Not Beyond My 50 Years, But Wise Nonetheless

Fifty.

My best work.

So many ways to think about it. Fifty is, of course, half a century. Fifty is 25 times two. Fifty is the age my parents were when they dropped me off at college, and they seemed pretty "wise."

It's a bit scary, but it is what it is, as they say.

In some ways I still feel like a kid, especially when I spend time with old friends, as I did this past weekend after the Manasquan Turkey Trot. We laugh at dumb jokes, pull stupid pranks, turn back the clock.

But when I step back and think about having a 15 and a 17-year old son, who have relied on me and Linda to raise them, support them, mentor them, suddenly, I feel like maybe I'm "wise," too.

To say time flies does not do justice to just how fast the years go by. Wasn't it just yesterday that I was riding a school bus to a baseball or soccer game with my high school buddies? Is it too late for me to tell the baseball coach at North Carolina I want to give it one more year? No, I'm not going to law school because there's a job offer from Sports Illustrated and I'm gonna give that a year or two. Did I really cover the Yankees for the New York Daily News? Was I really part of the editorial group that launched ESPN The Magazine? No way I spent more than a dozen years writing features for The Mag, right? Did that guy really just tell me, "You're a good dude, but" before telling me he was putting me on the unemployment line? Was it really two years of working as a baseball columnist at the Star-Ledger? I don't remember much.

My partner in everything.

Scary, right?

And it's good.

It is especially good because, all these experiences, good and bad, I share with Linda, Tyler and Beau. I don't mean this to disparage any of the workaholics out there in my business, who accept the long road trips, embrace the absolute need to be plugged-in to every single bit of information that's streaming through the internet. But it's not for me.

Here's to good friends.

All it took was a few weeks into last baseball off-season for me to realize it's not for me anymore. I'd taken one for the team at the Star-Ledger (or so I thought), moving on to the Yankee beat when our young and talented beat writer moved on to greener pastures. I'd plowed my way through August and September. Through the American League Division Series and the AL Championship Series. I finished what I'd set out to do for the Ledger, or so I thought. Until a couple of days went by and the texts and emails started hitting me. Did you see what the Post wrote about CC Sabathia? Why didn't you write about Jeter's appearance at a toy store in Manhattan? There's a lot of stuff on Twitter about A-Rod... One day, as I tried to sit down to watch Beau play soccer, my phone went off and I was told to write...not later, but now. One night when I tried to take Linda out for dinner, I was told to write...not later, but now.

Soon to be joining the Half-Century Club.

It occurred to me. I thought I was a hard worker. But I was a slacker compared to everyone else. It also occurred to me. I wasn't happy. Not even a little bit. Working for a newspaper -- something I had not done in 15 years when I took the job at the Ledger -- was not for me. Not at the age of 49.

So, when I got my package from the Ledger last January 15, as much as it sent my family into a mild state of panic, deep inside, I knew it would end up being the best thing for all those who are close to me.

I move into the next half-century a happier, more fulfilled guy. Less secure professionally than I was at 40, but we will figure out how to make this all work. Me, Linda, Tyler and Beau.

No one can stop us.

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When Worst Is Best

Personal Worst, Personally Best

I recently ran my sixth marathon. My sixth marathon, but my first in eight years. As I sit here at my kitchen table, my leg muscles in knots, my knees feeling like they've been stabbed with a knife, I'm proud of myself.

I completed the Philadelphia Marathon on Sunday, a week before my 50th birthday, in a time of four hours and 13 minutes, 28 seconds, which is my Personal Worst by at least 20 minutes. But I finished.

My inspiration to run the marathon came from two people. The first was Debby Gammons Brown, the niece of my long-time friend Peter Gammons. About 20 years ago, my parents bought a house in Bay Head, N.J., and from time to time, we'd see this petite young lady logging all kinds of miles. That was Debby, whose father was the pastor at All Saints Episcopal Church in Bay Head. Peter had told me about his niece, who ran cross-country at Trinity College. Bragged about her. But Debby and I never actually met.

