I am going to go ahead and throw something out there that I doubt will be viewed favorably by most of the Sports Agent Blog’s readers.

America’s fascination with sports is severely sick and twisted.

Set fire to the stake, assemble the tar and feathers and send me straight to the guillotine, for I have finally said it!  America has a sick and demented obsession with their sports.

And believe me loyal readers, I say this with full admission of my own dependent addiction to the games and players that fill the void and act as an escape from the realities of my life.  I mean isn’t that what all drugs are meant to do?  Fill the emptiness of one’s life while simultaneously giving a glimpse of happiness and offering momentary escape through synthetic pleasure?

So if that is the case, then by the sports fans own admission, we are all metaphorical drug addicts.  Addicted to the perfect game, the next score, the championship, the players, the idea of next year and ultimately the feeling that even though we give our all to being a fan, the simple act of being a fan cannot control destiny.  Yes, America, as mentioned above, our obsession is a sick and twisted love affair, and we are all hopeless romantics.

With that being said, if sports are our drug, then Alex Rodriguez is most defiantly our heroin.

The most dangerous, addictive and mysterious drug there is, users have been known to go into shock and withdrawal when they do not have it until it finally gives them that feeling of bliss when it is once again reintroduced into their system.  If this horrid account of addiction doesn’t describe the juxtaposition of the public’s desire and the media’s coverage of the embattled Yankee third basemen, then nothing ever will.

For the record, my knowledge of this drug does not exceed multiple viewings of the films Trainspotting, Pulp Fiction, and Requiem for A Dream, all great films which show the perverse side of this terrible affliction.  But the correlation is all the same.  In the same way a junkie cooks up and prepares his next hit, the sports fan secretly wishes and waits for A-Rod to make his next slip up so they can call and cry into their favorite radio show, type a hateful comment on their fan message board or create that perfect blog entry.  You know the one.  It’s filled with just the right amount of statistics, sass and hate that will hopefully be that magical post that finally gets you discovered!

Am I defending A-Rod’s actions?  Absolutely not.  What he did was deplorable and an insult to the game of baseball.  I don’t care if this was the “culture of the time” in Major League Baseball,  Alex should have known that his raw talent and natural ability would be more than enough to break a plethora of records and walk right into the halls of Cooperstown.  If that wasn’t reason enough then he should have known that these drugs were illegal under federal mandates of the United States of America which Congress banned with the implementation of Schedule III of the Controlled Substances Act in the Anabolic Steroid Control Act of 1990.

Plain and simple, A-Rod was wrong.  He tarnished his legacy as well the purity and sanctity of the game of baseball.  Of all the steroid users, abusers and accusers, this admission in particular, is going to be the hardest to swallow as Alex Rodriguez represented the exception.  His superhuman statistics in conjunction with the pace that he has acquired them gave us hope that there was actually someone out there who could have achieved these things naturally and by the grace of G-d.

But this isn’t just one of your run-of-the-mill baseball players, this is the superstar of all superstars.  This man is so transcendent of the game of baseball that his divorce, celebrity dating habits and exploitations with muscular, Canadian strippers get front page coverage on several different days.  Predicted to not only surpass the home run record, but completely obliterate it, this is a man who can cause a 2 day discussion on the merits of saying “HA!” while rounding third base and draw merciless mockery after attempting to slap a ball out of a glove.  I MEAN, THIS IS A MAN who could quite possibly go down as the greatest right handed hitter in the history of baseball, but whose accomplishments, stellar play and unprecedented work ethic go overshadowed causing an entire stadium to boo because he decided to take his shirt off on a nice day while playing with his daughter in Central Park…

If a shirt can cause that much disdain and unwarranted discussion in the A-Rod crazed,  infatuated eyes of the public, he will never be able to publicly survive a steroid scandal.

And even though he has come clean and apologized, the fact that the American public has been nothing less then obsessed with this man since 2001, will only add to the scrutiny he will receive. From the talking heads on ESPN to the college kid blogging in his dorm and even to the housewife chatting it up with her girlfriends over a game of Mahjong, The Sports Nation will find their next fix in their addiction to A-Rod by knocking him off the proverbial pedestal.

