What would Mac T have done?

Jim Leyritz gets off from vehicular homicide. He blew a 1.4 blood alcohol level several hours after destroying Freida Veitch's car, and causing her death after she was ejected from the car. The original testimony from an eyewitness was that he ran a red light. Under a penetrating cross examination, the witness couldn't be sure if it had been a late yellow or a full red. The defense said that Leyritz was drinking straight vodka shots, and that might not have impacted his blood alcohol level until AFTER the accident, so its feasible that his blood alcohol level was actually at or below 0.8 at the time of the manslaughter. Astonishing.

And the cocksure, macho, World Series hero, got off. He bawled so hard during the testimony that the judge had to clear the jury. He appears to have lost his swagger.

Widower Jordan Veitch calls it "Excruciating." His motherless children, Julien and Kayla, are the ones propping him up, keeping him strong. It is a bastardization of justice. Awful. My 12 year old son said he was impressed by the defense. I tried not to lose my temper. A woman dies because a boozed up ballplayer got behind a wheel of an SUV after a night of drinking shooters on his birthday. And he gets a wrist slap for DUI while Julien and Kayla have only photos of their mother. Awful.

Quick flashback to another pro athlete, in similar circumstances, except that he was not drunk. In 1984 Boston Bruins center Craig MacTavish rear ended a car driving north on a late night commute home from the old Boston Garden, causing a death. It was a poorly lit stretch of road, and he might have been able to play the celebrity card and opted for a plea, but Mac T took his punishment, pleading guilty to vehicular manslaughter, and doing a year in jail in the Walpole (Mass.) state pen. He knew he could never play in Boston again, but Harry Sinden's pal Glenn Sather picked him up for his Edmonton Oilers club, despite MacTavish having spent an entire year off the ice.

After paying his proverbial "debt to society", Mac T won three Cups with the Oilers, and was on the ice for the Rangers dramatic Cup win in 1994, and a lengthy career as an NHL coach and executive.

The future of Leyritz, the beneficiary of a wide-eyed star culture, remains in doubt. He will dodge most, if not all, of his anticipated jail term. While our lasting image of MacTavish is celebrating a miraculous championship with Mark Messier on Garden Ice; the lasting images of Leyritz is him crying uncontrollably in a court of law.

Bronx Tories

Full disclosure: Author is a Red Sox fan. Now, onto the commentary. The vast majority of Baseball TV coverage is around the diamond, say 75% on pitcher and batter, maybe more. Usually low angles, with fans as the backdrop to Jeter and CC and company. It's been impossible to miss those fans. Self-respecting Yankee fans are intense, passionate and sometimes vulgar in an endearing, inebriated sort of way. Say what you will about manners, but they definitely care.

Well, ummm...have you seen the fans that are in majority of the shots? and thanks to Hi-Def, you almost get to know them. Yea, the plutocrats in the blue suits, at least those still in their seats. Yeah, those seats, the seats surrounded by a freakin moat to keep regular citizens out. On the phone, sipping (and I mean SIPPING) an occasional beer, talking business with other captains of industry, checking their watches, and then quietly exiting, emphasis on the word quiet, slipping into their limos for the ride back to Gotham. I don't think they raised the decibel meter once during these three games in the Bronx vs Texas.

On a personal note, I've been binging on schadendreude for most of these 6 games, and I actually feel for the real Yankee fans that are not only suffering a horsewhipping from the irrepressible Texas Rangers, but that their fandom is being represented for all the country to see by a bunch of Bernie Madoffs. Oh, I don't really feel for you Pinstripers. If you build a huge monument to greed and excess, they will come. You got what you paid for. And if a guy dressed as Cliff Lee knocks on your door this Halloween, be afraid, be very afraid.

Enjoy the off-season, it'll be here any minute.

New credibility for Fast Times

Took a recent trip down memory lane to the 80's via the cult classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High. In spite of its nonsensical themes embodied by the immortal Sean Penn, director Amy Heffering actually accomplished historical significance, something along the lines of George Lucas in American Graffiti. Now, you may want to debate what kind of turmoil was facing the free love/stoner set that was attending high school in the early 1980's in southern California, but there were lots of tough choices, especially for the females, to find a popular niche back then. I propose that this is a bookend film to Graffiti, and as Lucas captured the search for significance of the adolescents in the James Dean era, Heffering does the same in the Cheech and Chong 80's. A huge thumbs up to Penn for actually mastering Cheech's genre. His fantasy dream of being interviewed on national televsion after winning the surfing competition belongs in a time capsule in the Smithsonian. Bring plenty of Kleenex for the inescapable laughter it will generate.

