenet of the code: In an altercation, the willing and able defend their less-combative teammates. In other words, fighters stand up for snipers. New York had to look back little more than a week for a widely-publicized example of how this is done.

On January 12, perpetual pest Steve Downie of the Tampa Bay Lightning coaxed reigning MVP Alex Ovechkin into dropping the gloves. But just as they were about to engage, Matt Bradley, Ovechkin’s Washington Capitals teammate, flew in to fight Downie. The superstar got to play the tough, but his teammates knew where to draw the line.

And perhaps that’s who the Rangers were so angry with Thursday night. Not at Carcillo for picking on their star, and not at the Flyers for cultivating such perceived thuggery. Maybe they were just mad at each other, because no one in that locker room had the stones to stand up for their man.

Sure, now the Rangers are in a collective huff. They say they’ve circled March 14 on their calendar, which is when the two teams meet again, this time at Madison Square Garden.

Lundqvist even went as far as to say, “We will remember this for sure, and he should be ready for it.”

Well the Rangers have nearly two months to decide just who is going to defend their honor, because nobody bothered to do anything more than talk about it Thursday.