This past Monday on his blog, Peter Abraham jokingly insinuated that Alex Rodriguez could single handily save the doomed newspaper industry.  He certainly has a point.  As long as A-Rod continues to live and breathe on Planet Earth, the masses are going to want to read articles on him using up too much oxygen.

It’s A-Rod’s world and we are all just addicted to it.  Am I a hypocrite for writing this and feeding into the very same issue I lampooned?  I sure am.

I can’t help it.  I’m addicted…

Don’t be stupid, ya moron.  Strikingly obtuse, yet somewhat eloquent in it’s own  simplicity, the motto is actually a stroke of genius which should be etched along side E Plurbius Unum on the Great Seal of the United States.  In fact, it is somewhat ironic that the architects of the idea that a new nation would have soul autonomy to govern themselves by instilling power to the people was actually be created by morons.  And of course, they need a higher authority telling these morons “not to be stupid.”  Checks and balances at its most absolute, ladies and gentlemen.

Flash forward a couple centuries, add in some pin stripes, a fresh faced rookie from Kalamazoo, a Steinbrenner (or two or three) and billions of dollars.  Then sprinkle on some championships with a side of dynasty, not to mention the helpings of a powerful shortstop turned third baseman and the prodigal intern turned GM and you’ve got yourself the makings of a different kind of superpower.  An organization that annually spends more on their players then some nations actually earn through their GDP.  This is Yankee Nation.

But how could we possibly forget the architect himself, Mr. Joe Torre, the man who entering his second full season with the Dodgers has decided to air the dirty laundry of his time with the Yankees, specifically focusing on the A-Rod Era of 2004 to the Present.

As a die hard Yankee fan and someone who would pathetically lie down in front a bus for this team (okay maybe not a bus, but definitely one of those old school Fisher-Price Power Wheels), it pains me to say that if my old man ever met Joe Torre at this point and juncture, I would have him reiterate those immortal words that got me through some of the hardest times of my life: “Don’t be stupid, ya moron.”

It makes me want to scream: “Oh my dear Mr. Torre!  Wherefore art thou, Mr. Torre.  Eh Tu, Mr. Torre?  Where have you gone, Mr. Torre?” and many other literary cliches to add to my disappointment and betrayal.

The class and indispensable dignity in which Joe Torre veraciously carries himself has all but gone out the window with the tellings of this tell-all tall-tale.  The man who awoken a sleeping giant befuddled with 18 years of pennant-less baseball and turned himself into a demigod in New York has let Tom Verducci cheapen his accomplishments with the writing of The Yankee Years.  Recanting how teammates do not trust Alex Rodriguez and call him “A-Fraud”, painting A-Rod as a jealous younger sibling in his relationship with Derek Jeter and ultimately suggesting how Brian Cashman publicly aligned with Torre to stay on as manager and then secretly plotted against him in back room dealings to keep his own job safe are stories and accusations that should have been kept in the clubhouse of the Old Yankee Stadium.  At least for a while.

Where there’s money to be made, one should make it.  Especially in this economy, you cannot blame Joe Torre for putting out this book.  But for us here in New York, this is looked upon as the same treachery as Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.  And even though I am not calling for the electric chair, I believe it was irresponsible for him to print these stories while many of the main characters are still playing.  Let the memories of the dynasty fade away before the turmoil spills over.  It’s just too early.

So while Joe Torre soaks up the sun while riding around in his new convertible, which coincidentally is insured by State Farm, I would like to leave him with some other words of wisdom from my old man:

“Shut up and sit down!”

As India prepares to pick up the pieces from the horrific attacks in Mumbai last week, the world sends their collective thoughts and prayers to the families of the victims and a hope that an end to such senseless acts of violence will one day run its course.  10 men, each carrying 7 bullet magazines containing 30 rounds with an additional loose 400 rounds strapped into an AK-47 produced enough carnage on November 26, 2008 to earn the dubbing “India’s 9/11” while striking fear into the hearts of the second most populated country on the planet.  Hundreds of civilians are confirmed dead, hundreds more injured and India now finds itself in an escalating situation which just fans the flame of the already tense relationship with Pakistan.  But as the dust settles and a nation moves forward, the United States can sympathize with India and even offer the unenviable notion that on this particular instance, we know what they’re going through.

