Marion Jones, left, came out of jail and explained to Oprah Winfrey that while she may be a liar, she is definitely not a cheat. Just so everyone is clear. (George Burns/Harpo Productions/Associated Press)The year in sports was filled with lessons learned — some easily, many more the hard way. Here's 10 to think about:
There's a comedienne in every bunch
Former U.S. sprinter Marion Jones's nod to Steven Spielberg's old Animaniacs cartoon series made for some entertaining TV.
Good idea: Holding a tearful news conference on March 7 to apologize for being a steroid user, losing her Olympic medals, wrecking things for her former relay teammates who also lost their medals, and generally embarrassing herself, her family and the American nation — all just before going to jail for six months on federal perjury charges.
Bad idea: Coming out of the slammer right into a tearful interview with Oprah where you tell the world that, well, you know, you just want to clear up the impression I had knowingly taken drugs. I mean, I didn't. I thought I was taking flaxseed oil, you know? Really.
Lying, you see, is not the same as cheating. Just so we're clear.
Our scouting beats your high draft choices and dumb luck any day
Toronto Maple Leafs fans hoping a couple of really bad years and some great draft choices (did someone say John Tavares?) will lead to the NHL promised land should take note of the following.
If you add up the draft positions of Detroit Red Wings stars Henrik Zetterberg, Johan Franzen, Pavel Datsyuk, Nicklas Lidstrom, Niklas Kronwall and Tomas Holmstrom, you get 813.
Highest pick of that group was Kronwall at 29th, with 2008 playoff most valuable player Zetterberg coming in at 210.
Then there's the Pittsburgh Penguins, who were horrible for many seasons, earned a number of high picks and won the lottery that gave them Sidney Crosby.
If you add Crosby's draft position (No. 1) to those of goalie Marc-Andre Fleury, Evgeni Malkin, Jordan Staal and Ryan Whitney, you get 11.
In early June, the Red Wings beat the Penguins 3-2 on the road to win their 11th Stanley Cup. Or in other words, 813-11.
So don't believe any of that stuff about having to stink for a long time to become a contender.
Hurdling isn't a sprint, it's an episode of Survivor
Canada's Priscilla Lopes-Schliep stayed out of trouble and ran the race of her life at the right time to avoid being voted off the Olympic island and to come up with a bronze medal in Beijing. (Adrian Wyld/Canadian Press) Priscilla Lopes-Schliep was mentioned in Olympic previews this past summer as a credible long-shot to make the women's 100 metre hurdles final at the Beijing Summer Games.
And then we'd all pat her on the head and say, "Way to go, kid!"
Really, with Canada's best hurdler, Perdita Felicien, unable to compete due to injury, and Angela Whyte (Canada's "other hurdler") coming off knee surgery, it was wonderful just to see Lopes-Schliep at Beijing to represent.
Then fate took over.
Before the final itself, out went Spain's Josephine Onyia (failed to advance from the preliminaries) and Sweden's Susanna Kallur (fell at the first hurdle in the semifinal).
Then with the medals on the line, top-seed Lolo Jones looked to have it wrapped up before she stumbled over the last hurdle; countrywoman Damu Cherry, who won one of the semifinal heats, faded to fourth; and backing up in the same way were the hot Jamaican duo of Brigitte Foster-Hylton and Delloreen Ennis-London.
And there at the line was the little engine who could, Lopes-Schliep, with a personal best, a clean run, the immunity idol and a bronze medal to show for it.
Nobody knows hype like a TV sports guy
The best headline of the year was in the humour paper The Onion: Man Who Used Stick to Roll Ball into Hole in Ground Praised for His Courage.
Hey, that was Tiger Woods, limping around the Torrey Pines course in San Diego on "one leg" as he won the U.S. Open golf tournament in what was hailed as one of the "most courageous" performances in sports history.
Heck, any history.
If you believe the TV golf folks, it was right up there with storming Omaha and Juno beaches in Normandy back there in the Second World War. Or facing down the Soviets during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
In defence of Woods, it was hardly his fault the media turned hyperbole into an art form, in a sport that makes holding the lead in the final round of the Masters while facing Amen Corner sound like beating back a horde of attackers in Kandahar.
But this was way over the top. After all, Tiger could have called it a tournament at any point and you know what? No one would have died.
That wasn't grass, it was dirt
Just a small point about Rafael Nadal's epic five-set victory over Roger Federer last July 6 at the All England club in Wimbledon.
Yes, it was a fabulous tennis match, and yes, it was a highlight of the year, but I refuse to accept that it ended Federer's 65-match winning streak on grass.