Education from Frank McCourt

The late Frankie McCourt, author of two memoirs including Angela's Ashes, has the best quote I've ever heard about education and learning. From his Pulitzer-winning AA, he remembers his grade school teacher Hoppy O'Halloran's advice from his Limerick, Ireland public school:

"You have to study and learn so that you can make up your own mind about history and everything else, but you can't make up an empty mind. Stock your mind, stock your mind. It is your house of treasure and no one in the world can interfere with it. If you won the Irish sweepstakes and and bought a house that needed furniture would you fill it with bits and pieces of rubbish? Your mind is your house and if you fill it with rubbish from cinemas (and today's video screens) it will rot in your head. You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace."

Revenge of the Pole

She has spent the summer knocking off the powerful Russians. Although mass media loves to call her Danish with all the associations of blonde Scandinavia, Caroline Wozniacki is as Polish as they come, her dad just happened to be on a pro soccer gig in Denmark when she was born. Those of you with a working knowledge of European history know how the Russians and Soviets abused Poland for centuries, abuse that made a lot of Polish citizens yearn for the warm and fuzzy days of Nazi occupation after receiving special treatment from Joe Stalin and company. But that was then, and this is now.
Wozniacki has no inferiority complex when it comes to playing mother Russia, in fact she thrives on it, slapping around the likes of Zvonerova, Kuznetsova, Dementieva in her amazing summer run to this year's Open. It's enough to make a population of Poles stick out their chest a bit.
But with the arrival of Labor Day, Day 8 of the 2010 U.S. Open, reality looms. The queen of modern Russian players, the beautiful and deadly Maria Sharapova stands in the way of this 20 year old Pole and her dream of Grand Slam glory.
Sharapova already has two major titles, including the U.S.; she is the hottest player in the tournament, just through a double bagel bashing in the 3rd round, and she has nevedr lost to Wozniacki. Woz is now the darling of the women's tennis world, the It Girl, a status that used to belong to Sharapova and one that she desperately wants back.
It's an amazing 4th round matchup, future and former champions clashing in a crossroads match brimming with history. It's Poland vs Russia, youth vs experience, Wozniacki vs Sharapova, today, Labor Day, on the biggest stage in tennis.

Andy the Lion Heart?

You wonder if the Andy Murray era will come and go without a Major title. He may not be the one to carry the Grand Slam hopes of the British Isles on his shoulders. In one of the great theaters in tennis, a packed Louis Armstrong stadium in the fading light, Murray failed. Failed to win, failed to sink his teeth into a comeback, failed to even force a fifth and deciding set. He made his opponent Stan Wawrinka, the 25th seed, look like Rocky Balboa.

In a situation where all of New York was prepared to embrace Murray, he politely handed the match to a Swiss player no one had ever heard of.

It made you wonder where Tim Henman was. Henman may not have had the raw talent of Murray, but he had some fight in him. He battled Croatian gun slinger Goran Ivanisovic down to the last point in the Wimbledon semis, and made a habit of showing up in the Final Four in London. Murray lay down 6 weeks ago in his Wimbledon semi vs Nadal. You think about the fierce sporting crowd in back in Scotland, some true Bravehearts in their own right, and wonder what they are thinking of their boy Andy, whose shoulders seemed to narrow as the match progressed. With all of New York trying to will him into a fifth set, Murray seemed to be in a race with the setting sun. Body language be damned, he appeared to only care about the flight schedule for the Virgin red-eye back to London and beyond.

Both he and Wawrinka walked by the catering/production truck alley on their way to press. Wawrinka was bathed in healthy sweat, glowing in the golden hour of New York, exuding energy and confidence. Murray, head down, clothed in a white outfit matching his pale skin, avoided all eye contact. The incredible shrinking man, the man burdened by the weighty tennis hopes of Britain. For New York sports fans, this guy had nothin.

