No-No? No.

By now, loyal readers are familiar with my thoughts on the 2007 Toronto Blue Jays, but this afternoon, all that realism and skepticism took a well deserved day off.

On a day when I was reacquainted with broadcasting veteran (and Hockey Night in Canada heir apparent) Jim Hughson and booth rookie Jesse Barfield, there was much to talk about. Ironically, though, it was what wasn’t being mentioned that was the story. Toronto starter Dustin McGowan, coming off a rough outing against the Dodgers on Tuesday but having pitched five quality starts beforehand, flirted with history. The 25-year-old took a no-hitter into the top of the 9th inning, and CBC handled the event with tremendous tact, especially given the following factors:

While a no-no is in progress (ie. it’s at least the 6th inning and a pitcher has yet to allow a hit), it is a “no-no” to mention the no-hitter. You just don’t. It’s an unwritten baseball rule, like the tit-for-tat hit-by-pitch code. It’s been that way for over one hundred years, and those who violate it often suffer the consequences. The pitcher approaching the feat is always alone on the bench during his run at history, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. No one wants to be the one to jinx it for him, and he doesn’t want to ruin it for himself. These are baseball institutions, as storied as the seventh-inning stretch or chewing tobacco.

It’s harder than it seems to avoid mentioning something like this while it is in progress. As a broadcaster, it’s your duty to both describe the events unfolding in front of you and provide historical comparisons and insight to balance those events. You must not anger the baseball gods by mentioning it, but you feel it’s necessary as the central story of the game. For the three men entrusted with this difficult task, it must have been similar to how George Constanza felt when he had to keep the secret that Jon Lovitz’s character never had cancer. The one key difference?

The CBC did not once refer to what was taking place, with Hughson, Barfield and Rance Mulliniks fully aware but cautiously avoiding the ‘other’ n-word. No no-hitter-related images or statistics were shown. Nothing. We’ve all seen broadcasts in which the crew realizes what’s happening and brings up graphics putting it in context. These, of course, are now members of the oh-so-memorable One-Hitter Club.

But give the public broadcaster credit. Sunday’s contest was only its second baseball telecast since 2002 (and for Hughson, just his second baseball game in thirteen years). As the game progressed, I kept waiting for someone in the three-man broadcast team to say “no-hitter”, “history” or anything else that would have sealed their fate and ruined the afternoon. But it never came, and for that, they are to be commended.

I was wondering who would blow it first, and this actually became a great sub-plot. Barfield was the obvious choice, being the least experienced, having interrupted both Hughson and Mulliniks throughout the game and having shown unpredictable bursts of emotion (as Frank Thomas’ 499th home run was leaving the yard, Hughson was calling it when suddenly Barfield shouted “See ya!” over top of the play-by-play call). After all was said and done, though, the only times we heard the dreaded words came after McGowan gave up the hit to Jeff Baker to lead off the final frame.

Hughson showed no rust whatsoever and picked up right where he left off (the strike-shortened 1994 season, if you recall). It was a bit like Marv Albert calling a hockey game (yes, he has done Rangers broadcasts) or Al Michaels doing basketball. You know it’s not their forte, but they still do a fantastic job.

Mulliniks was his usual self. He is a very knowledgeable baseball man and articulates his thoughts well, but he tries to dominate a little too much and it sometimes shows. Twice during Sunday’s broadcast, he made predictions which turned out to be inaccurate and it hurt his credibility. In one instance, he suggested a batter would take a 3-1 pitch, but when the hitter grounded out instead of taking one, Mulliniks berated him for the next few minutes and defended his strategy. Look, Rance. Even the best broadcasters make mistakes. It’s dealing with them professionally that makes them the best.

Oh, and McGowan? Suffocating stuff on Sunday. Alliterations aside, his control was never in doubt. He mixed pitches well (credit Greg Zaun for managing the game well while facing a strong Colorado lineup) and dominated from start to finish. His only blemishes were the Baker hit and the walk he issued to Kaz Matsui in the fourth inning. Sure, it would have been just the second no-hitter in the history of the franchise and the first since Dave Stieb shut down Cleveland on September 2, 1990, but it was a terrific performance nonetheless.

As Mulliniks said this afternoon, “He finally gets it.” Six quality starts in his last seven outings? That’s nothing to stay quiet about.

Check the Ticker…With One Eye Covered

I love the ticker. I hate the ticker. I love the ticker. I hate the ticker.

Every sports fan knows the agony, joy and temptation caused by that single line at the bottom of their television screen. Chances are you’ve developed a love/hate relationship with it. For me, every ticker memory I have falls into one of three categories:

The Broken Elevator Cable: You miss that all-important game and are so worried about a season-ending defeat that you start to get butterflies in your stomach. You burst into the room and flick on the tube. Then comes the calm before the storm, as you sit there, tapping your foot nervously while the scores roll around. Finally, the elevator cable snaps as your game flashes on the screen.