I recall vaguely that Debby and I spoke on the phone once when she was working for a sports agent in Boston and I was working for ESPN The Magazine. But that was it until Facebook came along and we became "friends." After the Boston Marathon bombings, Debby began posting that she was coming out of retirement to run the Philly Marathon in honor of those who were unable to finish Boston, which prompted me to say, "I'd love to do it, but I haven't run 26.2 in eight years and my knees seem to reject runs over five miles." All Debby said was, "Just do it." So, I started to train...a little bit, anway.

My other source of inspiration was an old college baseball teammate named Paul Devlin, who has been a great sounding board for me the last couple of years as I've been laid off from two jobs. Paul is a talented on-air sports reporter who was also going through some tough times professionally. He took out his frustration by getting into great shape. He competed in triathlons and half marathons and then told me he was going to run his first marathon, the New York Marathon, in November.

About two weeks before New York, Paul told me he was in agony. He did something to his leg and was worried he would not be able to run the race he'd trained for. It was not until the day of the race that I saw Paul's photos from the race. Not only did he complete his first marathon, he crushed it.

As I began to tell Paul how I'd not trained properly, didn't have the time to put in a run any longer than 14 miles (and I walked a good bit of that run), he would have none of it. "It's all in your mind."

Debby and Paul got me to the starting line. But I'd be lying if I said there were no doubts in my brain. Memories of past races started coming back to me. Memories of runners collapsing on the side of the road. Memories of my own struggles (without getting too graphic, I'll just say Port-a-Potty) in past races.

I told my wife, "There's a chance I stop at 13.1," because in Philly, the finish line for the half and full marathon are, basically, one and the same. I also told her and my sons, "This could take a while."

The race started at 7 a.m. and I vowed to run slow. My goal was simply to finish. From my first step, I did not feel comfortable. My calves were tight and my feet were achy. One step at a time.

I do not - cannot - run with ear buds plugged into my ears, so I tried to take my mind off the pain by reading as many signs as I could along the way. Philly is a smart-ass sports town and that was reflected in a few early signs like, "You're not going to win, so why bother?" and "Pain is temporary, but your lousy time is forever on the internet." I must thank these people for keeping me going through the early part of the run.

Now, I have a friend who likes to say, "There are two things I don't want to know about. One is men's breasts and the other is your golf game." So, I'm going to assume you don't want race details.

In a nutshell. I ran a decent half-marathon. And I limped a really horrible half-marathon. But the feeling I got as I stumbled down the stretch, past my wife and kids who cheered for me as I crawled along the final half mile, may have been the greatest feeling I've had in any of my six marathons. I didn't train properly. I've not felt comfortable on any of my long training runs. In fact, I've felt horrendous.

But I finished.

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A Revealing Q & A with Leather Head designer Jon Contino

Jon is New York through and through.

This past week, Leather Head Baseball proudly unveiled its new logos and brand markings as created by renowned Brooklyn artist Jon Contino. Our instructions to Jon were, basically, that we had no instructions. We knew his work and loved it, so we wanted to let his creative juices flow.

Without saying a word, we knew Jon "got" our product line. Leather Head Baseball Gloves are going to be the choice of the no-BS ballplayer. Our glove designs are classic and will remind men of a certain age of the gloves used in the 70s and 80s, made of the best leather, but not overly-decorated, or overly colorful. We'll have two colors. Tan and black. You want a red or blue glove, go somewhere else. Anyway, we wanted Jon to have some fun...and from what he's told us, he had a ball.

Before the reveal on Facebook, I had a little Q & A with Jon, just to get a look inside his baseball-loving heart. It's pretty clear he shares our vision and passion.

LEATHER HEAD: What is your favorite Major League team and why?

Needle pulling lace to infinity.