Requiem for a Contender

Men's pro tennis is brutally competitive: the entire tour is made up of supremely fit, supremely skilled athletes. Competitive advantages are razor thin, nearly indistinguishable. Unless you're Roger Federer, it's almost always confidence that determines who wins and loses, the confidence to propel one through the big points that dictates winning and losing. And in men's tennis, confidence usually comes from that one big victory against a name opponent, the so-called "breakthrough" match. And if you don't get that breakthrough early in your career, you go from being a 'future star' to an 'also-ran'. And that transition can be lightning quick. Ask Robert Kendrick.
Flash back to Wimbledon 2006. Kendrick was the new gunslinger on the tour, and one of those big American serving studs who had sailed through three qualifying rounds in London. He blitzed his first opponent in the main draw, and found himself taking a serious liking to grass. He marched out to Centre Court to take on the French champion. a guy named Nadal that hadn't proven a thing on grass, yet. On national television in the States and the U.K., Kendrick punished Nadal, short circuiting rallies with classic serve and volley tennis, jumping to a two set lead, and holding comfortably in the third. Announcers were already projecting his third round opponent; for a millisecond, the tennis world was his proverbial oyster. And then reality kicked in, and Rafa became Rafa, and in painstaking fashion, Kendrick was bled to death for three agonizing sets, Close enough to taste victory, but secretly learning the fear and loathing of defeat on the biggest stage. It was awful tasting, a taste he never quite got out of his mouth.
A month later he was rocking on the grass in Newport, rolling into the quarters to face a teenager named Andy Murray. The Scot knew a bit about grass, and demolished Kendrick, whose lost confidence cost him a nationally televised trip to the semis at the Hall of Fame Championships.
Fast Forward to Flushing 2010. Kendrick's raw skill earned him 3 victories in the Flushing Qualies. His skills match up quite favorably with summer sensation Mardy Fish. Fish has the edge on the volley, Kendrick is the superior ground stroker. But he is now a low-ranked journeyman, and the confidence from his run through the qualies was superficial. In another display of painstaking tennis failure, Kendrick threw away several chances to knock off a notable seed in his five set killing loss to Gael Monfils of France. There was no solace of having played a 5-set war in which he was nearly equal to the victor. Kendrick continued to curse himself as he sat down after the losing handshake. He is now a middle aged pro, no longer being considered for Wild Card entries into the big tourneys that are reserved for the up and comers. He is still searching for that breakthrough, a breakthrough that will probably die the death of failed confidence.

Girardi Town

As this item is being posted, Yankees skipper Joe Girardi is enjoying a homecoming in Chicago. 36 hours off in his kind of town. A town that has Joe's perfect job available for him: to manage the beloved north side Cubs. And his current Yankee gig expires in 2 months As Wallace Matthews reported on ESPN NY.com, Joe's deal is third on the Pinstripers priority list behind looming free agents Jeter and Riviera.
A quick look at the facts on Girardi: Born and raised in Illinois; Lifelong Cubs fan; 2 stints as a player in their organization; went to college within walking distance of Wrigley Field (Northwestern); Ailing dad (Alzheimers) living in Chicago; he prefers the National League style of play and managing.
Hell, Yankee fans who care about Girardi would urge him to take this gig. Yankee fans who might be worried about their club's long-term health might want to keep tabs on Joe G. today. Will he be hanging on the South Side with his current club, or the north side with his future club? If the Empire crumbles, this might be one of those dates you put in the historical time line.

Just Desserts for Montreal Director

She is a tournament director's dream, or should be, especially at the Canadian Open, especially in Montreal. We're talking about the former World #1 Ana Ivanovic, 2008 French Open champ who had her breakthrough moment in Montreal back in 2006, winner her first offical tour title. Current Tournament Director Eugene Lapierre concedes as much. "She's a player who has done a lot for out tournament--almost saved it one year. She has a lot of charisma. Everyone likes her."

