Remembering "The Faa" five years later

Here's the column I wrote five years ago, right after the passing of my dear friend, Ed "The Faa" Ford. It's amazing he's gone five years already:

It was October of 2009 when I received word that Ed Ford, better known simply throughout Hudson County athletic circles _ and beyond _ as “The Faa” was not doing well. His host of health problems, most importantly congestive heart failure and diabetes, were catching up to him. He was in critical condition in the Jersey City Medical Center and his chances for recovery did not look good.

Doctors put Faa in an induced coma to prevent him from pulling out the tubes that were keeping him alive. I was convinced on a Friday afternoon in October that I was going to the Medical Center to bid farewell to my long-time friend.

That was around 3:30 p.m. or so.

About three hours later that night, I received three phone calls from respected sportswriters and colleagues, all asking me if the Faa had passed on. Apparently, a Rutgers University basketball coach posted on Twitter that the Faa was gone. “RIP, Ed ‘The Faa’ Ford,” was all the Twitter comment read. I thought it was a little strange that word that the Faa had passed could have leaked out that fast, especially after I was just there.

One particular sports columnist, Steve Politi of the Newark Star-Ledger, was actually writing the Faa’s obituary, when I told him to hold off for a second until we could confirm it.

So I called Jersey City police detective Mike McNally, a long-time friend of the Faa, if he had heard anything. McNally, preparing to go to a wedding, actually drove up to the Medical Center to check on his buddy. He called me back to tell me that it wasn’t true, that Faa was still with us.

On the following Tuesday, I went up to see how the Faa was doing. Sure enough, he was sitting up without any tubes, talking like he always did.

In this case, like Mark Twain once wrote, “the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

When Faa saw me, he uttered these words, “I always knew I’d write your [bleeping] obituary before you wrote mine.”

Unfortunately, that’s not the case, because Tuesday afternoon, I got a text message from the wonderful woman who helped to care for the Faa in his time of need and in the middle of his major health crises over the last two years, Anne Marie Costello, who simply wrote, “Faa’s gone.”

Edward “The Faa” Ford, who had an absolutely remarkable life in sports and business, who called thousands of people his friend and was able to touch so many for so long with his undying generosity and care, was now indeed dead. He was a few days shy of his 66^th birthday.

It’s almost too incredible for words to think all that Faa did without a true formal education. He didn’t own a high school diploma. He was a grade school dropout.

But he was able to carve out a life that most people simply dream about. He was first a respected baseball coach, leading St. Mary of Jersey City to its lone NJSIAA state championship in 1973. He was a respected basketball referee, officiating many of the top high school and college games in the area, including a handful of HCIAA championship games. He was a business owner, owning a part of three different Jersey City taverns, including Dohoney’s on West Side Avenue, a place he owned for over 25 years.

For 30 years, he was a sports columnist for two papers, first the Hudson Dispatch and later the Jersey Journal, helping both sports sections flourish. Readers all over Hudson County flocked to newsstands to see what outrageous thing would next appear in his “Faa’s Corner” in either paper. He was clearly the most popular sports columnist in this area for three decades _ and did so never collecting a dime and having no ability whatsoever to type.

He was a full-time major league baseball scout, working for the California Angels, the Chicago White Sox, Chicago Cubs and Milwaukee Brewers, helping so many local aspiring baseball players get a chance to play pro baseball.

And he was later the assistant director of recreation in Jersey City, helping to form a youth baseball program that has helped develop hundreds of youngsters in the sport he loved the most. It was working with the youngsters that made the Faa the happiest. He truly felt that was his biggest calling.

It’s truly the most amazing career for anyone I’ve ever known without a formal education. What makes it even more astounding is that he never truly understood how incredible his life was. He was just being the Faa. That’s what he did the best.

He was so beloved that words can never describe it. I got the call that he had passed away Tuesday afternoon and as I drove to the Caven Point Athletic Complex where he died _ albeit fittingly _ I received eight cell phone calls on my way there. He wasn’t gone an hour, yet there were eight people calling me, one from North Carolina, another from Easton, Pa.

I guess it’s because for the last 35 years, I was fortunate to call the Faa my friend.

Someone asked how I would best describe my relationship with Ed Ford. I honestly couldn’t answer it.

Because our relationship covered the full gamut of emotions. It went from cantankerous, confrontational, adversarial and angry to loving, caring and considerate. It was first coach-to-player, then sportswriter-to-sportswriter, first as colleagues, then as rivals. It was boss-to-employee (yes, I bartended at Dohoney’s for a stretch when I was out of work), but it was always, first and foremost, friend-to-friend.

He was a father-figure and a brother-figure all rolled into one. I knew that if I ever needed anything, he was right there for me, even if I did appear on his “tombstone” more often than anyone other than Bob Hurley and Mike Hogan.

