Brian Dawkins came home last weekend to teach one final lesson in his extraordinary 16-year career. He stood at the podium on the day his dirt-stained No. 20 was retired and showed every athlete who has ever played here – and ever will – how to create a lifelong bond with the toughest sports city in America.
Tears running down his face, Dawkins said goodbye with the same soul-baring emotion that punctuated his brilliant tenure as an Eagle. Let the record show that the same man who became the fire-breathing Wolverine before and during games walked away in the same intense and winning style.
Every wavering word he delivered rang true. Every tear was genuine. Dawkins said his coaches – especially beloved defensive coordinator Jim Johnson – knew he would “sacrifice a body part” in the service of the Eagles and their endless quest for a championship. His greatest regret, he added, is that he couldn’t deliver the ultimate prize for Johnson and the fans.
In a sports world populated by frauds, Dawkins is the real thing. He is the embodiment of every Philadelphia sports fan – ferocious in his desire to win and sickened by the notion of failure. No one has ever played in Philadelphia who was more open or honest than Brian Dawkins.
And that’s why, during his extraordinary farewell, the hardest thing was to watch was Jeff Lurie gush over a hero the owner had coldly and stupidly banished to Denver three years ago. For a couple of million dollars, Dawkins could have spent his entire career here. Instead, the Eagles treated him like every other over-30 employee and challenged him to leave.
Dawkins, who just a few days earlier had admitted he wasn’t sure he wanted to retire an Eagle, must have gagged inside when Lurie called him his all-time favorite Eagle. Can you imagine how Dawkins would have been treated three years ago if Lurie didn’t love him so much? True to form, however, Dawkins silently took the hit.
Like so many moments in his glorious career, he did it for the fans. Dawkins took his place among the immortals on the Eagles – Chuck Bednarik, Steve Van Buren, Tom Brookshier, Pete Retzlaff, Al Wistert, Jerome Brown and Reggie White – knowing that the fans wanted him to rise above the phoniness of an organization that didn’t fully appreciate him until he was gone. So, one last time, he did what was best for the people he cared the most about, the fans.
Brian Dawkins wasn’t the only one crying on Saturday. So were the rest of us – crying that one of the true greats is gone now, crying that we may never see another player who represented us so well, and crying that so few people in sports will grasp the priceless lesson he taught about honest emotion.

The impossible has happened. At least for now, hockey has surged past football and even baseball and has become the No. 1 sport in Philadelphia. With their talented youth and their crazy goalie, the Flyers have captured the imagination of a city that has almost always preferred the pigskin or the horsehide.
As a sports talk-show host here for 23 years, I can say with absolutely certainty that the most popular player in our city right now is Claude Giroux, the most admired coach is Peter Laviolette and the most anticipated games are the playoff extravaganzas against the Penguins and now the Devils.
It’s not hard to understand, really. The Eagles – kings of the city most of the time – are not playing right now, and were a dull and disappointing 8-8 when they were. The Sixers, hardly a blip on the fan radar screen since Allen Iverson left town, are not even registering much during their current – and probably very brief – appearance in the NBA playoffs.
And then there are the Phillies. Most recently the object of the most attention and affection, they are one of our most boring sports teams in recent memory. Switching from the Phillies-Cubs game to Flyers-Devils on Sunday was jarring – like accelerating from 0 to 60 in three seconds.
For as long as it lasts, this is an amazing time in Philadelphia sports, a rare moment when the Flyers are not just beating the Penguins and Devils, but the Eagles and Phillies as well.

At a time when the Phillies needed him most, Jimmy Rollins failed spectacularly. Called upon to earn the $33-million contract he signed last winter, he was a total disaster as the No. 3 hitter in a lineup desperate for production. Will his fans look the other way again?
During his 19-game audition as a middle-of-the-order guy – before manager Charlie Manuel admitted defeat and moved him back to the leadoff spot on Saturday – Rollins managed no home runs and three RBIs, with an embarrassing .216 average. In other words, for three weeks he was a No. 8 hitter batting five slots too high in the order.
Of course, his many loyalists – especially his cheerleading squad in the media – will find excuses for this latest failure. They will say he has been a leadoff hitter his entire career, though Rollins has never really embraced the patience required of that role, either. They will cite the lack of hitters around him. They will write it off as just a slow start.
Well, here’s the brutal truth about Rollins. He is one of the most selfish players in Philadelphia history. He plays not for the team, but for himself. Remember when manager Charlie Manuel sat him down during spring training and stressed the need to work counts more, to draw more walks? Rollins has walked five times in 88 at bats so far, a career-low percentage.
When the Phillies shelled out all that money last winter, they were buying more than a fading 33-year-old .268 hitter already well past his prime. They were bringing back a leader, a winner, someone who transcended his declining numbers. What they got instead is just one more reminder that the good old days are gone.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• Fans thinking the injury to Derrick Rose somehow gives the Sixers a chance against Chicago in the playoffs obviously didn’t watch the first game. The Bulls are deeper, more talented and better coached. Chicago won this series the minute Evan Turner said he was happy his team was facing the Bulls.
• The Eagles finally got it right when they traded up for defensive tackle Fletcher Cox last week. I’m basing this conclusion on the one draft guru I trust, Ray Didinger. When discussing Cox even before the draft, the columnist and broadcaster lit up like a neon sign. Good enough for me.
• Here’s an extreme idea to wake up the Phillies offense: How about bringing back free-agent Bobby Abreu at least for a cameo before the return of Ryan Howard and Chase Utley? Yes, he’s 38, but Abreu still gets on base at a .350 clip and would probably still bat third in the depleted Phillies lineup.
• Who’s going to inform Jim Thome that his Hall of Fame career is over? He injured his back sliding into second base Saturday night. He is a liability at first base. He is batting .111 with 10 strikeouts in 18 at bats. He can’t run, can’t field, can’t hit. So, I ask again: Who’s going to break the news to him?
• On behalf of the entire city of Philadelphia, I’d like to wish Pittsburgh coach Dan Bylsma good luck. Yes, I know. He refused to wish the Flyers well after they had eliminated his Penguins, but it’s time to let bygones be bygones. Good luck, Dan. May you experience many fine rounds of golf during your long hiatus from hockey.

The Flyers did more than defy the odds when they ousted Sidney Crosby and his pack of Pittsburgh Penguin weasels on Sunday, they righted a wrong. The good guys won. For once, virtue triumphed over evil.
And the best part was watching Crosby plummet to the ice in the first few seconds of Game 6, the victim of a check by Claude Giroux that delivered a clear message to a Pittsburgh team favored to win the Stanley Cup this year. Giroux’s wrist shot past goalie Marc-Andre Fleury seconds later punctuated the point. Not today, Penguins. Not this season.
It would be so easy to spend this entire column crowing over the many unexpected performances by these surprising Flyers – the exceptional work of seven different rookies, the clutch scoring of Danny Briere, the amazing success of the power play or the single-minded efforts of the incomparable Giroux. But I’ll leave those testimonials to writers far more suited to that sort of thing.
What I want to bask in today is the demise of a contemptible group of star players who acted like bullies – until they got a much-deserved punch in the mouth. The Penguins are exactly where they belong right now, home, their championship dream in tatters. They may have Stanley Cup talent, but they are strictly bottom-feeders when it comes to character.
If Crosby is indeed the face of the NHL these days, then the sport should find a good plastic surgeon. He is a crybaby on the ice and a brat off it. Long after the outcome of this series is forgotten, his embarrassing response when asked why he mindlessly swept Jakub Voracek’s glove down the ice in Game 3 will remain etched in our memories.
“I don’t like him,” Crosby said. “I don’t like anybody on that team.”
And then there was the classless response by James Neal to the 8-5 trouncing in Game 3, a dual cheap-shot shift that earned him a one-game suspension and the contempt of Philadelphia forever. First, he head-hunted Sean Couturier with an illegal check, and then he swung an elbow at Giroux’s cranium. The only injury, fortunately, was to Neal’s reputation.
This collection of social misfits was led by Dan Bylsma, a coach who tried to thug up a meeting between the teams just before the playoffs, to no avail. When Bylsma and his worms oozed out to a 10-3 lead in Game 4, the coach thought it would be a sweet gesture to call a timeout in the final moments. And then, even after his team was laid to rest, Bylsma said he couldn’t bring himself to wish the Flyers good luck.
Well, in the end, the Penguins all got what was coming to them, didn’t they? Crosby can go home now, a squawking jackal right to the end. Neal can find out just how sore a loser he really is. And Bylsma can call a five-month timeout until he begins screwing up another season.
The Flyers beat the Penguins. All is right with the world. The good guys won.

