more on buckley & cope

Given that two of my all-time favorite public figures, William F. Buckley Jr. and Myron Cope, died on the same day Wednesday, I feel compelled to pass along some additional reactions:

* The Philadelphia Inquirer has a nice tribute of an editorial today that acknowledges exactly what it was that made Buckley so appealing: "Through it all he perfected the art of disagreeing without being disagreeable."

* Then there's George F. Will, ever eloquent, closing out his piece in The Washington Post with this: "Bill's distinctive voice permeated, and improved, his era. It will be forgotten by no one who had the delight of hearing it."

* I especially liked David Corn's blog at The Nation, a magazine about as ideologically at odds with Buckley's conservatism as any out there. Corn was particularly fond of the humorous approach Buckley brought to his longshot campaign for mayor of New York City in 1965. "I'd demand a recount," Buckley replied when asked what he'd do if he actually won. And when granted the opportunity to offer a rebuttal in a debate during that campaign, Buckley chose not to repeat what he had already said and replied simply, with his trademark arrogant wit: "I am satisfied to sit back and contemplate my own former brilliance." He will be missed.

* All of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette's tremendous Cope coverage can be accessed here.

* Chico Harlan, recalling a personal encounter he had with Cope during the run-up to the Steelers' unlikely run to Super Bowl XL two years ago, concludes his P-G piece with a gem of an anecdote.

* And Gene Collier, whose wonderful obit on Cope from the P-G I had linked to earlier in the week, also wrote a column chock-full of lively stuff that also includes the following two sentences: "Entrances and arrivals were unforgettable, but this final departure stings like hell. The withering roster of people who really know how to live, how to enjoy life's every minute, is down one today." A fitting epitaph.

the mike tomlin iron city parodies

You know those Coors Light commercials that pretend to be press conferences with NFL coaches and regular beer guys asking questions? A few jokers in Pittsburgh have done send-ups of them for Iron City Beer using Steelers coach Mike Tomlin, and the utter yinzerness of them is hilarious. The three clips can be viewed here, here, and here.

the bird boy

This story is absolutely amazing. I can't even comment on it.

buckley, too?

William F. Buckley Jr. is dead at age 82. What a day: First Myron Cope, now WFB. Regardless of one's political persuasions, there's no denying Buckley was a titan in the world of journalism and commentary. He possessed refinement and a razor-sharp wit, and his prose sparkled with a patrician arrogance blended with a genuine graciousness and a true appreciation of the chase -- qualities that helped endear him personally to many of those who detested his opinions. I began reading National Review, the magazine he founded and that today mourns his passing, while in college, and I continue to do so because the writing is first-rate, and the depth of its commentary runs deep, in stark contrast to so much of the shallow shrillness that permeates talk radio and the farther reaches of the Internet. Buckley loved big words no one had heard of, and his passionate opposition to communism, scorned for so long by so many of our leading literary lights, helped lay the intellectual foundation for the eventual demise of the Soviet Union, the end of the Cold War, and freedom for untold millions. He was a revolutionary, in the truest sense of the word. He excised anti-Semites from his ranks, and sought to win his various wars of ideas with reason. He even acknowledged his mistakes, telling Time magazine in a Q&A a few years ago that he regretted his opposition to forced integration during the civil rights era. "Federal intervention," he said, "was necessary." He also sparked some controversy on the Right with his opposition to the Iraq war. He wrote prolifically, with a long-running newspaper column and books on topics ranging from religion to sailing to a series of spy novels, but the autobiography of his life as a Catholic is my among my favorites, as is God and Man at Yale, the forcefully argued work that challenged the intellectual landscape at his alma mater and kick-started his career in the early 1950s. His son, Christopher, has authored many books himself, including Thank You For Smoking, which was later adapted into a terrific film. Buckley's influence was truly boundless, and his legacy will be much commented upon in the coming days. As well it should be. R.I.P.

some myron cope links

Alan Robinson, the Associated Press' longtime Pittsburgh correspondent, has a detailed obituary that can be viewed here.

Gene Collier's lively obit in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, which pegs Cope as "[o]ne of the last of the great sports characters, a genuine oasis in a sea of ever homogenizing media-ocrity," is here. Collier's lead is perfect: "Myron Cope, the much-decorated master of the written word, the ever-celebrated sand-blaster of the spoken word, and a pre-eminent Pittsburgh symbol of not only our selves but of our hopes and our innate joyfulness, died today."