Faa had a “tombstone” that he kept with people he considered dead to him. I appeared on that tombstone about 50 or so times over the last 25 years. But I somehow always managed to have my name erased, only to have it put back on for some ungodly reason.

One thing was certain: We were attached at the hip for the last quarter century. People always associated the two of us together. No matter where I was, what event I was covering, everyone would come up to me and ask, “How’s the Faa?” I got asked that question about 30 times at the recent Final Four in Houston.

I guess because the Faa and I were cut from the same cloth. We were two Jersey City guys who were not afraid to speak their minds and offer their opinions.

So since Tuesday, I’ve received countless phone calls, e-mails, text messages, all offering their memories of the Faa.

“The English language can’t come up with one word to describe him the right way,” said Bob Hurley, a friend of the Faa for the last 45 years. Faa even served as the best man when Bob and Chris Hurley were married 41 years ago.

“There was a lot more friendship than there were bad times,” said Hurley, who was not on the best of terms with Faa when he passed. “There was never a middle of the road with him. But if you needed something, he was there. Even if he had nothing, he was there. His friendship can’t be measured by the confusing times. We had a lot of really good times, loyal times. The impact he had on people was amazing. He had such a wide circle of friends. There is no replacement. They don’t make them like him anymore. I feel bad for the kids of Jersey City, because there’s no one to help them anymore.”

“He bought me my first spikes and my first new glove,” said Willie Banks, who took the Faa’s guidance and made a triumphant return to the major leagues. “It really feels like I lost a parent. I feel the same way I did when I lost my Mom. It hurts that much. I remember all the times he took me to the baseball field at 5, maybe 6 a.m. to work with me, asking me if I wanted to be good or great. He created my work ethic and I work with kids today because of him. He truly was the cornerstone of my career.”

“He was absolutely a rare breed,” said Rashon Burno, the former St. Anthony basketball player who is now an assistant coach at Towson University. “He was always my voice of reason, telling me what’s wrong and what’s right. He seriously cared about your well being and that’s very rare. He was a huge asset to me.”

“The Faa was a classic,” said Mike O’Koren, who the Faa helped to go to the University of North Carolina before a career playing and coaching in the NBA. “He was such a positive influence on all of us. He was a great guy and always there for me. He really would give you the shirt off his back. We all lost an institution.”

“He wore so many hats,” said Ken Markowski, one of the Faa’s first baseball players at St. Anthony who had a Hall of Fame basketball career at St. Peter’s. “He was a confidant, a father figure, a brother figure. He did so much for me. He was the best and it’s incredible what he meant to me and everyone.”

“How do you describe what he was?” said North Bergen legendary football coach Vince Ascolese. “In terms of all my relationships, I could always count on Eddie Ford being on my side all the time. He had so much charisma. He’s going to be missed.”

“There couldn’t be a nicer person I’ve ever known,” said Joe Borowski, who the Faa signed to his first pro baseball contract with the White Sox before Borowski went on to have a long career in the big leagues. “He would do anything to help you and never ask for anything in return. No matter where I went, I would bring up his name and everyone had a Faa story, either funny or serious. I don’t know if there was anyone involved in Hudson County sports who wasn’t affected by him.”

“I always thought Eddie was very smart,” said University of Connecticut assistant basketball coach George Blaney, who as the head coach at Hudson Catholic, gave Faa his first coaching job as freshman coach. “He had a great knack of evaluating people and understanding talent. He understood what it took to win and I admired that. He had a great ability in talent evaluation and I think that’s what made him a great scout. There was also a childish way about him and he reveled in the bizarre and funny things. What strikes me most about Eddie is that when you met him, you remembered him. Everyone has an Eddie Ford story.”

Personally, I have thousands. There was never a question of his loyalty to me as a friend, even through all the tough times and countless arguments. He was my friend and he’s gone. We’ll gather together to bid farewell to the Faa this weekend. But he’ll never truly be totally gone.

The fitting thing would be somewhere down the road to rename the Caven Point Athletic Complex, truly his home for the last 15 years, as the Ed “Faa” Ford Memorial Complex. Here’s to hoping that someone picks up that torch and remembers his legacy that way.

In postscript, I'm glad someone read my column, because sure enough, a year later, the complex was indeed named after "The Faa". I don't know if I had anything to do with it, but I sure hope so.

Congrats to the Pirates and their fans

It's safe to say that after last year's debacle, no one believed this next paragraph:

"Seton Hall Pirates, 2016 Big East basketball champions."

How could anyone in their right mind believe that statement?

I mean, the Pirates were a .500 mess last year, barely surviving the season. They were humiliated in the first round of the Big East Tournament by a less-than-average Marquette squad. Once ranked among the nation's best, a team that beat nationally-ranked teams Villanova and St. John's in consecutive games over a four-day stretch right near New Year's Day, the Pirates, bereft with internal strife and complete discord, limped their way home to finish the 16-15 campaign.