An ideal candidate for a Wild Card. Due to injuries and distractions, Ivanovic's ranking slid to the mid 60's, preventing her from being admitted into the Canadian Open main draw. In July her manager sought a WC on her behalf. Lapierre was blunt, telling Team Ivanovic that he was saving the wild card for a native Canadian player. Fair enough; Ivanovic was prepared to play through the Canadian qualifying rounds in her comeback bid. That is until she read Lapierre's interview from his local paper the Montreal Gazette. Here were some of the more salient quotes from the loose-lipped Lapierre.

"She hasn't demonstrated that she deserves a wild card. She is the one who dropped down to number 65, and not because of an injury.

"If I were her coach, I would force her to play qualies."

Oops.

As the opening match of the 2010 Canadian Open approached, injuries took out the Williams sisters, Justine Henin and Sam Stosur, forcing LaPierre to backtrack, especially in light of Ivanovic's impressive run to the Semifinals of the big-name Cincinnati tour stop. "There's still a chance," said Lapierre a week prior to the tourney. "Especially now that Ana is playing like a top 10 player again. Stand by for developments." It was a bit late for stand-by's. Ana's response was posted on her web site.

"I would have been happy to play qualifying, but I felt they stepped over the line with this (Montreal Gazette) interview, making public our correspondence and misrepresenting it. I don't feel welcome."

Ouch.

Fast Forward to here and now. On the day when the next women's event is scheduled to commence, Sunday August 22 in New Haven, Lapierre is under an umbrella with his hand out, wondering what else could possibly go wrong for his tournament. On a day when trophies should have been handed out, checks written, players kissed and then escorted to the airport, Lapierre has barely completed the quarterfinals. Two days of relentless rain has turned his magnificent stadium into an expensive ghost town. The Wozniacki/Kuznetsova semifinal, that could see the just-turned-20-year-old Wozniacki clinch a #1 seed at the U.S. Open, turned into a comedic soccer exhibition in what was essentially a mausoleum. Fans are being asked to show up at 10 AM for simultaneous semifinals on Monday, with a separate admission Championship match at 1:30.

What brutal circumstances for players, fans, and most significantly, tournament director Eugene LaPierre. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

Intrusions into Phil Simms world

The man with seemingly all the good things in life, but there's that word, life, which has a funny way of leveling the playing field. The family man who dissects football games for America has had a rough year, a year in which he really hasn't done anything wrong.

A year ago his brilliant and beautiful niece, Natasha Collins died from Leukemia. This was shortly after graduating from Yale Medical School.

A month ago Simms' son Chris was busted at 2 Am in NYC and charged with driving under the influence of Marijuana.

A week ago, Phil's brother in law Tedd Collins was exposed as a serial money fraud and cheat by the NY Times. His sister Mary Anne was named in one of the scandals, trying to rip off a female pastor at a church in South Carolina.

Phil's been working out with Chris at an astroturf park in the wealthy NJ suburbs. When practice is over, he scales the 3 foot fence and returns to his estate on the adjacent property without revealing himself to the other park visitors. You can't blame the man for trying to tighten his circle. Life can intrude on even "perfect" lives.

Mandi's "Hero," the strange case of Tedd Collins IV

The potentially tragic story of Yale hockey player/Leukemia victim Mandi Schwartz has taken a bizarre turn this past week, thanks to some exhaustive reporting by a gang of five reporters at the New York Times and a Florida Fire and Rescue paramedic who raised his hand. Martin Reinholz, the EMT from Jacksonville reads newspapers on line, and saw the man who swindled him out of $200,000 featured as the heroic advocate for Mandi Schwartz's life and death search for a matching blood donor. That would be Tedd Collins IV, the man featured on ABC World News Tonight, ESPN and the New York Times. As has been happening ever more frequently with Collins this past decade, the s*** hit the fan.

Prior to the Times superb investigative reporting, American mainstream media had previously been satisfied with bios like "Doctor," "Clinical Immunologist" and "Grieving Father," for the enigmatic Collins. In the easy-to-digest story of Mandi's survival struggle, Collins was a father adhering to his dying daughter's final request to help another Yale victim of Leukemia, Mandi Schwartz. Natasha Collins was a Yale med student when she succumbed to the disease last summer. And all those characterizations of Collins are true, by and large. Except that Collins hadn't really been a doctor for over a decade. But he has been an angel of sorts to the Schwartz family, creating web sites and generating much needed publicity for their daughter's cause. “From our end, he’s worked tirelessly in finding cord blood for Mandi, and that was his main cause," said Mandi's dad Rick Schwartz from Wilcox, Saskatchewan.

