Live and learn

To echo someone I know from Topeka ... here's what I don't get.

I used to be one for helping people down on their luck. If I passed a homeless person in New York City and they needed some spare change or a buck to get by, I would give it up, no questions asked.

That was until about 11 years when, walking down the stairs to the Continental Avenue subway station in Forest Hills, N.Y., some wiseguy tried to mug me because I wouldn't give him anything.

Note I said "tried." He pulled a jeweler's screwdriver out. I had my fists. Guess who won?

Fast forward to June 29, 2005. After my shift and a 90-minute workout in the building, I was walking back to my car when a woman, maybe my age or a little younger, literally came up to me begging for money. She said she was pregnant and hungry and thirsty and needed money. I explained to her I didn't have any money on me. She kept begging for cash though.

I did have something though in my car -- food and water from my old place that has just been sitting in my trunk. Nothing perishable, just cereal, some cans of soup. I offered her a box of cereal -- if nothing else, she would have had something to eat. Instead, she asked for water.

No problem. I gave her two 24-ounce bottles: Washington D.C. is a hot, humid city even at 1 a.m.

So, how should I feel when as she walked away, she threw one of the bottles of water into a tree garden outside a building? Stunned would be accurate. Disappointed another. Angry a third.

I understand circumstances can dictate what happens in a person's life. When it comes to the homeless -- and there are a lot of them in D.C. -- do not give them money. If you are pack-rattish like me, offer them food and/or water. If you feel the need to give money, give it to an organization that assists the homeless.

What do you think? I'd like to know.

Who wants to shoot J.R.?

Jeremy Roenick
c/o Philadelphia Flyers hockey club
3601 S. Broad St.
Philadelphia, Pa.
19145

Dear Mr. Roenick:

I know you've enjoyed quite a career in the NHL with Chicago, Phoenix and Philadelphia. Two-time 50-goal scorer. Coming up on 500 career goals. Sounds like the making of a Hall of Famer.

Clearly, though you have taken one too many pucks to the head. That or the concussions you've endured in your career are clouding your judgment.

In an Associated Press story this past weekend, you weighed in on the season-long NHL lockout by saying, "we're going to try to make it better for everybody, period, end of subject."

How do you propose that? Please, by all means, enlighten us.

You followed that with this nugget of wisdom: "And if you don't realize that, then don't come. We don't want you at the rink, we don't want you in the stadium, we don't want you to watch hockey. I say personally, to everybody who called us 'spoiled,' you guys are just jealous ... we have tried so, so hard to get this game back on the ice."

Hey, J.R., you really need to watch who you're throwing under the bus. If there is something every player -- from Ramzi Abid to Andrei Zyuzin -- must do once this is settled is win back the dwindling fan base the NHL has.

There was a time in my life where I did not think I could survive without hockey, reading the boxscores, keeping up with my rotisserie teams. The lockout has changed that. I have written in the past about going to games across North America, but I suspect that is not going to happen anymore.

I still plan on staying away. This has nothing to do with jealousy, J.R. This has to do with two spoiled entities -- players and owners -- who have killed off the sport. Just because YOU have a problem with the agreement the players seem ready to sign, go bark at Bob Goodenow and leave the fans out of it.

Oh, and J.R, do me a favor. I know you have been paid handsomely throughout your career. Try working for mid-five figures a year. Try looking for a house with payments you can afford on that. Car payments. Insurance. Putting away something for retirement.

Still think it's easy to drop money for a couple tickets to see you? Guess again. It's hardly jealousy. Just a matter of priorities.

Sincerely,
Andy Lefkowitz

No freakin' kidding??

I don't watch a lot of television -- I'm more of a channel-hopper. But I really feel the need to weigh in on this ...

Commercials truly represent the dumbing-down of America.

There are two of them in particular. One is for Frank's Red-Hot, a sauce key to making the perfect order of Buffalo wings. The other is for Doritos -- you know, Saddam Hussein's guilty pleasure.

In the Frank's commercial, one chef blasts another with a fire extinguisher because the second one made wings with a sauce that's "more about heat than flavor." The Doritos commercial shows a college student trying to get bag of chips that doesn't quite make it out of the machine -- he crawls in the machine to get it.

Both commercials come with a warning: Don't try this at home.

REALLY?? If manufacturers think we are smart enough to use their products, how about giving us the credit NOT to mimic what we see on television.

Is anyone else annoyed by this or am I just blowing it out of proportion? Tell me what you think ... I'd like to know.

Take me out to the ballgame

Went to RFK Stadium in Washington Saturday night to see the Nationals and the Blue Jays.

It's good to see baseball is back in D.C. after a 34-year absence. And while I was sitting in last row of Sec. 517, next to a very young child who cried -- and cried, and cried some more -- because it was too loud, here were some observations.