I got a lot of grief from a lot of people for a blog I wrote last year, talking about the troubles the Pirates were having, that the star former McDonald's All-American guard Isaiah Whitehead was the root of a lot of the Pirates' problems. Lambasted and chastised would be understatements for the reception I received for that blog.

When I went to Media Day last October, before the start of the 2015-16 season, the idea of the fractured locker room was brought up to sixth-year head coach Kevin Willard, who later admitted that this current season was basically a "shit or get off the pot" season.

Willard admitted that he handled the fractured team, which caused two top guards, Jaren Sina and Sterling Gibbs, to transfer out of the program. Willard admitted that he handled the problems in the locker room "terribly" and vowed back in October that there were indeed changes made.

“I don’t think I did a very good job handling the distractions,” Willard said. “I didn’t handle the outside distractions well. There were a lot of outside distractions from family and friends, aunts and uncles. It wasn’t just one factor. I have a much better handle on that now, but the dynamic of this team is much different.”

 

Even Whitehead addressed the issue.

 

“I never believed any of it,” said Whitehead, the program’s first McDonald’s All-American since 2001. “My mom raised me to be the best person I can be. I’m a good guy. I just think we didn’t know what it was like to be ranked and how to handle it. Last year is in the past. We’ve put it behind us. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

 

Flash forward to Saturday night in New York, when a new Big East champion was crowned. The team was _ yes, believe it _ the Pirates and the Most Valuable Player of the tournament was none other than the believed troublemaker Whitehead.

 

The Pirates defeated Villanova, 69-67, to win their first Big East title since 1993, back to an era where the Pirates were believed to be one of the best programs in the country, back to the days when P.J. Carlesimo was the coach, Terry Dehere was the star and Jerry Walker was the enforcer.

 

There were a lot of reasons why the Pirates are the Big East champions. First, what a transformation in Whitehead, who went from beleaguered player to team leader in a matter of minutes.

 

Then, there was Willard, who really did his homework about his own team. Even though they were without a true point guard, Willard believed that the Pirates could win. They mixed and matched, using Whitehead as the barometer. They played tenacious and relentless defense, physical specimens.

 

If they committed a foul, no problem, we'll just lay it off until next time. They were relentless in their physicality.

 

Willard also changed up his defenses and the Pirates became a dominating force when they went to the 2-3 zone, the kind of zone that is taught in Biddy Leagues and CYO leagues throughout the area, even some of them move on to play in high school.

 

That zone defense saved the Pirates' season, because it allowed guards like Whitehead, Khadeen Carrington and Derrick Gordon to roam free, attack other ball handlers and go for steals. And if they got steals, which more often than not, they did get, they were off to the races the other way.

 

Whitehead was the key. As much as he was a divisive factor a year ago, he was a galvanizing piece this year. He put them all together and led them to the Promised Land.

 

Willard also deserves a lot of the credit and was deservedly the Big East Co-Coach of the Year, along with Villanova's Jay Wright. He eliminated all of the outside influences, took it upon himself to be the leader, made changes in the philosophies and stuck to his guns through it all. For the first time in six seasons, Willard acted like the program was indeed his. And kudos to him for having the intestinal fortitude to realize that he had to do all of the above.

 

Congrats to the Big East champions, the Pirates of Seton Hall, who deserve a No. 4 seed today when they unfurl the NCAA Tournament bracket later today. They deserve it so much for where they came from, from one game over .500 last year to the Big East champs this year.

 

And yes, I have to admit I was way wrong. I never thought this was possible. I have to swallow the pride a lot here.

 

=========================================================================

 

And kudos to my buddy Greg Herenda and the Knights of FDU for also heading to March Madness as well. What a great turnaround for a team that had to endure a 15-game losing streak just last year, finished 8-21 and now gets to go to the Big Dance...

 

I wish I didn't have a busy schedule this week or I'd be on the road to Dayton with high school friends to see the Knights. Herenda and I were close friends during our days at St. Peter's Prep, constantly getting in trouble together, with him usually the one causing it. He was like my own Eddie Haskell, kissing up to my mother every chance possible and telling her all the mischief I was getting into in school. When he was right there alongside of me, causing the whole mess.

 

I'm very proud of Herenda, because he certainly paid his dues to get this chance to be a part of March Madness. I hope this means that after 35 years in the coaching business, he finally has some job security.

 

So wherever the Knights end up, it has been a great season and a great one for my friend. I wonder if Mr. Rowe, our physics teacher, knows how well Herenda did this year as a coach...

 

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You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, with the column about Herenda, www.theobserver.com, www.dailyrecord.com and www.northjersey.com. Just Google my name and you'll never know what you might find.

