WHAT WE NEED IS THREE

My Arizona Cardinals need three for Saturday afternoon's playoff game against the Saints in New Orleans.

The courage. Like the lion (and not the Lions of the NFL), we have to demonstrate courageous furiosity. That means we have to play hard. That shouldn't be a problem for a playoff team with experience, but if I'm asking The Wizard, that's one thing critical. Go over the middle on a slant, knowing full well that you'll be smeared, but do it, because it's necessary. Don't call for a fair catch even when you know a defender is only a few feet from knocking you cold. Be brave: be bold.

A heart. There's no doubt this team has heart. The game against the Pack proved that. But if The Wizard doesn't mind, I would put that necessity near the top of the list. More than a love for the game, we need the desire to sacrifice the body for the good of the team. Not just hard licks, the kinds that they show on replays. Good, hard hits--no cheap shots.

A brain. From the coaching staff to the special team players, we have to play good, smart football. Know your assignments; know your capabilities. Be precise and accurate. Anticipate and react. Know what is coming. Read blitzes (is there anyone better than Warner at that?), zone coverages, and yes on-side kicks. You're allowed one screw up and you've used it up.

That's what I'd ask of The Wiz. Hey, isn't that our coach's nickname? If we can just be like the Oz characters to a point. Then we won't need Dorothy's wish to go home. No way. We don't want that. The Cardinals want to advance to the NFC Title Game.

I LIKE THE WAY THE UNIT WENT OUT



Just about 10 days ago,the biggest news in baseball was that my team, the beloved St. Louis Cardinals, has signed Matt Holliday to a 7 year contract worth $120 million. But there was another happening on the same day--Randy "The Big Unit" Johnson retired at age 46.



Along with Led Zepplin's poster "Swan Song", I thought I'd address his departure. In my opinion, it was a perfect way to go out.

The Retirement Tour of ballplayers making the rounds city after city accepting accolades and mementos along the way is just too much self-aggrandisement for me. If you have to say good-bye that way, then maybe you're just a tad too important.

I like what Cardinal great Willie McGee would say,"One of these days you'll look around and I'll be gone." That's right, Willie. And I will remember you when you were at the top of your game. Not so with another Willie--Mays who was one that didn't know when to retire. A la Steve Carlton and a bevy of others.

Maybe the worst was/is Brett Favre. "I'm retiring. No, I ain't. Yes I is. No, not yet. It's final. Nope, I'm back, and with a hated team." It was in the news for months.

Randy, my man, you did it right. If we have to be told we have to remember someone with some kind of celebration, then maybe that person wasn't all that memorable to begin with.

SKY SONG'S NOT BIG ENOUGH

There lies something not quite as grotesque as the picture called Sky Song that hangs over an area in Scottsdale that should have housed a hockey/concert arena that went to Glendale instead.

You see, it shades the patrons from Arizona's blistering sun. It appears to be made of a canvas type material and sorta reminds me of the Denver airport when I see the tee pee like projections piercing the blue sky.

But it's not large enough to shade our church nearby or friend's Jeff house who lives close. It doesn't come nearly far enough north to shield me either. And that's what's wrong with it.

How about a huge shade that we could unroll for protection? Not only for the sun, but we had another frost last night. Besides chilling outside plants and me inside, the frost damages outdoor activities as golfers have to be delayed because of frost on the fairways and greens. Sometimes up to 1 1/2 hours.

So you can see the benefits of a big Sky Song covering the whole valley. Maybe we could tie it down from the Mummy Mountains to Camelback on a trial type basis. Then if it works well, add more to the McDowells.

The only flaw I see besides cost, but who considers cost these days of trillion dollar budgets, is what to do when we do get rain? What to do when we want the sun to shine to warm us, toast us, tan us?

Oh well, it was just an idea. And I never even got to how we were going to change that orange guy looking down.

"THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME"

A combination Davey Moore story, Rolling Stone lyric, and death of a sort of relative/friend led me to today's On The QT.

Davey Moore won a championship in 1963, lost it and his life the same year. It seems that after he had given up his title, he was giving a post-fight interview. He regretted his loss but said he felt fine physically. Then he keeled over and died.