JC: I'm a die-hard Yankees fan, most likely because my father is a Yankees fan as well. I started watching games with him early on in my childhood and became a huge baseball fan at that point. Unfortunately, the Yankees were terrible in the mid-80s, so I never knew the Yankees the way people did before me or even now. I can remember them playing double-headers against the Indians and losing both games all the time. Cut to 94 and there was finally hope for the playoffs...then the strike. I never thought it would happen again, but thankfully I only had to wait two more years for a World Series and we all know where they've been since then, so even though it's not true, I feel like I've been with the team on their rise to the top. In reality, they just had a brief cooling off period that I was born into, haha. The other part, and more of the reason I love them now, is the history behind the team. I always wore #7 when I was a kid and my grandfather and uncles used to tell me about Mickey Mantle and how he was one of the greatest hitters of all time. I naturally felt like I had to keep #7 with me as long as possible if I wanted to be any good. Then as I got deeper and deeper into the game and developed more of a love, I learned how my favorite announcer Phil Rizzuto was a little guy who played shortstop and succeeded despite everyone telling him otherwise. This of course resonated with me as well being that I was always a smaller guy and played shortstop as well. Then you have your Gehrigs, Ruths, Munsons, and of course Donnie Baseball. The players all had such a mythical air about them, and it always felt like it was because of the pinstripes and interlocking NY. The Yankees always embody everything good about baseball in my mind. Always have and always will!

When you look into your glove.

LEATHER HEAD: I think I see where this is going, but what's your favorite uniform and why? 

JC: All my answers will be Yankees first, mostly because I feel like they're the most pure team to still be playing the game. No names on the back of the uniform, no crazy amount of home and away jerseys. Simple white with pintstripes and grey away with the words "New York" across the chest. 

LEATHER HEAD: Cap? 

JC: Again, my favorite is the classic navy Yankees cap, but there are definitely other favorites of mine. The latest Red Sox hat is pretty great in all navy with just the socks icon on the front. I also love the classic Orioles bird face, but who doesn't? The newest Indians revival "C" hat is awesome too. I love the simplicity of these and none of them feel like "new sports design" that plagues football and basketball branding.

LEATHER HEAD: And...what is it about the game that you love the most? 

JC: The fact that you can enjoy baseball from so many different perspectives is what really grabs my heart. You can go to a ball game on a beautiful summer day or a crisp fall night, get some great food, and alternate between relaxing and yelling all in the same sitting. You can play it with a huge group of people on a nice field or a few on the street or schoolyard in the form of stickball or Wiffleball. It's not overly exhausting so you can play it every day, but it's also one of the most heart-pounding games when you get to that 8th inning and you're still down by 3 runs. Aside from all the great aspects of the game itself, it's also spawned some of the best characters in history and the general design factor that has grown with it is something I'm completely enamored with. Every single aspect of baseball is great.

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We got a lot cooler this week

The Original Six Leather Head baseball gloves are now scattered from Glen Rock, N.J., to Deland, Fla., leaving me and Paul with a little bit of glove withdrawal. We realize it's a necessary step in the development of our product to put the gloves in the field and see how they perform and wear.

Jon brings big-time talent and energy to Leather Head.

Still, we miss them.

So, in the meantime, we've started to discuss design elements. Things like patch that will go on the wrist strap. Will we adorn the glove with other markings? Something between the thumb and index finger. Maybe something on the web. Will their be other brandings inside the glove. What color scheme will we use?

Now, Paul and I have ideas and Paul has already developed a pretty cool trademark for Leather Head Sports. It's simple yet iconic. It takes you back. But there's a point of separation that needs to occur between Paul's original product line and what we're doing now because while these gloves are throwbacks to gloves of an era gone by (the 70s and 80s), we also know they are gloves that are meant to be used by elite level players.

Visually, while we love the old school look, we also want the gloves to appeal to the eyes of teenagers. Let me just cut to the chase. We want them to look cool. Because they are cool.

Jon loves the game like a kid, hence his trademark.

So, late in the week, we added cool to our lineup.

Meet Jon Contino, the man who will be our designer.