 

 

 

 

 

A new year brings a new blog---Hall of Fame musings and grid observations

It’s a new year, which means the blog should be updated. I’ve had a few people to remind me that the blog was not refreshed in quite some time, so that means I better snap to it and give the loyal readers something new from me. I apologize for being lackadaisical and will make my first New Year’s Resolution right here to be more diligent when it comes to the blog. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Anyway, let’s start with the Baseball Hall of Fame inductees that were announced last week. Of course, Ken Griffey, Jr. is an absolute no-brainer and a Hall of Fame baseball player if there ever was one.  “Junior” is one of the best all-around players to ever play the game, right there with people like Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. To think that there are three members of the Baseball Writers Association of America who kept Griffey, Jr. off the Hall of Fame ballot for some reason _ other than they didn’t want him to be the first unanimous selection or they thought he shouldn’t go in on his first try is preposterous. Of course, Mike Piazza got his just due and was elected to induction after four previous tries. Why it took five times on the ballot to get Piazza, the greatest hitting catcher of all-time, into Cooperstown is another befuddlement of this BBWAA mishmash election process. It’s believed that a lot of the writers believed that Piazza was tied into the whole steroid controversy. They heard rumors that Piazza was on the juice because someone spotted Piazza with acne on his back (a symptom of steroidal abuse), so the former Met All-Star was kept away from his proper place in Cooperstown because of the rumors and innuendo. That idea just totally eats at me. Let’s deny a man’s place in immortality because a bunch of old sportswriters heard scuttlebutt that Piazza was juicing or was believed to be juicing or someone saw his naked back in need of Clearasill and bingo _ instant steroid bad boy. Keeping a guy out of the Hall of Fame because of rumors? Piazza was never once officially linked to steroids. From what I gather, he was not listed on the now-scandalous and oh-so-secret Mitchell Report. He was not called to Congress to testify. He never had huge jars of androstenedione supplements prominently shown in his locker. No syringes, no gauze. Nothing _ yet, the thoughts were that Piazza was a juicer. Hey, he had to be one, because who could ever hit the ball that far and that hard to right field like Piazza did. He had to be on the stuff because he hit 423 homers and catchers didn’t hit that many homers. It was all based on rumor with no substantiated fact, yet Piazza was kept away from Cooperstown and a Punch-and-Judy second baseman like Craig Biggio got in ahead of him. Well, it’s over now. Piazza got enough votes to get in finally. He will have his day with Griffey, Jr. in August. He will be the second Met player to be enshrined after Tom Seaver. Some people were worried that Piazza might choose to have his place in immortality wearing a Dodger hat, but as everyone knows, Piazza was identified with the Mets for seven-plus seasons and is still considered a Met. He’s the best positional player the Mets have ever had. Hopefully, the knuckleheads that run the organization will recognize that fact and finally put Piazza’s No. 31 on the wall at CitiField, next to Seaver’s No. 41. I was rooting (mostly for personal reasons) for Tim Raines to get the necessary votes to get in and “Rock” just fell a few votes short. I got to work with Raines for two years when he managed the Newark Bears and I was the official scorer. We spent many a day talking baseball, especially through rain delays in his office. The baseball brain trust sessions I enjoyed with Rock, Mike Torrez, Ron Karkovice and Jim Leyritz were priceless. I especially liked the days when Rock and his son, Tim, Jr., were together in Newark, forming a unique bond that not many outsiders could see. As a baseball player, Rock was electric, the second best leadoff hitter in the game, next to another former Newark Bear Rickey Henderson, who I also had the fortune to work with when he was a teenager in Jersey City in 1978. Incredibly, Henderson is in the Hall of Fame. Raines should be _ and hopefully will be next year _ and I got the chance to know both pretty well. Although it’s a fair assumption that Henderson would not remember me again _ even after a reunion in Newark 13 years ago. He remembered the car I drove him to his Duncan Avenue apartment in Jersey City, which was a 1976 AMC Pacer, but didn’t remember me. “The bubble car?” Henderson said. “You had the bubble car?” Yes, that was me, but he didn’t remember me at all. That’s OK, I’m not offended. When he was reunited with John Olerud with the Mets, Henderson told Olerud that he once played with a guy who wore his batting helmet in the field. Of course, that player was indeed Olerud. The two were teammates with the Toronto Blue Jays, but Henderson didn’t remember who it was. But when I was a freshman and sophomore at Marquette in 1979 and 1980, Henderson left me a bunch of tickets in order to see the Oakland A’s play the Milwaukee Brewers. In 1979, most of my Marquette friends weren’t too impressed that I knew two major leaguers in Henderson and Mike Norris. A year later, Henderson broke Lou Brock’s stolen base record and Norris won 22 games and finished second in the Cy Young voting and everyone wanted to know me for the tickets. Anyway, here’s to hoping that Raines gets his place in Cooperstown with Henderson and Piazza next year. It’s so deserved. Raines is not only a Hall of Fame