Why Shouldn't We Wonder?

Philadelphia Phillies left fielder Raul Ibanez has been turning heads all season long. At 37 years of age, Ibanez is having a career year. With 22 home runs already, he is only one shy of the 23 he hit last year, while playing in all 162 games.

Recently, a Philadelphia sports blogger speculated that Ibanez was surpassing his usual production because of performance enhancing drugs. Normally, when a player reaches his late 30s, the stats go down.

Ibanez exploded when a reporter asked him to respond to the bloggers accusations. Ibanez said he would give urine, hair, blood and stool samples for drug testing in order to prove his innocence. It seems the media's questioning of his talent struck a chord with the veteran.

While I believe it is unfair to accuse Raul of juicing without any evidence besides inflated numbers, I think it's reasonable to wonder. As a product of the steroid era, which saw the greatest home run hitter statistically in Barry Bonds and the projected greatest home run hitter in A-Rod, both test positive for performance enhancers, questions will emerge. With such prolific names like Mark McGwire, Raphael Palmeiro and Roger Clemens all tied to steroid allegations, why shouldn't we speculate that a 14 year veteran, suddenly looking like a man amongst boys, is on the juice?

For starters, Ibanez spent ten seasons with Seattle, including the last five. He averaged nearly 25 home runs per season during his second stint with the Mariners in a ballpark that is widely considered one of the tougher parks to hit a homer in. Now, he has switched to the bandbox that is Citizens Bank Park. There's a reason Ryan Howard, Jimmy Rollins and Chase Utley regularly lead their respective positions in dingers each season. Citizens Bank Park is extremely friendly to left-handers with any kind of pop. Simply put, if Ibanez can hit 33 hr in SafeCo, there's no reason he can't hit 40+ in Citizens Bank.

It's a shame that Ibanez has to face steroid allegations (if he is in fact clean), but he shouldn't be mad at the media. Instead, focus that blame on Major League Baseball and commissioner Bud Selig who sat back and did nothing while steroids ran rampant during the past two decades. Maybe it will take something like this for players around the league to give-in to blood testing for HGH and other performance enhancers that cannot be detected through urine analysis.

Don't feel sorry for Jose Canseco or Eric Gagne or any other player who ruined his career by taking steroids. Feel sorry for those who haven't and are still lumped in with those who have. The fallout from the steroid scandal isn't tainted numbers. It's people questioning and doubting a great man and athlete who has worked his tail off in the pursuit of a World Series ring in the twilight of his career. And that is the biggest shame of all.

How Quickly We Forget

Ten minutes ago I settled down to take a nap. I had Pardon The Interruption on in the background but wasn't really paying attention. My dog was fidgeting around trying to get comfortable while simultaneously taking up 2/3 of my bed. I, myself found a comfortable spot and was just about out of consciousness when I heard "Swing and a loooooong drive....".

Immediately I snapped out of my daze. The voice continued, "...that ball's outta here". For a moment I thought that I merely dreamed that Harry had left us and that with his deep voice resonating from my television I was back listening to the legendary voice of the Philadelphia Phillies.

And then reality hit. I was hearing a commercial for Super Pretzels. They were trying to say that their pretzels were just as good as ballpark pretzels and there was no need to go to the park. The commercial commenced with an old black and white photo of Harry the K and the text of "Harry, we will miss you" in the bottom right corner.

I'm not trying to play into the dramatics, but I turned into a Native American watching someone litter. A single tear rolled down my cheek. It was two months ago tomorrow that Harry left us. It still feels like yesterday. RIP HK.

The Royal Unit

Randy Johnson won his 300th career game against the Washington Nationals Thursday night in what was a great moment in baseball history. The Unit, in all likelihood, will be the last person ever to record 300 victories.

While his stuff wasn't as filthy as it used to be, Johnson looked like the old Unit. Six innings and only two hits. We tend to forget how dominate this man was during his prime. Last year, NL Cy Young winner (and current teammate) Tim Lincecum struck out 265, a number that separated him largely from the field. Johnson has six seasons with over 300 strikeouts and three seasons in the 290s. When he took the hill for Seattle and Arizona (the first time) the game was over before he even threw a pitch. With 100 complete games in his career, Johnson finished what he started in an era largely dominated by bullpen strength and managers that played the percentages on late inning match-ups.

In the ninth inning, with the Unit on the bench, his son, who served as bat boy was standing with one leg up on the top step of the dugout. With the cameras fixated on the always stoic Johnson, his son was loving life. A smile that stretched from ear to ear was quickly erased as he shot quick glances in his fathers direction after every batter Brian Wilson faced reached a full count. Finally, with two outs, the elder Johnson called over to his son who took his place beside his father on the bench and posed for pictures. That was the first time I've ever seen Randy Johnson smile before the 27th out was recorded. Folks, it's a game and even the mighty Unit enjoys himself.



Albert Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing something three times and expecting a different outcome the fourth. Clearly I'm insane because I didn't think Tiger Woods had a snowball's chance in hell at winning the Memorial this afternoon. Is there anyone more clutch in all of professional sports than TW? It's difficult to make comparisons across sports, especially with the four major sports all being team sports and golf, clearly is not, but I'm willing to make the argument that Woods is the most clutch athlete in professional sports (Sorry Big Papi).

Anyone who has ever golfed knows that making up four strokes, even against the goofballs you and I play with on the weekends, is a daunting task. Now try and do it against the best in the world, a group that included Davis Love III and Jim Furyk. Tiger is on another planet and will not only break every record ever recorded in PGA history, but do so with relative ease.









Not much can pull me out of bed before noon on Sunday, but when Roger Federer is in the final of a major, I'm up before the roosters.

This morning, Federer won the French Open, completing the career Grand Slam and tying Pete Sampras for the most majors won at 14.

Tennis, much like golf, looks extremely easy on television. When you lace 'em up yourself and grab a racket, it's a whole new ballgame. The ease at which he blasts backhands down the line with pinpoint precision amazes me.

Federer has taken the backseat to Rafael Nadal over the past few years and although his victory at the French did not come against Rafa, Federer looked spectacular. Even in the post-match interview, he addressed the crowd at Roland Garros, first in French and then in English for the American television cameras in front of him. Tennis majors aren't exactly the Super Bowl, but anytime two superb athletes with insane competitive drives are pitted against each other, I'll be tuning in.