Keyboard Quarterbacks

By Mark La Monica

There appears to be a negative aura surrounding USC quarterback Matt Leinart being drafted No. 10 by the Arizona Cardinals.

People seem to be wondering or writing in hushed tones about how Leinart, considered by many to be the best quarterback available in the 2006 NFL Draft, “fell” to the 10th spot.

They point to 2005, when Leinart decided to return to USC for his senior year and forego being the virtually guaranteed No. 1 pick by the 49ers. That honor – and the 1/11 touchdown/interception ratio and 40.8 passer rating – went to Alex Smith of Utah.

By not turning pro last year and becoming the 10th pick this year, Leinart likely cost himself a handful of millions of dollars in his first contract.

However, Leinart actually won out in this deal. Not so much in the bank account for the next few years, but for so many other reasons.

1) Arizona has a real running back in Edgerrin James, a four-time Pro Bowler with 49 100-plus yard games rushing. Never underestimate how much a dominant running back positively affects a quarterback’s performance. James ran for 1,506 yards last year with the Colts. The 49ers as a team ran for 1,689 yards.

2) Arizona has Larry Fitzgerald and Anquan Boldin, a pair of supremely talented wide receivers, to catch Leinart’s passes. Fitzgerald tied Carolina’s Steve Smith for the league lead with 103 receptions. Boldin tied St. Louis’ Torry Holt for second with 102. Fitzgerald had 1,409 receiving yards, Boldin 1,402. They are the only teammates to rank in the top 10 in both categories last year. The top receiver for the 49ers last year was Brandon Lloyd (48 receptions, 733 yards) and he’s with the Redskins now.

Whoa, this is starting to look more and more like the supporting cast Leinart had at USC when he went 37-2 as a starter, won a pair of national championships, won the 2004 Heisman Trophy and played in a third straight national title game in January 2006.

3) Dennis Green is the head coach in Arizona. He has a reputation for molding quarterbacks and offenses. He also happened to lead the Vikings to eight playoff appearances with seven different quarterbacks in his 10 years, including two NFC Championship games. Clearly, Green can coach. The 49ers’ Mike Nolan begins his second season as head coach, and the first five words of his bio on the team’s Web site are “A highly successful defensive mind.” Not to say Nolan won’t be a good head coach, but Green has more experience.  Plus, Norv Turner is the new offensive coordinator in San Francisco, which means Smith is going to have to learn a completely new system in just his second year. Not exactly the best way to go about beginning a career.

4) So long as Kurt Warner leaves out the part about excessive fumbling, multiple concussions and crazy wives, he’ll be a very good mentor for Leinart.

5) The Cardinals have been in the playoffs precisely one time since 1976 (they were a wild card team in 1998), so the pressure to live up to a franchise tradition does not exist. If he falters in Arizona, it’s not as awful as in San Francisco. The 49ers have five Super Bowl championships and the inevitable comparisons to Joe Montana would have surfaced within minutes, creating unnecessary pressure on the rookie Leinart.

6) Arizona is getting a new stadium. Leinart can become the face of the franchise, and he’s got three proven players at the skill positions to join him on the billboards.

And that’s just looking ahead. Let’s look back at what treats he enjoyed during an extra year on campus in Southern California.

1) Hollywood stature for an athlete. And a Paris Hilton-esque cell phone address book of celebrity friends.

2) The Rose Bowl. Did you see that game? If not, please e-mail me and I’ll send you the tape. Easily the greatest game of the last three or four years. Sure, USC lost to Texas and No. 3 pick Vince Young, but who cares? The game was crazy.

3) The Notre Dame game. Did you see that game? If not, please e-mail me and I’ll send you the tape. Easily the second greatest game of the last three or four years. Sure, USC beat Notre Dame on a last-second Leinart touchdown (with help from No. 2 pick Reggie Bush) but who cares? The game was crazy.

4) Ballroom Dancing. It was the only class Leinart took his final semester. Three reasons this is good:

  - A semester with just one class is something we all dreamed about in college and this guy pulled it off.
  - Ladies love a fella who can dance with class, so as if he didn’t already have an advantage over us mere mortals, there’s one more.
  - He’s that much closer to being on Dancing With the Stars, which could mean more money to help balance out the missing loot from not turning pro in 2005.

5) One more year of carefree, no-real-life-responsibility living. Who among us doesn’t want that?

Not everything is about money.

By Mark La Monica

What makes the NFL Draft the seventh best sports day each year? Everything.

It’s got anticipation, excitement, unpredictability, emotion, practical application, fan despair, depth, potential anguish in the green room, a checkered history of first-round picks by the Jets, Michael Irvin suits and Mel Kiper Jr.’s hair.

What more could we ask for from 0.274 percent of the year? We'll take it one section at a time as we dissect the anatomy of the seventh best sports day of the year.