player but as a guy, he’s definitely better than Cooperstown. As for the controversy that surrounds others who are not in the Hall of Fame, I’ll stick to my guns and say that Pete Rose belongs in the Hall of Fame, that Roger Clemens belongs in the Hall of Fame, that Barry Bonds belongs in the Hall of Fame and when the time comes, Alex Rodriguez belongs in the Hall of Fame. Rose belongs because of what he achieved as a ballplayer should not overshadow his incredible disease of being a compulsive gambler. It’s a disease that still has not left Rose’s system, because he’s still betting today. But Rose is a Hall of Famer through and through. As much as I hate both as human beings, Clemens and Bonds are also Hall of Famers. They were lock members of the Hall of Fame before they ever saw a syringe and put a needle into their bodies. They only enhanced their careers with steroids. The drugs did not make them become legendary ballplayers. They both belong. As for A-Rod, it’s hard to say where the steroids started, but he was also a Hall of Fame player before the lies began and the steroid use became known. Reports have it (ah, yes, rumor and innuendo) that Rodriguez began his steroidal use rampantly when he was with the Texas Rangers in 2002. Before that year, A-Rod already had four seasons of 40-plus homers and 125-plus RBI and a .330 batting average _ as a shortstop. He should be in as well. But Clemens, Bonds and A-Rod will more than likely never see the Hall. Nor will Rose after his last defiant stand. The Hall of Fame should be for the greatest players of all-time. It’s not for players who a bunch of old sportswriters (yes, I’m an old sportswriter myself, just not a voting member of the BBWAA) who have picked people like Phil Niekro, Don Sutton, Bill Mazeroski and _ hate to say it, but true _ Phil Rizzuto in the past. That’s just my opinion. There are other great players like Albert Belle, Dale Murphy, Jeff Kent and Jack Morris that are Hall of Famers and will never get in. Jeff Bagwell will get in next year, but there’s another. It took Jim Rice almost 15 full years before he got in _ and that’s because other sportswriters hated him. Rice should have been in right away. He was the best player in the American League for more than a decade. Rice batted .298 for his career. In comparison, Reggie Jackson hit .262. Yet, Jackson is considered an immortal and Rice an afterthought. Ok, enough with the Hall of Fame. It’s old news, at least, for another year. On to other news now. =================================================== The Cincinnati Bengals-Pittsburgh Steelers playoff game Saturday night was a downright disgrace to pro football. It wasn’t a football game. It was like a bloodcurdling battle to the death, like in a Roman gladiator arena. I thought Russell Crowe should have made an appearance any minute. First, had anyone in their lives ever see a coach actually pull the hair of an opposing player in a game? We all remember Woody Hayes throwing the punch at the Clemson player that ended the Ohio State legendary coach’s career. Well, early in the Bengals-Steelers game, Steelers assistant Mike Munchak _ the former head coach of the Tennessee Titans _ actually grabbed the dreadlocks of Bengals defensive back Reggie Nelson on the sidelines after a play. Yes, the coach pulled the hair of an opposing player in the middle of a game. Unreal, right? Munchak was flagged 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct. Steelers head coach Mike Tomlin should have taken Munchak off the field by his own scalp for doing something so totally ridiculous. Munchak’s play set the tone for what became an absolutely chippy game on both sides with vicious hits galore. There was the hit on Bengals’ RB Giovanni Bernard that knocked him out of the game, then there was Bengals’ LB Vontaze Burfict’s hit on Steelers’ QB Ben Roethlisberger that knocked Big Ben out of the game with what was later diagnosed as a separated shoulder, only to see Big Ben return with one arm to lead his team. Burfict was all set to be the hero. Not only did he make the hit on Ben (a hard hit, but a clean one), but he made a great diving interception of a Landry Jones pass with 1:36 left that seemed to be the game-winning play. Burfict then stupidly runs with the football off the field and into the tunnel, but that’s another thing altogether. The interception was a great play, great read, great catch. However, Jeremy Hill fumbled on the ensuing play, giving the Steelers one last ditch hope. Big Ben, with his right arm hanging off, went back onto the field to try to lead the Steelers. He obviously couldn’t throw the ball more than 20 yards, but he was out there. With just 22 seconds remaining, Roethlisberger attempted a pass to Antonio Brown that sailed high. The pass was clearly incomplete, but Burfict went into Brown with his shoulder aimed at Brown’s head. The collision was violent, sending a limp Brown to the turf unable to move his arms, causing a concussion. The bad blood continued with Steelers assistant coach Joey Porter (who was never a saint as a player) somehow on the field taunting the Bengals, which incensed another bastion of good standing and wonderment Adam (don’t you dare call me PacMan anymore) Jones going after Porter and instead of pushing Porter, he pushed an official instead. That’s a no-no as well. So Burfict got 15 yards for his hit of Brown and Jones got 15 yards for his push of the official and the Steelers got 30 yards in penalties on a play where the injured quarterback with the bad arm couldn’t have thrown the damn thing 30 yards. Out trots kicker Chris Boswell and he kicks the field goal that gives Pittsburgh the improbable 