Charlie Manuel is many things to many people. He is charming, in a homespun country way. He is endearing, a quirky old guy just like Gramps. And he is even entertaining, with his folksy wisdom delivered in a halting style. But the truth behind his lovable veneer is hard for people to accept. He is a horrendous game manager.
In fact, I can’t recall a baseball lifer like Manuel who was worse at reacting to unique situations with creative solutions. If it’s not already in his dog-eared Managing for Dummies book, don’t expect Manuel to figure it out for himself.
The latest example of his boneheaded strategy came last week in a brutal loss to San Francisco, when the skipper kept an ancient Jim Thome up at the plate to face a tough lefthander, Javier Lopez, needing merely to make contact to give the Phillies a lead. Thome struck out – of course – and the Giants prevailed soon thereafter.
Eventually, Philadelphia is going to have to accept the reality of a deteriorating situation. Manuel may be a maestro of personalities in a clubhouse, but he is no master manipulator of personnel on the field. And his shortcomings are going to become increasingly apparent on a weak-hitting team that requires a mind in the dugout to manufacture runs.
The debate over how good a manager Manuel really is will continue long beyond his tenure here, but one issue will soon become painfully clear even to his loudest defenders. He is the wrong manager for this team, this year.

Now that they have made the playoffs (yawn), I have an ultimatum for the Sixers and their fan-friendly – but increasingly clueless – new owners. If Andre Iguodala is a member of the team next year, I will end a half century of rooting for their team. If he’s here, I’m done.
For me and many others, Iguodala has become the new Donovan McNabb, a puzzle on the court and an insult off it. There are more civil ways to say it, but they don’t capture the essence of Andre Iguodala. He is a loser. It’s that simple. He is terrible in the closing moments of a tight game, and he is even worse when required to explain his latest failure after it.
Last week, in the midst of a hideous run highlighted by a 3-17 record in games decided by seven or fewer points, Iguodala took some time out to praise himself. He said he was especially impressed by his recent shooting, and by his overall play. The Sixers had lost three of the previous four games when he issued this tone-deaf testimonial.
Well, I’ve had enough of him. I need the new owners to stop talking about changing the culture of the team and start doing it. CEO Adam Aron actually went on Twitter the other day and asked fans what roster moves they would recommend. Maybe Aron should ask his do-nothing president, Rod Thorn, that question.
I have loved the Sixers since the days of the greatest player ever, Wilt Chamberlain. I have embraced Dr. J and Allen Iverson, just as I have endured 9-73 and Eddie Jordan. But this is the end of the line. It’s either Iguodala or me. I’ve had enough.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• A great man ended his extraordinary career yesterday. Brian Dawkins, at 38, announced his retirement after 16 years in the NFL. He was the ultimate Eagle, brilliant on the field and dignified off it. In a city of the harshest critics in sports, absolutely everybody loved Brian Dawkins.
• Donovan McNabb named himself to the Pro Football Hall of Fame last week. He said the “big game” is the NFL conference championship, not the Super Bowl. He also said he was better than Troy Aikman and Jim Kelly. Other than these comments, there is no evidence he is using hallucinogens.
• John Mayberry Jr. was going to be the next Jayson Werth, a talented young outfielder who just needed a chance to play every day. Well, so far the only thing he has mastered is the pop-up with runners in scoring position. The Phillies need a new talented young outfielder. Mayberry is definitely not it.
• The one thing the Phillies cannot afford right now is an injury to any of their top three starting pitchers. What’s that? Cliff Lee just went on the disabled list with an oblique injury? Uh, oh.
• Asante Samuel’s me-first tenure as an Eagle is about to end. The team awaits an offer – any offer – to unload his bloated contract and ego. The Birds can always find another decent cornerback, but who’s going to replace his locker-room presence? Hey, when is Freddie Mitchell getting out of jail?

The Flyers have gone 37 years without winning a Stanley Cup, despite some great teams and amazing players. How improbable would it be if the current collection of lovable misfits ended that drought?
Of course, a championship is still a long way away, but can’t we dream for a moment after that amazing win Sunday against the gutless Pittsburgh Penguins and their crybaby superstar Sidney Crosby? Can’t we fantasize that this team of slow starters filled with clueless rookies, a nutty goaltender and a tempestuous coach might just be the one to win it all?
The next time you hear an expert commentator predict what’s going to happen in this insane series, change the channel. Nobody predicted that the Flyers would be up 3-0 against the Cup favorites. Nobody saw the Penguins unraveling the way they have. And nobody envisioned that it would be the Flyers controlling play and winning respect.
Nothing is going according to plan right now, and that’s just fine. The playoffs are supposed to be a test of goaltending, you say? Well, Ilya Bryzgalov has a goals-against average of nearly four – and he’s undefeated. Compared to Penguins sieve Marc-Andre Fleury, Bryzgalov is the second coming of Bernie Parent. And Bryzgalov has been a model of locker-room decorum, another shocking twist.
Then there are the six Flyers who have never been to the NHL playoffs because this is their first year in the NHL. Sean Couturier, Matt Read, Braydon Schenn, Zac Rinaldo, Marc-Andre Bourdon and Eric Wellwood comprise nearly 30 percent of the post-season roster. The average age of the six is 22. Two of them aren’t old enough to drink.
All Couturier has done so far is make the MVP of the regular season, Evgeni Malkin, disappear. The kid even absorbed a cheap shot Sunday by James Neal and laughed in the thug’s face. Oh, yeah. The rookie also had a hat trick in Game 2. He will be 20 years old in December.
Schenn, 20, came here in the Mike Richards trade last summer, and the optimists predicted that someday he would compare to the former Flyer captain. But in his first year? In his first playoffs? Not a chance. And all Matt Read did was score 24 goals this season, and two more in his first three playoff games. That’s all.
What makes this Flyer team so amazing is its complete disdain for hockey convention. Good starts are imperative in the playoffs? The Flyers won the first three games after trailing 3-0, 2-0 and 1-0. Leadership is essential? Captain Chris Pronger is watching the games on his couch at home. A steady hand behind the bench is critical? Peter Laviolette was perched on a ledge two weeks ago threatening bodily harm against the Pittsburgh coaches.
No, this is no normal team, and this is definitely no normal series. Now all we can hope for, after so many years without a Stanley Cup, is for no normal ending, too.