When a high school friend and former wife of a cousin of mine passed away yesterday, I asked myself when I had last seen her. Years was the answer. In fact, I can't remember where or when to borrow another musical lyric. Same with her sister, also a high school friend.

Which made me recall one of the Stones' best songs, The Last Time. Which may have been part of the reason I entitled my first novella The Last Game. An episodic tale of neighborhoods and how our lives were entangled and intertwined when we were growing up in Mid-America back then.

One perspective is the wiffle ball or football or basketball games that we played on a daily basis. Not just once a day, but most of the day. Carrying over into the night with Hide-and-Go-Seek and flashlight tag. Now why we added the Go to Seek, well I don't know as Mick sang in the same song. But one day, unannounced, unforeseen, we had to grow up. The games were over without anyone noticing that it was The Last Game. It just was.

And that's too bad. Most good-byes are that way. Unspoken. Unsaid. Uncelebrated. Without fanfare.

So to Davey, whom I'd never heard of until today, and to Paula, I say farewell. Oh, yeah, and to the old neighborhood guys, gals, and games.

BIG MAC USED STEROIDS, BIG MAC ADMITS USAGE, IT'S OVER, BABY

Or it sure as heck should be.

What other user of the '90's has confessed? Oh, a few. Two current World Champion Yankees. An ex-Oakland A trying to profit from his use. While I may have overlooked a few, maybe the late Ken Caminiti, I don't recall; I don't remember. But I do care.

In the '80's football great Lyle Alzado of the Raiders used steroids and died at age 43. I honestly, gullibly believed that that would be the end of it. Measure the cost with the desire, I thought.

But usage continued, continues. Manny Ramirez is the most recent example having had to sit out of 50 Dodger games because he was caught. You see, MLB now has a drug testing policy. Which still allows Manny two more chances before he is banned from the game.

But many don't want to give McGwire even one more chance. He gives lengthy interviews, he cries, he humbles himself. He calls Roger Maris' widow, he calls several friends and current players, he calls his parents, he calls baseball's commissioner all before his public announcement. Followed by tv interviews. For two days.

The man has emptied himself. But it wasn't enough. They won't forgive. They'll continue to harangue to the point that I suspect in his new job as Cardinals' hitting coach he won't finish the season. McGwire is the poster boy for the Steroid Era in baseball. He'll never be forgiven.

And that is sad.

THEY DID IT

They called off school today in MTV. Because it was too cold. The temp was 2 degrees early in the morning.

Give me a break! Pictured to the right is our school, Field, later changed to Dr. Andy Hall, a local physician. The year was 1957. A February if I remember. By the way, I'm the third one standing on the roof. It doesn't matter which side you start with; I'm the one in the middle.

I remember how my lungs felt when I sucked in hard with all the breath I could. The breath I would later need to shovel the three feet of snow we got. I shoveled most of the snow myself because I was told to. You see, I was a fourth grader and we only had two shovels.

The other guys and one gal, Sharon Cooper who had facial hair as dark as her Everett Dirkson eyebrows, took turns, but I manned (or boyed) the other shovel by myself. That's how dedicated I was to school. I didn't want them to cancel it so I could build snowmen, a snow village, an igloo, a fort, whatever I might come up with on a day off.

Ok, now the truth. They canceled school today because of the cold. Sharon Cooper's description was accurate.

THERE WAS A FOOTBALL GAME, THERE WAS A FOOTBALL GAME

where there was no defense played at all. Until the last play of the game. Which led to a Cardinals' victory over the up and coming Packers.

The emotions of playoff football in the NFL ran the gamut in Sunday's thrilling 51-45 win for the good guys. From early indications of a cakewalk for the Cardinals to impending doom when Rackers choked on a field goal attempt, to certain loss when the coin toss fell the way of the Green Bayers.

Like those advertisements of the poor little kids with cleft pallets leaving them with a hideous appearance, I had to look though I knew what I was seeing in OT would be ugly. It was only a matter of time until Rodgers hit a wide open receiver, their guy kicked a field goal and AZ was history.

