From The New York Times:
A Careful Apology From Giambi
By Tyler Kepner
There was a moment yesterday when Jason Giambi looked as if he might cry. He had not yet taken a question from a room full of reporters at Yankee Stadium, and he seemed to be sincerely sorry for the steroid controversy that engulfs him.
"I feel I let down the fans, I feel I let down the media, I feel I let down the Yankees, and not only the Yankees, but my teammates," Giambi said, and he turned to look into the eyes of Manager Joe Torre, who was sitting on a folding chair next to him.
Giambi could have been a child finally summoning the courage to tell the truth to his father. But he kept his composure, and continued. "I accept full responsibility for that, and I'm sorry," he said.
What he did not fully say, however, was what he was sorry for.
This was Giambi's first public statement since The San Francisco Chronicle, in December, published an article quoting what it said was Giambi's testimony to the federal grand jury in the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative case. In the reported testimony, Giambi admitted to using illegal steroids before and after he joined the Yankees for the 2002 season.
In his first response to a question yesterday, Giambi said that he had not read the Chronicle article. He added that he had told the grand jury the truth, and he did not deny any aspects of what The Chronicle reported, which seemed to be as close as he was willing to come to confirming the article. Still, he did not directly admit to steroid use.
"I know the fans might want more," Giambi said. "But because of all the legal matters, I can't get into specifics. Someday, hopefully, I will be able to."
That day was not yesterday. Giambi's agent, Arn Tellem, said that the United States attorney in the Balco case had instructed Giambi not to comment on the Balco investigation, although Giambi is legally entitled to talk about his own testimony. In addition, Tellem said he and Giambi's lawyers had told him to be careful in discussing legal issues.
By following that advice, Giambi gave the Yankees nothing more to use against him if they do try to escape the remaining four years and $82 million on his contract, a long-shot option the team is apparently not pursuing now.
But Giambi's answers came so close to acknowledging the accuracy of the Chronicle story that at one point, Tellem said, "The answers are there if you look for them."
Although he did not challenge the Chronicle story, Giambi did denounce assertions that Jose Canseco is said to be making in a book to be published next week, including a charge that Giambi, Canseco and Mark McGwire injected one another with steroids as teammates on the Oakland Athletics.
"I find that delusional," Giambi said. "I don't even know where he could come up with something like that. I think it's kind of sad that Josey is that desperate to make a dime."
Giambi met with print reporters, mostly from local newspapers, for more than 30 minutes yesterday, and then met with local radio and television reporters. There were no restrictions on what could be asked, but Tellem interjected before Giambi could answer certain questions.
According to The Chronicle, Giambi said he stopped taking steroids at the All-Star Game break in 2003, almost exactly when his injuries began to flare and his production began to decline. When Giambi was asked if he could be the same player he used to be without the help of steroids, Tellem objected to the question until it was rephrased without the word steroids.
"Yeah, I think so," Giambi finally answered. "That's why I've been working my butt off, hitting and throwing and running. Normally when I come into spring training, I wouldn't do a lot of hitting or throwing. I would run and be in good shape, but this year I'm ready to rock and roll."
Giambi, who turned 34 in January, looked sturdier than he did last season, when his lack of strength and stamina caused Torre to leave him off the postseason roster. Giambi spent much of the season on the disabled list with ailments that included an intestinal parasite and a benign tumor, later revealed to be on his pituitary gland.
This winter, Giambi said, he has been working out twice a day, doing baseball exercises in the mornings and lifting weights at night. He will report to spring training in Tampa, Fla., with the Yankees' position players on Feb. 20, and his personal trainer, Bob Alejo, will have the same access to team flights - but not to team facilities - that he had last season.
"The effort will obviously be there," Torre said of Giambi. "But I think we're all curious to see how he's going to recover from what he went through. He certainly looks healthier than he did last year."
Giambi went to camp last season looking markedly thinner, though he maintained he had lost only four pounds - by giving up cheeseburgers. He weighed 228 pounds last spring and said yesterday that he now weighs between 235 and 238 pounds.
Torre said he did not know where Giambi fit into the Yankees' 2005 lineup, and after the signing of first baseman Tino Martinez, it seems likely that Giambi will be used primarily as a designated hitter. Torre said Giambi would have a place in the lineup, and that he would play first at times, but he also called Giambi the Yankees' No. 1 question.
"The biggest thing that I'll be watching is not what takes place on the field," General Manager Brian Cashman said. "It's how he handles the process. It's going to be a journey, and it's going to be a long journey. Today will not end it. He knows that and we know that."
Giambi said he was grateful for the support of Torre, Cashman and the teammates who have called him this winter, including Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera. Giambi also said that he made a promise to the principal owner George Steinbrenner in a phone conversation two weeks ago.
"The biggest thing I told him is I'm not a quitter," Giambi said. "I told him I was ready to play and I was going to be that player he signed."
Through his publicist, Howard Rubenstein, Steinbrenner issued a brief statement that lauded Giambi for facing the news media. "It takes a hell of a big man to stand up and apologize to his teammates, to New York Yankee fans and to baseball fans everywhere and admit he was wrong," the statement said.
Giambi is sensitive, and that could make this season harder for him than it would be for a player who cares less about his image. Giambi vowed to sign more autographs and "work twice as hard" to win back fans, and he said the fans he had met this winter were supportive.
But when the games begin, Giambi will probably be jeered, certainly at visiting parks and maybe in the Bronx. To withstand the scrutiny, he may need to steel himself.
"He's going to have to understand that even in his home ballpark, on a regular basis, he may not get the response he wants to get," Torre said. "I think he has to be tougher. In being human, there's only so much you can do to say, 'I understand,' and go on about your business. It's something he's going to have to condition himself to do. But when he looks around, he's going to see a lot of support."
Torre said he might ask Giambi if he wants to address the team during spring training, but said he did not think that it was necessary.