We’ve been there, India.  We cried.  We searched for meaning.  We supported one another.  And in the end, the United States got through it as one.  But in the days since the Mumbai attacks, the rightful question which is most likely on the mind of every Indian is:  “How?”

In the weeks following the September 11th attacks, all major sporting events were canceled or postponed to pay respect for those who lost their lives at the World Trade Center and The Pentagon.  People from all walks of life put aside their differences and came together to mourn the tragedy in a sense of nationalistic pride that had not been felt since World War II.  Out of respect for the victims, the nation struggled to regain a sense of normalcy without showing any signs of disrespect to the fallen.

That normalcy came through sports.

The Twenty20 Champions Cricket League, a Cricket tournament that was supposed to have it’s inaugural play on December 3, 2008, was postponed following the attacks and scheduled to a later date in 2009.  The highly anticipated tournament is comprised of 10 teams representing 5 countries: India, Pakistan, Australia, England and South Africa and slated to be a tremendous success.  Chairman Lalit Modi even inked a staggering $975 million broadcast and global commercial rights contract with ESPN Star Sports until 2017.  Though it may be incomprehensible at the moment to even think about staging a sporting event, India can learn from the United States as sports, particularly baseball, gave us an outlet from the atrocities, and paved the way for redemption and renewal.  It gave us hope that better days await.

There is no disputing that baseball, more than any other sport in the United States, is the most “American.”  Say what you will about the pace of the game, the inflated salaries or the steroid scandal, baseball is embedded deep in the soul of this country as it permeates the fabric of Americana.  After 9/11, attendance for MLB games skyrocketed as Americans craved something innocent after witnessing vileness at it’s most vile.  People grasped on to that last refuge of peace that was personified in baseball.

In the wake of the Mumbai attacks, the same will shine through in India.  When the Twenty20 Champions League resumes, their national pastime will once again bring an escape, solidarity, and (dare I say it), a sense of joy to a nation that is in a tremendous amount of pain right now.  Though those who perished will never be forgotten, they will be honored as time goes on and as their beloved Cricketeers represent them.  In the violent world in which we live, the parallel between sports and prosperity should never be forgotten.

However, that being said, when senseless, avoidable violence, hatred and guns clash within the world of sports, then something is very wrong.

I hope you’re reading, Plaxico.

One of my favorite parts about Thanksgiving is watching football with my Grandfather as he reminisces about his gridiron glory days as a state champion fullback and brief stint with the New York University Football team, a typical New Jersey scene that oozes of Bruce Springsteen.  Before he made the more practical decision to hang up his shoulder pads and focus on his Stern School of Business studies full time, my Grandfather had the honor to play Football for the Violets on the hallowed landscape of the Polo Grounds and Yankee Stadium.  Not only would the stories be about himself, but about the time period that encompassed that special time in his life.  As I listened to my Grandfather, I would often wonder: What stories will I be telling my grandchildren in 50 years?

Obviously being a 23 year old, I have many, many years before I settle down with one woman and even consider the possibility of children (sorry ladies).  But when I hear my Grandfather’s tales of playing in such legendary facilities it is hard to think about telling my children how visiting the Bank of America Presents: Yankee Stadium or watching the construction the Prudential Center or even the memories I possess from the Continental Airlines Arena/Izod Center will be viable.  The events that unfold in such venues give them that legendary status, so it may take a while to reach that mythical stratosphere…and I understand that.  It just seems that corporate partnerships have taken away some of the mystique and aura these buildings have become accustomed to.

However, we are currently living through extraordinary and historical times and one thing is for certain, the future me will have an abundance of stories to tell his grandchildren based on November 2008 alone.  Think about it.  As a country and society we have seen more “firsts” over the course of one month then in any other time period that I can recall.

Politically, the United States has elected it’s first African-American president, something that was looked upon as virtually impossible 50, 25, or even 10 years ago.  But President-elect Obama is not the only minority to to break the threshold of his or her respected profession this month.  Eric Holder, Obama’s senior legal advisor, has been tapped to become Attorney General of the United States.  If approved, Mr. Holder will become the first African-American Attorney General of the United States.  In addition, Bill Richardson has been nominated by President-elect Obama to be the first Latino Secretary of Commerce.  So far it seems as though Barack Obama has made good with his promise to bring change and progression.