And for the uninformed, this web site offers numerous hilarious links to snippets of Cope's one-of-a-kind work as a broadcaster.

myron cope, r.i.p.

Myron Cope was Pittsburgh, simple as that. He was a little man with a big, screechy voice, and while he's viewed as something of a clown because of many of his antics in his later years, he was in fact anything but. A graduate of Allderdice High School and Pitt, he worked for a while at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, where on his first day an editor shortened his last name from "Kopelman" to "Cope" because, he was told, the paper already had too many Jewish reporters. He eventually set out on his own as a freelancer, working for such luminous publications as Sports Illustrated and the Saturday Evening Post, for whom he penned colorful, well-written profiles. He later returned to Pittsburgh and began a broadcasting career, and before long he was doing color commentary for Steelers games, a job he held for 35 seasons until his retirement in 2005, a time in which his fame exceeded that of many of the players', even as the team won four Super Bowls in six seasons in the 1970s. In '75, at the urging of a team sales executive, he developed an idea he called the Terrible Towel, still to this day an internationally known symbol of the Steelers, a talisman of yellow cloth that can be seen waving wherever there's a Steelers fan. Cope hosted a sports-talk radio show in the days before everyone else did, and the program's popularity was as much a credit to his hard work and feisty opinions as it was to his schtick. His 2002 memoir, Double Yoi!, is filled with wonderful anecdotes about what was really a very full life, told with modesty, humor and (best of all) regular-guy charm. He eventually received offers to broadcast for teams in bigger cities, but he just couldn't leave Pittsburgh, just couldn't watch a team other than the Steelers. His son, Danny, was born autistic, and Cope saw that all proceeds -- every penny -- from Terrible Towel sales went to the Allegheny Valley School, a group home for mentally retarded children in the Pittsburgh area. A devoted journalist and a bigger-than-life character from the chain-smoking and hard-drinking old school, Myron Cope died this morning at age 79. Pittsburgh and its extended Steeler Nation mourns. R.I.P.

this is getting ridiculous ... no wait, beyond ridiculous

An open letter to those weirdos who watch the NFL scouting combine on television:

Can you please explain why? I like sports as much as the next guy. I also like to talk about sports, and to read good writing about sports. But there's a line that's drawn, and it's not exactly a fine line -- more like a fence. And what's certainly on the odd side of that fence is watching a football player get timed in the 40-yard dash or spotted while bench-pressing, or whatever it is they do at the combine. The worst thing about the end of football season is the constant speculation about which player might get taken in the draft. That this inane guessing game now has the added sanction of allowing people to actually watch guys work out takes all this to unfathomable levels of ridiculousness. They will play football again starting in September. Be patient. And in the meantime, try to get out of the house every once in a while.

You need help,
the life of kings

it's oscar night...

...and I couldn't care less. About the only thing less appealing than celebrities telling me how to vote and how to think is celebrities preening with vain smugness while congratulating themselves for basically doing their jobs. Which pretty much sums up Oscar Night. Where's the remote?

congrats to coach crummie, cchs

Here's to coach Chuck Crummie and the Central Catholic Vikings, who won the first WPIAL basketball title in school history last night by beating Moon, 55-54, on a buzzer-beater at Duquense University's Palumbo Center. Mr. Crummie, Central's coach for 28 years now, is a good man, and a good teacher of basketball. I learned a great deal about how to really play from him, and from Harry Sirockman, my junior varsity coach once upon a time. Both men emphasized fundamentals and execution with a team emphasis, which is why I'm surprised to see Central was so pitiful from the free-throw line (9-for-24) last night. But it's a minor quibble. This championship was long overdue, and my beloved alma mater has now won WPIAL titles in football and basketball in the same school year. Pretty cool.

a song for the palestra

Forbes.com has come out with one of those silly surveys people take as gospel, when all such things really do is generate conversation. Anyway, this one here says Philly is the fifth-most miserable city in America. Granted, traffic's a nightmare and the homicide rate is a wee bit frightening, but methinks Forbes' methodology never included a winter evening at the Palestra for a college basketball game between any two of the city's six Division I schools. The Old Barn, which sits at 33rd below Walnut, just as it's done for more than 80 years, is quite simply a shrine, a treasure. It's nothing but an old gym, but it's an old gym with a capacity for 8,722 people (that magic number), none of whom has a bad seat, even if you're way up in the corner, way up near the rafters. You can also, from the moment you walk in, feel the ghosts of the city's basketball past, as if you've entered a museum instead of an actual live event.