18-16 win. It was an implosion like never before seen. The Bengals lost control of themselves and lost the game because of it. Burfict is a super football player who has very few peers. But he’s a complete jackass for all the other things he does _ and there have been so many that he was slapped with a three-game suspension to start the 2016 NFL season. If the Bengals won the game, he would be on the sidelines this weekend. That’s how much of a bonehead he is. There’s no justification for it. None. Not for Burfict’s hit and certainly not for Jones’ pushing of an official. But there’s also no justification for Munchak pulling Nelson’s hair and Porter going onto the field to taunt and belittle, so both teams were way wrong. Frankly, it was all pretty sickening and spoiled what was a decent game and turned it into a memorable mess. Burfict deservedly got his suspension. He should have been suspended earlier this year for twisting the legs of players after making a tackle. He’s also been flagged for several vicious late hits, but nothing like this cruel act of violence Saturday. Sure, football is a violent game, but it doesn’t have to be like that. This was hideous. =====================================================   If Tom Coughlin wants to pursue coaching jobs in the NFL, that’s his right. He has earned that right to do whatever he likes. But if he’s looking at the Eagles or the 49ers, then he still wanted to coach. And if he wanted to still coach, then that position should have been with the Giants and not anywhere else. I don’t buy that the time had come for a change and that sometimes change is necessary. That’s a load of crap. Coughlin earned the right to be the Giants coach for as long as he wanted to be the coach. He earned that right with Silver Big Thing No. 1 (three for the main team in East Rutherford) and cemented that right with Silver Big Thing No. 2 (four for the main team in East Rutherford). If you win two Super Bowl titles, two Lombardi Trophies (the real name), then you’re a Hall of Fame coach and you can do whatever you like as a coach.  You don’t fire legends. And apparently, by the way this has played out this week, with Coughlin looking for another job and him not shaking John Mara’s hand after Monday’s press conference, then call it whatever you like. Resigned, retired, moved on, change is good, stepped aside, what have you. It wasn’t that. Coughlin was fired and that’s just wrong. It wasn’t Coughlin’s fault that the Giants were 6-10 this year. Sure, he didn’t do exactly a great job when they lost to Dallas to open the season or to Atlanta and the Jets. All three games were wins if the team was coached properly. I get it. But the Giants had an inferior defense from training camp on. Their offensive line was also a work in progress. Those are two main components to a winning football team and the Giants had neither. How do you fire Coughlin and keep Jerry Reese? The general manager is the one who picked the players. I tell you what. It was Reese who gave that ridiculous contract to horrible offensive lineman Will Beatty. Reese gave Beatty a 5-year, $37 million contract. OUCH! Why? Beatty never proved himself worthy of that money. He simply cannot play. Brad Benson and his radio commercials for his car dealership could block better than Beatty right now. The Giants are on the hook for $9.3 million on the salary cap for 2016 for Beatty’s contract. Oh, brother. Beatty was never worth that kind of deal and forced the Giants to nickel and dime their way with other players to fill out a competitive roster. Beatty proved his worth by not playing a down last season, suffering an offseason injury lifting weights, then suffering another in-season injury working out. He has to be the most overpaid and useless player in the league. A contract like Beatty’s is what strangled the entire franchise and forced the spiral downward, not Coughlin’s coaching ability. So if Coughlin wants to coach elsewhere, he is applauded. But let’s not kid anyone here. He didn’t step aside or retire gracefully. He was shown the door _ and that’s not only wrong, but a gigantic mistake. And mark my words: Ben McAdoo will be named the Giants’ new head coach within the next two weeks. McAdoo wasn’t enticed here from Green Bay just so he could become an offensive coordinator. He was promised the head coaching job when Coughlin stepped aside. Or in this case, was pushed out the door. ================================================================= I said it when they got rid of him and I’ll say it again now that the Brooklyn Nets are a complete laughingstock. The biggest mistake that franchise made was to turn the coaching reins over to unproven and disloyal Jason Kidd and get rid of P.J. Carlesimo in the process. Carlesimo was 35-19 as the head coach of the Nets after they canned the overmatched Avery Johnson as coach. Carlesimo led the Nets to the playoffs, but they were defeated by the Chicago Bulls in 2013. Since then, the Nets were 44-38 in Kidd’s lone year as head coach, went 38-44 with the lethargic Lionel Hollins as head coach last year and owned a robust 10-27 mark this year before the clueless ownership group fired Hollins and GM Billy King, the architect of all the trades that cost the Nets a zillion draft choices and brought them wonderful people like Deron Williams. Why the Nets decided to get rid of a successful coach like Carlesimo is beyond my wildest comprehension. One thing’s for sure: They’re not going to be 35-19 again anytime soon. ================================================================= You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com , www.dailyrecord.com and www.northjersey.com