Pat Burrell will be honored on May 15 with a final goodbye at Citizens Bank Park. I have only one question: Why?
When the Phillies announced their plans last week to sign Burrell to a one-day contract and schedule a special day for him, my first reaction was that the team is setting a terrible precedent. To me, Burrell was a disappointment in all ways but one. He did win a championship. We’re all grateful for that.
As a hitter, his legacy is the strikeout. He was known early in his career for flailing at any outside breaking ball that approached the plate. Later, he simply refused to swing at third strikes. In only nine seasons as a Phillie, he struck out 1,273 times, second most in team history. For this he gets a special day?
Yes, he put up some power numbers (257 homers and 827 RBIs), but not when they mattered most. Remember the parade, which he led with his dog Elvis? Well, that was the first time he led the team during the championship run. He hit .071 in the World Series, with no homers and one RBI. For a first-round draft pick still at the prime age of 32, shouldn’t we have expected more?
Finally, Burrell was a jerk. From the day he arrived in Clearwater, he was as aloof and fan-unfriendly as any Phillie in the past generation here. The next warm and fuzzy Pat Burrell story will be his first in Philadelphia.
Hey, I know we’re all supposed to remember the good in players at times like this, when they retire. No, thanks. May 15 will be a great day for him, but not for the many fans who know Pat Burrell for the player and person he really was.

A few weeks ago, there was widespread speculation that this could be the final season of Doug Collins’ brief reign as Sixers coach. Now many fans are not speculating anymore. They’re really hoping this is the end.
Collins is a good coach, demanding but fair, a father figure capable of appealing to the pampered brats he has adopted. In the past month, however, his commanding presence has evolved into an awkward aimlessness. During the team’s dreadful second half of the season, Collins has strategized with a dart board.
Exhibit A is Nik Vucevic, a rookie who played a grand total of three minutes in the first three games of April, and then was named the starter two days later. Exhibit B is Evan Turner, who finally emerged as a star very briefly last month before a return to the coach’s doghouse. Exhibit C is Andre Iguodala, who keeps getting the ball at key moments despite being the worst clutch player in the NBA.
Collins has lost his way with managing the fragile egos on the team, too, as he admitted last week when he said the players see him as an “ogre” now. He is so unsure of himself, he said he checks with assistants after timeouts to make certain he wasn’t too tough on the players.
The Sixers are going nowhere in the immediate future, with or without Doug Collins. Based on the past few weeks, they will be better off without him. It’s not enough anymore just to be better than Eddie Jordan.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• NBC hockey analyst Mike Milbury had his job threatened two weeks ago when he suggested that Sidney Crosby “has a bit of punk in him.” As we have all seen in the playoffs, Crosby is a whining child, a cheap-shot specialist, and yes, a punk. NBC owes Milbury an apology.
• There are reports that the Eagles are trying to move up to No. 4 to pick Ryan Tannehill of Texas A & M, a converted wide receiver who has played only 19 games at quarterback. Grooming a new, raw QB just doesn’t seem like the act of a coach fearing for his job, does it?
• The third anniversary of the passing of Harry Kalas was last Friday. No one man has ever had the impact on Philadelphia fans, in any sport, than the velvet-voiced gentleman who graced our presence for 39 magical years.
• The chants of “Freddie, Freddie, Freddie” at Citizens Bank Park are shocking, considering whom Freddie Galvis is replacing and his .222 batting average. It might be a good idea for Chase Utley to end his Arizona getaway. If I didn’t know better, I’d think his fans were cheating on him.
• In a sports world of creeps and lowlifes, there is a new king. Former Arkansas coach Bobby Petrino, 52, hired a paramour half his age, covered up a motorcycle accident, and allegedly cheated on both his wife and girlfriend with “Miss Motorcycle Mania.” Where does he get the energy?

Cole Hamels is the closest thing to a movie star on the Phillies, with his matinee-idol looks, his gorgeous TV wife and his hero status as the MVP of the 2008 World Series. So why is it becoming more and more obvious that his stellar career may not have a Hollywood ending here?
The 28-year-old left-handed pitcher was out there for the home opener Monday at Citizens Bank Park, a place he professes to love like no other ballpark, performing in front of fans unrivaled in his eyes – or so he says. Still, it was impossible to watch him without wondering if this was the beginning of his final season as a Phillie.
So far, everybody has been saying the right things, while actually doing nothing. By all accounts, there have been no significant contract talks in over a month, even as Hamels insists Philadelphia is his first choice and team officials keep saying they have the money to pay him. Meanwhile, most of the experts are predicting that the two sides will reach an agreement before Hamels is free to sign anywhere after the current season.
But as mega-deal after mega-deal has been completed with some of the top stars of the game recently, the prospect of Hamels signing here is dwindling. When Matt Cain signed a six-year, $127-million deal last week with the Giants, alarms should have been ringing throughout Philadelphia. The 10-year, $225-million Joey Votto extension in Cincinnati was even more stunning.
No one wants to say it, so I will. There’s a significant chance that Hamels is leaving at the end of the season. Despite what all the voices are saying, the logic just seems to be making a stronger case for his departure.
Cole Hamels is a West Coast kid if ever there was one. He grew up in San Diego, his parents still live there, his wife was a star on the TV show Survivor, his first two public appearances after the 2008 World Series were on The David Letterman Show and Dancing With the Stars, and, well, look at him. Does he look like one of us?
The Padres could never raise enough money to lure Hamels back, but the Dodgers are another story entirely. Magic Johnson and his partners just paid $2.15 billion for the franchise. Is anyone dumb enough to think they would balk at $175 million, or even $200 million, to bring Hamels home?
The Phillies have already cost themselves a fortune by waiting this long to lock up their most valuable commodity. They low-balled him last winter with a five-year, $85-million offer that matched Jered Weaver’s hometown-discount deal with the Angels. Now it’s going to cost them double that, at least, to keep him here.
With every day that passes, the price goes up for Cole Hamels. Whatever it takes, the Phillies have to pay it. Failure is not an option now – unless they want to witness the end of the best era of Phillies baseball ever.

Mike Milbury, an outspoken former hockey player and coach, came on my WIP radio show last week and did something extraordinary. He expressed his honest opinion on the feud between the Flyers and Penguins in a colorful and entertaining way – which just so happens to be the reason why he is such a successful broadcaster.
Within hours after advising Pittsburgh coach Dan Bylsma to “take the skirt off” and suggesting (gasp!) that Sidney Crosby “has a little punk in him,” Milbury was told to apologize or he would be fired by NBC. After a statement as generic and insincere as possible, Milbury resumed his duties, while an army of soulless suits monitored his every word.
Hey, I’m the last one to complain about a corporate world of broadcasting that had made me financially comfortable after a quarter-century of public babble, but the sublime really is becoming the ridiculous these days, isn’t it? Was NBC upset about the sexist “skirt” line or the “punk” reference, or maybe the suggestion that Crosby had suffered “35 or 36 concussions.” What was the problem, exactly?
The problem was that Milbury made someone in power angry. My best guess is that it was the Penguins, as sanctimonious a collection of sports bureaucrats as exists in sports. When the Penguins screamed at one of the upwardly mobile office politicians at NBC, it was time to flex some corporate muscle.
Ironically, two days after the Milbury controversy, Rangers coach John Tortorella called the Penguins “one of the most arrogant organizations in the league” and portrayed Crosby and star teammate Evgeni Malkin as “whiners.” The coach was fined $20,000 by the NHL for telling the truth. Because he is not a network broadcaster, he offered no bogus apology.