On Monday night, for La Salle-Saint Joe's, my own view looked like this:


The joint was hot inside, just as it always is, no matter how cold it is outside. There are no amenities, and while the fans are packed in tight, their enthusiasm is pure, unlike the loud, annoying contrivances that permeate most every pro game; indeed, the only music during timeouts comes from the bands, as opposed to the loudspeakers. The student sections are loud and comically abusive, but in a pleasant way that keeps with the genuine sense of conviviality that exists between the schools. And even though St. Joe's team is far superior to La Salle's, just as it has been for the last 15 years or so, a little of that Palestra charm took over not long after the game started: Neither team seemed to miss, and by halftime the score was a dizzying 50-48. The haymakers continued to fly back and forth throughout the second half, La Salle answering every St. Joe's burst with one of its own to keep it close, and to keep the scoreboard churning. Darnell Harris, La Salle's sharp-shooting 3-point specialist, had no conscience, taking jumpshots from as far away as 30th Street Station, an awe-inspiring display of fearlessness, if not recklessness. "If I'm open," Harris memorably told reporters later, "it really doesn't matter." When it was over, La Salle had won a 90-89 heart-stopper that left everyone who was there breathless and gasping in disbelief: St. Joe's had somehow made 63 percent of its shots ... and lost. The La Salle kids came barreling out of the exits, chanting and shouting into the night, an uneven-but-joyful chorus that no doubt kept up all the way back to some meathead kegger near 20th and Olney. Afterward, over beers and hot beef sandwiches at the Cherry Street Tavern, a group of us were still shaking our heads over what we had just witnessed. And now, four days later, I'm still tingling at the thought of it all. Go ahead, let Forbes say Philly's a miserable place. But then let them make a pilgrimmage to the Palestra, to really feel one of the city's most unique experiences, and let's see what they have to say afterward.

more spygate ... duh duh duh!

The New York Times today says a New England Patriots player, on condition of anonymity, has acknowledged that Bill Belicheat began illicitly videotaping opposing teams' signals as far back as 2000. It's interesting that the league's executives (read: owners) don't think there's much too this, even as more revelations continue to surface. The NFL clearly wants this to go away, but this story has legs now and it looks like it's going to be around for a while. Congress and Sen. Specter should probably stay out of it, but the league, which has been printing money for years, has got to do something more to salvage its credibility. Then again, will people really stop paying attention to football over this? Not likely.

the great kyle kendrick prank

This is an all-timer, if only because of the tremendous cooperation of so many to pull it off so convincingly. What a world we live in, that something like this can get done and then replayed on the Internet over and over again. And Bill Conlin, the Philadelphia Daily News' grand ol' ball scribe, weighs in with the humorous details of a similar gag on another Phillies player from the early 1970s, when technology was far more primitive. A final thought: Does anyone else think Phils pitcher Brett Myers, who finally reveals the gag to Kendrick at the end of that video, is a total jackass? What a handjob.

apologies abound

Greg Couch of the Chicago Sun-Times wonders about all the PR moves apologies coming from caught-using-steroids baseball players these days. What's that saying? Cheaters never win, unless they don't get caught? Yeah. That's it.

if you've got $3 million lying around...

...you can probably have Paul Mawhinney's entire collection of approximately two million records, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

fatimah ali wrote what?

Every now and then, you come across something so mystifying stupid, something so jarringly short-sighted and foolish, you have to read it two or three times just to make sure you saw what you just saw. Take Fatimah Ali's column in today's Philadelphia Daily News. At the conclusion of a breathless, finger-wagging piece on our foul-mouthed cultural decline, a take that would be castigated as prudish were it authored by some Bible-banging moralist like Pat Roberston or Gary Bauer, Ali writes:

Have you noticed the increase in one-sided conservative talk-radio hosts? This is dangerous for our precious democracy. We must never forget that one of Hitler's first moves was to take over the radio airwaves in Germany before launching his Nazi empire.

Come again? The thrust of Ali's column takes aim at the deregulation of the airwaves, which she says has resulted in a marked increase in cultural filth. Very well. But rub your eyes and read that last paragraph again, then ask yourself how she can somehow segue into equating talk radio with Hitler's eventual rise. It's mind-numbingly idiotic. Deregulation, as I understand it, refers to allowing market forces to better determine what might be broadcast, with less interference from government. Right-wing talk radio -- whatever one's opinion of it may be -- is a product of market forces, not some government edict vis a vis Hitler. There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to prevent a liberal from setting up shop behind a microphone a spouting off about anything and everything. The reason this hasn't exactly caught on, of course, is because not enough people care to listen and not enough advertisers care to sponsor it. Besides, in an age in which information of all kinds, from one end of the political spectrum to the other, is so readily available via the Internet, is there really a reason to fear some looming leviathan of American Nazism? Only, it seems, on whatever planet from which Fatimah Ali has filed her column.

let's hear it for the semicolon!