"The biggest thing is I understand how everybody feels - Little Leaguers to fans to everybody," Giambi said. "I hope the message that the parents or even the kids understand is that, hey, this is a guy who's facing his problems, he's not running from them, and he's trying to overcome. And he's not quitting. I think that's what makes you a man."
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Friday, February 11, 2005
Agree or disagree, this guy is always thought provoking. A couple of astringent commentaries by Thomas Fleming from Hard Right on the Chronicles magazine website
Beware of What You Pray For
William Buckley’s revelation that he wishes the Pope were dead has aroused the predictable response from the self-appointed spokesman for American Catholics, Bill Donohue. Buckley begins his most recent column: “At church on Sunday the congregation was asked to pray for the recovery of the Pope. I have abstained from doing so. I hope that he will not recover,” before going on to explain that since the Pope cannot do his job effectively, we may as well pray for his death. He concludes by citing an entirely irrelevant passage from Muriel Spark’s novel Memento Mori, suggesting that decrepitude is the first step to immortality. That citation alone proves that Mr. Buckley has lost whatever wits he once possessed.
As a mere philologist and essayist, I make no pretense to deep knowledge of moral theology. I do think, nonetheless, that even a simple man might be astonished by the implied premises of Mr. Buckley’s argument. When we pray, we are asking God to do something we desire. Christians are not permitted to pray for what is immoral. For example, we may not pray that our neighbor’s wife will come to our bed or that we can find the means of stealing our neighbor’s ox or ass. It seems reasonable, then, to conclude that while we might pray for a serial killer to die before he can kill again, we may not pray for our neighbor to have a heart-attack and die, simply because we covet his ox or his wife.
But, Mr. Buckley would probably reply, it is not John Paul’s death that is the ultimate object of his prayer. What he really wants is the welfare of the Church, which cannot be secured under the reign of an ailing and ineffective Pontiff. If the Pope would merely step down, then he would not wish him dead. But suppose my neighbor is a sick and feeble farmer, squandering his children’s patrimony on medicines. Might we not pray for his speedy death so that his son might take over the farm? Or, to make the rule more general, is it right, then, to hope that a man who has committed no crime and, so far as we know, done nothing to merit punishment, to suffer death simply because his removal will set in motion a train of events that will bring good to others? Mr. Buckley’s argument comes down to the position that one may pray for evil hoping good can come of it.
Of course, such a position is not without risks. For all we know a successor appointed this week would be vastly inferior to successor appointed a year from now. For all we know John Paul II has not yet prepared himself for death, and he will spend the next few months or years of life in making such preparations. Of course, the reverse of both of these suppositions might be true. We simply do not know, and where we do not know, we have no right to intervene or to pray for divine intervention.
There is another sinister premise lurking in Mr. Buckley’s utilitarian proposal. Ordinarily, we pray for things that it is licit for us to do. We may pray for success in a football in which we intend to play honorably, but we do not pray to get away with fouling the opponent with impunity. We may pray that the girl we adore will accept our marriage proposal, be we may not pray she will be dumb enough to take the drink we have laced with a love philter or a “roofie.” This is because we would not be justified in cheating or in committing date-rape. To cut this short, I cannot pray for a man’s death unless I think I should be justified in killing him myself, if I got the chance.
There is a precise term for Mr. Buckley’s prayer: It is a curse, or, in the language of the Church he has so long contemned, maledictio. Cursing is generally wrong, but the fault is mortal (lethale) says St. Alphonsus de Ligorio, when it is directed against parents and other superiors. [Theologia Moralis III.131]
Why Mr. Buckley wishes John Paul were dead must be a mystery to all but his best friends. To those who barely know him, his latest antic seems one more piece of evidence that Yale’s Merry Prankster is refusing to grow up and put aside all the affectations on which his career has been based. What might have been charming in a promising young man of 30 is as annoying at 70 as a miniskirt would be on a woman the same age.
The naughty boy that all the liberals loved to hate is now simply an embarrassing relic of a failed movement. I wonder what his successors, the unpromising nice boys at National Review, are thinking these days. In the unlikely event they were praying men, I wonder if they would agree with their magazine’s founder and apply his principle closer to home?
The Tsunami and the Pornography of Compassion
The tsunami that struck Asia and Africa on St. Stephen’s Day wreaked a considerable amount of havoc, but no one knows, even approximately, how many people actually died. In the first few weeks, it looked as if the grisly total would add up to about 150,000 victims, but, as politicians in Indonesia began to see the advantages, the figures have crept up to perhaps 175,000.
Nonetheless, even 150,000 dead in a single day is a horrifying number. People all over the developed world took the news hard, as they stayed glued to CNN, watching for ever more graphic bits of footage, listening for even sadder tales of children snatched from their mothers’ arms. “What’s it up to now, Charlie?” I can almost hear their wives calling out from the kitchen.
When the tsunami struck, I was in Siena without a television set, and, though I had skimmed the front page of the Corriere, I did not grasp the dimensions of the catastrophe until I reached Naples on December 30. In Italy, the New Year’s Eve celebrations were supposed to be more muted this year, out of respect for the victims, but the explosions going off in Naples were enough to flatten the tires of parked cars and start trash fires all over the city. If that is Naples’ idea of muted, I do not want to be there when they have a really good time.
Some holiday parties in Europe and the United States were cancelled in honor of the event. I do not give or attend New Year’s Eve parties, but I should not have cancelled any plans for the sake of a far-off natural disaster. I do not know anyone who died, and I do not know anyone who knew anyone. It was 150,000 strangers who died. That is surely not an unusual event. After all, how many human beings die on the planet every day? One calculation I have discovered puts it at just shy of 150,000, roughly the same number as died in the tsunami. That adds up to roughly 55 million people per year. Such figures make John Donne’s famous sermon sound ridiculous. If each man’s death diminishes me by even a small particle, there would not be much left by the end of a decade. The truth is that we are more affected by the death of a pet hamster than we are by the death of 150,000 strangers to whom we are not bound by ties of history, kinship, or religion.
