Five columns I won't be writing in October

• The genius of Terry Francona 

Muhammad Ali had the rope-a-dope. Terry Francona just makes the rest of Major League Baseball look like dopes.

At first, it wasn't an easy sell to Red Sox management. When team officials and coaches met in the now-legendary closed door meeting on September 4th, the topic was how to gain the most momentum heading into the playoffs. Theo Epstein suggested the starting pitching staff be rested, and Jonathan Papelbon get a few days off to be ready.

At one point, Francona stood up and bellowed to Epstien: "That's what everyone expects us to do."

Francona suggested that, instead of trying to gain momentum, the Red Sox just lull the rest of the American League into a false sense of security, then strike when no one expected it. What he proposed is that the Red Sox would look like they are collapsing - letting a 9-game lead disintegrate, letting pitchers drink beer in the clubhouse, and somehow keeping JD Drew on the roster. When other teams finally let their guards down, the Sox would turn it on and cruise past them.

The result of that clandestine meeting? An American League title.

•  Mayweather vs Merchant: A bout for the ages

Is it possible to be surprised and not surprised at the same time?

After his knockout of Victor Ortiz, Floyd Mayweather had been biding his time before naming his next opponent. Rumors began swirling, as they always do, that he would finally accept a bout against the only boxer left worth fighting: Manny Pacquiao.

 But no surprise, Mayweather ducked him again. But to everyone's surprise, his next opponent will be 80-year-old boxing analyst Larry Merchant.

"Larry doesn't know (expletive) about boxing," Mayweather said at a press conference. "I plan on showing him that firsthand in this fight. By the time it's over, he's going to be eating out of a tube."

"The joke's on him," Merchant cackled in reply. "I already eat out of a tube."

•  Ivy not so green for Fitzpatrick 

He wasn't just Ryan Fitzpatrick, he was "Harvard Graduate Ryan Fitzpatrick." And what a success story it was: a kid who went to one of the best schools in the nation somehow finds success. The odds against him seemed insurmountable.

But there was one thing his Ivy League pedigree couldn't overcome: the fact that it didn't exist.

Turns out, Fitzpatrick had been living a lie. An investigation by Yahoo! Sports revealed that Fitzpatrick had actually created a fake transcript. Not only did he not go to Harvard, he didn't even play football. The closest he came was playing Madden on XBOX live while drunkenly clicking through online classes at the University of Phoenix.

• 'Musical Chairs' declared in College Football

Conferences expanding and contracting. Teams switching sides one week and going back the next. Occasionally a football game breaks out. Finally, the NCAA is embracing it.

Starting in October, the NCAA will play Rock and Roll Part 2 by Gary Glitter on a week-long loop, while schools travel in a circle across the country. When the music stops, each team needs to rush toward a conference. If you don't have a chair, you're out. And that's how things will be decided on a week-by-week basis.

One week could have Oregon in the SEC, Florida in the Pac-12, and poor little Texas left out, forced to play pickup football in the parking lot.

•  Cubs on a collision course with World Series

Sure, they may have lost 91 games, but somehow I think they've still got a shot.

Bracing for a year without Blazers

For the past two years I have been living in Medford, and it's become harder to follow my beloved Blazers.

Yes, I realize that the tool I am using to write this post is also part of the largest information-gathering resource known to man, the sheer magnitude of which is capable of shrinking the world in which we live. But for a sports fan, somehow, it isn't enough. We can find highlights, game recaps, interviews, commentary, fan discussions and more online. We can subscribe to satellite TV packages to watch our games from hundreds of miles away.

But to me, there is nothing like being in the city of Portland during the Blazers' season.

Getting up in the morning, and hearing the thunk of the Oregonian hitting the kitchen table. Flipping through the oily newspaper to find the sports section and read that day's game preview. Driving near the waterfront and seeing the roof of the Rose Garden rise up over the horizon. Seeing people walk down the street and wear the jerseys of players who joined the team after 1999.

There's nothing like being there.

I'm just a few hundred miles south in Medford, and it's like being on another planet. To people here, a Blazer is something you wear to a dinner party, not something you cheer for (unless you're at a really bizarre dinner party).

Around this time two years ago, I stumbled across an AM radio station here that broadcast Blazer games. It was my lifeline.

As I worked night shifts, I would drive to stories across the Rogue Valley, catching snippets of the games during the trip. In April 2010, I alternated between covering a welcome party for the troops and welcoming back Brandon Roy against the Suns.

I would wrap up an interview, then run back to the car to get an update. I would scream as I approached Grants Pass and the reception turned to a loud buzz, but I would strain to decipher any details through the static. I would linger for an extra few minutes in the parking lot at the end of the night so I wouldn't miss any of the action.

Hearing the sounds of Bill Schonely's voice interrupt the national radio show to introduce the Blazer broadcast was like Christmas morning.

I wonder if I'll ever hear it again?

--------------------

The chances of NBA basketball this season are not good. As what would've been the start of the season approaches, I'm suddenly realizing how much I'm going to miss my Blazers.