The New York Times has a little fun with a forgotten bit of proper punctuation today, thanks to the work of an enterprising and intelligent marketer in the city's transit agency.

belichick admits it ... sort of

The Boston Globe has a fascinating story today about Spygate, with Bill Belicheat finally acknowledging his end of the bargain. The story outlines the specific rule Belicheat was caught violating, along with his response. And after stating he he never taped another team's walk-through, Belicheat had this to say about being caught red-handed filming the Jets's coaches' signals back on Sept. 9:

My interpretation was that you can't utilize anything to assist you during that game. What our camera guys do is clearly not allowed to be used during the game and has never been used during that game that it was shot. ... I respect the integrity of the game and always have and always will. I regret that any of this, or to whatever extent it has in any way brought that into question or discussion or debate. The decision was made by the commissioner, the practice was immediately stopped, and we're not doing it. ... Just going back over the whole taping incident, if I contacted the league and asked them about the practice, I'm sure they would have told me - as they have done - that it is not permissible. Then I could have avoided all of this. I take responsibility for it. Even though I felt there was a gray area in the rule and I misinterpreted the rule, that was my mistake and we've been penalized for it. I apologize to everybody that is involved - the league, the other teams, the fans, our team, for the amount of conversation and dialogue that it's caused. I misinterpreted the rule. The commissioner made his ruling and we've been penalized for it and tried to move on.

Interesting. The story does not address how many times the Patriots taped other teams' signals, nor does it address whether such information was then used in a later meeting between the teams, which gets back to what Sen. Arlen Specter was getting at last week.

inside the ncaa tournament selection process

The NCAA invited 20 sportswriters from around the country to take part in a mock tournament selection exercise. Dustin Dow of the Cincinnati Enquirer was among them, and he details what went down here.

spygate and ... the steelers?

U.S. Sen. Arlen Specter, ever eager to do the people's business in the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania, now claims Bill Belicheat and the New England Patriots filmed the Steelers during the teams' two meetings in 2004, at least according to this Fanhouse blog on AOL.

Thanks to Diaz, a loyal Eagles fan (of all things) but a concerned Pennsylvania citizen, for the heads-up.

UPDATE FOR THOSE WHO DON'T GET IT: I'm being sarcastic. I really don't think Congress ought to be this involved in regulating professional football. Heck, even Dan Rooney agrees.

more clemens

As expected, many sports columnists around the country have weighed in on the Clemens hearings, and their perspective is enlightening. Here's a roundup of a few more that caught my attention. No need to thank me.

* Rick Telander of the Chicago Sun-Times couldn't help but notice that Jeff Novitsky, the IRS special agent responsible for investigating BALCO and bringing down Barry Bonds and Marion Jones, was in the house. Telander concludes Clemens had better watch out.

* Rich Hofmann of the Philadelphia Daily News wonders what was gained by the whole thing.

* Mike Lupica of the New York Daily News sounds confident that Clemens exposed himself as a perjurer.

* Gary Shelton of the St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times seems convinced the hearings won't amount to much, though he did reach this insightful conclusion: "[a]fter looking at Congress in action, yes, it is a miracle that this country isn't in worse shape than it is. ... What I believe is that this was the brainless accusing the shameless in front of the clueless." Zing!

a rich hofmann interview

Some outfit called sportsmediaguide.com has posted an interview with Rich Hofmann of the Philadelphia Daily News that's quite interesting, at least to me. Hofmann's a great writer and an even greater guy to have a beer (or six) with. Money quote:

Everybody has a different standard for [what makes a successful column]. I have to like it, on some visceral level. To me, that's the standard, always. I know there are website hits and some columns generate more than others, and people talk about your stuff on the radio. But to me I have to like it. Generally, there has to be an idea in there I really like. Short of that, turn a phrase or two I really like. Sometimes it's a simple as me being the only one in town who knows I wrote in 32 minutes on deadline. And I'll say, 'not bad for 32 minutes'. Those are the things I look at.