1. Good to see enthusiasm when the Nats took the field and throughout the game. I wonder if it would be the same if the team was, say, 11 games under .500.

2. To the singer of the Canadian national anthem, it's "O, Canada," not "Whoa, Canada."

3. I know the Wave has not been seen in Washington. It's 20 years old. Stop doing it. Please.

What do you think? I'd like to know.

Yankee haters, rejoice!

They're 37-36. They're one-half game ahead of Toronto.

I guess $200 million just doesn't go as far as it used to.

For those who hate the Yankees, this is definitely a summer a rejoice in.

My problem is not so much with the Yankees, but their fans, many of whom seem to think the World Series belongs to them as a matter of divine right.

That notwithstanding, let's examine what they are: Old (18 players have at least 10 years experience; eight have at least 14 years). Slow (Tony Womack and Derek Jeter have 27 stolen bases; the rest of the team, just 19). Brittle (Randy Johnson suddenly looks 41 years old. Carl Pavano is too inconsistent. Kevin Brown is still, well, Kevin Brown).

Add six losing streaks of at least three games and despite the skids, the questions are asked: Will they make the playoffs? When will the Yankees start to look like the Yankees?

Not this year. And given the contracts they're saddled with -- Jason Giambi's, Alex Rodriguez's, and, yes, even Jeter's -- the Yankees may be looking like nothing more than a .500 team -- or worse -- for many years.

What do you think? I'd like to know.

The death penalty is alive in Texas

The NCAA did the right thing Thursday coming down on the Baylor University men's basketball team for its handling of the Patrick Dennehy situation.

According to ESPN's Andy Katz, Baylor will only play 16 regular-season games, all in the Big 12, in 2005-06. The Bears are eligible for the conference tournament and postseason but probably can only earn an NCAA berth by winning the tournament, since an at-large berth would be highly unlikely.

Former coach Dave Bliss and assistant Doug Ash have been banned for 10 and five years respectively. If in the unlikely event some school somewhere would hire either of them, they must appear before the NCAA and explain themselves.

I doubt even my alma mater -- Queens College in beautiful Flushing, N.Y. -- would take a chance on either of them.

While what the NCAA has handed down to Baylor was bad, it's not quite what the SMU football team got in the 1980s, it's still bad. This will give time for Baylor to repair itself.

What do you think? I'd like to know.

Brown-out

I was disappointed. I fully expected Larry Brown to tell Stuart "DJ Stewie Stew" Scott of ESPN he was leaving the Pistons to take the job as Cleveland Cavaliers president.

Instead, all we found out was Brown would be entering the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., for three days after the June 28 NBA Draft.

Given his recent health issues, including a hip replacement, and his wanderlust, I'm guessing this Brown's last game for now. At least that was was he sounded like after the Pistons' 81-74 loss to San Antonio Thursday night in Game 7 of the NBA Finals.

"I'm way ahead of the curve -- no matter what happens,'' Brown said in an interview with The Associated Press. "This game has given me so much that I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world.''

Either than, or he'll end up in New York with the Knicks.

What do you think? I'd like to know.

Even Iron rusts

To my legions of fans ... ok, all one of you ... I apologize for the delay, but with the move from Connecticut to Virginia, and starting the new job, its been pretty hectic and all sorts of crazy.

So without any further delay ...

Back in the 1980s when Mike Tyson used to enter the ring, you got the sense only one boxer was coming out alive. I'm not talking about the Tyson with the tattooed face.

Or the convicted rapist.

Or the man who decided to dine on Evander Holyfield's ear.

I'm talking about Iron Mike Tyson, the boxer who would come into the ring -- black shorts, black shoes, no socks, white towel framing most of his face -- with three things on his mind.

Destroy his opponent. Make him hurt. Make him remember the hurt.

So how sad was it to see Mike Tyson -- no long Iron Mike -- sitting on a stool, unwilling to come out for the seventh round against an honest-to-God tomato can named Kevin McBride (6'6" and 271 pounds notwithstanding)?

Somehow, given the way his professional and personal lives spiraled out of control, this was not that much of a surprise.

I did not watch the fight. I am not a boxing fan and there was no way I was going to drop $44.95 to watch this mess, regardless of the fact that it was Tyson. I think those who laid out the cash wanted to see an emotional train wreck.

What was he going to do? Kick McBride? Gnaw on him? Try to kill him -- literally?

Instead, viewers saw a shell of a man. A man whose life has backslid badly from the moment his best friend and trainer Cus D'Amato died.

Tyson will be back -- I'm guessing in a year, maybe 18 months. By then, will anyone really care?

One more thing -- Michael Jackson? Obviously all that surgery included an infusion of Teflon. There is no doubt in my mind he has done something not completely kosher to a child.

And for the second time, he got away with it.

His time will come, pardon the pun. Wait and see.

So, what do you think? I'd like to know.