22 (semi) Brief Thoughts About Why I’m Mad at Richard Sherman

Scene of the crime.

Scene of the crime.

1. Richard Sherman made a marvelously athletic, immaculately timed play to save Seattle’s 23-17 victory over the San Francisco 49ers in an NFC Championship game that instantly is labeled a “classic” and sends the Seahawks to the first and maybe only Super Bowl that will take place in the New York mega-media market. Seconds later, Sherman stalked Michael Crabtree, the 49ers receiver against whom he made the play, and chose probably an inappropriate time (he’d just, for all purposes, ended Crabtree’s season) to, he claims, try to shake the guy’s hand.

2. Then Sherman flashed the “choke” sign, he says, at 49er quarterback Colin Kaepernick. Then Sherman ranted in an on-field interview with FOXSports’ Erin Andrews, calling Crabtree a “sorry” receiver.
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Seattle Shows Its (Seahawk) Colors

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My wife Florangela got the brilliant idea that I ought to photograph various ways that Seattle was showing its Seahawk colors in advance of Saturday’s division playoff game here against the New Orleans Saints. I had planned on staying warm and dry, but the idea grew on me. So I’m presenting the images a couple ways – via slideshow above and individually below (so they can be viewed a little larger).

This effort, and especially its spirit, is dedicated to the memory of Fred Cordova, a critical supporter and mentor of mine, and voice, journalist and historian for the people.

Enjoy and go Hawks!
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When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong

Tracie Marcum with Lou Jones on "The Moment."

Tracie Marcum with Lou Jones on “The Moment.”

There’s a certain I-think-I-can-ism that television seems to facilitate with regard to sports. Maybe it’s the angles or the way long shots compress scenes or simply how the sideline reporters just walk up to coaches during a game to discuss strategy. Professional sports now appear so doable on TV that fans are making the leap to participation.

After a TV viewer was allowed to drop a dime on Tiger Woods at the Masters last week, you have to wonder what’s next. I mean, can I directly text Lebron James at halftime the next time I notice that his elbow is splayed a little more than usual on his jump-shot release? Or can I Tweet manager Eric Wedge the next time the super-slo-mo on FOX reveals the grip on Felix Hernandez’s cutter is slightly off?

Actually, I do know what’s next. I watched the premiere of USA Network’s “The Moment,” a show that inflates the hopes and dreams of America’s overlooked mediocrity. The fact that I never was tall enough or talented enough, and am now about 30 years too old, to play point guard in the NBA doesn’t really matter anymore. As long as I have a friend, spouse, family member or even some random TV viewer who will nominate me for a reality show, my dreams maintain their shelf life.
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