Them 6
Us 5

You feel guilty about missing such a critical game, even it was for your cousin’s wedding (or, of course, the standard family dinner that your parents convince you to attend because “you won’t see your relatives for a long time after this…until next weekend.”) Soon, the guilt leaves and you’re left searching frantically for the highlights and an answer to the question, “How the hell did that happen?”

But finding them just makes it worse. [I've come to realize that actually watching the game and losing is much better than missing it, catching a few clips and sound bytes and wondering what happened in between.] The cable car plummets further down the shaft and then hits rock bottom as it suddenly dawns on you: either a. the season is over, b. your team now faces an insurmountable deficit, or c. although you rarely bet, you decided this one time to place a large sum on the game thinking it was a mortal lock and you just lost it all.

The Non-Sexual Happy Ending: You debated all night between your best friend’s birthday bash and the most important game of the season before finally deciding to head out for the night. The bars you hit up don’t have televisions and if they do, they’re showing a movie on TBS or MuchMusic videos. You stumble home, burst in the door (knocking over at least one plant along the way) and collapse on your bed, ready to pass out. You’re all but unconscious when it hits you.

“OH MY GOD, THE GAME!”

The TV flicks on and you scan the sports channels to see who still has a ticker going at 4 a.m. [Remember, this includes memories from before the internet era when scores were less instantaneous, and also before the all-night-and-all-morning highlight show era.] You’re seeing double, but you’re seeing the scores, and that’s all that counts. After a few minutes, you can feel it coming and it gets to your sport. Then, it flashes on screen.

“WE WON! WE F&@#ING WON!”

Call me lame, call me a loser, call me whatever you want. But I will use this opportunity to admit that I have Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” on my computer for times like this. You just can’t duplicate the moment, and hearing the song takes me back to every other time it happened and the euphoria experienced in those early morning hours, half-drunk, fist-pumping and yelling without anyone in ear shot. There’s a small tinge of “I should have been a better fan and stayed home for this,” but the sheer joy of the result (and the alcohol left flowing through your veins) drowns it out. When the evening began, you had a dilemma. In the end, you had a great night of bonding with your buddies AND your team pulled out the crucial victory. It doesn’t get any sweeter.

The Hiroshima: The previous two are caused by scores of games you know are coming. With this one, though, there is no way to prepare. It can happen any time, and it will. Sooner or later, and without warning, the bomb will drop. Examples of the Hiroshima include: blockbuster trades, arrests, positive drug tests, injury diagnoses, free agent signings, motorcycle accidents, hirings, firings, milestones and broken records.

If we could catch every important game, we would. But the reality is, we have lives and things will inevitably come up. When they do, the ticker will be right there to keep us on the edge of our seat. Or, it will catch us completely off guard. Either way, we’ll keep an eye on it, waiting for that breaking story that changes everything.

Baseball. Yep, It’s Happening.

Sure, it’s only June, but plenty has already transpired in Major League Baseball. In case you’ve been living in a cave or are one of the many “I-dont-start-watching-until-August-when-the-games-start-to-matter” folks, there have been a few things to catch up on. We’ve seen fights, scandals and many surprises thus far. It’s a six-month marathon, so we’ll forgive you if you haven’t paid close attention yet. So, to keep you in the conversation at the water cooler, here are four things you may have missed in the first few months of the 2007 baseball season:

1. The Milwaukee Brewers are a first-place team. So it’s in the National League Central, perennially one of baseball’s worst divisions. Who cares? The Brew Crew have climbed to the top thanks to a 34-29 record (stunning, I know). The real story here is that St. Louis, Houston and Chicago (more on that later) have sputtered out of the gate. Big deal. There’s plenty of time left, but it’s nice to see a proud baseball city enjoying some moderate success early. Plus, with Prince Fielder and Tony Gwynn, Jr., they give us one of the only ’80s flashbacks we actually want to have.

2. Apparently, it’s possible to pitch at Coors Field. Meet Jeff Francis. The 26-year-old Vancouverite is now in his fourth year in the pitching hell that is Denver, Colorado. But guess what? His ERA is actually under 600,000. The promising young arm is 5-5 with a 3.81 ERA. He has gone at least seven innings in his last eight starts despite the thin, homer-inducing Rocky Mountain air. Get him on a contending team and he is capable of 15-18 wins, even though he looks like the last guy on the Little League team to have his growth spurt.

3. Alex Rodriguez is leading the majors in home runs, runs batted in and controversial headlines. A-Rod had quite a trip to Toronto a couple weeks ago. There was, of course, the “Mine!” incident, during which Rodriguez yelled at and startled Howie Clark just as the Blue Jays third baseman was settling under a routine fly ball. Just one day earlier, the headline makers were on cloud nine as the Yankees slugger was caught with an unidentified blonde woman outside the Four Seasons Hotel downtown. It should be noted that the rest of the Bronx Bombers were staying at the Park Hyatt, another hotel just down the block. Take that for what it is. By the way, Rodriguez has 24 homeruns and 63 RBIs. He sure makes it hard to appreciate his gifts, doesn’t he? Rodriguez has now joined Barry Bonds in the “Talented Jerk” department, and it only took him a couple days in May.