Rutgers muffs up once again

First, let me start by stating that I am a huge Kyle Flood fan and dismissing him as the head football coach was the worst thing Rutgers could have done. I don't think he did a bad job after replacing used car salesman Greg Schiano as head coach and did a great job in bringing back a lot of the New Jersey high school football coaches to Rutgers that ran away because of their disdain for Schiano.

Plain and simple, the New Jersey football coaching community had a ton of respect for Flood and was more than willing to help Flood rebuild the Rutgers program. They were definitely more willing to help Flood than they were to aid Schiano, who had lost the trust and respect of a lot of the local coaches.

Flood had a respectable 27-24 record in his four years as head coach, considering that two of those years, the Scarlet Knights were thrown under the bus of the Big 10 _ and still somehow made it to a bowl game.

But the media in general was out to get Flood. Sure enough, NJ.com and Advance Media got news of Flood sending emails and contacting a professor asking for help on the grade of a Scarlet Knight player's grade on a term paper.

That was apparently a no-no in the eyes of the Rutgers hierarchy, citing rules and policy that the school has about employees being contacted by others involving grades.

However, you can't tell me that in the history of college sports, that there hasn't been another coach who has contacted a teacher to see if something could be done to a grade. It's safe to assume that Pop Warner and Walter Camp probably tried to persuade English professors during their heydays. It's more than likely Woody Hayes and Bear Bryant talked to math teachers. It's laughable that Flood received a three-game suspension because of it.

But there were all the other things that took place in Piscataway that Flood took the fall for. When standout Leonte Carroo got involved with a domestic squabble with his ex-girlfriend after hours, people blamed Flood. When five players tried to enter a New Brunswick nightclub with fake ID, people blamed Flood. And horrifically, when a group of players were arrested and charged with robbing and tying up victims with duct tape and rope, people blamed Flood.

So basically, there was too much other stuff going on for Flood to keep his job. Plus, the school was canning the woeful Julie Herrmann as well as athletic director. Herrmann might have been the worst hire since Sebastian Cabot was replaced as the butler on Family Affair or since Ray Handley replaced Bill Parcells as coach of the Giants. Herrmann was a complete mess from the minute she arrived in Piscataway. When talk arose last week of her pending departure, one had to figure that Flood wasn't far behind.

Saturday, the Rutgers program went on the cheap by hiring Chris Ash, an assistant coach from Ohio State. Getting someone with Jersey ties and head coaching experience like Al Golden would have made too much sense, so getting another assistant coach is a typical Rutgers move. Bringing in Pat Hobbs from Seton Hall as the athletic director is a move of desperation, not improvement.

As it appears right now, Rutgers is headed down the slippery slope of doom in the Big 10. The school is simply not going to be competitive in any Big 10 sport anytime soon.

I personally would not have gotten rid of Flood. I think they would have at least been competitive with Flood at the helm for the years to come. I can't see that starting from scratch all over again. It seems like it's time for doom and gloom on the banks of the old Raritan, back to the days of the early 80s under Frank Burns, when people were happy if the Scarlet Knights scored a touchdown against Penn State.

Now? Who knows?
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So, what's new? Let's Go METS!!!

Let’s see, a lot has transpired since I last offered something on this blog Sept. 5.

Donald Trump, of all people, has emerged as the leading candidate for the Republican nomination to become President of the United States. Yes, the man who once said “You’re Fired” to Lou Ferrigno and Flavor Flav is now headed toward the nomination. But then again, we once elected the guy who played with a chimp in “Bedtime for Bonzo” and played George Gipp in the movies, so anything is possible.

The Giants and Jets are both off to decent starts. I don’t think loyal followers could have predicted that both teams would have four wins before Halloween. Todd Bowles seems to have his finger on the pulse of the Jets and we all knew Tom Coughlin would after the Giants started 0-2.

The weather has been fantastic since the end of summer. We had only a few days of below normal temperatures. It was 73 yesterday on Oct. 29. That says it all. It’s almost like spring or early summer with those temperatures. Lonnie Quinn doesn’t have to roll up his sleeves yet.

And yes, the biggest story around these parts has to be the appearance of the New York Mets, my beloved baseball team, in the World Series.

I know they’re in an 0-2 hole and that’s a tough hole to recover from, but did anyone in their wildest dreams think it was possible for the Mets to actually be in the World Series?

I still can’t believe it. I really can’t. I feel like I’m doing the Time Warp again. I feel like it’s some weird Rod Serling “Twilight Zone” moment and someone is going to tap me on the shoulder and tell me that it was all part of an evil scheme.

I mean, the Mets, THESE Mets, are in the World Series? It can’t be.