That most people agree with this cold-blooded conclusion is evident from all the national news reports. The Italian press was filled with heart-rending stories about killed and missing Italians; the BBC focused on British victims; American newspapers and networks talked mostly of Americans. One Islamic physicians’ group maintained its religious identity by saying that jihad was more important than ministering to the victims. What this means is clear: We feel little sorrow for the sufferings of strangers, but, if we are stirred up by the yellow press, we will clutch at anything to establish an imaginary bond of sympathy. The “pornography of compassion,” as I have described the phenomenon in The Morality of Everyday Life, is one of the hallmarks of the liberal mind-set. When the Lisbon earthquake wiped out a goodly part of the Portuguese capital in 1755, Voltaire rejected the cheery optimism he had imbibed from Leibniz and began railing against human suffering. He also, in a private letter, exulted that so many priests had been killed. Scratch an humanitarian, and you almost always find an anti-Christian. Samuel Johnson, by contrast, was at first skeptical about the numbers and, when they proved to be more or less correct, still refused to jump on the humanitarian bandwagon. The word he reserved for such enthusiasms was cant, and what was cant in 1755 is cant today. Voltaire’s sanctimonious poem on the “Lisbon Earthquake” led directly to his greatest anti-Christian squib, Candide, and we have been plagued ever since by the cynical sentimentalism that raises trillions of dollars to help strangers while poisoning us against the needs of family, neighbors, and friends. The Christian Dr. Johnson taught us that suffering and death are part of the human condition, and blaming God for our misery or pretending it is not so will not change that condition.
There is nothing wrong in Americans giving of their abundance to the victims of African genocide or Asian tidal waves, but there is something dreadfully wrong in the pretense that we care deeply. The more we flatter ourselves with such fantasies of universal compassion, the less room we have in our hearts for the suffering humanity we meet in our own hometowns. It is easier to write a check to a telethon than to carry supper to a shut-in. Groups such as the St. Vincent de Paul Society are to be applauded for doing what they can to discharge the obligations of Christian charity to people in their own communities. We leave it to liberals to neglect their own families while saving the world’s children. Mother Teresa, when a Milwaukee woman offered to come and help the poor in Calcutta, sagely advised her to find Calcutta in Milwaukee. Charity begins at home.
Beware of What You Pray For
William Buckley’s revelation that he wishes the Pope were dead has aroused the predictable response from the self-appointed spokesman for American Catholics, Bill Donohue. Buckley begins his most recent column: “At church on Sunday the congregation was asked to pray for the recovery of the Pope. I have abstained from doing so. I hope that he will not recover,” before going on to explain that since the Pope cannot do his job effectively, we may as well pray for his death. He concludes by citing an entirely irrelevant passage from Muriel Spark’s novel Memento Mori, suggesting that decrepitude is the first step to immortality. That citation alone proves that Mr. Buckley has lost whatever wits he once possessed.
As a mere philologist and essayist, I make no pretense to deep knowledge of moral theology. I do think, nonetheless, that even a simple man might be astonished by the implied premises of Mr. Buckley’s argument. When we pray, we are asking God to do something we desire. Christians are not permitted to pray for what is immoral. For example, we may not pray that our neighbor’s wife will come to our bed or that we can find the means of stealing our neighbor’s ox or ass. It seems reasonable, then, to conclude that while we might pray for a serial killer to die before he can kill again, we may not pray for our neighbor to have a heart-attack and die, simply because we covet his ox or his wife.
But, Mr. Buckley would probably reply, it is not John Paul’s death that is the ultimate object of his prayer. What he really wants is the welfare of the Church, which cannot be secured under the reign of an ailing and ineffective Pontiff. If the Pope would merely step down, then he would not wish him dead. But suppose my neighbor is a sick and feeble farmer, squandering his children’s patrimony on medicines. Might we not pray for his speedy death so that his son might take over the farm? Or, to make the rule more general, is it right, then, to hope that a man who has committed no crime and, so far as we know, done nothing to merit punishment, to suffer death simply because his removal will set in motion a train of events that will bring good to others? Mr. Buckley’s argument comes down to the position that one may pray for evil hoping good can come of it.
Of course, such a position is not without risks. For all we know a successor appointed this week would be vastly inferior to successor appointed a year from now. For all we know John Paul II has not yet prepared himself for death, and he will spend the next few months or years of life in making such preparations. Of course, the reverse of both of these suppositions might be true. We simply do not know, and where we do not know, we have no right to intervene or to pray for divine intervention.
There is another sinister premise lurking in Mr. Buckley’s utilitarian proposal. Ordinarily, we pray for things that it is licit for us to do. We may pray for success in a football in which we intend to play honorably, but we do not pray to get away with fouling the opponent with impunity. We may pray that the girl we adore will accept our marriage proposal, be we may not pray she will be dumb enough to take the drink we have laced with a love philter or a “roofie.” This is because we would not be justified in cheating or in committing date-rape. To cut this short, I cannot pray for a man’s death unless I think I should be justified in killing him myself, if I got the chance.
There is a precise term for Mr. Buckley’s prayer: It is a curse, or, in the language of the Church he has so long contemned, maledictio. Cursing is generally wrong, but the fault is mortal (lethale) says St. Alphonsus de Ligorio, when it is directed against parents and other superiors. [Theologia Moralis III.131]
Why Mr. Buckley wishes John Paul were dead must be a mystery to all but his best friends. To those who barely know him, his latest antic seems one more piece of evidence that Yale’s Merry Prankster is refusing to grow up and put aside all the affectations on which his career has been based. What might have been charming in a promising young man of 30 is as annoying at 70 as a miniskirt would be on a woman the same age.
The naughty boy that all the liberals loved to hate is now simply an embarrassing relic of a failed movement. I wonder what his successors, the unpromising nice boys at National Review, are thinking these days. In the unlikely event they were praying men, I wonder if they would agree with their magazine’s founder and apply his principle closer to home?
The Tsunami and the Pornography of Compassion
The tsunami that struck Asia and Africa on St. Stephen’s Day wreaked a considerable amount of havoc, but no one knows, even approximately, how many people actually died. In the first few weeks, it looked as if the grisly total would add up to about 150,000 victims, but, as politicians in Indonesia began to see the advantages, the figures have crept up to perhaps 175,000.