There is an extraordinary disconnect between the man devoted to saving a tragic figure's life, and the Tedd Collins who is being investigated by the FBI, the IRS and the Secret Service for fraud and various felonious schemes. CT attorney general Richard Blumenthal is circling for a kill as well. The Times unearthed an almost comical tale of outrageous lies and scandals that Collins has been perpetrating in the decade since he left the labs of Bristol- Meyers Squibb. Here's a laundry list of lies, deception and scandal that will result in the ultimate demise of Collins, and nearly everyone he has come in contact with: started an Internet Service Provider which went out of business in a year; tried to deposit $22M in counterfeit checks in a bank account he controlled; claimed to manage a 152 BILLION (with a 'B') dollar gold mine so he could vouch for the $100 Million of scam money he was handling for a bogus hedge fund; conducted investing seminars at African American churches in South Carolina where he preyed on unsuspecting investors; falsified real estate documents of an octogenarian couple to illegally transfer titles and score mortgage loans. The guy was bad, and nationwide. And in the ultimate irony, the transgression that burst his facade as a do-gooder in the name of both his own and Rick Schwartz's daughter: whistle-blower Martin Reinholz said that Collins went AWOL after he had invested $200,000. in a trust for Reinholz' daughter. I guess the guy's love for daughters has its limitations.

The deeper you dig, the wackier Collins bio gets. He married NY QB legend Phil Simms sister, Mary Anne. They declared bankruptcy together in 2005. Mary Anne was named in the investigation for ripping off a female pastor in South Carolina for $100,000. Charities in New Haven have funneled $11,000. to Collins through an unsuspecting pastor at Church on the Rock in New Haven. “Everything that has come in has gone right back to him,” said Pastor Todd Foster of the money. “We entrusted him to do what he has purported to do.” No one, other than Collins, has seen that money.

So who is Tedd Collins? Angelic savior? Professional swindler and national con artist? Grieving father? How about all of the above. And a bit of an addict. Probably to money and attention, all those timeless human foibles. But very human, and that's what makes this story so compelling. A victim of recent history's two great bubble bursts, the Internet and housing. But he doesn't stop. His latest Internet posting had him offering up to 10 Mac IPads to the Facebook friends of Mandi who generate the most contacts with hospitals in search of cord blood. Good intentions, a design that brings good feelings followed by disappointment. He can't help himself.

Faced with awful financial setbacks, he continued to reinvent himself and latch on to new investors, keeping that dream alive. Whatever that dream is, some media-inflated bastardization of the American Dream which includes fame and fortune. Hey, he had Dianne Sawyer lead to his story on ABC. He was sold to American viewers as a caring doctor. Is he a clinical immunologist, or a manager of a Billion Dollar gold mine? An investment manager or a real estate tycoon? He is whatever we choose to believe. Soon he will be behind bars. And yet his heart remains open, despite a dearth of common sense. He wants to pay back the debtors back as soon as he is solvent again. Of course he does, and so do the vast amount of Americans who are saddled with unmangaeable debt. We may now hate Dr. Tedd, but we also know him. He is us.

He has honored his daughter and raised awareness of this deadly disease. Hospitals. mothers and laypeople nationwide now know the vital significance of blood from umibilical cords. And good Lord willing, if Mandi finds her match and is saved by a successful transplant next month in Seattle, the Schwartz family will be thanking Dr. Collins for the rest of their lives. But it appears that Collins' manic run as a free man in these United States will soon be coming to a close.

Kudos to the NYTimes team of investigative journalists who uncovered this story after the Martin Reinholz call to arms: Tom Kaplan, Stephanie Saul, Barry Meier, Rebecca Cathcart and Alan Delaqueriere.

Another Pinstripe funeral

There was a time when a full back page in a NY tabloid would constitute news. Friday's scoop by Bill Madden, about how none of the Yankees made Bob Sheppard's funeral, was essentially ignored in the national broadcast on Saturday by Fox and friends. In the old days, you just put up the newspaper, because a published report meant that news had been made, and required a comment. Then you get a rebuttal, a few opinions, and journalism is alive and well. Not as far as I could tell. I watched as much of the Fox broadcast as I could justify, and never saw a mention. It was a day for paying homage to the pinstripers, not to question their hearts.