Jon is a self-described Alphastructaesthetitologist (don't ask me to pronounce it), which he means...well, Jon explained it in an interview with Four Questions, this way:

"The essence of the word “alphastructaesthetitologist” can be broken down into “one who creates and studies stylized letterforms.” But in reality, it’s just a wise-ass word I made up in response to “so what do you do?” My source of inspiration has really shifted over the years. I really take a lot out of the day-to-day lives of my family and friends. I love watching them work in their own environments and talking to them about what makes them tick. Understanding other people’s creative process and connecting the dots to real life is one of the most inspiring things I can actually grasp in some way. Everyone has their own interests as well, so talking to my dad about carpentry or discussing what’s new in fashion with my wife is always pretty invigorating, creatively speaking."

Paul knows Jon from the trade show circuit. It's easy to see they are members of the mutual admiration society. Here's why. They're both artists. They're both great at what they do.

And they both love baseball.

When our email exchanges began with Jon, it was a recipe for work-productivity disaster. Once I'd seen some of Jon's work, I was a kid in a candy store. Could we do this? Could we do that? I must have apologized 50 times for making too many suggestions, but Jon was like, "keep it coming."

At one point, we got diverted into a discussion on which sports logos we doodled as kids. I bragged how I could draw the Chicago Blackhawks logo (and the shoulder tomahawks), in full-color, from memory. Paul bragged about how he'd perfected the old Milwaukee Brewers ball-in-glove "MB." I countered with how I'd mastered the Montreal Expos famous tri-color logo from days gone by.

The first scibbles. This is where our new logo starts.

As for the direction of our Leather Head logos and symbols, first, we've asked Jon to come up with a new "LH." To that, Jon offered up the following: "The LH should always be able to work as a mark. Also something that would be easy to scribble on a notebook or drawn in the sand and still be recognizable."

Within hours, he was sharing some of his sketches. We are bouncing ideas around, but Paul and I know there will come a time when we back off and let the man work his magic.

I could detail a few of the things that Jon has done in his 29 years (his clothing line, the skateboards and snowboards he's branded, etc.) but I couldn't do it justice...

You'd be better off visiting his website.

One thing we know to be true, Paul and I, is that Leather Head baseball gloves, already beautiful in terms of the quality of the leather and the classic designs, got a lot cooler this week.

The problem I have now is that I can't sleep. Because I can't wait to see what Jon comes up with.

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What is skill? What is style?

As we go into the second weekend of Major League Soccer action, I find myself asking the same two soccer questions I've been asking myself for the last 10-15 years.

Tricks are not skills, if you ask me.

They're right there in the headline to this blog post. What is skill? What is style?

I do know this much. Skill and style are the two most popular words in the soccer fan's vocabulary. Whether it's calling for more "skill" players, or for a team to play a better "style," you hear those two S-words over and over again.

It's been going on forever.

I think I have my own definitions, but I think they are different than most people's definitions. For me, "skills" are things players can do well that work in games. My list of skills is long. It includes everything from tackling and heading to passing and shooting. It also includes things that  are harder to define, like positioning and anticipating. I even consider fitness to be a skill if it is something that sets one player apart from another. A player who can run for 90 minutes can be a difference maker.

Why do I think my definition is different from the norm? Because I think most people mistake "tricks" for "skills." Let me back up just a second. I think tricks can be skills if they are tricks that work in games. But tricks that don't translate into game action are just...tricks.

I had a friend email me a YouTube video a few weeks ago. Granted, the guy wasn't a soccer guy, but he sent me a clip of a guy who could juggle a ball endlessly. Maybe you've seen the video, which shows the guy taking his shirt off, climbing up poles, all while keeping the ball aloft.

"Touched by God," was how my friend described the guy in the video.

I responded by sending him a video of Lionel Messi goals. "This," I replied, "impresses me more."

In the video, Messi displayed speed (skill), power (skill), unpredictable moves (skill), will (skill) and about 100 other qualities that I could describe as skills. Sure, on a few of the goals, he did things that could be described as "tricks," especially when it came to his finishing. Where the typical player would try to blast the ball by the keeper, Messi would chip it softly, or maybe even just dribble the ball all the way into the net. Tricks that worked in games. Yeah, skills.

Messi's skill set includes speed and power.

