Discussing Wes Johnson's departure, Mariano's wonder and Jim Nantz's attacks on Tiger

Some mock NBA drafts have Wes Johnson going as early as the third overall pick behind only Kentucky’s John Wall and Ohio State’s Evan Turner. Those projections are probably too high. I believe Wes will be selected somewhere between 6-10 overall and have a solid but not all-star caliber career in the NBA.

He is a go-with-the-flow-rather than a go-to player, who lacks both the talent and drive of a Carmelo Anthony. That’s not a knock. Heck, few have the talent and drive of Melo, who has the potential to become a Hall-of-Famer down the road. When all is said and done, I think Wes’ NBA career will be closer to those of former SU stars Billy Owens (11.3 points per game; 6.7 rebounds pg) and Louis Orr (9 ppg; 4 rpg.) than Melo’s.

• Two things about the incomparable Mariano Rivera continue to amaze: one, that he’s still getting guys out with basically one pitch – his cutter – and, two, that his 40-year-old arm is seemingly as elastic as a 30-year-old’s.

• Jim Nantz is a nice man and a solid announcer. But he always struck me more as a master-of-ceremonies than a journalist of the events he covers. So, it’s been somewhat surprising to see him do the talk-show circuit the past few days and criticize Tiger Woods’ profanity. I would have respected Nantz’ opinion more if he had taken on Woods’ lack of golf decorum before Tiger became a punch line. I don’t know where Jim has been, but Woods has always been profane on the course and within the ear-shot of impressionable young fans and television microphones. Heck, I took him to task for such behavior following his F-bomb filled first round at the 2003 PGA at Oak Hill.

• Another indication that a Tiger doesn’t change his stripes was evident during his post Master’s interview. You’d think that, given the circumstances surrounding Phil Mickelson and his wife and mother battling breast cancer, that Woods could have shown a little class and at least congratulated the winner and recognized the enormity of the moment. Instead, as usual, Woods was totally fixated on his narcissistic self.

• GIVE US A CALL: Friend and co-author Jim Mandelaro and I will be talking about our revised book, Silver Seasons and a New Frontier: The Story of the Rochester Red Wings, on Bob Matthews’ radio show on WHAM 1180 AM Thursday evening from 7-8. Please give us a call at 222-1180, *1180 for Verizon subscribers or 1-800-295-1180. Also, my taped interview about the book with Chet Walker will air on WHAM Friday morning at 7:18.

Opining on Tiger, RIT hockey and the retirement of Rochester hoops coach Mike Neer

Got a kick out of Masters chairman Billy Payne giving Tiger Woods a lecture on morality Wednesday. Hmmm, if I’m not mistaken isn’t the Masters held at Augusta National, a country club that didn’t allow African-American members until about 20 years ago and still doesn’t allow female members? Given the restrictions of where this “tradition unlike any other’’ golf tournament is held, I think I’d leave the moralizing to someone else if I were Mr. Payne.

• Speaking of Tiger, I found his new Nike commercial a desperate attempt to clean up his image with the aid of his strongest sponsor and his deceased father. In the commercial we see the golfer with the serious sexual fidelity issues staring stoically into a camera while his dad, Earl Woods says: “To promote discussion, I want to find out what your thinking was. I want to find out what your feelings are. And did you learn anything?’’ The camera then zooms in on Tiger’s face as flash bulbs go off, apparently representing the media’s glare. I wish Tiger’s advisors would realize that there is no magic wan that will instantly make up for his transgressions. Contrition and trust are built over time. Stop with the feeble spin-doctoring attempts, play golf to the best of your ability, continue to receive counseling for your problems and attempt to make amends to your wife and your kids.

• These are the times when I miss being a sports columnist here in Rochester. You have the Rochester Institute of Technology hockey team gunning for a Division I national championship. You have the retirement of legendary University of Rochester basketball coach Mike Neer after 34 seasons and you have the Red Wings opening the International League baseball season. Lots of stuff to opine about.

Should RIT come home from the Frozen Four with a title it would rank as one of the top sports stories in Rochester history, right up there with the Ryder Cup, the Royals winning the NBA championship, Sammy Urzetta’s victory in the U.S. Amateur golf tournament and Abby Wambach scoring the gold-medal-winning goal at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens.

