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."