A few months ago, I wrote about how I would prefer a lockout over a Blazer team that looked unimpressive on paper. I was wrong.

Any Blazer team is better than no Blazer team.

It doesn't matter if they win 50 games or lose 50 games. They're still our team. I once rooted for the Blazers even as they slogged their way to a 21-win season, and I couldn't have been happier. In the end I was still able to root for my team no matter what happened.

This lockout takes that all away.

It could be an entire season without the Blazers. A whole year with no reason to pick up that newspaper. Nothing to keep be lingering in the parking lot. Nothing but static on the AM radio.

It's going to be a long, dark year.

It's still ten feet

I love Hoosiers. I love TV news. Combine the two, and that's something after my heart.

One of my favorite new blogs is TV News Grapevine. It's written by a veteran in the news business who offers a new piece of advice/wisdom each day. As someone now entering his second year in the bid'ness (thank you, Dan Garrity), it has been wonderful to get some perspective about what we go through in this industry.

Today, he takes one of Hoosiers' most iconic scenes and applies it to the TV news industry.

It's still ten feet.

I could not agree more.

It's a strange thing about being in a small, beginner market. The news may seem different than what you will find in a larger city, and certainly it can seem like there's less of it. But TV stations in small markets are sometimes caught in this strange space - they either want to accept the small town aspect and say nothing important ever happens in that city, or go the exact opposite and push back against the small town image, trying to make every story the most important story ever. One week you will do the cat fashion show story, the next week you will be told a school fundraiser isn't "hard news" enough.

The trouble is that you cannot get stuck on one end of the spectrum or the other. It's a delicate balancing act. The end result, however, should be to believe in everything you cover. Have a reason to cover it, then treat it with the respect it deserves.

In the smaller markets, not everything is going to be hard news. But being in a smaller market shouldn't prevent you from taking a serious approach to hard news. The rules for good reporting are the same everywhere.

It's still ten feet.

A few years ago when I wrote for my college newspaper, I spoke to our newspaper staff, and gave a fairly scathing critique of the way the paper covered a more serious University story. Basically, the layout treated it as a joke, practically making it into a cartoon on the front page. I said if we didn't take the story seriously, our readers wouldn't take it seriously.

The editor who designed the layout shot back with "We aren't the New York Times."

"Yes," a fellow editor and I said back. "But that doesn't mean we can't strive to be."

In the years since, as I've watched "small-market" TV news from across the country and read news stories online, I've sensed a feeling from some people working at news outlets - some of their employees think they cannot be the New York Times, simply because of where they are geographically. Not everyone subscribes to that line of thinking, but an attitude like that from just a few people can make a big difference on the whole. I've met people who have shared the thought of "there are six people watching, what does it matter?"

Then let's have some great coverage for those six viewers.

If a small-time mentality takes hold, whether it's a college newspaper or a professional TV station, it can be hard to get out of. But it's still ten feet, no matter where the newsroom is located.

Throw away the key

The NBA is officially locked out.

Look around on NBA.com, and you won't find evidence that the players even exist. Every image has been scrubbed from the Web site. In the place of the usual promotional materials, there are articles adorned with the words "standoff," "issues," and "uncertainty."

Until the owners and players learn to act nice, we're not getting any basketball anytime soon.

Good. Lock them out.

It will spare Blazer fans of another gradual step down before the team had even made it to the top.

It's hard to believe that a team with so much promise during the past four season only peaked with consecutive first-round exits. But here we are, during a time when the team would normally be preparing for the next season, and the team looks no better than when it was struggling to contain Luis Scola and Aaron Brooks in the 2009 playoffs.

Management has imploded, and the team still has no idea what direction to go in. All of the recent wheeling and dealing has just been sound and fury, signifying nothing. When the dust finally settled, the team had taken one giant step ... to the side.

Another year of the Brandon Roy Farewell Tour. He'll have a couple games where we catch glimpses of the amazing player he once was, but then force us to watch as he limps up and down the court, desperately trying to recapture something that isn't there.

Another year of Marcus Camby being a little bit older, a little bit slower.

Another year of relying on third-tier players to help win games, like Wesley Matthews and Raymond Felton.

Another season of backup point guard from Jarrett Jack, er... Steve Blake, uh... Sergio Rodriguez, uh...Jerryd Bayless, er...Patty Mills, er... Armon Johnson, er...Nolan Smith.

And of course, another year without Greg Oden.

The excitement has dimmed, and the lockout will save fans another season in which the team slips down another rung on the ladder.

Compare this to the last lockout in 1998-99, when Blazer fans were itching see the team take the court. The Blazers were ready for a full season with Damon Stoudamire, who at that time was still one of the most exciting young point guards in the league. They had Brian Grant on the boards and Rasheed Wallace starting to come into his own. Things were on an upswing after several mediocre years of watching Kenny Anderson and Gary Trent try to lead a middling team to the playoffs (two notable point guards of the era: John Crotty and Rick Brunson). Steps were finally being taken forward.