Then there's this:

I caught [Dick Young's] act at the end. I'll never forget seeing him at an Ali fight. He wore a headset and dictated round-by-round. He was fascinating to watch -- barking into the headset, 'a left and a big overhand right, oh, he's down'. I imagined the guy in his office, typing furiously, graf after graf, sending out an edition with half the fight done. Those were newspapers. I remember getting the News on the lawn and it would say 'after four innings the Mets were ahead, 4-3'. Or, 'Yanks and Senators go into extra innings'. I laugh at it now.

Now that's cool. Check out the entire Q&A here.

valentine's day ... yawn

Whether you have a special someone or not, Valentine's Day stinks. If you're a dude, you're expected to "do something special" for your girl today because, well ... it's just what you're supposed to do. If you're a chick, even if you claim to be sophisticated enough not to care, you really do. And if you're not with anyone, the constant drumbeat of cupid and hearts and flowers and candy can make some of the weaker spirits among us feel like there's something wrong with them. To all of which I say: Phooey. And good for Nancy Gibbs of Time magazine for eloquently agreeing with me. Happy Thursday.

clemens, the day after

Sielski, after having fun with the A Few Good Men column, really gets to the heart of the matter with his piece in the Bucks County Courier Times today. A great read, and spot-on in terms of placing the blame ... on us. All of us. Because the bottom line is, what now? Pitchers and catchers report today, and if you're a baseball fan, you're excited. Nothing's really going to change, is it?

the clemens saga

So here we are, on the day before pitchers and catchers report for spring training, and Roger Clemens is testifying before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, which ESPN is carrying live. The spectacle is at once sad and unbelievable, just as Wallace Matthews said it would be in yesterday's Newsday. Clemens seems almost Clintonian in his denials, as though he actually believes his own lies. I can't help but be reminded of Mike Sielski's Jan. 15 column in the Bucks County Courier Times, which hilariously compares Clemens' pending testimony to Col. Nathan Jessep's in the film A Few Good Men. The great irony here, as a lawyer friend of mine just pointed out, is that absent a criminal conviction, there will always be some doubt (at least according to the reasonable standards of a court of law) about which side is really telling the truth. Astoundingly, McNamee appeared to be truthful with what he said about Clemens, given that his testimony was corraborated by Andy Pettitte, Chuck Knoblauch, and, apparently, Clemens' own wife. But somehow McNamee also seemed to be lying about himself. Very strange. Whether it's enough for the Department of Justice to seek a perjury conviction is now the open question, but without any hard evidence, it's tough to tell. In the meantime, Clemens seems likely to end up like Mark McGwire, whose evasions before Congress two years ago forever tainted his legacy despite no hard evidence to actually prove he was on the juice. Bud Selig must be proud.

another reason why the ny post is the best paper in america

Just look at this video they made. Outstanding.

amy winehouse

She's really hot. And she can sing a little, too. As for her troubles, even Time magazine points out that, unlike Britney, it's part of her art, part of what makes her capable of singing like she does. Besides which, she's hot. In case anyone forgot. Which rhymes.

i've seen the future...

...and it looks like this. Within the next few years, most newspapers will no doubt be doing something similar. Call me old-fashioned, but physically holding a newspaper is preferable to staring at a computer screen. But the business model is changing, and we have to adapt.

ruanaidh

Art Rooney Jr. has written a book. Yes, that's a bit like saying Frank Sinatra Jr., and not his old man, has purchased a football team. Or something. Whatever. But according to Ron Cook of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, there really is something to this. The book is called Ruanaidh, which is Gaelic for Rooney. Junior has been exiled from the Steelers for more than 20 years, but he's now telling his side of the story -- the good, the bad, and the ugly. Cook credits Junior for his storytelling and his eye for detail, and given Junior's stature with the Steelers during their salad days in the 1970s, it sounds like there's plenty of good stuff. And to be honest, a part of me just likes that Junior collaborated with Roy McHugh on the project, about which McHugh told Junior:

Roy tells me I'm the same stream-of-consciousness writer that James Joyce is except for two things. He says Joyce was a brilliant writer, and I'm not. And he says Joyce eventually gets to the point, and I don't.