After two weeks of play, centre court at Wimbledon had less "grass" on it than the weed-covered sidehill of my house. It was dirt, packed down so tightly the ball was bouncing like it was an artificial hard-court surface.
Now, if you want to make an argument that this was the first Grand Slam title won by the Spaniard on English "soil," I'd be willing to buy it.
There's nothing worse than watching a grown sports reporter cry
It was a sight to soothe the sore eyes of sports media everywhere: Mats Sundin sweaters on sale in Vancouver. (Jonathan Hayward/Canadian Press)Thank whatever god you believe in that Mats Sundin finally signed with the Vancouver Canucks in mid-December, because I don't think the hockey writers could have made it another month.
Your teenager (or yourself, if you are a teenager) hasn't shown the kind of angst displayed by those writers as the Sundin saga dragged on through June, September, November and onward.
You'd think they were running a National Hockey League team themselves, for gosh sakes.
Sundin, who was exercising his human right to not decide until he was good and ready, was called everything from disloyal — to hockey, to the Leafs, to fans, to other general managers who wanted to know whether they should sign someone else rather than wait — to full of himself.
Nothing disturbs a scribe faster than having a story last more than, say, a week, because then you'd have to think up new angles and all of that.
Sports reporters hate hard work. Just ask my wife.
Channelling your inner woman can lead to trouble if you play football
Speaking of my wife, she is fond of pointing out that it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.
My partner of 28 years might suggest Brett Favre was finding his inner female when he told the Green Bay Packers, shortly before training camp, he was changing his mind and wanted to come back and play in the NFL.
This after holding a tearful presser just months before saying it was all over and that he could never be anything but a Packer.
Now Favre is with the J-E-T-S Jets! And it makes total sense.
After all, what self-respecting woman would rather shop in northern Wisconsin than New York City? Stacy London and Clinton Kelly wouldn't stand for it on What Not to Wear?
Clothes might make the man, but the suit had nothing to do with it
American Michael Phelps won eight gold medals in the pool at the Beijing Summer Games, breaking the record of seven golds captured by compatriot Mark Spitz at the Munich Olympics in 1972.
Phelps did it wearing the new Speedo LZR Racer swimsuit, which took the world by storm last season by proving to be the fastest garment ever practically painted on a wet body in the history of the sport.
Sitting on the subway shortly after gold No. 8, your correspondent heard someone say — in that "wow, I'm really smart and you should listen to me" tone of voice — "Yeah, but it was all the suit."
It wasn't the suit. Most everyone was wearing the suit. Phelps could have won those eight golds even if everyone were wearing business suits.
You know, like the one Phelps had on in his somewhat, erm, strange Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year cover this month.
If 2 Cinderellas attend the same ball, one's going home in tears
When Tampa Bay's Rays arrived for dinner at the World Series ball this past October, the crowd was all over them.
After all, this Cinderella had just won 97 games and the American League pennant despite being the laughingstock of baseball since their 1998 cotillion.
Everybody wanted to see the Rays, talk to them, be with them.
But coming through the side entrance, practically unannounced, was another previously downtrodden guest, the Philadelphia Phillies — a club that had one successful date (1980) in 125 seasons.
When the dancing began, it was the Phillies who won in five games. Even survived a two-day downpour that delayed the ball for 48 hours just as the glass slipper was being tried on.
And Tampa? Who knows when they'll be invited back? Could be a lot of cold soup lunches with the stepsisters.
Give young men bread and circuses and they won't touch the remote
Jesse Taylor pounds Nick Rossborough while he's down. This type of action has 18-to-35-year-old males all agog. (Canadian Press/Spike TV)When I was young, the one thing you were never, ever allowed to do was hit a guy when he was down.
Now, that's all they do in "mixed martial arts" — a contrived and bloody sport that most serious martial artists deplore and even low-level ones like your correspondent (1-11 lifetime in the ring, by the way, just to be clear) think is about 10 strides over the line.
Yep, there's nothing like pounding a guy in the face enough times that blood spurts out (oh wait, is that hockey?).
Still, when CBS got together with Elite XC to show MMA on TV (count the acronyms), they discovered one group could care less what the rest of us think — males 18 to 35. And that's a key demographic.
Yep, CBS experienced a 271 per cent jump in that group for its first Saturday night 9-11 p.m. show at the end of May, according to USA Today.
On the other hand, CBS also saw its overall share for that time slot drop like a stone from 4.1 per cent to 2.7 per cent of the audience.
And now, Elite XC is out of business, leaving the Ultimate Fighting Championship as the kings of pay-per-view.
Meaning you have to fork over money to show that you, too, haven't quite finished evolving from Cro-Magnon male.
Ironic note: MMA has made boxing, previously under the microscope, look reasonable and humane.