Here’s hoping that regardless how the Tigers fare that the powers that be at RIT start raising funds for a much-larger ice rink to replace Ritter Arena (capacity 2,100). The time to strike is now, while the excitement is so high.
RIT’s exciting run reminds me of their last national hockey championship back in 1985. I was there in Schenectady when coach Bruce Delventhal guided the Tigers to a 5-1 win vs. Bemidji State. I’ll never forget captain Blaise MacDonald’s response when I asked him to sum up his feelings. He said: “I’m so excited I have goose bumps on my finger nails.’’ Great quote.
Coach Neer’s retirement signals the end of an era for the Yellowjackets. I was there, too, covering UR’s national basketball championship back in 1990 as Neer’s boys nipped DePauw University (alma mater of former vice president Dan Qualye), 43-42, in the lowest-scoring title game in DIII annals. Mike was always a classy guy to deal with and as his 563 victories attest, he knew hoops.
Oldtimers may remember that Neer was second choice for the Rochester job. The first choice was a guy from nearby Lyons by the name of Jim Boeheim. Jimmy B withdrew his name from consideration when his alma mater, Syracuse, finally woke up and promoted him to head coach after Roy Danforth left the Orange men. I’d say things worked out nicely for both coaches and their schools.

Sorry, people. It was just an April Fool's joke.

OK, folks, it’s the day after April 1st, so it’s time for me to fess up. The blog I wrote – or should I say concocted – yesterday about me landing a job with the Yankees and Beth starting up a pet-sitting business in the Big Apple was an April Fool’s Day joke.

Yes, it has been a struggle since I left the newspaper business and, yes, the stuff about the four books I’m going to be publishing was true. But Beth and I aren’t going anywhere - though some of my friends and relatives might want to run me out of town after falling for my prank.

Even my son was duped. He actually called me from the University at Buffalo yesterday to congratulate me. And my college roommate also left me a message to tell me how happy he was for me before realizing he had been had. Several friends said they were disappointed – not that they had been fooled, but rather that they weren’t going to be able to hit me up for Yankee tickets.

One reader brought up the greatest sporting hoax of all – Sidd Finch. Some of you might remember that fictitious tale spun by George Plimpton in a cover story in the April 1, 1985 issue of Sports Illustrated magazine. The article told of a pitcher in the Mets organization who could throw the ball 168 mph and who had studied to be a yogi (no relation to Mr. Berra) in Tibet. SI included photographs of Finch conversing with then-Mets pitching coach Mel Stottlemeyre and outfielder Lenny Dykstra. Scores of readers fell for it hook, line and sinker. It wasn’t until two issues later that the magazine ran a story telling folks that it all was a ruse.

My friend and long-time newspaper colleague, John Moriello, works for FoxSports.com, and he told me that Nike pulled a fast one yesterday that had him and other reputable reporters and editors scrambling. Nike boasted of discovering a junior college wide receiver who was 6-foot-7 and ran the 40-yard dash in a record 3.9 seconds. Only one problem with this unreal prospect. He was unreal, as in he didn’t exist. Needless to say, John and other reputable journalists were ticked at Nike.

When I was talking to my college roommate, Ed Shaw, last night, he told me how excited he was for me as he was reading yesterday’s blog, and how peeved he became when he discovered it wasn’t true. “Scott,’’ he admonished, “don’t do that again.’’

I promised him I wouldn't 364 out of 365 days of the year.

Thanks for going along with the gag, folks. You’re all good sports.

* I'd like to congratulate my good friend and vintage base ball teammate Max Robertson on his retirement from Greece Arcadia Middle School, where he was a long-time art teacher. As I told him the other day, the teaching profession has lost a great one, and I'm not "fooling" when I say that. Also, I'm happy to report that Max's better half, Kathy, is recuperating from her recent surgery and getting stronger every day.

My kinda, sort of farewell blog

I won't lie to you. It's been a financial and emotional struggle since I left the newspaper business 15 months ago after a 35-year career as an ink-stained wretch.

There have been some triumphs - three books written that will be published this year with a fourth on the way next year - and a lot of deadends while trying to reinvent myself. There were times when my lovely bride, Beth, and I wondered if we would be able to keep our home.

But I've always been an eternal optimist and I felt if we kept plugging away that everything would work out.

Well, after many ups and downs, our ship has finally arrived and, fortunately, we weren't at the airport when it did.

I have landed a job as the new director of publications for the New York Yankees and Beth is going to start her own pet-sitting business in the Big Apple. I will be in charge of putting out the Yankees media guide and yearbook and coordinating their annual Oldtimers Day. Beth, meanwhile, will be spending plenty of time pampering the cats and dogs of the rich and famous.

The only sad part about this scenario is that we will have to leave behind family and friends and a community that has been so special to us.

But NYC is just a 5-hour car ride and 45-minute flight away, so we'll be back often.

I want to take this time to thank you readers for your wonderful support of my blog since we launched it roughly a year ago. And Beth wants to thank the legion of listeners who tuned into her morning show with Chet Walker these past 20 years. We're going to miss you.

If you are ever in the Big Apple, please look us up. You can find me at the Big Ballpark in the Bronx and Beth walking a gaggle of dogs along the streets of Manhattan.

Until we meet again . . . HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S DAY.