Self-deprecating and honest. Sounds kinda cool.

thoughts on giants 17, patriots 14

The Super Bowl is overhyped and overheated, but at least this time, in SBXLII, it lived up to its billing. Mike Lupica of the New York Daily News, who always sees everything through a holier-than-thou, haughty Gotham prism, opened his column today by declaring the game to be "[t]he best Super Bowl of them all." Debatable, to be sure, but consider: The Patriots were trying to win their fourth Supe in seven seasons, and by going undefeated to boot, while back in September it was widely believed the Giants would be firing their coach, Tom Coughlin, because of a player mutiny. And Giants quarterback Eli Manning? He was still the source of plenty of jokes about his ability to do much of anything no more than a month ago. Yet somehow, some way the Giants did it. And in a word, it was incredible -- a prime example of the live, unpredictable drama that can make sports so captivating. There was a temptation to simply marvel at what the Patriots were about to achieve, to be awed by the historic enormity of a team going 19-0 in one season, especially in this era of free agency and frequent player movement. But eff that. These Patriots, from coach Bill Belichick on down, were flat-out unlikable. They have been arrogant and ungracious from the start, and Belichick's early exit from the field when the Giants got the ball back with one second remaining last night was thus the perfect coda. The Patriots had an amazing, remarkable season, but in the end, they got what they deserved, especially with Spygate about to come to Washington. And the New York Post, which published the NFL standings all season with an asterisk next to the Patriots, hilariously tagging them as cheaters, of course had great fun with the whole thing on its front page today. I'm no Giants fan, but they played with a fun, loose, nothing-to-lose spirit that was everything the Patriots weren't. What the Giants did was pretty damn cool. Good for them.

UPDATE: Dan Shaughnessy, in today's Boston Globe, swallows a little "humble pie" by pointing fingers at Belichick and at Ellis Hobbs, though he never once mentions his own pre-game arrogance with regard to the seeming inevitability of a Patriots victory. Can't have it all, I suppose.

say it ain't so, big ben

Alas, but it is. Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger really did channel Barry Manilow by doing this stupid commerical for "American Idol," which aired toward the end of yesterday's Super Bowl. Why, Ben? Why?

why do orgasms feel good?

It's science.

Money quote from this story: "[Barry Komisaruk of Rutgers University] got interested in applying his field of neuroscience to sex while studying rats."

You know, 'cause they're such a turn-on.

specter, spygate & the super bowl

Let's start with this: For all the talk of his independence of mind, U.S. Sen. Arlen Specter (R-Pa.) can be a blowhard and an opportunist. And for his latest stunt, he's demanding to know why NFL commissioner Roger Goodell destroyed evidence of the New England Patriots' alleged spying on other teams, a matter that first surfaced back in September and quickly went away after the league office handed down its punishment. Not one to shy away from hyperbole, Specter even suggested the NFL's action was on par with the CIA having destroyed interrogation tapes. You know, because lives are at stake and stuff. Predictably, Dan Shaughnessy of The Boston Globe is outraged, going so far as to call Specter a "grandstanding yahoo Eagles fan with a lot of power," which, come to think of it, actually rolls right off the tongue with relative ease. Cynics (who? me?) will find it easy to point out that Specter waited until Nov. 15 to write a letter to the league office expressing his concern. Of course, cynics (me again) will also note the irony of Specter's having leaked this story to The New York Times just two days before the Patriots play the New York Giants in tomorrow's Super Bowl. All well and good. But then comes word that one Matt Walsh, a former Patriots intern and employee, may have information linking Bill Belichick to spying all the way back to when Coach Hoodie was in Cleveland. To say nothing of this Boston Herald report, which cites a source who says the Patriots taped the St. Louis Rams during a walk-through prior to Super Bowl XXXVI six years ago. Look, the Patriots are on the brink of something incredible, an undefeated season culminating with their fourth Super Bowl title in seven years. Personally, I think the NFL destroyed the tapes and levied the Patriots a fine and the forfeiture of a draft pick simply to make this thing go away. The hope, perhaps, was that everyone would focus on the punishment and forget about the possibility -- note I said possibility -- that this thing runs any deeper. If it did, it calls into question all of the Patriots' past achievements under Belichick. Shaughnessy, like most Patriots fans, takes umbrage in the notion that other teams were no doubt cheating, but that only the Patriots got caught. But not so fast. There's a distinct difference between stealing signals, which is and always has been gamesmanship, and positioning a video camera on the opposition's sideline in an attempt to steal signals. The league's rules are very clear on this. Considering the monumental achievement the Patriots are about to achieve by winning tomorrow, it's a shame. But the integrity of the game is the integrity of the game, and if there's more to this, we deserve to know. I do wonder whether this matter ought to be of any concern to Congress, but they do possess the subpoena power to compel witnesses like Walsh to testify. So expect more grandstanding from Washington, and more bellyaching from Boston. And in the meantime, let's all try to get on with our lives, OK?