Nonetheless, even 150,000 dead in a single day is a horrifying number. People all over the developed world took the news hard, as they stayed glued to CNN, watching for ever more graphic bits of footage, listening for even sadder tales of children snatched from their mothers’ arms. “What’s it up to now, Charlie?” I can almost hear their wives calling out from the kitchen.
When the tsunami struck, I was in Siena without a television set, and, though I had skimmed the front page of the Corriere, I did not grasp the dimensions of the catastrophe until I reached Naples on December 30. In Italy, the New Year’s Eve celebrations were supposed to be more muted this year, out of respect for the victims, but the explosions going off in Naples were enough to flatten the tires of parked cars and start trash fires all over the city. If that is Naples’ idea of muted, I do not want to be there when they have a really good time.
Some holiday parties in Europe and the United States were cancelled in honor of the event. I do not give or attend New Year’s Eve parties, but I should not have cancelled any plans for the sake of a far-off natural disaster. I do not know anyone who died, and I do not know anyone who knew anyone. It was 150,000 strangers who died. That is surely not an unusual event. After all, how many human beings die on the planet every day? One calculation I have discovered puts it at just shy of 150,000, roughly the same number as died in the tsunami. That adds up to roughly 55 million people per year. Such figures make John Donne’s famous sermon sound ridiculous. If each man’s death diminishes me by even a small particle, there would not be much left by the end of a decade. The truth is that we are more affected by the death of a pet hamster than we are by the death of 150,000 strangers to whom we are not bound by ties of history, kinship, or religion.
That most people agree with this cold-blooded conclusion is evident from all the national news reports. The Italian press was filled with heart-rending stories about killed and missing Italians; the BBC focused on British victims; American newspapers and networks talked mostly of Americans. One Islamic physicians’ group maintained its religious identity by saying that jihad was more important than ministering to the victims. What this means is clear: We feel little sorrow for the sufferings of strangers, but, if we are stirred up by the yellow press, we will clutch at anything to establish an imaginary bond of sympathy. The “pornography of compassion,” as I have described the phenomenon in The Morality of Everyday Life, is one of the hallmarks of the liberal mind-set. When the Lisbon earthquake wiped out a goodly part of the Portuguese capital in 1755, Voltaire rejected the cheery optimism he had imbibed from Leibniz and began railing against human suffering. He also, in a private letter, exulted that so many priests had been killed. Scratch an humanitarian, and you almost always find an anti-Christian. Samuel Johnson, by contrast, was at first skeptical about the numbers and, when they proved to be more or less correct, still refused to jump on the humanitarian bandwagon. The word he reserved for such enthusiasms was cant, and what was cant in 1755 is cant today. Voltaire’s sanctimonious poem on the “Lisbon Earthquake” led directly to his greatest anti-Christian squib, Candide, and we have been plagued ever since by the cynical sentimentalism that raises trillions of dollars to help strangers while poisoning us against the needs of family, neighbors, and friends. The Christian Dr. Johnson taught us that suffering and death are part of the human condition, and blaming God for our misery or pretending it is not so will not change that condition.
There is nothing wrong in Americans giving of their abundance to the victims of African genocide or Asian tidal waves, but there is something dreadfully wrong in the pretense that we care deeply. The more we flatter ourselves with such fantasies of universal compassion, the less room we have in our hearts for the suffering humanity we meet in our own hometowns. It is easier to write a check to a telethon than to carry supper to a shut-in. Groups such as the St. Vincent de Paul Society are to be applauded for doing what they can to discharge the obligations of Christian charity to people in their own communities. We leave it to liberals to neglect their own families while saving the world’s children. Mother Teresa, when a Milwaukee woman offered to come and help the poor in Calcutta, sagely advised her to find Calcutta in Milwaukee. Charity begins at home.
Monday, February 07, 2005
From The Boston Globe:
Joining Boston royalty
By Jackie MacMullan, Globe Columnist
February 7, 2005
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. -- He is unbeaten, untied, and unequivocally the king of the football world. Tom Brady may not have been voted the most valuable player of last night's Super Bowl, but he is the quarterback of the Super Bowl champion New England Patriots (again), and when all the dynasty talk begins in earnest this morning, it starts with the former sixth-round draft choice from Michigan, who has earned his rightful place among Boston legends Bill Russell, Bobby Orr, Larry Bird, and Ted Williams.
Brady is the money man. He is 9-0 in postseason play. He has a winning smile, a winning arm, and he is a blossoming legend who has cornered the market on storybook endings. How long can this go on? As long as Brady stays healthy, happy, and hungry in a Patriots uniform.
"He's just amazing," said Charlie Weis, Brady's offensive coordinator and confidant, who will be moving on to Notre Dame later this week. "To [perform like he did], after all that's happened this week . . . his grandmother died, his father's at the hospital, and all he wants to do is win.
"It got to the point where he was a pain in the butt. He was calling me up at 10 o'clock and saying, `Can we tweak the game plan? Can we throw this out?' I told him, `Can you just shut up and let me get some sleep?' "
The Patriots are truly a team of champions, but make no mistake: Their remarkable success begins and ends with Brady.
Think about it. For all Bill Belichick's brilliant maneuvers, he was still a coach with a 5-11 record in 2000 and an 0-2 start in 2001 before he entrusted his football team to a young -- and unproven -- Brady. It has been a magical ride for the quarterback, the team, and the fans of New England. Little boys grow up wanting to wear No. 12 and date Bridget Moynihan. Little girls grow up wanting to be Bridget Moynihan so they can date Brady.
Sometimes, a handsome superstar with charisma (not to mention a new haircut), endorsements, and enough press clippings to wallpaper Gillette Stadium encounters jealousy or resentment. Not Brady. He's gone out of his way to be one of the guys, and it's appreciated. Nobody in the Patriots' locker room wants anybody else running the show.