I've heard many players through the years described as "skillful." Or, better yet, someone will say of a player who's failed to make it at the professional level, "He's skillful, but..."

My typical reply is, "Don't call those things skills if they don't work." I'm talking about things like step-overs and scissors and no-look flick passes. If a player cannot make plays consistently under pressure, against top competition, it bugs me to hear that player described as skillful. I'd rather hear him described as "pleasing to the eye" or  even "cute." But not "skillful."

I'm reminded of the old Bruce Arena quote about Clint Dempsey, which everyone latched on to. Remember, the one where Bruce was asked what he liked about  Clint and he responded, "He tries shit." Well, trust me, Bruce wouldn't have wanted Clint trying shit if it only worked two percent of the time. However, I still hear fans and media clamoring for more guys who try shit... If it were only that simple.  I only clamor for guys to try shit if they've shown they can pull it off.

That leads into the old saw about "style."

I'll be more brief when it comes to style. If it doesn't produce wins, it ain't stylish. Whether it's short passing, long-passing (or Route 1 as the kids like to say), or bunker-and-counter (where have I heard that one before), I'm really not interested in even using the word "style" if it doesn't produce Ws.

Part of the reason I'm so against the word "style" is because it's all relative to the opposition. Most teams, I believe, go out with the intention of playing the way they want to play in a game. But all bets are off once the game begins. I'm certain that a lot of "let's keep the ball, fellas" pre-game talks turned into "let's get the f-ing ball!" once the game was five minutes old.

Dempsey tries shit, because a lot of times it works.

It's easier to play well, to look good, to pass well and create chances when the opposition is not good. It gets exponentially harder to be stylish when the opposition is either better than you, or really good at making you look bad.

To me, this is true in all sports. Nothing really matters to me if it doesn't work in a game. A pitcher who paints the corners in the bullpen, or against lousy competition, may not look the same when he's facing better hitters. A sweet-shooting guard usually isn't as good with a hand in his face. A quarterback who can throw the ball 85 yards in the air, well, it doesn't really matter if his receiver is 50 yards away, does it?

The difference I see is that the pitcher who's an ace on the side,  the pre-game three-point marksman, the QB with the rocket-arm on the practice field, they would never be described as "skillful" by American onlookers. Yet I still see their soccer equivalents lauded as "skillful" and "creative."

I'll never do it. Not my style

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The start of a beautiful relationship

"I was one of those kids who oiled up his glove, put a ball in it, tied it up and stuck it under the bed. Then I would dream sweet dreams of making the greatest play in the history of the game." - former Major Leaguer Randy Ready, from Steve Wulf's Sports Illustrated story entitled "Glove Story."

I was one of those kids, too. In fact, I'm still one of those kids.

The Original Six, from Leather Head Sports and Paul Cunningham

Yeah, one of those kids, in my mind, anyway...even though I'm in my 50th year on earth. I know I still have kid-like tendencies, especially when it comes to baseball, because of what's gone on in my life the last couple of days. Let me amend that a bit, because I can't tell this story without including fellow "kid," Paul Cunningham. Here's what happened to us on Tuesday.

I'm on my way into the city for a meeting and my phone rings. It's Paul. He says, "Did you get my email with the photo?" I tell him I did not, but from the sound of his voice, I know exactly what's up.

"They're here?" I ask.

"They're here," Paul says. "And they're beautiful."

Paul's baby - our baby, if you will - was born. The first six Leather Head baseball gloves - designed by Paul - had arrived from our overseas manufacturing partners. Paul's email had the subject line, "Tease." It was a photo of a box on a chair in his studio.

No other piece of sports equipment, perhaps no other inanimate object, exerts quite the hold on us that the baseball glove does. Most anyone who has played the game remembers a favorite glove from his or her youth, the one he or she hung from the handlebars of a bicycle. - Wulf

Suddenly, my meeting in the city was the furthest thing from my mind. Like a kid on the night before his first Little League game, or a teenager about to play his first high school game, I was antsy.

In the city, I looked at my watch a lot. When I had to make my way to Penn Station to come home, I was 17 blocks away, but had no patience to ride the B, D or F trains. I hoofed it. Fast.