It took only one week for the Eagles to replace irreplaceable Jason Peters with DeMetress Bell, a young offensive tackle with a fascinating past and a promising future. For once, the Birds made a move that the city can embrace. Bravo.
Usually, it takes months (or even years) for the Eagles to acknowledge a major void on their team. Heck, it took a decade for coach Andy Reid to address his vacuum at linebacker. But this time the Birds swooped right in and plucked Bell from a bevy of suitors. He is not Peters, but he’s not bad.
Keep in mind that Bell played no high-school football at all and then missed the entire 2008 season serving as an apprentice to Peters in Buffalo. He is athletic – his biological father is Karl Malone – and, at 27, he is a perfect young student for legendary line coach Howard Mudd. What Bell lacks most right now is experience.
When I talked to him last week on WIP, Bell said he chose the Eagles because of the opportunity to work with Mudd and confide in Peters, and because Philadelphia is a long, long way from Buffalo in intensity. He wants to be challenged. Philadelphia should help there.
So what has he already learned about being an Eagle? “Everybody tells me the same thing: Win. You’ve got to win.” Sounds like he’s a fast learner.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• Take a good look at Doug Collins the next time he speaks after a Sixer loss. Coated in sweat, flustered by his slumping young players, the coach is an emotional wreck right now. He is Dick Vermeil, circa 1982. Would it surprise anyone if Collins bid a tearful goodbye after the season?
• The tapes released last week of Gregg Williams urging his players to injure opponents, at all costs, clinch it for me. The former Saints assistant should never coach again – at any level, under any circumstances. Football is a violent game, but it doesn’t need a Neanderthal like him in charge.
• Roy Halladay is the best artist on the pitching mound since Greg Maddux, but this first-inning issue is getting ridiculous, isn’t it? I know I’m nitpicking here, but how can a perfectionist like him continue to struggle with this one tiny aspect of the game. Come on, Roy. Fix it.
• If you’re bold enough to pick the Flyers over the Penguins in the playoffs that begin tomorrow, you are counting on Ilya Bryzgalov to perform well in goal, the defense to hold up despite a rash of injuries and the refs to call it fairly against Sidney Crosby and his team of whiners. Good luck.
• Philadelphia sports fans lost a great friend and a huge talent when Steve Fredericks passed away over the weekend. Fredericks did every aspect of broadcasting well, from play by play of the Sixers to pioneering the sports-talk format three decades ago. He will live on in the memory of his many, many fans.

The Phillies will not win the World Series in 2012. They will not win 100 games. The five-year run of division titles will end. And, despite the new expanded format, they will not even make the playoffs.
In my four-plus years of writing this column, I have never created a more painful paragraph than the one above. The exhilaration of this Phillies era has been unrivaled for me, both as a fan and as a broadcaster. There have been so many magical moments, so many masterful performances, that it is hard to imagine the empty emotions that await us.
And yet the truth is impossible to deny – a truth that took root a few strides up the first-base line on the final play of the 2011 season. History will show that Ryan Howard’s stumble to the ground meant more than the crushing end to our most promising season ever. It also marked the symbolic fall of our baseball team.
What’s wrong with the current Phillies, who open the season Thursday in Pittsburgh? For the first time in years, it is much easier to list what’s right. Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee and Cole Hamels are right. The new closer, Jonathan Papelbon, is right. Hunter Pence is right. And that – believe it or not – is the end of the list.
Manager Charlie Manuel is not in that group for one obvious reason. At 68, he has never managed a small-ball team. The notion that he will suddenly become a master strategist, stealing the precious runs needed for his star pitchers, is ridiculous. Manuel is great in the clubhouse. Unfortunately, the problems with this team are on the field.
Jimmy Rollins is in decline at shortstop, even with his new contract. Placido Polanco is brittle. Carlos Ruiz is not the player he was two years ago. Shane Victorino is mindless. The new guys, Ty Wigginton and Jim Thome, are backups for a reason.
And then, of course, there are the two names that are painful even to mention: Chase Utley and Ryan Howard. Will they play at all this season after serious injuries, and, if so, how well? Is there really any chance that they will return to their stellar form of a few years ago? No, there isn’t. No chance at all.
The 2012 Phillies are too old, too fragile and too slow. They don’t work counts, they don’t defend well, and they are one key injury away from being a sub-.500 team. Remove any of the top three pitchers from the rotation for any time at all, and the Phillies become the fourth-best team in their own division.
Hey, I know you don’t want to read any of this. I don’t want to write it, believe me. But the era is ending. The run is over. The 2012 season is going to be one cold slap in the face for all of us. You read it here first.

When the news filtered out last Friday that Eagles Pro Bowl offensive tackle Jason Peters had torn his right Achilles tendon and was gone for the season, the first question was: Who will protect Michael Vick? The second question was even more intriguing: Who will save Andy Reid?
Without his best lineman – the man who protects Michael Vick – Reid has far less hope of fulfilling the demands of owner Jeff Lurie for a Super Bowl run in 2012. However, based on what had happened last week before the Peters bombshell, maybe the coach doesn’t need a big season after all. Maybe the Lurie edict was totally bogus.
Reid fed this new perception himself when rumors circulated throughout the NFL owners meetings last week that the Eagles were poised to trade cornerback Asante and his $9.5-million salary to Tennessee for a third-round pick. Samuel was far from perfect last season, but he still ranked second in the NFL in preventing his receiver from catching the ball.
Trading a proven cornerback for a third-round pick is not the act of a desperate coach. Certainly Reid must know his own track record with third-round picks, which is abysmal. He also must be aware that dismissing a lost season by saying that he “goofed” with his wide-9 defense is not exactly the kind of public honesty Lurie was seeking. “Goofed” is a word to describe wearing socks that don’t match, not ruining a promising season with fatal roster mistakes.
The coach is not acting like a man on the brink. The owner is no longer speaking publicly at all. And now the top offensive lineman is gone. If nothing else, there is no better soap opera in sports right now than our Eagles.

The biggest phony in sports revealed his new face last week in a laughable bid to win a TV job. This totally different Donovan McNabb answers questions with candor and bluster. This new, improved charlatan takes no prisoners and spares no feelings.
Of course, McNabb is still the same fraud he was with the Eagles, Washington and Minnesota. In his heyday, he was more likely to pull out an inappropriate air guitar than bleat out a word of truth, but this made-for-TV McNabb is no more believable than the bogus old one.
During a two-day audition last week on ESPN, McNabb ripped into his former coach, Mike Shanahan, said Robert Griffin III would fail in Washington and then – in his finest moment – portrayed himself as the most criticized quarterback in NFL history. Ha, ha, ha. I knew if we waited long enough, McNabb would actually say something funny.
The reality of the situation is that he received more praise in the national forum than far more deserving quarterbacks. The breathless defense by his army of national media drones after the Rush Limbaugh incident spoke volumes, as did the game analysts who ignored for a decade his worm-killing throws and late-game meltdowns.
Donovan McNabb is as phony as his new TV smile. He may have showed a different side of himself last week on ESPN, but not to the people who know him best. To us, he has always had two faces.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• Peter Laviolette’s ledge-walking, fist-pumping challenge to Pittsburgh at the end of Sunday’s game provided visual proof of just how badly the Flyers coach wants to win. How is he going to find a way to transfer that adrenaline to his slow-starting, immature team? That’s the big question.
• Just hours after saying there was no injury at all, Paul Holmgren revealed that Ilya Bryzgalov had a bone chip in his right foot. The Flyers GM did all of this with a straight face. In other words, he has learned well from his mentor, Bob Clarke. No one has ever lied better than Bob Clarke.
• Can we finally end all of the talk about Doug Collins as coach of the year in the NBA? After that crushing loss to awful Washington Friday night, he said he had no idea what was going on with his free-falling Sixers. Does that sound like someone who deserves a prize at the end of the season?
• Is the NCAA men’s basketball tournament over yet? I’ve been avoiding all of the preening coaches and cloying announcers for a while now, and I’m not turning the TV back on until they’re gone. Is anyone still dumb enough to believe this overhyped mess is the best sports event of the year?
• Magic Johnson and his partners just doled out $2.15 billion for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Can you imagine how much they would offer Cole Hamels if the lefty becomes a free agent in six months? What I’m saying is, the Phillies need to sign the pitcher. Now. Today. This minute. Got it?