"He's the best quarterback in the game of football," declared Larry Izzo.
The list of quarterbacks who have won three Super Bowls is very short. Joe Montana. Terry Bradshaw. Troy Aikman. Brady proved he belongs in that hallowed company on a night when he was not his best but, as always, just good enough.
Predictably, Brady wasn't biting on talk of a dynasty, or his Hall of Fame future.
"It's not so much about what we've accomplished in the grand scheme of things, or how it's looked at in terms of history," Brady said. "We're taking them one at a time. We know how hard it is."
Super Bowl XXXIX was a struggle both for Brady and his team in the first half. At times, Brady looked, uncharacteristically, as though he might be a little too pumped up.
"I've been around him so long," agreed running back Kevin Faulk. "You could see it in his face. I just told him, `Relax, man. Let it come to us.' "
The Philadelphia defense certainly had something to do with New England's troubles in the early going. It blitzed early and often, but Brady never got too flustered, although he did fumble the ball in the second quarter, a rarity for a team that had not committed a turnover in the postseason to that point.
New England left the field tied, 7-7, but it felt like good news. You knew the Patriots could play better. You knew the best was to still come from Brady.
"We couldn't get into a rhythm," Brady conceded. "We tried to run, and that didn't work. We made some passes, but they weren't for enough yards. But we were prepared for this game. We knew where we should be looking."
Like most elite players, preparation is a major part of what sets Brady apart. Earlier in the week, safety Rodney Harrison recounted a story of arriving at the practice facility at 6:30 in the morning for the team meetings and seeing Brady covered in sweat.
"He had just finished his workout," Harrison said. "While the rest of us were sleeping, he was working on his game."
It was Brady who marched the Patriots on a nine-play drive to open the third quarter that resulted in a 2-yard touchdown pass to -- who else? -- Mike Vrabel, and gave New England a 14-7 lead. It was Brady who guided his team on a nine-play drive in the third quarter that was culminated by a Corey Dillon 2-yard run.
When it was over, the numbers were vintage Brady: 23 of 33 for 236 yards and two touchdowns. Naturally, there were no interceptions.
Tom Brady is only 27 years old. He has a whole football life ahead of him, yet he's already compiled a career of excellence that most players would kill for.
Please don't ask him to put his career in historical perspective. That's our job, not his.
"I love leading this group," he said. "I love calling plays in the huddle. I love being a captain on this team. I see what Dan [Marino] and Steve [Young] have accomplished, and I watched them get into the Hall of Fame, and those guys are unbelievable, because they did it for so long.
"I'd love to play like those guys did. But there's a long way to go."
He has matured, both as a player and a person since that first Super Bowl victory in 2001, which seems like decades ago. Back then, the Patriots shocked the world. Now the only way they shock the world is if they lose.
Brady wouldn't know about that. He does not lose. Not in the big games. Not in the Super Bowl.
Maybe it won't last forever. Let him worry about that some other day.
"I'm not even thinking about next year," he said. "I'm just thinking about right now."
Right now, it can't get any better. Right now, the quarterback of the New England Patriots is king.
Joining Boston royalty
By Jackie MacMullan, Globe Columnist
February 7, 2005
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. -- He is unbeaten, untied, and unequivocally the king of the football world. Tom Brady may not have been voted the most valuable player of last night's Super Bowl, but he is the quarterback of the Super Bowl champion New England Patriots (again), and when all the dynasty talk begins in earnest this morning, it starts with the former sixth-round draft choice from Michigan, who has earned his rightful place among Boston legends Bill Russell, Bobby Orr, Larry Bird, and Ted Williams.
Brady is the money man. He is 9-0 in postseason play. He has a winning smile, a winning arm, and he is a blossoming legend who has cornered the market on storybook endings. How long can this go on? As long as Brady stays healthy, happy, and hungry in a Patriots uniform.
"He's just amazing," said Charlie Weis, Brady's offensive coordinator and confidant, who will be moving on to Notre Dame later this week. "To [perform like he did], after all that's happened this week . . . his grandmother died, his father's at the hospital, and all he wants to do is win.
"It got to the point where he was a pain in the butt. He was calling me up at 10 o'clock and saying, `Can we tweak the game plan? Can we throw this out?' I told him, `Can you just shut up and let me get some sleep?' "
The Patriots are truly a team of champions, but make no mistake: Their remarkable success begins and ends with Brady.
Think about it. For all Bill Belichick's brilliant maneuvers, he was still a coach with a 5-11 record in 2000 and an 0-2 start in 2001 before he entrusted his football team to a young -- and unproven -- Brady. It has been a magical ride for the quarterback, the team, and the fans of New England. Little boys grow up wanting to wear No. 12 and date Bridget Moynihan. Little girls grow up wanting to be Bridget Moynihan so they can date Brady.
Sometimes, a handsome superstar with charisma (not to mention a new haircut), endorsements, and enough press clippings to wallpaper Gillette Stadium encounters jealousy or resentment. Not Brady. He's gone out of his way to be one of the guys, and it's appreciated. Nobody in the Patriots' locker room wants anybody else running the show.
"He's the best quarterback in the game of football," declared Larry Izzo.
The list of quarterbacks who have won three Super Bowls is very short. Joe Montana. Terry Bradshaw. Troy Aikman. Brady proved he belongs in that hallowed company on a night when he was not his best but, as always, just good enough.
Predictably, Brady wasn't biting on talk of a dynasty, or his Hall of Fame future.
"It's not so much about what we've accomplished in the grand scheme of things, or how it's looked at in terms of history," Brady said. "We're taking them one at a time. We know how hard it is."
Super Bowl XXXIX was a struggle both for Brady and his team in the first half. At times, Brady looked, uncharacteristically, as though he might be a little too pumped up.
"I've been around him so long," agreed running back Kevin Faulk. "You could see it in his face. I just told him, `Relax, man. Let it come to us.' "
The Philadelphia defense certainly had something to do with New England's troubles in the early going. It blitzed early and often, but Brady never got too flustered, although he did fumble the ball in the second quarter, a rarity for a team that had not committed a turnover in the postseason to that point.