On my ride to MetroPark station, I was wondering how the gloves would feel on my hand. Would the leather take me back to 1979, when I got my first Rawlings Heart of the Hide glove, an XPG3 model, before my freshman baseball season. How would they look? The ride seemed to take forever.

"A good glove is like a wife. I really feel that way. Uh-oh. My wife just heard me say that and gave me this look. You know what I mean, honey. A glove should always be there for you." - former Red Sox Gold Glove rightfielder Dwight Evans, from Wulf's story.

"The gloves are here!" Paul's email to me

I hit my GPS when I got into my car and started the ride from Metuchen to Glen Rock. Of course, I had one of those GPS nightmare trips, where I heard the lady's voice say "Re-calculating" about 10 times. I don't know what was going on, but I was all over Bergen County. Finally, I reached a familiar cross-street and knew I was minutes away from the Leather Head Sports studio.

When I walked through the door and up the stairs, Paul had a look on his face. The gloves were spread out, fittingly, like unwrapped Christmas presents thrown all over the place. One by one, I tried them on. I smelled them. Pounded them with my fist. Of course, Paul had a ball ready for me.

The gloves were smooth, the leather supple. Not ready to take onto the field. No, of course not. A great glove does not go from the shelf to the diamond. It needs work.

I was blown away.

It's only leather, or in some cases leather with vinyl or nylon, but the glove is somehow a living thing, like the bud at the end of a stem. It's pleasing to all five senses: looks good, smells good, feels good, sounds good (when the ball smacks the pocket) and tastes good (to your dog). Aesthetically, the glove is quite beautiful: fingers reminiscent of ladyfinger pastries, a web as intricate as a spider's, laces that work in unison, disappearing into the glove and then magically reappearing. - Wulf

After a couple of hours of talking with Paul. A couple of hours of going from glove to glove to glove. A couple of hours of talking about "definites" and "maybes" and things we wanted to change, I sheepishly looked at the creator of these pieces of art and asked, "How many can I take?"

You see, I'm supposed to be the baseball guy in this partnership. The guy with the contacts and the relationships. The guy who is supposed to get these into the hands of folks who can tell us what design tweaks need to be made. But at the same time, I felt guilty, on the day of their arrival, asking if I could walk out the door with them.

"Take 'em all," Paul said.

I couldn't do that, could I? No, I left with four of five.

I gave the catcher's glove to my brother Scott, who caught for almost nine years in the big leagues and is the coach at Princeton. I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but less than 24 hours later, after catching a few of his pitchers, Scott was placing an order for his Princeton catchers.

"Tell Paul it's phenomenal," was Scott's message.

It's a magical thing, the mitt. Hundreds of thousands are made every year, yet each one is special to the hand it winds up marrying. Try not to choke on this line: You can't spell glove without l-o-v-e. The next time you're in a sporting goods store, stand by the baseball glove rack for a while, and sure enough, you'll see some guy sidle over, try on a glove or three, smile and walk away. He's not shopping. He's remembering. - Wulf

The other gloves are scattered about, getting beat up, broken in. Like a forensic scientist, Paul has asked that these prototypes be returned to him for examination. He's the brains of the outfit.

I mean, he's still a kid. But he's a smart kid.

Me? I'm just giddy.
 

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It Started out Good and Only Got Better

Magee was good because, well, he is good.

Yesterday was a great day for soccer...for me.

Oh, I'm sure it was a great day for soccer for a lot of folks. But this is all about me. Let me explain that comment as I take you through my day, which began with the Roma vs. Genoa game.

I was happy to learn in the morning that the game would be on RAI-Italia, channel 1194 on my Optimum TV package. Since Optimum does not carry the BeIN Sports network, I rely on RAI for my Roma television. If RAI doesn't have the game, I am at the mercy of pirate internet streams.

It got better. My nephew was not in the starting lineup found his way into the game at the 40 minute mark when one of his teammates, Miralem Pjanic, went out with an injury. At that point, I called my mom, who was home alone, to tell her that her grandson was entering the game.