Phillies closer Jonathan Papelbon created a media firestorm – with my help – last week when he said Philadelphia baseball fans are smarter than their counterparts in Boston. He was looking right at me when he said it, and I merely nodded. Because, of course, he was right.
Who could have guessed that Boston would react so outrageously to the comment, returning fire with shrill verbal assaults that proved the point? By the end of a busy week, the Boston Globe was defaming Philadelphia by rolling out a two-year-old vomiting incident, and sports station WEEI was ripping little old me.
As someone who grew up 40 miles outside of Boston and covered both the Celtics and the Red Sox for years back in the 1980s, I can say with total conviction that Papelbon was correct in comparing us favorably to Boston, even though, technically, he hasn’t even played a game yet as a Phillie.
The word Papelbon used during our interview in Clearwater last week that best described Boston and its passion for the Red Sox was “hysterical.” The fans treat victories like a sacred affirmation of their superiority, and losses like a personal insult. In close games, they clutch their hands together in prayer, or cover their eyes. These people desperately need to get a life.
We love sports in Philadelphia every bit as much as they do, but there is more balance in our approach, more logic. We are much more vocal negatively when our players fail us – just ask Ilya Bryzgalov – but we don’t react idiotically when someone offers a fair and honest appraisal the way Papelbon did last week. And sorry, newspaper nitwits, one stupid fan throwing up on an 11-year-old girl in 2010 has no bearing on this discussion.
If I have one criticism of Papelbon’s remarks, it is that they didn’t go far enough. The fans of all of our pro sports teams are savvier than those in Boston, or in any other North American city, for that matter. Before my radio career, I spent 15 years in the United States and Canada covering sports teams in every major sport, and I’m not being a homer when I say Philadelphia has no rival.
That’s why, as I was sitting across from Papelbon last week and unwittingly started the controversy simply by asking him to compare the two cities, I was not at all surprised by the pitcher’s response. He spoke the truth, simply and concisely. To lessen the blow to Boston, he even added that it might be because our team plays in the more tactical National League.
I was highly amused when the morning-radio hosts at WEEI leveled an attack against me last Friday, suggesting that I had goaded Papelbon into the statements because of my own personal bias against New England. This is exactly what Papelbon meant when he called the people “hysterical” up there. If they had bothered to listen to the interview, they would know how absurd that accusation was.
In the past 15 years, I have been approached twice by WEEI to work the morning shift at that station, and I have rejected both overtures. Do I really need to tell you why? Because Philadelphia is a smarter sports city than Boston, that’s why.

Evan Turner may not be a bust after all. The No. 2 pick in the 2010 draft suddenly found his game just when it appeared that all hope for him had evaporated after a 1 for 12 shooting performance against Milwaukee last week. How could this happen? I’ll tell you how. Coach Doug Collins finally accepted the truth about Jrue Holiday.
And the truth is that Holiday cannot defend the best scoring point guards in the NBA. Just check with Tony Parker (37 points), Derrick Rose (35), Deron Williams (34) and Brandon Jennings (33). Heck, even ancient Andre Miller scored a season-high 28 against Holiday. With Holiday and equally inept Jodie Meeks working in the backcourt on defense, the Sixers were helpless against the better guard tandems.
Enter Turner, who is listed as the shooting guard in the new backcourt, but we know better. Turner not only plays a more tenacious defensive style, he is bigger and tougher when the play moves inside. He may be the best rebounding guard the Sixers have had since . . . . ever?
Let me be the first to admit I had given up on Turner, who seemed lost most nights on the court and equally clueless trying to explain his plight after games. Well, at least now the truth is emerging. Turner needs to play, and he needs the ball in his hands a lot more. That was the lesson of last week. Give Turner the ball on offense, and assign him the best scoring guard on defense.
No one can say for sure yet where this all leads for Turner, but one thought keeps recurring after his best week in the NBA. Is it possible, after months of lamenting the lack of a real star on the Sixers, he was here all along?

As usual, Andy Reid ruined all the fun last week. After one full day of blissful speculation, Eagles fans were informed, in no uncertain terms, that the coach would not be bidding for the services of the best quarterback in the past decade, Peyton Manning. Reid then added his usual insult to the occasion. He made it sound as if the decision not to pursue Manning was a no-brainer.
“We’re obviously happy with Michael (Vick),” he said. Reid didn’t specify whether he was most happy about Vick’s ranking as the 14th best quarterback in the NFL last season, or his 18 turnovers, or his three games missed because of injuries.
Obviously? Has there really been anything about Vick’s performance in the past season and a half that merits the faith Reid is showing? Imagine Manning checking off bad play-calls at the line, running an efficient two-minute drill or preventing the chronic squandering of timeouts. It’s not obvious that the coach needs help in these areas? Really?
Andy Reid is facing the most important season in Philadelphia, and already he is closing his mind. Signing Peyton Manning might just have been Reid’s last, best chance to save his job.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• The most puzzling player in recent Philadelphia sports history is Ilya Bryzgalov of the Flyers. How can a goalie that bad suddenly be this good? Is it too soon to say the $51 million he’s getting may be a bargain. Yeah, I thought so. Definitely too soon.
• Dontrelle Willis said an amazing thing the other day. Trying to make the Phillies roster in a last-ditch attempt to save his career, he said he felt blessed just to have played the game. “How many people can say they got to be a big leaguer?” he asked. No one deserves a break more than Willis.
• The new Sixers owners are having a terrific rookie season, but it was still great to see former team president Pat Croce charge onto the court before the Sixers crushed Boston last week. No sports executive has ever inspired people the way Pat Croce did, and none ever will again.
• Gov. Tom Corbett blamed the late Joe Paterno for not doing more early in the Jerry Sandusky scandal. Of course, Paterno wouldn’t have had to do anything if the state attorney general back then had acted more decisively and aggressively. And that man’s name is – who else? – Tom Corbett.
• Former Eagles wide receiver Freddie Mitchell was indicted last week for his alleged role in an elaborate federal tax scheme. I have no idea if he’s guilty or not, but I’m pretty sure he was not the mastermind behind the operation. That’s all I’m saying.

What you witnessed during the 2011 season did not happen. The Eagles did not squander five fourth-quarter leads in a devastating 8-8 season. The defense was not pitiful in the red zone under novice defensive coordinator Juan Castillo. There is absolutely no reason for change.
Stubborn to the very end, Andy Reid said all of the above yesterday when he decided to bring Castillo back to run the defense – to be joined by a far better defensive coach, Todd Bowles, working with the secondary. It was one final insult to every Eagles fan who suffered through last season, one last gasp of arrogance by the man who thinks he invented football.
The bad news is that the Eagles will underachieve again next season, falling far short of owner Jeff Lurie’s open demand to make it to the Super Bowl. The good news is that Reid sealed his doom yesterday, unless you happen to believe Castillo can suddenly run a championship-level defense. And if you believe that, seek mental-health aid immediately. You have misplaced your mind.
Reid will finally break his silence today, and – if the suspense is killing you – here’s exactly what he will say at his first news conference in a month: Castillo really grew into the job as the season went along. The last four games showed what he can do. His work ethic and enthusiasm are the perfect recipe for success in the NFL. Blah, blah, blah.
What Reid won’t say – because his massive ego is blocking his view – is that Castillo got better only when the opposing quarterbacks got worse. The last four wins came against Matt Moore, Mark Sanchez, Stephen McGee and Rex Grossman. The two quarterbacks in the Super Bowl, Tom Brady and Eli Manning, destroyed Castillo’s defenses for 1,069 yards and 77 points in three games. You can expect more of that in 2012.
Andy Reid is never happy unless he mixes in a sweet little twist, and his hiring of former Temple star Bowles was a master stroke. You see, Bowles went 2-1 as the interim head coach of the Miami Dolphins last season after Tony Sparano was fired. Bowles has interviewed for five head-coaching jobs in the NFL and has been a defensive coach for 15 years in the NFL. Castillo has coached defense for one year, and has never interviewed for a head job. And now Bowles will work for Castillo. Perfect.
In the course of 10 hours last Friday, I was greeted by a card dealer in a casino and by the GM of a fine restaurant with the exact same unsolicited message: “Fire Andy Reid,” they said. So have literally hundreds of fans calling into my WIP radio show in the past few months.
Well, there’s no need to worry anymore. Because yesterday, Andy Reid fired himself.