New England left the field tied, 7-7, but it felt like good news. You knew the Patriots could play better. You knew the best was to still come from Brady.
"We couldn't get into a rhythm," Brady conceded. "We tried to run, and that didn't work. We made some passes, but they weren't for enough yards. But we were prepared for this game. We knew where we should be looking."
Like most elite players, preparation is a major part of what sets Brady apart. Earlier in the week, safety Rodney Harrison recounted a story of arriving at the practice facility at 6:30 in the morning for the team meetings and seeing Brady covered in sweat.
"He had just finished his workout," Harrison said. "While the rest of us were sleeping, he was working on his game."
It was Brady who marched the Patriots on a nine-play drive to open the third quarter that resulted in a 2-yard touchdown pass to -- who else? -- Mike Vrabel, and gave New England a 14-7 lead. It was Brady who guided his team on a nine-play drive in the third quarter that was culminated by a Corey Dillon 2-yard run.
When it was over, the numbers were vintage Brady: 23 of 33 for 236 yards and two touchdowns. Naturally, there were no interceptions.
Tom Brady is only 27 years old. He has a whole football life ahead of him, yet he's already compiled a career of excellence that most players would kill for.
Please don't ask him to put his career in historical perspective. That's our job, not his.
"I love leading this group," he said. "I love calling plays in the huddle. I love being a captain on this team. I see what Dan [Marino] and Steve [Young] have accomplished, and I watched them get into the Hall of Fame, and those guys are unbelievable, because they did it for so long.
"I'd love to play like those guys did. But there's a long way to go."
He has matured, both as a player and a person since that first Super Bowl victory in 2001, which seems like decades ago. Back then, the Patriots shocked the world. Now the only way they shock the world is if they lose.
Brady wouldn't know about that. He does not lose. Not in the big games. Not in the Super Bowl.
Maybe it won't last forever. Let him worry about that some other day.
"I'm not even thinking about next year," he said. "I'm just thinking about right now."
Right now, it can't get any better. Right now, the quarterback of the New England Patriots is king.
From The Op-Ed section of today's New York Times:
Design for Living
By Michael J. Behe
Bethlehem, Pa. — In the wake of the recent lawsuits over the teaching of Darwinian evolution, there has been a rush to debate the merits of the rival theory of intelligent design. As one of the scientists who have proposed design as an explanation for biological systems, I have found widespread confusion about what intelligent design is and what it is not.
First, what it isn't: the theory of intelligent design is not a religiously based idea, even though devout people opposed to the teaching of evolution cite it in their arguments. For example, a critic recently caricatured intelligent design as the belief that if evolution occurred at all it could never be explained by Darwinian natural selection and could only have been directed at every stage by an omniscient creator. That's misleading. Intelligent design proponents do question whether random mutation and natural selection completely explain the deep structure of life. But they do not doubt that evolution occurred. And intelligent design itself says nothing about the religious concept of a creator.
Rather, the contemporary argument for intelligent design is based on physical evidence and a straightforward application of logic. The argument for it consists of four linked claims. The first claim is uncontroversial: we can often recognize the effects of design in nature. For example, unintelligent physical forces like plate tectonics and erosion seem quite sufficient to account for the origin of the Rocky Mountains. Yet they are not enough to explain Mount Rushmore.
Of course, we know who is responsible for Mount Rushmore, but even someone who had never heard of the monument could recognize it as designed. Which leads to the second claim of the intelligent design argument: the physical marks of design are visible in aspects of biology. This is uncontroversial, too. The 18th-century clergyman William Paley likened living things to a watch, arguing that the workings of both point to intelligent design. Modern Darwinists disagree with Paley that the perceived design is real, but they do agree that life overwhelms us with the appearance of design.
For example, Francis Crick, co-discoverer of the structure of DNA, once wrote that biologists must constantly remind themselves that what they see was not designed but evolved. (Imagine a scientist repeating through clenched teeth: "It wasn't really designed. Not really.")
The resemblance of parts of life to engineered mechanisms like a watch is enormously stronger than what Reverend Paley imagined. In the past 50 years modern science has shown that the cell, the very foundation of life, is run by machines made of molecules. There are little molecular trucks in the cell to ferry supplies, little outboard motors to push a cell through liquid.
In 1998 an issue of the journal Cell was devoted to molecular machines, with articles like "The Cell as a Collection of Protein Machines" and "Mechanical Devices of the Spliceosome: Motors, Clocks, Springs and Things." Referring to his student days in the 1960's, Bruce Alberts, president of the National Academy of Sciences, wrote that "the chemistry that makes life possible is much more elaborate and sophisticated than anything we students had ever considered." In fact, Dr. Alberts remarked, the entire cell can be viewed as a factory with an elaborate network of interlocking assembly lines, each of which is composed of a set of large protein machines. He emphasized that the term machine was not some fuzzy analogy; it was meant literally.
The next claim in the argument for design is that we have no good explanation for the foundation of life that doesn't involve intelligence. Here is where thoughtful people part company. Darwinists assert that their theory can explain the appearance of design in life as the result of random mutation and natural selection acting over immense stretches of time. Some scientists, however, think the Darwinists' confidence is unjustified. They note that although natural selection can explain some aspects of biology, there are no research studies indicating that Darwinian processes can make molecular machines of the complexity we find in the cell.
Scientists skeptical of Darwinian claims include many who have no truck with ideas of intelligent design, like those who advocate an idea called complexity theory, which envisions life self-organizing in roughly the same way that a hurricane does, and ones who think organisms in some sense can design themselves.
The fourth claim in the design argument is also controversial: in the absence of any convincing non-design explanation, we are justified in thinking that real intelligent design was involved in life. To evaluate this claim, it's important to keep in mind that it is the profound appearance of design in life that everyone is laboring to explain, not the appearance of natural selection or the appearance of self-organization.