Roma was leading 1-0 as I placed the call, but seconds after Mom picked up the phone, I uttered, "Oh no." Michael had given the ball away on his first touch, in the attacking half, and Genoa was rushing the ball down down the field. "Oh no," I said again as a Genoa player went down in the box. "Oh no," I said a third time as I saw the referee point to the spot, awarding Genoa a penalty kick. As I started to explain to my mother, she said, "Why are you telling me all of this? I'm watching the game."

So, I got in my car and drove to my mom's house to watch the second half. Turns out, she gets BeIN Sports on her cable. We watched the second half together. Her grandson played quite well and Roma scored two goals to win 3-1 and grab a critical three points. So, that was the beginning.

CHAPTER TWO

I then came home and watched the Galaxy and Fire play. And I had one of those "smart dad" moments. I told my 14-year old son Beau, who is an aspiring player, to keep an eye on Mike Magee.

Grandma was fired up for the Giallorossi

Why Mike Magee? Because I told my son to watch the way Magee moves around the field. The way he always seems to be open. The way he somehow makes it difficult for defenders to keep track of him, even though he's far from the biggest, strongest or fastest player on the field.

So, what does Magee do for me? He scores a hat trick.

Now, for a second, let me go serious soccer guy on you. During the Roma-Genoa telecast, my friend Ray Hudson offered up some brilliant commentary on Francesco Totti. I'll paraphrase Ray said something like, "There are analysts now who provide charts and graphs of every player's every move during the course of of a game, with red circles and arrows, but there's no red circle or arrow that can do justice to the ball that Totti just delivered." Again, that's a paraphrase.

But, I think, a little bit of what Ol' Ray was saying ties into what I was saying to my son. There's something inexplicable about what Magee does on the field. It's the part of soccer (and all sports) that still intrigues me. Anybody can see a guy strike a ball 100 miles per hour. Anybody can see a guy run past a defender, or out jump a defender for a head ball. Not everybody can see the other stuff.

At MLS Media Day a few weeks ago, Magee's teammate Robbie Keane was telling Brian Straus of the Sporting News (and a few other reporters) he thought Magee was a player who should be considered for the U.S. national team. His reasoning was, basically, "the guy's a good player."

Ray Hudson and I think alike when it comes to charts.

A few days later, Grant Wahl of Sports Illustrated ran an anonymous player's poll, and a good number of the 18 MLS players who were asked "Who is the most underrated player in MLS?" responded, "Mike Magee." Keep in mind, this was before the opening day hat trick.

I have distinct memories of Youri Djorkaeff commenting on a then-19-year old Mike Magee, playing for the then-MetroStars. I remember Djorkaeff saying, basically, "Magee is a very good player."

So, my final brilliant analysis goes something like this: "I think Mike Magee is a good player because it seems like a lot of really good players think he's a good player. I'm even considering turning it into a stat. Quote me: "Mike Magee ranks highly in the GPBALORGPTHAGP category."

CHAPTER THREE

The U.S.-Mexico Under-20 game and the Red Bulls-Portland game were played almost simultaneously. This meant picking one to watch on the television and one to watch on the ipad.

Let the boys be boys. Soon enough they'll be men.

I began with the U.S.-Mexico game on the TV. I'll keep my thoughts brief. Fun game. The stakes weren't all that high because both teams had already qualified for the U-20 World Cup, but a fun game because you could see it meant a lot to the players on both sides.

While I think the U.S. potentially has some really good players, I'm reluctant to go overboard. I'm old enough to have been down this road before. Let these kids enjoy the moment, hope they continue to immprove, and hold back on anointing them as guys who will play in World Cups, etc., until they've held down spots on professional teams. That's my take and I'm sticking with it.

As for the Timbers-Red Bulls game, you should just watch the highlights. It was a game full of rumbling and stumbling and a crowd that wouldn't sit down or shut up. Great, great fun.

In fact, I'd rank it No. 1 so far this year in the GGF category. And put a red circle around it.

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