4. If Chicago is the Windy City, the Cubs are a Category 5 right now. This is not what Lou Piniella signed up for. After hauling in Alfonso Soriano, Cliff Floyd and Jason Marquis (among others), the Cubs expected big things this season. Well, they got big things alright. A heated dugout dust-up between Carlos Zambrano and Michael Barrett was the unexpected product of the team blowing a five-run lead to Atlanta on June 1. Then, Piniella himself decided to get in on the act, bumping umpire Mark Wegner in a late-game tirade on June 4 against, you guessed it, Atlanta. Sweet Lou was suspended for four games for what many called a desperate attempt to unify a truly discombobulated club. There is still a lot of baseball to be played and they do play in the N.L. Central, but the panic button has been pushed in Chicago.

Honourable mentions have to go out to Gary Sheffield’s remarks about Latino players and Torii Hunter’s response.

You’re barbecuing, heading to the beach and drinking on the patio, so it must be summer. It’s time to start watching baseball.

A League at the Crossroads: Welcome to the 2007 NBA Finals

I wasn’t going to weigh in on this for another day or two, but after checking out the always entertaining thoughts provided by Dave Ling over at The Vortex, I couldn’t resist. Ling made a bold prediction and took the feel-good Cavs in six games. You can’t blame him for coming down with a case of LeBronitis, the fever that has now gripped (almost) everyone in NBA circles. As usual, I have to be the bad guy and give everyone a dose of reality. Let’s just get this out of the way before we get to the goods: San Antonio is winning this series, whether you like it or not (and clearly, not many people do).

Predictions aside though, this series represents many things for the NBA. For one, it’s the classic meeting of the old and the new. It signals the arrival of the league’s new ambassador and may usher in a new era regardless of the outcome (really?). Actually, it’s eerily similar to the 1991 Finals. Follow me on the parallels here. In ‘91, the Chicago Bulls, an up-and-coming team led by a dominant, young star defeated the Los Angeles Lakers (the old guard, thanks to three titles and five Finals appearances in seven years). The Bulls reached new heights with their Michael Jordan-fueled title win and never looked back, joining the NBA’s legendary dynasties. The Lakers were fading and it was the dawn of a new era. Well, in 2007, we have much the same scenario. Now that we’ve put it in context, it’s time for a reality check.

Don’t get me wrong. Cleveland is a great story. “King” LeBron James has officially been sworn in. Daniel Gibson is now an instant household name. Zydrunas Ilgauskas is playing the best basketball of his career. Anderson Varejao is the spark that every successful team needs. The future looks tremendously bright for the wine-and-gold.

But these are the Spurs. As a former ESPN.com Fantasy Basketball correspondent for the Cavaliers, you’d think I would be driving the bandwagon. Guess again. Are we forgetting San Antonio won three titles in seven years? Sure, they’re about as exciting as Al Gore. Sure, their franchise player (and the league’s former Most Valuable Player…remember?) is past his prime and shows emotion about as often as a guard at Buckingham Palace. Sure, their system lulls you to sleep faster than a Thanksgiving dinner. But there are three things that always make the difference in the NBA:

1. Home court. San Antonio was nearly unbeatable at home, while the Cavaliers were a .500 team on the road. The Spurs don’t care where they play (as evidenced by their 27-14 record on the road in the regular season).

2. Depth. Look at the rosters, one through twelve. No need to say anything else here.

3. Experience. Cleveland is feeling the love right now, as they should be. Enjoy it, guys. Soak it all in. But when that ball is thrown up for the tip-off of Game One, that all goes out the window. LeBron has the drive (now, anyway…this is the same player who slept through this season’s first half) and the take-over ability, but his team is too young and inexperienced. I’ll be keeping a deer-in-the-headlights count to see just how many looks of utter dismay we’ll see from the Finals newcomers.

Look, we’d all love to see the Cavs pull this out. I would actually enjoy being wrong, for the sake of the league’s present and future. But let’s look at the big picture. LeBron will get his title. He has already willed this team to the brink of bedlam, but, if you look at the history books, The Team of Destiny always needs a few near-misses before it breaks through. They need that bitter taste in their mouths and that glimpse of what could be. The 2006 Eastern Conference Semifinal loss to Detroit in seven games left the bitter taste, and this Finals appearance will be their glimpse of the NBA’s largest stage. Right now, if you look at the city’s reaction, you’d think they won the championship. Case in point: the conference title trophy presentation. This club is just happy to be in the Finals. Yes, a win would catapult the franchise into the stratosphere. But be patient. This will be the last breath of a dying sage. The last hoorah for a world-class organization. These Spurs are riding off into the sunset. As for Cleveland? Well, the sky’s the limit.