Bill Madden appeared on radio station WFAN, stood by his story, and called the superficial newscasters who questioned his story as people "who didn't do their homework." The pinstripe propaganda was that an accident made the commute to the funeral impractical. Horsespit according to Madden, a hard boiled baseball/newspaper man. Now that's good theater in the guise of journalism. Two sides, plenty of tension, viewer makes a choice. Keeps the discussion lively, makes the viewer an important part of the equation, as the court of public opinion gets shaped.

But instead we had a well-scripted homage to the World's Most Powerful Sports Franchise. And what self-respecting TV sports entertainer wants to get on the bad side of the Yanks? Wish they brought Madden in for an inning. Seam dreams, it seems. Add journalism to the list of deaths in the Bronx this week.

Kingsolver Wisdom

60-something Mom Alice speaks to 40 yr old daughter Taylor in novel Pigs in Heaven. The beautiful Taylor has just complained about putting on a few pounds.

"Taylor, I have never heard you run yourself down before. You'd just as well jump off a bridge than to start in like that." Alice closes the washing machine lid and sighs. "When I was in my 30's and had these square little hips left over from being pregnant and I just hated it. I kept thinking, 'all those years, I had a perfect glamour girl body, and I didn't spend one minute appreciating it because I thought my nose had a bump on it.' And now I'm old and my shoulder hurts and I dont sleep good and my knuckles swell up and I think, 'All those years in my 30's and 40's I had a body where everything worked perfect. And I didn't spend one minute appreciating it because I thought I had square hips.' "

Taylor smiles. "I take your point."

pro Tennis flash...gambling at the Casino!

Horses for Courses

Newport...2nd week of July. Front page news in Newport Daily News and the Providence Journal on Saturday the 10th, yes a slow news day, was the report of extraordinary gambling action on a first round match between British qualifier Richard Bloomfield and Christophe Rocchus. A nothing match, right? Except that a British gambling site fielded over a million pounds sterling on that match, including a massive bump after the first set.

Since when is an otherwise inoccuous match, essentially the lowest ranked match you'll ever find on the official ATP tour, worthy of such extreme betting action? The anti-corruption Tennis Integrity Unit (TIU) raised a red flag and began an official investigation.

The national cable sports outfit covering the event never touched the story, and why would they? Their mission was to sell the tournament, the sport, the event. Tennis lifers Barry Mackay on Donald Dell would never be confused with Edward R. Murrow, nor should they be.

So let's use this forum to explore. The pro tennis gambling that caused the formation of the TIU was generated by Russian mobsters who went after the families of countrymen to exploit an unregulated gambling system that allows a bettor to wager before and DURING a match. The watershed moment was 3 years ago when word #4 Nik Davydenko withdrew from a match he was winning with a "sore toe," allowing a longshot to score a big win, with the overwhelming majority of the money was on the longshot. It clearly smelled, and it was easy to connect the dots. The only reason it didn't fully unravel was that cooler heads were worried for the health Davydenko's family back in mother Russia. Boris Badenov implied that their health was in jeapordy unless Nik gave them the inside dope on the sore toe. The toe got worse but the wife and kids stayed healthy--almost a happy ending.

The only pro tennis player ever sanctioned by a TIU ruling was Russian journeywoman Ekaterina Bychkova (this really is her name, Bitch-kova) who got hit with a $5K fine and a 30 day suspension for not reporting that Russky mobsters were seeking inside dope. This follows the same theme as the Davydenko affair. You can almost imagine Moscow's answer to Paulie Walnuts and Michael hatching this plot in a Russian episode of the Sopranos.

But what about the Bloomfield debacle? Just before the match started, Bloomfield was a 4-1 favorite. Bloomfield hadn't won an official tour match in over 3 years, and suddenly he's a 4-1 favorite? Counterintuitive is an understatement. Oh, and just to give the story some legs, here's another key ingredient--that single tour match he won three years ago? It's also under investigation because of lopsided gambling money. Guy wins two matches in 3 years, and both light up the queer meter because of absurd gambling money movement. WTF?