Then I flashed back on a St. Louis Ram overtime playoff loss against the teal clad Panthers when Steven Smith caught one of the first passes in overtime and took it to the house ending a great Ram season. It was a painful car ride back to MTV after that catch. Well the GB qb had a wide open receiver running the exact same route on the same side of the field that Smith had done half a decade ago. But Rodgers choked this time and hurled the sphere way out of reach.

And then little Mike Adams makes the play of his life. Rushing, sacking, and yeah face-masking the qb who coughed up the ball, kicked it hackey sack style into the waiting arms of Karlos Dansby, Number 58 of the Cardinals who pranced into the end zone for the victory.

The guttural sound, long and loud, that emanated from my being came from some part of my diaphragm that I've never used. It was so sweet--the win, certainly not the sound.

I was exhausted as if I had tried to cover the Green Bay wide outs. I watched some of the after-game analyses, but not many. But I had to see a Warner interview. Can you imagine throwing 5 touchdown passes and only 4 incompletions out of 33 balls tossed all afternoon? Wow!

As I looked in the mirror at my flushed face I was reminded of when an MTV physics teacher drank about a sixth of a jar of pickle juice in front of me one time.

Oh well, it was worth it. I flicked off a little popcorn salt from my Warner jersey. I get to wear it proudly again Saturday in the next round of the playoffs.

FUN IN THE SUN AND CLOUDS

We were blessed to be with our son and his family for nearly a week around Christmas this year. While our weather left a lot to be desired, I'm at a toss up as to what was the funniest event of the season.

It could have been our 13-month old granddaughter who went chasing after our older grandson's robot. It look a lot like a droid. It awakened me one morning talking in another room. I knew it didn't sound like anyone I knew and I didn't know our early waker was up and playing at 5:30. He assured me that no more robot play would take place before 7 AM and it didn't.

But what was funny was the way our little one followed the robot around. Finally there was someone smaller than she so she'd take off after him. She didn't know how to remote him, but as long as he was moving, so was she. One pair of shoes she has squeaks, well at least the right shoes does. It's not like my Pumas, which coincidentally has a right shoe squeak in it as well; hers are supposed to squeak but one squeaker's on the fritz. But to watch and listen was to laugh a little at least.

Our younger grandson had a brief conversation with our P.F. Chang's waiter one evening. Nathan started it when he was presented with a black napkin.

"You may want to watch me with this napkin. I stole one at another restaurant one time."

"Oh, you did?"

"Yep. Never saw a black one and I thought I could use it for a magic trick."

"Hmm."

"But I had to take it back when I got busted."

"Hmm."

"Good times. Good times."

Our older granddaughter is months away from her teen years, so her humor is more subtle most of the time. She makes us laugh a lot, too, but she's careful because she's working on coolness. I'll have to ask her what the funniest thing was that happened the week that was.

All I know, it was a great time. As soon as we got the house put back together and the Christmas decorations boxed and garaged away, I was missing them and ready to see them again.

NOT TOO FAR

Sometimes the fruit does fall far from the proverbial tree. In this picture, Pablo is trying to teach or at least observe what the young Picasso is drawing. Ever hear of Pablo Picasso, Jr.? Me neither.

In A Drabble comic, Nelson asks his grandmother if he got his intelligence from her. She replied in the negative, adding that Nelson must have gotten his intelligence from grandpa because she still had hers.

It is strange though that no Junior that I'm aware of ever followed his father's footsteps and became a famous author. Only two Presidents' sons followed in their footsteps. I'm not sure if there are father/son tandems in the Hall of Fame. Actually any Hall of Fame including the Rock and Roll one in Cleveland.

Lots of doctors and attorneys. Several teachers and preachers. A few athletes. Certainly several businessmen and military personnel. Some musicians. But why in these occupations and not others?

I know: I left out women and their daughters. Only because until fairly recently in history, they were limited by what fields they could go into. Yet the same principle (whatever that may be) applies. That is, juniors sometimes follow and sometimes don't.

But it does seem somehow based on select careers. I just haven't figured out how or why.