Brad Lidge, the World Series hero who slammed the door on opponents 48 consecutive times in 2008, got the rudest of sendoffs last week. In fact, he got the door slammed in his face this time, by a Phillies team with a cold heart.
Now please don’t interpret the above words as a lament that the Phils didn’t re-sign their closer of the past three-and-a-half seasons. Lidge has lost his fastball, and with it his effectiveness. Even at the $1-million figure he accepted in Washington, he is a luxury the Phillies had no reason to indulge.
The issue here is not what GM Ruben Amaro did in saying goodbye to the most likeable and accessible Phillies player in this current era of unrivaled prosperity. The issue is the way Amaro dumped him, with a broken promise.
According to Lidge, Amaro told him there would be a place for him on the Phillies if the pitcher couldn’t find a closer’s job in the free-agent market. It is hardly a secret that the Phils no longer value Lidge’s declining talents. The honest and fair thing to do was to tell Lidge the truth, right then. Instead, Amaro strung him along for close to three months, and then reneged on his original pledge.
If Lidge didn’t deserve better treatment than that, who does? The Phillies have won two championships in their history, and he was directly responsible for one of them. He was also the player who best understood the fans, absorbing their criticism with grace and dignity throughout the past three frustrating seasons.
Even in this instant-gratification world, there has to be room for someone who did something so spectacular – and in such an engaging way – that he elevates himself beyond the numbers on a budget sheet or an age on a birth certificate. Brad Lidge was that man.

Roy Halladay is the best pitcher in baseball, and he was relieved 24 times last season. Ilya Bryzgalov is most definitely NOT the best goaltender in hockey, so why is it so terrible to replace him in shootouts?
I know, I know. Baseball is not hockey. Pitchers are not goalies. I get it. But none of those lazy generalities address the simple proposition that the Flyers have the best chance to win overtime games – and improve their playoff seeding – by removing a totally inept shootout goaltender and installing an exceptional one, Sergei Bobrovsky.
Don’t take my word for it. Just listen to Claude Giroux, by far the best shootout scorer in Flyers history. He said last week that, in practice, Bobrovsky is impossible to beat in a breakaway or on a penalty shot. The Flyers had just won the last game before the All-Star break after the backup goalie had stoned Florida on all three shootout attempts.
“Yου saw hοw gοοd hе іѕ,” Giroux said after that victory.
Yes, we did – and we have seen how terrible Bryzgalov is, too. The goalie was undressed twice in a loss last week to Colorado, making him 0 for 5 in shootout attempts this season. Right now a Bernie Parent statue would have a better chance of stopping the puck.
Flyers coach Peter Laviolette is just the kind of independent thinker to name Bobrovsky his shootout goalie, despite the potential emotional blow to Bryzgalov. My best advice to Bryzgalov is to study all of the big numbers on his overly generous $51-million contract. If that doesn’t end his depression, nothing will.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• Will Smith sitting courtside last Friday night was more proof that the Sixers are back. Not only is Smith a part-owner of the team, but he’s a way bigger star these days than Knicks mascot Spike Lee or even Lakers stalwart Jack Nicholson. Now all we need is some of that star power on the court.
• Am I the only fan who believes the best part of the Sixers season just ended? The next five games are against Chicago, Miami, Atlanta, the Lakers and San Antonio. Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted.
• There is no hope left for all-star games. The NFL is at an all-time high in popularity, and the Pro Bowl Sunday still inspired only sleep. The NHL has some amazing stars, but its showcase was another dud. The players are just trying not to get hurt, and the fans don’t care who wins. What’s the point?
• As we all wait with bated breath for Andy Reid to speak later today, one jarring thought just occurred to me. When is the last time he talked and we were satisfied? This news conference might be a really bad idea, after all.
• Against all odds, the final goodbye to Joe Paterno was pretty close to perfect. His former players were eloquent in explaining his profound impact on their lives, and all of the rhetoric over the scandal was quieted, at least for a week. Finally, Happy Valley got it right.

Andy Reid, the NFL head coach who is never wrong, was right again. Despite every shred of available data – including a dismal 8-8 record – Juan Castillo is a terrific defensive coordinator. Once again, the alternate universe where Reid resides is in direct conflict with the rest of the world.
Last week, one of the best NFL coordinators of the past decade, Steve Spagnuolo, agreed to run the defense in New Orleans, even though he has a long (and reportedly positive) history with Reid, and still maintains a home here. Why would Spagnuolo choose Bourbon Street over Broad Street, crawfish over cheesesteaks?
It’s very simple, really. Andy Reid never wanted Spagnuolo to return here. In fact, there is no evidence that Reid seriously discussed the job with him. All we know for sure is that Reid went on a weeklong vacation and then ducked back into hiding behind the thick, soundproof walls of the Novacare Center.
Reid has not spoken to the “best fans in the NFL,” as he calls them, in 23 days. His last words on the direction of his underachieving team were: “I’ll think about (the future) when I want to think about it.” And he wonders why he has become the most disliked coach in a generation in Philadelphia?
Well, the coach may be mute right now, but the fans are not. Their frustration with Reid is unprecedented. It is beyond the darkest days of Rich Kotite and probably even Joe Kuharick. At least those bumblers didn’t pretend they were smarter than everybody else.
Reid has now taken his idiotic decision to move Castillo to defense and amplified it into a full-blown fiasco by failing to hire Spagnuolo. And make no mistake: Reid could have had Spagnuolo if he had wanted him. The Eagles have already proven they’ll spend whatever it takes; the organization shed its reputation for cheapness in their free-agent frenzy last summer.
All things being equal, there was really no decision for Spagnuolo to make. The Eagles have the money, the talent (especially on the line and in the secondary), the comfort of a previous working relationship and the pull of a wife whose family lives here. If Reid had really wanted Spagnuolo, there was no question the best defensive coordinator in the NFL would already be working here.
But we all know that didn’t happen, and now we know why. Because Andy Reid, one more time, decided that he knew more than everybody else. In his warped mind, Juan Castillo will be a more effective defensive coordinator in 2012 than Steve Spagnuolo.
Hey, at least this time there is good news ahead. When Juan Castillo fails again next season – and he will – the overburdened assistant will not walk out the door alone. Accompanying him, finally, will be his arrogant, delusional boss.
And even then, Andy Reid will be convinced he was right.

How are we supposed to feel? We all love sports because of the escape it provides, a refuge from the harsh realities of life. And then the story over the weekend of Joe Paterno dying yanks us out of our fantasy world and forces us to deal with a jumble of conflicting emotions.
The first instinct when an extraordinary man like Joe Paterno passes away is to feel a deep sympathy not just toward him and his family, but also toward ourselves. If an ageless icon like Joe Paterno cannot escape – or at least temporarily deny – death, then what chance do the rest of us have?
And there are all of the people he has helped through his brilliance as a coach and his generosity as a philanthropist. For generations into the future, his contributions to Penn State will reverberate. A new library, a spiritual center, a sports museum . . . they are all a part of his campus legacy.
But then two words jar the senses: Jerry Sandusky. Can one horrific mistake in judgment undo over 60 years of achievement? Should it? The crimes are so unthinkable that it is too soon to consider the answer, and yet words must be spoken now, today, that can bring some closure to an incredible life.
How are we supposed to feel? Right now, it has to be a mixture of appreciation for all that he achieved, but also a deep sadness that nothing is ever really sacred – inside or outside of sports. Not even Joe Paterno.