The strong appearance of design allows a disarmingly simple argument: if it looks, walks and quacks like a duck, then, absent compelling evidence to the contrary, we have warrant to conclude it's a duck. Design should not be overlooked simply because it's so obvious.
Still, some critics claim that science by definition can't accept design, while others argue that science should keep looking for another explanation in case one is out there. But we can't settle questions about reality with definitions, nor does it seem useful to search relentlessly for a non-design explanation of Mount Rushmore. Besides, whatever special restrictions scientists adopt for themselves don't bind the public, which polls show, overwhelmingly, and sensibly, thinks that life was designed. And so do many scientists who see roles for both the messiness of evolution and the elegance of design.
Michael J. Behe, a professor of biological sciences at Lehigh University and a senior fellow with the Discovery Institute's Center for Science and Culture, is the author of "Darwin's Black Box: The Biochemical Challenge to Evolution."
Design for Living
By Michael J. Behe
Bethlehem, Pa. — In the wake of the recent lawsuits over the teaching of Darwinian evolution, there has been a rush to debate the merits of the rival theory of intelligent design. As one of the scientists who have proposed design as an explanation for biological systems, I have found widespread confusion about what intelligent design is and what it is not.
First, what it isn't: the theory of intelligent design is not a religiously based idea, even though devout people opposed to the teaching of evolution cite it in their arguments. For example, a critic recently caricatured intelligent design as the belief that if evolution occurred at all it could never be explained by Darwinian natural selection and could only have been directed at every stage by an omniscient creator. That's misleading. Intelligent design proponents do question whether random mutation and natural selection completely explain the deep structure of life. But they do not doubt that evolution occurred. And intelligent design itself says nothing about the religious concept of a creator.
Rather, the contemporary argument for intelligent design is based on physical evidence and a straightforward application of logic. The argument for it consists of four linked claims. The first claim is uncontroversial: we can often recognize the effects of design in nature. For example, unintelligent physical forces like plate tectonics and erosion seem quite sufficient to account for the origin of the Rocky Mountains. Yet they are not enough to explain Mount Rushmore.
Of course, we know who is responsible for Mount Rushmore, but even someone who had never heard of the monument could recognize it as designed. Which leads to the second claim of the intelligent design argument: the physical marks of design are visible in aspects of biology. This is uncontroversial, too. The 18th-century clergyman William Paley likened living things to a watch, arguing that the workings of both point to intelligent design. Modern Darwinists disagree with Paley that the perceived design is real, but they do agree that life overwhelms us with the appearance of design.
For example, Francis Crick, co-discoverer of the structure of DNA, once wrote that biologists must constantly remind themselves that what they see was not designed but evolved. (Imagine a scientist repeating through clenched teeth: "It wasn't really designed. Not really.")
The resemblance of parts of life to engineered mechanisms like a watch is enormously stronger than what Reverend Paley imagined. In the past 50 years modern science has shown that the cell, the very foundation of life, is run by machines made of molecules. There are little molecular trucks in the cell to ferry supplies, little outboard motors to push a cell through liquid.
In 1998 an issue of the journal Cell was devoted to molecular machines, with articles like "The Cell as a Collection of Protein Machines" and "Mechanical Devices of the Spliceosome: Motors, Clocks, Springs and Things." Referring to his student days in the 1960's, Bruce Alberts, president of the National Academy of Sciences, wrote that "the chemistry that makes life possible is much more elaborate and sophisticated than anything we students had ever considered." In fact, Dr. Alberts remarked, the entire cell can be viewed as a factory with an elaborate network of interlocking assembly lines, each of which is composed of a set of large protein machines. He emphasized that the term machine was not some fuzzy analogy; it was meant literally.
The next claim in the argument for design is that we have no good explanation for the foundation of life that doesn't involve intelligence. Here is where thoughtful people part company. Darwinists assert that their theory can explain the appearance of design in life as the result of random mutation and natural selection acting over immense stretches of time. Some scientists, however, think the Darwinists' confidence is unjustified. They note that although natural selection can explain some aspects of biology, there are no research studies indicating that Darwinian processes can make molecular machines of the complexity we find in the cell.
Scientists skeptical of Darwinian claims include many who have no truck with ideas of intelligent design, like those who advocate an idea called complexity theory, which envisions life self-organizing in roughly the same way that a hurricane does, and ones who think organisms in some sense can design themselves.
The fourth claim in the design argument is also controversial: in the absence of any convincing non-design explanation, we are justified in thinking that real intelligent design was involved in life. To evaluate this claim, it's important to keep in mind that it is the profound appearance of design in life that everyone is laboring to explain, not the appearance of natural selection or the appearance of self-organization.
The strong appearance of design allows a disarmingly simple argument: if it looks, walks and quacks like a duck, then, absent compelling evidence to the contrary, we have warrant to conclude it's a duck. Design should not be overlooked simply because it's so obvious.
Still, some critics claim that science by definition can't accept design, while others argue that science should keep looking for another explanation in case one is out there. But we can't settle questions about reality with definitions, nor does it seem useful to search relentlessly for a non-design explanation of Mount Rushmore. Besides, whatever special restrictions scientists adopt for themselves don't bind the public, which polls show, overwhelmingly, and sensibly, thinks that life was designed. And so do many scientists who see roles for both the messiness of evolution and the elegance of design.
Michael J. Behe, a professor of biological sciences at Lehigh University and a senior fellow with the Discovery Institute's Center for Science and Culture, is the author of "Darwin's Black Box: The Biochemical Challenge to Evolution."
Sunday, February 06, 2005
From Tar Heel Daily:
Keeping an eye on the freshman
Marvin Williams blasts off for Carolina
By thd staff, February 6, 2005
At about 7:15 PM this past Thursday, when freshman Marvin Williams grabbed a defensive rebound shortly after checking into the UNC-NC State basketball game, most observers continued to go about whatever they had been doing the moment before. Dominating the backboards has turned into routine behavior for Williams.