There's actually a theory that makes sense, and it doesn't require a visit to Vladimir's Soprano's Meat Shop in suburban Moscow to roll it out. Most sports people are familiar with the betting axiom "Horses for courses." When it's raining, bet on the mudder. If a horse can't run on turf, leave it alone. Let's apply the theory to humans and grass court tennis. Lawn tennis is only played one month a year on the pro-tour, and the clay-loving South Americans and many Europeans hate it. No rallies, mostly serve and volley. Highly ranked "clay pigeons," guys who make their living outlasting opponents with lengthy rallies in five-hour matches in the dirt, get crushed at Wimbledon. Any self-respecting gambler in England knows that fellows comfortable on grass have a huge edge over those that aren't. Richard Bloomfield spent much of his playing life on grass. Davis Cup here, Queens Club there, nearly all of his training was on the soggy sod of jolly old England. This is just the kind of edge a wise bettor loves.

So here are the facts: Bloomfield is ranked 392 rungs below Rocchus going into their July 6 1st-round match, 160 to 552. A nothing match barely makes the board, listed as even money (who cares!).  Money starts rolling in on this British gambling site Betfair. (Again, these names are not made up.) Moments before first ball, Bloomfield money has caused a huge swing in the odds to 4-1 against #552 Bloomfield. By the time the second set rolls around, the odds are 8-1 for the 552nd ranked player in the world, a tall pasty Brit with a big serve against a short Euro clay courter. A no-brainer, if you're versed in grass court competition. The money is coming in from London, not Leningrad; these British cats go through it every June searching for flawed odds on daily Wimbledon action.

Oh, and that other Bloomfield match from 2007 that was investigated for unusual gambling $ movement? A Wimbledon first rounder. Case closed. No mobsters, no Po-Russkies involved. Simply a matter of horses for courses. Vladimir and Paulie should take notes, grass court tennis might keep the authorities at bay.

British Wimby dream dies, and other odds and ends heading into Holiday weekend

men's final 8 at Wimby all from different nations, same as 2009...Last night on Rachel Maddow she spent 20 minutes dissecting the Nike World Cup commercial curse; must have been a slow left-wing news day...Joe Torre's old Brooklyn teachin pal Charlie O'Neill claims that Joe is retiring for sure this October. Charlie should know, his son Tim manages Joe's celebrity golf tourney and other ventures..."If you're British tennis fan, it just got a whole lot darker." Radio Wimbledon talent Nick Dye after Nadal breaks back to level the third set. "You really fear for Murray out here."...correction on Dye's broadcast partner is Lucie Ahl, not Samantha Lloyd..."It's been a good party here on Centre court, but with a strong Iberian (Nadal) flavor." Ctr court late cry fan chants "Do it for Beckham!"... MP at 2:21 into the match. It's over. "It was simply too good for Nadal today, bullied Murray from start to finish." "Disappointment for the British crowd, everyone on Henman hill, you saw the body language drop out." Beckham not much of an omen, everywhere he goes, failure follows."...they'll be crying in their pints over there.

Wimby

World's #1 (Nadal) vs Britain's #1 (Murray) with a trip to the Wimbledon Finals at stake. NBC showing tape of the first set, so I'm listening to the second set Tiebreak live on Wimbledon radio. LOVE the bias. Tennis strike by stroke on radio with admitted bias and thick British accents, fantastic stuff.

A mini break...they might as well be calling Dunkirk. Samantha Lloyd and Nick Dye providing the intense drama. "Back to back aces by Murray, how great is that?" 5-4 in the TB.

Then passing shot ticks the net, fooling Murray for a critical point. Dye exclaims:


"Rough justice for Murray, just off the tape. The apology from the Spaniard. He needs to apologize to 15,000 fans. the only people standing here or the 10 in Nadal's box."

a point later, Nadal closes out the tiebreak, taking a two set to love lead.

"This place has gotten very, very quiet."

Radio is the best medium for sports if the listener is willing to use their imagination. Hearing a Brit tilting at Wimbledon glory from a couple of BBC throats is the equivalent of a world class meal. Sure beats waiting 90 minutes for NBC's tape machines to get up to speed.