I know that as the biggest (in size, of course) Mets fan on the planet, I’m supposed to be excited, giddy and joyous. Believe me, I’m very happy, VERY happy. But I simply can’t believe it.

It’s probably the reason why I’m so even keeled and low-keyed about the whole thing. Some of my closest family members and friends are amazed on how even tempered I’ve been, that they figured I’d be so in the rapture of Mets fever that I would be uncontrollable. Maybe getting my car stolen with my cell phone in it and a week’s vacation at a resort called the Clara Maass Medical Center might have helped with the temperament.

But I also know that as a diehard Met fan, I gave up. That’s right. July 23 was the day I bagged it and said that they were through. They lost a game to the Padres, a game that they had a six-run lead and turned it over to the god awful Bobby Parnell, then gave the ball to Jeurys Familia after an hour long rain delay, only to see him give up a homer to Justin Upton and the Mets lost.

That was it. I bagged it. I was sick and tired of watching the Mets lose with immortals like Eric Campbell and John Mayberry, Jr. and the thoroughly immortal Danny Muno and the ever-so immortal Johnny Monell in the lineup through June and July. I mean, there was one game were Mayberry, Jr. (who is still swinging and missing at flies in his backyard) and Campbell were cleanup and No. 5 in the Mets lineup. It was disgusting and so hard to watch.

But then something miraculous happened. Wilmer Flores, who has always been a favorite of mine and someone who I thought could hit 20 homers if he was left alone to play every day, was traded, cried, then wasn’t traded and hit the homer in the 12^th inning against the Nationals that turned the entire season around.

Then the Mets swept the Nationals and a day later, they traded for superstar Yoenis Cespedes, who is the best positional player the franchise has had since Mike Piazza walked away. Cespedes started hitting homer after homer and the Mets went nuts. Kirk Nieuwenhius (however you spell it) hit a clutch homer off that assface douchehead Papelbon and the Nationals were buried, thanks to the brilliant managing of the since-deposed and sure-to-be-missed Matt Williams.

The Mets steamrolled to the NL East title and that would have been good enough. But they beat the Dodgers in five, then destroyed the Cubs in four straight to win the National League pennant.

Then Daniel Murphy simply morphs into Reggie Jackson, hitting homer after postseason homer. How does that happen? How does someone who hit 14 homers in the regular season mash seven in the playoffs? That's miraculous.

 

Miraculous? I’d say so. I know a lot of people think I’m crazy for saying this, but this team is far more miraculous than the 1969 Miracle Mets. The reason? That team, even though in ninth place the year prior, was going to be good from the start of the year. It had talent throughout the roster, especially with the pitching. They hung around the Cubs all season, then blew past them and went to the World Series. Sure, Miracle Mets because of what they were the year before, but not what they were during the 1969 season. That team won 100 games. They were very good.

This team was absolutely left for dead in July and came back to win the pennant and now in the World Series. This is more of a miracle in my eyes.

So I know the season is in the hands of the Mighty Thor Noah Syndergaard tonight. Without a win tonight, it’s over.

But this is a wonderful pitching staff, the best starting staff I can ever remember, better than the Braves of the 1990s _ and even Hall of Famer John Smoltz, one of those Braves hurlers, agreed.

It’s going to be a joy to watch these pitchers over the next few years. And remember, Zach Wheeler comes back next July to join the group. It’s an amazing staff.

For now, I’ll enjoy this run, this miraculous run. I never thought it was possible. Maybe that’s why I’m so numb by all of this.

Let’s go Mets! Let’s try to make this Series respectable with a win tonight.

I attended Seton Hall basketball media day yesterday and I was very impressed with the way Kevin Willard handled the tough questions about how his team collapsed last season, that there was talk of team members having friends around campus and at practices, a “posse” that served as a major distraction.

Willard addressed it after I asked him about what happened, how a team that was nationally ranked in January could actually win one of their last 11 games to finish a disappointing 16-15.

“We had a lot of outside distractions last year, family, friends, aunts, uncles,” Willard said. “It wasn’t just one factor. There was a lot going on. I don’t think I did a very good job of handling the distractions. We had too many family and friends around and that’s how we lost focus.”

The team also lost its starting backcourt of Jaren Sina and Sterling Gibbs (the team’s leading scorer at 17.5 points per game) to transferring because of the negative stuff going on in the locker room.

“I didn’t handle the outside distractions well,” Willard said. “I have a much better handle on it now, but the dynamic of the team is much different.”

However, the source of all the problems is still there. It’s up to Willard to handle it this season, because if the Hall has another disappointing campaign, then Willard might be shown the door.

You can read more of my work at www.dailyrecord.com, www.northjersey.com, www.hudsonreporter.com and www.theobserver.com, although this week is the first time in 16 years that I didn’t have a column in The Observer because of my illness. Hey, you can only do so much.