Sports, even more so than politics, leads the way when it comes to pushing the proverbial envelope.  During this past month Major League Baseball, which has a long tradition of barrier breaking, saw the hiring of the first Asian-American Manager, as Don Wakamatsu was hired to replace Jim Riggleman at the reigns of the Seattle Mariners.  And although it pains me to say, it certainly is a testament to dreaming big as the minuscule Dustin Pedroia received the American League Most Valuable Player award.  As a die-hard Yankee fan I hate the 5 foot 7 second baseman, but as a baseball fan, you cannot dispute the fact that he plays the game hard and he plays it well.  I am sure many other firsts have occurred this month, but these are the ones that stick out in the realm of sports and politics.

So as I am sitting around the Thanksgiving table in 50 years looking back on this month, I hope my grandchildren will appreciate the month of November 2008 as much as I have.  Happy Thanksgiving!

With the election 3 weeks behind us, a new administration building their cabinet and Senator McCain’s forthcoming meeting with President-elect Obama to discuss a way to ensure that the United States has an efficient and effective government to represent it, one thing remains on the minds of every American from Bangor to Wasilla:  When will Sarah Palin go away already?

The election has not even been in our memories for a month and the former Vice Presidential candidate has held numerous press conferences, appeared on several different news shows, given out a handful of one on one interviews and created a media frenzy at the usually mild-mannered Republican Governors Conference in Miami this past week.  It is quite clear on all political fronts that Governor Palin is choosing to milk her 15 minutes of fame for all it’s worth as she positions herself to make a run for the presidency in 2012.  But of all her many, many flaws, one thing in particular has always “grinded my gears.”  The term “Hockey Mom.”

While trying to identify with the American people, Governor Palin has used this sports reference on many occasions and adopted the bravado of a “working class, Hockey Mom” as she campaigned around the United States.  She then started referring to the people who live in between the East and West coasts as the “only Americans, full of hockey moms and dads.”   Hockey, Governor Palin?  Hockey?

Now I don’t want to sound like a traditionalist, but If I were running for a major office in the United States I would certainly try to identify with the people by using a sport that was actually American.  Football, baseball, basketball and yes…even youth soccer moms would have all sufficed in this context.

By trying to connect with the people on a personal level, what Governor Palin really did was show the country that she is actually a bit out of the loop.  If you break down the country geographically, the Northeast has an extremely large amount of children and teens playing youth soccer and baseball.  When you move down to the Southern and Mid-Continental States states, youth Football is king.  And as you venture out west, the same formula is applied, except the fact that out there even volleyball is more popular than hockey.

In no way am I trying to insult hockey fans, I just believe that calling the blue collar voters of the United States “hockey parents” was a simple microcosm of the cluelessness of the Republican Party.  Perhaps her advisors should have noted that besides her frozen home state of Alaska as well as Goron Bombey’s territory of District 6 in Minnesota, no one really identifies with the term “hockey mom.”  There is a reason the NHL is the lowest rated league of the Big 4.  Could this be a possible reason why McCain lost to the basketball playing Barack Obama?  I’d like to think so.

As far as I am concerned, Governor Palin could not be more birdbrained about her “real America” if she tried.  I also believe it is time that she simply fades away.  Either that or do Playboy.  She would have my endorsement for either option.

As I sit on the front porch of my house listening to the cheers of the high school football stadium that rests less then a hundred yards from my home, I cannot help but to feel a sense of nostalgia and longing for those blissful, care-free days.  Sitting in the stands with my friends, laughing and smiling while we cheer on our other friends as they smash the opponent all over the gridiron while simultaneously making plans for the post-game party.  It didn’t matter if we had won or lost, everyone was at those parties letting the pseudo-worries of high school melt away as we stared wide-eyed into future endeavors such as college, careers and inevitable success.

In the economic climate we find ourselves in now, it is easy to look back at what was and feel a sense of longing.  With corporate lay-offs on the rise, the unpredictability of a roller coaster stock market, and unemployment rates the highest they have been in 25 years, our generation is feeling the toll of an uncertain future that can certainly be defined as Depression-esque.  Add those happy thoughts to the already cut-throat nature of the Sport Business Industry and us 20-somethings find ourselves in quite the unenviable predicament.