One of the very first lessons of sports journalism is to visit the losers’ locker room, because that’s always where the best stories reside. And so it was in a championship weekend that proved once more that the NFL provides the best drama, and the best villains.
Billy Cundiff will never escape one brief moment in time late Sunday afternoon when he hooked an easy 32-yard field goal and ruined an entire season for his Baltimore teammates. Neither will Ravens wide receiver Lee Evans, who cradled a victory in his hands until the ball was swatted away at the last possible instant by the victorious New England Patriots.
And then there was the demoralizing story of Kyle Williams, a backup punt returner who fumbled twice for the San Francisco 49ers and handed an NFC title to the New York Giants. There is nothing worse in sports than an overtime fumble in the NFL playoffs – unless it happens to be your second fumble of the game.
It was not surprising that teammates rallied around their newly-spawned goats after the massive gaffes; players are required to do so, regardless of how they really feel. All three chokers have received a fair dose of venom from fans since their meltdowns – Williams even received some death threats – but this, too, shall pass. San Francisco and Baltimore are not exactly demanding sports towns.
Well, since I’m always at the service of the modern athlete, I hereby offer some words of consolation to Cundiff and Evans and Williams: Things could be even worse today. You could play in Philadelphia, a place that – I’m proud to say – never forgets.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• Cole Hamels signed a one-year deal with the Phillies last week, avoiding a contentious arbitration hearing. But the agreement will not prevent the 2008 World Series hero from becoming a free agent after the 2012 season. The Phillies must not lose Hamels. The Phillies CANNOT lose Hamels.
• The most poignant story in Philadelphia sports right now is the condition of Flyers captain Chris Pronger, who is still suffering the effects of a concussion he received three months ago. This is no longer just about Pronger’s future as a hockey player. Now it is about his future – period.
• Terrell Owens, in his final interview before total irrelevance, told GQ Magazine last week that Jeremiah Trotter convinced him not to apologize to Donovan McNabb during their feud in 2005. Trotter has angrily denied the story. Hmmmm. This is a tough one. Who’s lying?
• Spencer Hawes must be made of ceramic. He is 23 years old and has played well on those rare occasions when he could play at all. Twice he has been slowed by back issues, then the flu, and now an Achilles issue. The Sixers need him. Four different health issues in the first 17 games is ridiculous.
• NBA commissioner David Stern visited Philadelphia last week and credited the previous ownership for the team’s surge. He did this with a straight face. None of his fingers were crossed. Shouldn’t this guy be on the pro poker tour, or doing stand-up comedy?

The Eagles are run by football people with decades of experience, a proven record of success and an impeccable national reputation. The Sixers are guided mostly by novices who know a lot more about Wall Street than building a sports franchise.
So why did the Eagles completely botch the NFL lockout, while the Sixers handled the NBA lockout brilliantly? Could it be that the Eagles, once again, allowed their own arrogance to sabotage another season? Is it possible that the new Sixers’ brain trust already has a better idea of how to run a successful team?
Keep these numbers in mind as we explore how two of our major franchises confronted the challenge of a league shutdown. The Eagles started the 2011 season 1-4 and sunk to 4-8 before four meaningless wins. The Sixers are an astounding 10-3 right now, having outscored opponents by an average of 15 points per game.
It is no secret that the Eagles have a much stronger roster than the Sixers; no one would ever have the chutzpah to call the Sixers a Dream Team, unless the dream was inspired by hallucinogens. In fact, the Sixers have no stars – not one. The Eagles have Michael Vick, LeSean McCoy, DeSean Jackson, Asante Samuel and new post-lockout additions Nnamdi Asomugha and Jason Babin.
The problem is, that array of stars was not good enough for the Eagles, who decided an off-season with no workouts, no mini-camps, and no contact with players was a perfect time for major changes. Why would coach Andy Reid choose that moment to promote Juan Castillo to defensive coordinator? For that matter, why would he radically change the roster after the lockout?
An outsider would assume the people making these major decisions – president Joe Banner, GM Howie Roseman and Reid – were new at the game, unable to see the value of stability after the chaos of a lockout. We know better. The tired act of that trio is painfully obvious by now. The only rules they play by are their own, even when there is no logic behind them.
Meanwhile, a consortium of investors led by New York financier Joshua Harris bought the Sixers in October during the lockout and then resisted the urge for roster changes, despite slow ticket sales. I asked new Sixers CEO Adam Aron – as I gazed out at thousands of empty seats last Friday night in the owners’ box – why he didn’t order his only experienced executive, president Rod Thorn, to do more.
His answer was something the Eagles needed to hear, but wouldn’t have if he had screamed it in their ears. He said it didn’t make sense to shake things up when the NBA was already in disarray after the lockout.
Imagine that. A logical response to a difficult problem, with no I’m-smarter-than-you-are agenda. Is there any way we could get these new Sixer people to run our football team, too?

Just when it seemed impossible for Penn State to look more delusional, more in denial, president Rodney Erickson began a PR assault that was both a shock to the system and a punch in the stomach. Have these people lost all connection to reality?
And by “these people” I am including the legions of Penn State alumni who refuse to acknowledge the essence of the worst sports scandal in decades. No, this tragedy is not about the firing of coach Joe Paterno or his shattered legacy. It is about the alleged sexual assault of children – many children – and the appalling cover-up that followed.
Erickson, who was hired to control the damage, had the unmitigated gall to tell 650 alums at a town meeting in King of Prussia last week: “It grieves me very much when I hear people say ‘the Penn State scandal.’ This is not Penn State. This is the Sandusky scandal.”
Two Penn State administrators are under indictment for lying to the Grand Jury, accused child molester Jerry Sandusky had the run of the campus for years after his retirement, and at least one of the assaults reportedly happened in the Penn State football shower room. Now the new president – who is there because the previous president was fired over the scandal – says “This is not Penn State.”
The worst part of the story was the reaction to Erickson’s remark. He received a loud ovation from the alums. They actually cheered. I have always revered Penn State – not for the bogus image of moral superiority its football team created, but for the quality of education it represented. Now, I feel nothing but shame for everyone associated with the school.

Ryan Madson, a pitcher who helped the Phillies win a championship in 2008, is no longer speaking to his former team. He signed a one-year, $8.5-million contract with Cincinnati last week – after refusing to accept the last-ditch phone calls of the Phils – ending an off-season of ugliness between his agent and GM Ruben Amaro Jr.
And now that the drama is ending, the only thing left to decide is who the villain is here, and who the victim is. It’s obvious that Madson lost the most, since no one is denying he was close to a new deal with the Phillies that would have paid him at least $30 million over three years. So, at the very least, Madson blew $22.5 million during the dispute.
Basically, superagent Scott Boras claims he had a verbal agreement for a fourth year and a total of $44 million before Amaro had second thoughts – or his bosses did – and signed Jonathan Papelbon to a four-year, $50-million deal back in November. Amaro says there was never a final agreement at those numbers, just the usual give-and-take in a high-stakes negotiation.
Whom should we believe? I say Amaro. With the superior Papelbon still available, why would the GM lock down Madson so early in free agency? And also, with that much money on the table, an agreement isn’t final until ownership signs off anyway, and it’s pretty clear president Dave Montgomery wasn’t happy with that deal.
On the other hand, does Boras have reason to twist the truth? Yeah, about 22.5-million reasons, actually. He clearly misread the situation, so now he needs a good explanation. The Phillies reneged. That’s his new version of the truth.
So there you have it. An agent appears to be lying. Who says we never break any big stories in this column?

