If I’ve told this part of the story before, I’m sorry. That first Halloween after the indictment I talked to the little guy about the costume he had to put together for the “parade” at school and for his nighttime stroll around the block. I wanted to keep it simple, and when he understood my idea, he was in. He would wear one of his Giants hats and his brother’s old 25 jersey. He said everything went fine at school. His Giants-fan teachers liked the costume. It was easy to put on and take off, and so forth. That night I went around with the other parents in the neighborhood and watched the kids go up to front porches to get candy. My kid looked like a penguin in a bathrobe as he went down the walkways. The jersey nearly reached the ground; the sleeves stopped just short of his wrists. That sight alone was sort of amusing. For a while I was too far away to hear his conversations with the people giving out cand, but he was getting some laughs so I figured he was doing ok. Then the kids approached a front porch close to the curb. The man at the door said, Cool, a Giant. Who are you, Willie Mays? Tim Lincecum? Turn around. When he saw the back of the jersey, he pretended to be outraged. Whoa! Barry Bonds? No, said my kid clearly, I’m Barry Bonds without steroids. It took a moment. Then the guy laughed hard and looked toward the interior of his house, yelling: Come here, come here! You’ve got to see this. Barry Bonds without steroids!

On the topic of role models, for my son during his formative years, it was mainly Will Clark (yeah, my love of Giants baseball wore-off on both of my kids big-time). (Curious about the SI article on Clark…if I read it, I don’t recall the details – damn…getting old sucks.) My son had a Will t-shirt that had a caricature of Will on it. He loved that shirt much that he would sleep in it. He would not want to give the damned thing up to have it washed. It was the damndest thing. Anyway, I think there were certaily less worthing athletes who he could have picked as a role model.

The two who really come to mind for my daughter are Martin Luther King and Omar Vizquel when he played for our Giants (my daughter played SS in girl’s softball). Again, she could have done much worse.

I always thought Omar was a class act. I recall one day at a game and we were sitting lower box, third base line, and taking in pre-game activities. The players came out to do pre-game stretches, etc. Omar saw us checking him out (and my daughter even called out his name a couple of times), and came over. My daughter told him that she played SS, had always admired him, that it was her BD, and asked for a picture with him (he obliged). The next year while at a ST game (Ranger’s against Giants at the Ranger’s yard), we saw Omar (his first year as a Ranger) and called to him. He came over and (so he says) says he remembered my daughter from the previous year. That is the kind of things that players can do that, in my eyes, make them a good role model.

Anyway…great thread.

Today, I only ask one thing of an athlete – Don’t roll over. Maybe that’s why I have no problem with Serena slamming her racket on the ground. In the heat of the moment, athletes are emotional and it’s almost impossible to reign that emotion in. The alternative are fucking losers like the Red Sox, that were drinking beer in the clubhouse during a game or Hanley Ramirez dogging a pop up or routine grounder. Pieces of shit like him, Iverson (cocksucker who doesn’t like to practice) or Latrell Sprewell – who cold cocked his coach and said shit like, “$20 million isn’t enough. I have a family to feed,” can kiss my ass.

I would have given my left nut to be a professional baseball player and to see ANYONE roll over pisses me off no end.