But as Hyman Roth so eloquently stated in the immortal Godfather II:  “This is the business we’ve chosen…”

And as us “newbees” of the business duck and weave our way to the top, the grizzled veterans are also making preparations to combat this crisis as well as forge ahead to accustom themselves with the upcoming administration’s new policies.

It will take sometime to fully understand and appreciate the effect President-elect Obama’s mandates will have on the sporting industry, but we can certainly speculate.  As Lester Munson of ESPN reported, Obama’s tax increase will have a significant effect on team owners and players, slow the sale of professional teams and increase the power of the player unions.  The latter is a no-brainer since democrats are traditionally pro-union, but with the impending tax increase, will owners have to start paying their athletes more?  And if so, will they then go as far as to raise ticket and concession prices to cope with the rising expenses?  One thing is for sure, as we businessmen try to gauge the effect this administration will have on our future, our jobs and our wallets, it is the most important part of the sporting industry that is going to be lampooned the most…the fans.

But hey, I am not a pessimist.  I truly believe that if you work hard enough you will be able to achieve anything you would like.  Even in the hardest of times, that is the creed that America is founded upon.  A common ground is always found between politics and sports, that is the beauty of it.  And it is that promise of a new day that gives myself, and hopefully all you aspiring sports professionals, the hope to not give up that dream.

But like I said before, it is certainly easy to look back with longing…

On July 4th, 1776, the city of Philadelphia was ground zero for the experiment that was to be known as American Democracy; a beautiful idea that would give the people of this new society a voice to be heard, a haven to practice religion freely, and the unprecedented opportunity to elecPt their new leader on the first Tuesday following the first Monday in November every four years.  The people of Philadelphia could not even wait for the ink to dry on the the Declaration of Independence before they were lining the streets, shooting muskets in the air, and marching towards revolution to rid themselves of the tyranny of King George.

232 years later, Philadelphians are once again amassed in the streets to celebrate their freedom from an entity that makes King George look like George Constanza.  His name is “King Championship Drought the 25th.”  And rest easy, Philadelphia, because of your beloved Phillies, he is now in the stockade heading back to Buffalo where he belongs.

But with one of the most important elections of the past 40 years a mere day away, it is hard not to appreciate the irony of the World Series trophy being hoisted in the city that birthed the United States of America on the eve of such a historic decision.  And though theoretically they should be on polar opposite ends of the spectrum, it is also hard not to appreciate the direct correlation between the sporting world and the political arena.

Whether it be Athens vs. Sparta, Louis vs. Shmelling, or the United States vs. the USSR, sports and politics have found a unique, common bond within each other to cross-promote the inherent passions from one discipline to the other.  And why shouldn’t they?  On the international front, sports can unify people from different walks of life to find a belief in one common goal and transplant the masked contempt for another country by letting the players on the field do it for them.  If the players on the field play well and win, it is not only that team that wins, it is that entire country.  A feeling of superiority comes with that victory as well.  This is so prevalent during the Euro Cup, that the head of the European Union really could, and if it were up to me, should be appointed by which country wins the tournament.

Domestically, Politicians use sports as a way to connect with the people.  While in Western Pennsylvania last week, Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin congratulated the audience on the Philadelphia Phillies World Series victory.  She was in Western Pennsylvania.  She was then thoroughly booed and was made to walk the plank by Pirates fans.  On the other side of the isle, Senator Obama was quoted that he was rooting for the Phillies while campaigning in Philadelphia.  However, as he was campaigning in Tampa Bay, Senator Obama was quoted that he was rooting for the Rays.  Hmm.  I am all for using sports and sports franchises to form a common bond with the locals on the campaign trail, but by doing this the candidate is just making a mockery of the city itself.  Maybe Giulliani had the right idea.

But when all is said and done, the Phillies will be getting their rings and the election is coming to a head.  Is a championship of American’s Pastime in the revolutionary city for one of the game’s oldest clubs a sign that Americans need to “conserve” their past?  Or will the young Phillies faces represent the fact that the pastime is finally coming into the 21st century harboring the “change” we need?  Whatever the case may be, this fact remains the same: Sports, Politics and Women are the only three things that can bring men that much joy and that much sorrow.