Idle thoughts . . . .
• The biggest shocker of the week was the revelation that embattled Eagles defensive coordinator Juan Castillo has a job waiting for him in Minnesota if he gets fired by coach Andy Reid. The position is defensive coordinator. That’s right, defensive coordinator. This is not a series of typos. This appears to be the truth. Wow.
• After two straight horrible drafts, the Eagles director of player personnel, Ryan Grigson, was hired as GM in Indianapolis last week – proving once again that it’s never what you know in the NFL, it’s only who you know.
• Let me get this straight: The Flyers spent $51 million on goaltender Ilya Bryzgalov, and now last year’s bust, Sergei Bobrovsky, is the clear No. 1 in the nets? Aren’t you glad you’re not GM Paul Holmgren right now trying to explain to chairman Ed Snider how this happened?
• Speaking of Ed Snider, it’s going to take years to undo the damage his apathetic ownership did to the Sixers. The current team deserves far better than the 8,000 and 10,000 crowds it has been getting, but this is what years of benign neglect brings. The worst thing that ever happened to the 76ers was Snider’s ouster of Pat Croce.
• Andy Reid is back from a week’s vacation. Word is, it started badly, but the last four days were amazing.

When Jeff Lurie finally broke his silence last week, we all expected the owner of our football team to shed some light on a dark season. What we got instead is a new insight into the rage spreading across the Eagles landscape.
Fans who have filled every seat of Lincoln Financial Field since it opened in 2003 – and have made Lurie a billionaire in the process – are sick of waiting for a championship, sick of the smug attitude of coach Andy Reid and sick of the dishonesty that has enveloped the organization.
I can make these statements with complete confidence because I felt the wrath of the fans myself when I had the audacity to suggest after Lurie’s memorable news conference that the owner had performed effectively. After all, Lurie had made it clear that he was appalled by the failure of the current team, so much so that Reid will be coaching for his job in 2012. Wasn’t that enough?
No, it wasn’t enough. In fact, all of the fans who called into my WIP radio show after the news conference – every single one for four straight days – said Lurie had taken an already bad situation and made it even worse. They found Lurie’s damnation of the season insincere, his decision to give Reid one more chance illogical and his defense of Reid’s public demeanor infuriating.
This is the exact quote that most enraged the fan base: “I don’t think you’re ever going to meet a coach who is less arrogant than Andy Reid.” Lurie’s words came exactly two days after Reid had refused to answer all questions about his job status and, when pressed, snarled: “I’ll think about it when I want to think about it.”
Instead of appeasing the fans with some consoling words, Lurie tapped into a deeper sense of resentment than any in his 17 years as owner of the Eagles. The fans believe nothing now from Eagles management – not the weekly insults that have become Reid’s news conferences, not the grandiose proclamations of president Joe Banner and not even the empathetic efforts of Lurie himself.
Jeff Lurie believed what he was saying last week. He really was disgusted by his underachieving 2011 team. He truly is getting tired of defending Reid’s indefensible behavior. He genuinely wants to win as badly as the fans of his team. All of those conclusions are fair and reasonable in the aftermath of Lurie’s honest and candid news conference.
And none of it matters anymore. Eagles fans have finally become spin-proof. Words no longer have any effect. The lesson of last week was a simple one for the Eagles. If they really want to make peace with their angry fans, there’s only one thing left for them to do. They have to win a championship.

Less than three months into their first year, the new owners of the 76ers have already accomplished their first goal. Their team is relevant again, both in Philadelphia and in the NBA. Joshua Harris and Adam Aron are the answer to a prayer for basketball fans here – accessible, enthusiastic and creative. Thanks to them, it is impossible right now not to root for the Sixers.
Their first game at the Wells Fargo Center last Friday night provided all of the bells and whistles expected of a new era, and much more. The new guys made an instant connection with the glorious past of the franchise by inviting back – to thunderous applause – Julius Erving, Moses Malone and, yes, even Andrew Toney from 1983 championship team.
The current team is a long way from the exalted status of that unit, but the best way to measure the franchise right now is from its more recent low point, not its high. Twenty-one months ago the team was doomed by a three-Ed’ed monster: disinterested chairman Ed Snider, incompetent GM Ed Stefanski and Professor Clueless, coach Eddie Jordan.
Instead, now we have Harris, a totally committed business wizard from Wall Street; Aron, a relentless Harvard idea machine with extraordinary people skills; and Rod Thorn, a proven roster manipulator. Even more important, we have people running the team who understand us. One of the first calls they made for advice was to former Sixers miracle worker Pat Croce. They get it.
Nobody knows where all of this leads, of course. The new guys may be better at managing this honeymoon stage of their tenure than the far more demanding challenges ahead. But this much we can say right now: When it comes to first impressions, the new Sixers are winners already.

My favorite Flyer this season is an undependable, eccentric, outspoken Russian who isn’t worth the money he’s being paid and may ultimately prove to be the undoing of his team. Ilya Bryzgalov is an absolute mess of an NHL goaltender – and the most intriguing Flyer to come along in many years.
Bryzgalov was clearly the star of the 24/7 reality show on HBO that took us inside the NHL Winter Classic, as he openly shared his philosophy on the creation of the universe, the importance of free speech and – in his finest moment – announced that he would not actually be playing in the game that had made him a TV sensation.
“The great news: I’m not playing,” he said. “The good news: We have a chance to win the game tomorrow.” Later in the same press gathering, he said he had just wasted 30 minutes of the media’s time saying nothing – clearly not true in this case – and then proclaimed that sports hasn’t really changed since the Roman Empire. People want “gladiators and bread” – always have, always will, he said.
Really, the only time not to embrace Bryzgalov is when he’s on the ice, botching easy saves and driving high-strung Flyers coach Peter Laviolette crazy. Even there, Bryzgalov is totally unpredictable, however, struggling for two weeks and then saving Saturday’s win over Ottawa with a couple of dazzling plays in the final moments. One day later, he blew a two-goal lead in a 6-4 Ottawa disaster.
Bryzgalov has all of the ingredients of a $51-million free-agent fiasco. He is unbalanced, divisive and moody. But I love the guy, and you should, too. It’s very rare in any sport that we encounter a player so willing to share himself with us, warts and all.

Idle thoughts . . . .
• The new Penn State coach, Bill O’Brien, spent an entire weekend talking about the unique challenges of the job, and he never once publicly mentioned the scandal or Jerry Sandusky. In other words, O’Brien is off to a very bad start replacing Joe Paterno.
• Well, at least now we know who was responsible for the disappointing 8-8 season. Johnnie Lynn, the Eagles secondary coach, got the pink slip over the weekend. All this time we thought it was Andy Reid or Juan Castillo, and the big problem was Johnnie Lynn. Who knew?
• The back end of the 2008 Phillies bullpen – Ryan Madson and Brad Lidge – is still unemployed, and it’s only a month until spring training. These guys won a world championship a little more than three years ago, and now they can’t find a job. Fame really is fleeting, isn’t it?
• Spencer Hawes came back from the NBA lockout a new man. The 7-1 Sixers center is clogging the middle, cleaning the glass and is among the leaders in shooting percentage. Either the new owners have inspired him, or Hip Hop was holding him back. I’m not sure which.
• Andy Reid has disappeared since his defiant post-game news conference nine days ago, but already he is making good on Jeff Lurie’s desire for a more pleasing public demeanor. After all, this is the first week in months that the Eagles coach has not insulted our intelligence.