But at 7:41 PM the same evening -- just seconds after Williams swished his third consecutive three-point attempt within a span of five minutes – a loud gulping noise was heard to come from the general direction of Durham, NC. It was later confirmed that this noise did indeed emanate from Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski’s house.
Then at 8:19 PM ET – the very moment when Marvin Williams received a pass, faked a three point attempt, took a quick dribble and swished a textbook 17-foot jump shot from the right wing -- a light flipped on in a side room of Kansas coach Bill Self's house, where Self stores his "drawing board".
At 8:22 PM that night -- after Williams returned to earth following his poster-ready hand-behind-the-head breakaway power slam against the Wolfpack – Wake Forest’s Skip Prosser turned off the television in his living room and started reading a book.
Finally, at 8:44 PM -- just as Williams received a pass in the backcourt and dribbled smoothly past a pair of State defenders down the right wing -- Illinois coach Bruce Weber started rummaging around in his office to see if Self had possibly left behind any tapes from Illinois’ win over Carolina two seasons ago.
Such is the gathering impact of this young basketball player Bremerton, Washington.
Since the initial Marvin Williams sighting at the Smith Center during a North Carolina exhibition game in November, Tar Heels fans have been waiting for the 6'9" freshman to produce a 'signature' performance. Williams has been a rebounding machine, and nearly automatic at the free throw line, but fans sensed there would be more.
This week, they got more.
Williams has shown already this season that he is an all around force to be reckoned with, but against NC State on Thursday, the 6'9" frosh began making whirring noises and shooting off sparks.
That Marvin Williams could play basketball with the flair he exhibited against State does not come as much of a surprise; the 6'9" forward has shown a rare blend of power, intelligence, determination and precision in his first twenty games at UNC. That Williams could play that way while maintaining the humble grace and sense of perspective that he has shown all season is perhaps what sets him apart more.
The true worth of a player possessing Williams' talent can best be measured by effect he has on the others around him. A superstar who does not complement his teammates often goes as a wasted quantity; and a team that revolves around one player is bound to fail. Marvin Williams has had precisely the opposite effect on the UNC basketball team this season.
Williams' smooth transition with this team may have been facilitated by efforts on the part of the Carolina coaching staff to introduce the rookie gradually into the team's flow. Williams has played fewer minutes for the Tar Heels this year than he would have at any other school (or probably, any NBA team); but his introduction into the rotation of this experienced squad has nonetheless appeared seamless rather than strained.
The result is that North Carolina currently has a playing rotation so solid and versatile that any of five members of this team, including Williams, could finish the year worthy of receiving some sort of All-America consideration.
One game does not make a season, and Marvin Williams will probably have to prove himself many more times if this UNC team hopes to achieve its goals of winning ACC and NCAA titles.
But the basketball world learned Thursday night that Williams possesses the skills to go down as one memorable college basketball player. The Marvin Watch has officially begun.
Keeping an eye on the freshman
Marvin Williams blasts off for Carolina
By thd staff, February 6, 2005
At about 7:15 PM this past Thursday, when freshman Marvin Williams grabbed a defensive rebound shortly after checking into the UNC-NC State basketball game, most observers continued to go about whatever they had been doing the moment before. Dominating the backboards has turned into routine behavior for Williams.
But at 7:41 PM the same evening -- just seconds after Williams swished his third consecutive three-point attempt within a span of five minutes – a loud gulping noise was heard to come from the general direction of Durham, NC. It was later confirmed that this noise did indeed emanate from Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski’s house.
Then at 8:19 PM ET – the very moment when Marvin Williams received a pass, faked a three point attempt, took a quick dribble and swished a textbook 17-foot jump shot from the right wing -- a light flipped on in a side room of Kansas coach Bill Self's house, where Self stores his "drawing board".
At 8:22 PM that night -- after Williams returned to earth following his poster-ready hand-behind-the-head breakaway power slam against the Wolfpack – Wake Forest’s Skip Prosser turned off the television in his living room and started reading a book.
Finally, at 8:44 PM -- just as Williams received a pass in the backcourt and dribbled smoothly past a pair of State defenders down the right wing -- Illinois coach Bruce Weber started rummaging around in his office to see if Self had possibly left behind any tapes from Illinois’ win over Carolina two seasons ago.
Such is the gathering impact of this young basketball player Bremerton, Washington.
Since the initial Marvin Williams sighting at the Smith Center during a North Carolina exhibition game in November, Tar Heels fans have been waiting for the 6'9" freshman to produce a 'signature' performance. Williams has been a rebounding machine, and nearly automatic at the free throw line, but fans sensed there would be more.
This week, they got more.
Williams has shown already this season that he is an all around force to be reckoned with, but against NC State on Thursday, the 6'9" frosh began making whirring noises and shooting off sparks.
That Marvin Williams could play basketball with the flair he exhibited against State does not come as much of a surprise; the 6'9" forward has shown a rare blend of power, intelligence, determination and precision in his first twenty games at UNC. That Williams could play that way while maintaining the humble grace and sense of perspective that he has shown all season is perhaps what sets him apart more.
The true worth of a player possessing Williams' talent can best be measured by effect he has on the others around him. A superstar who does not complement his teammates often goes as a wasted quantity; and a team that revolves around one player is bound to fail. Marvin Williams has had precisely the opposite effect on the UNC basketball team this season.
Williams' smooth transition with this team may have been facilitated by efforts on the part of the Carolina coaching staff to introduce the rookie gradually into the team's flow. Williams has played fewer minutes for the Tar Heels this year than he would have at any other school (or probably, any NBA team); but his introduction into the rotation of this experienced squad has nonetheless appeared seamless rather than strained.
The result is that North Carolina currently has a playing rotation so solid and versatile that any of five members of this team, including Williams, could finish the year worthy of receiving some sort of All-America consideration.
One game does not make a season, and Marvin Williams will probably have to prove himself many more times if this UNC team hopes to achieve its goals of winning ACC and NCAA titles.
But the basketball world learned Thursday night that Williams possesses the skills to go down as one memorable college basketball player. The Marvin Watch has officially begun.
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