Who knows? Without a lockout, maybe this Blazer team would've been something. Maybe LaMarcus Aldridge would've elevated his game to an even higher level this season. Maybe Gerald Wallace would suddenly turn into a winner. Maybe Nicolas Batum will decide another year of erratic playing time is the catalyst to turn him into a superstar.

But is this team worth a fifth straight season of "maybe?"

'True Zag Fans' have it backward

Gonzaga has always done a great job with public relations. But this time they have outdone themselves.

On Thursday, the Bulldogs lost their third straight conference game, a 73-71 loss at home to St. Mary's. The Zags are slowly slipping down the WCC ladder, and a loss at home is normally a surefire disappointment. But you wouldn't know it based on the reaction.

"Mark Few knows how to coach!"

"Gonzaga played as good of a game as possible."

"I really like this team."

"Few can coach at any level! He's amazing!"

"We are constantly at the top of the WCC, what is there to complain about?"

This isn't an isolated incident. It happens game-in and game-out. And I finally realized:

The Zags have reverse support.

At least it seems that way. Gonzaga is the only Division-I team I know that sees more optimistic support for coaches and players when they lose than when they win.

After wins, fan commentary and chatter will be about topics ranging from player rotation problems, to strategy, to matchups. But after losses, it's all cheers praising how lucky Gonzaga fans are to have a coach like Mark Few and a team that has seen so much success in the past 10 years.

It's the perfect situation for the program. They can either win games, or use their past wins as a built-in insulation for criticism following losses.

Unfortunately, it's also bred a flock of Zag fans who have become so mindlessly devoted to the team that they forget about the importance of criticism. And it has reached the point where any sign of disappointment from a fan will result in their commitment being questioned.

If you're not with us, you're against us.

After Thursday's loss to St. Mary's, several Zag fans took to the Internet to vent their frustration with the result, and with the choices made by the Gonzaga coaching staff. Those that dared to express dissatisfaction were met with sharp words about whether they "truly" supported the Zags.

"I'm disappointed. Once a Zag, always a Zag."

"Here come the bandwagoners."

"We have the best coaching staff in America."

"We're finding out who the true Zag fans are tonight."

It's that last type of statement that is the most intriguing. The mindset from some is that the Zags' loss will weed out those who support the team and those who are on the bandwagon. Whoever criticizes the team or the coach after the loss, or whoever doubts the postseason resume of the Zags, or whoever says the outlook is bleak, will be exposed as a fraud, not a "true Zag fan"

And that's completely backward.

Since 1999, when the Dan Monson-coached Zags burst on to the scene with an improbable trip to the Elite Eight, Bulldog fans have suffered an inferiority complex, but it only developed through good intentions.

Gonzaga is a small, private Jesuit university tucked away in the Inland Northwest. Its basketball team doesn't belong to a major conference, and doesn't get the major recruits. National pundits and analysts never give teams like that credit, and never say they have a shot at greatness. Even after the Elite Eight run and the subsequent success over the next few years with Dan Dickau and co., Gonzaga was simply viewed as a Cinderella squad that would eventually flame out.

Zag fans took that personally. The small community of supporters rallied around their team, stuck with them, and proudly voiced their love of the team. It didn't matter what those critics in the media said, these were our Zags, and we know how great the really are.

But then the years passed, and the Zags became stuck on a plateau. Win a big game or two during the regular season, win the conference, lose early in the tournament. Year after year after year, since 1999. That's when a small minority of fans started to question why the program couldn't get over the hump to elite status.

But many Zag fans, still so accustomed to protecting their team, jumped all over that. They had seen their small team reach success despite overwhelming odds and plenty of doubters. So the instinct to defend the Zag honor kicked in, even if the people they were defending it from were their fellow fans.

They point to where the program was in the '80s and '90s, and the success it has now achieved. They point to Mark Few's winning percentage. They point to the numerous WCC titles and NCAA Tournament appearances. And all along, they cry "you should be thankful a small school like this can reach these heights! If you are a true fan, you would appreciate what you have!"
Here's the thing about "true Zag fans." They are appreciative of what they have. That's why they want the team to do better, and not be stuck in a 10-year plateau.

Gonzaga has a rabid fan base; some of the most knowledgeable fans in the country. But even the most knowledgeable fans know that criticism is important.

At its very essence, sports is entertainment. And if something is no longer entertaining, or has grown stale, then its OK to wish for changes. It just means you are passionate about it, and want it to reach its highest potential.

But blind, fanatical devotion to that entertainment is not OK, especially when it turns into lashing out against those who disagree with the status quo.

Admitting the Zags won't reach the Sweet 16 this year doesn't make you less of a fan. Commenting that the coaching staff has inadequacies doesn't make you less of a fan.

And at the same time, burying your head in the sand and never acknowledging that things are going wrong doesn't make you a better fan.

It's time for the "true Zag fans" to understand that.