Phil Jackson's decision to return to the Lakers for one more season shows what an unbelievable competitor the man is. There could be no better time for him to retire than immediately after a hard-fought seven-game victory over the Boston Celtics for the NBA championship, and fortunately for us Lakers fans, he still wants more.
"Just when I thought I was out ... they pull me back in!"
If Bill Plaschke is right that we couldn't possibly win without Phil, guess there is no reason to keep my season tickets after next year. Thanks Bill, you've saved me a bundle.
The ecstasy of Lakers' sycophants over the Zen Master's return is hilarious. Jackson is the NBA's Bernie Madoff — a flimflam man who is all style and no substance. Jackson has never won a title without having the best player in the league on his team. He was outcoached in the Finals by Larry Brown and Doc Rivers and is as much a "coaching legend" as Pat Riley, the guru who consistently lost with Knicks and Heat teams that did not have superior talent.
Jackson gives new meaning to John Wooden's maxim: "Never mistake activity for achievement."
Mark S. Roth
It is no upset and no surprise when the United States does not make it past the round of 16 in a world team tournament in a sport we are basically uninterested in, probably primarily because of a lack of scoring and the exercise of skills too subtle for appreciation by our typical "Monday Night Football" crowd.
On soccer's quadrennial worldwide stage, we are told repeatedly that a goal is not a goal. If FIFA officials were the arbiters of truth, rain would be dry and the sun would be made of ice.
Fools I Find Arrogant (FIFA) seem to relish their referees' abject failure to know when a legitimate goal is scored. In a sport where scoring is minimal, such failures make a mockery of the World Cup. Especially in a knockout tournament. Would a goal-line camera review take away from the purity of the sport?
Bruce N. Miller
Playa del Rey
Maybe Bill Plaschke respects the game of soccer, but he doesn't understand it. Any person who knows the game can see that the U.S. is overrated at No. 14 in the world, so it is an "underdog" when it plays the likes of Slovenia, Algeria and Ghana.
The U.S. team wins by heart and determination. It is slowly closing the gap but is still slightly behind the world in skill and technique. It epitomizes the American dream that even if you're not as talented, you can still win if you don't give up. Leave the soccer articles to Grahame, Bill.
At least we won't have to hear how popular soccer has become in this country for another four years.
Suggestion for FIFA for the 2014 World Cup: Kill a goat, remove its stomach and stuff it with straw to use for the official ball. By doing this, the beautiful game will be spared even more indignities caused by pesky technological advances.
Why so Blue?
Last Sunday evening at Dodger Stadium was just like old times: Joe Torre managing the Yankees to another victory.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. McCourt,
I half-carried a sobbing son from Sunday night's painful loss to the Yankees and while he moaned about the team, I could not help but think of the amount of money being spent on lawyers that could be used for another pitcher. Or two.
Could you please go out for a dinner alone, have a nice bottle of champagne and reminisce of pleasant memories of your life and then agree to each fire one of your really expensive lawyers?
What exactly does Dodgers General Manager Nick Colletti do, because he is obviously not allowed to make any personnel moves?
Time and time again, Joe Torre brings George Sherrill into a tight game, and time and time again, Sherrill disappoints, continuing to prove that his career in the American League was a fluke. Last year, his Dodgers record shows that he allowed more baserunners than his low ERA would lead you to believe. This season, Sherrill has consistently looked bad again.
Sure, Broxton has blown some saves in the ninth, but that is as rare as Sherrill looking sharp. George, on the other hand, has become disgustingly reliable and has added a new dimension to the old saying of things we wish we could avoid: "death, taxes and Sherrill."
George Sherrill has taken Eric Gagne's nickname:
When Matt Kemp needs a role model in giving maximum effort, he should not look to Manny Ramirez or Garret Anderson; he should look to Reed Johnson or Jamey Carroll. Them or that kid that does the Journey song in the eighth inning.