Anticipation
No other professional sports draft gets as much attention as the NFL. Teams invest incredible amounts of time, money and energy in researching players. Scouting combines are newsworthy events. Fans do their own mock drafts and waste hours of life debating which direction their team should go in with their first pick.

Some teams’ fans are fortunate enough to begin their draft preparation midway through the season when their team has proven its terribleness. That just doesn’t happen in any other pro sport. With a month left in a baseball season, you don’t see Royals fans bringing “Play for the draft pick” signs to Kauffman Stadium. The NBA has a lottery, so that makes playing for the worst record a waste of time.

Excitement
Ever see those crazies on television with their faces painted yet there is no game being played? That’s what the NFL has created with its annual job fair for college kids.  No matter where you are on Draft Day, you want to know who got picked when. You could be enjoying a splendid day at the beach with your significant other, but there's a part of you that is dying to know which defensive back went first. That's what the best sports day do. They make us think about the event all day.

Unpredictability
Who knows who’s going where? No one. We all may think we have a good idea of how the draft with play out, but then here come the Jets at No. 4 and the Raiders at No. 7, or wherever they happen to pick in a particular season. These two teams are famous for Gary Busey-ing (i.e., completely messing up) the world’s draft boards.

Teams play poker with the media and other teams. No general manager wants to show his hand, except for, on occasion, the one with the No. 1 pick. So when one pick goes awry, it turns into a battle royal.

There is also the Ryan Leaf factor, which forces us to wonder which player will be a monumental bust, become a cautionary tale for future decision makers and turn every writer and broadcaster into Rodney Dangerfield with one-line zingers years later.

Not to mention the Tom Brady factor, which forces us to wonder which late-rounder will emerge as the best in the league at his position.

Don't forget about trades. They can happen at any time in any round. It's enough to make a fan lose his or her mind.

Emotion
Players cry when they get picked and hug their families and agents. They hide disgust from the omnipresent national television cameras when they don’t get picked. Eagles fans are guaranteed to boo no matter what happens. Jets fans are conditioned to teter on the edge with excitement until their intestines begin to riot with their stomach over the latest outrageous pick.

That fans even gather themselves at the draft site to express their opinions about a player yet to wear their new team’s uniform says all you need to know about the emotion surrounding Draft Day in the NFL.

Practical Application
Teams need to fill holes. A draft fills this need quite effectively.

Fan Despair
Some of them actually get mad when a particular player is drafted over another player. Such lunacy is oddly refreshing.

Depth
When all the picks are completed, teams can assess what they’ve got and how they’ve filled holes and replenished the franchise. This is the start to the circle of NFL life. Then there’s the little matter of four million people to choose from and all those great second-day stories about how the cornerback from a Division II program was paralyzed from the waist down for three hours after a game in high school and the doctors never thought he’d walk again, let alone play football and here he is being drafted by an NFL team.

Potential Anguish in the Green Room
Remember the 432 cutaways to Cal quarterback Aaron Rodgers in the green room last year? It hurt, didn’t it? Watching Rodgers, a potential No. 1 pick, attempt to keep a straight face as he fell to the Packers at No. 22 was equal parts painful and intriguing. Not unlike watching the Miss America beauty pageant hoping someone will fall.

A Checkered History of First-Round Picks by the Jets
“It’s obvious to me right now that the Jets just don’t understand what the draft is all about,” Mel Kiper Jr. said in 1989 after the Jets drafted Jeff Lageman at No. 14.

If you value martyrdom, as most Jets fans do, watch this video. But don’t say you weren’t warned.

Michael Irvin Suits
Seriously, few things are more enjoyable than watching these millionaires-to-be copy The Playmaker with outlandish, bright colored, 12-buttoned suits with pimp-wide collars.

Mel Kiper Jr.’s hair.
It’s only a matter of time before he erupts in his seat, looks into the camera in disgust and blurts out, “I didn’t even have him on my board!” all the while keeping his hair stationary. The wonders of mousse will never cease to amaze.

By Mark La Monica

LAS VEGAS -- Life changes way too quickly here in this man-made city of fantasy where anything can be had for the right price. One flip of a card, one roll of the dice can make all the difference in one's amassing of fortune.

The wrong card or the wrong redirect of the dice and that juicy porterhouse at the Bellagio's Prime Steakhouse turns into $3.99 steak and eggs at Sam's Town Casino off the strip.

Such swinging of the emotional pendulum is not just reserved to the gaming tables in this city. The sports book provides equally gut-wrenching entertainment, wonderfully illustrated by the bottom of the ninth inning of the Yankees-Orioles game on Friday.

After three straight days of blackjack and Texas Hold’em caused mental blurriness, I lugged myself into the sports book at Mandalay Bay and took a seat on the wall just in time to see Johnny Damon start the potential comeback with a weak pop-up to second base. I feel like I just rolled a 7 with lots of my money on the craps table.

The big screen TV in front of me received a stern talking-to. A fella in a Yankees cap to my right looks in my direction with that “Who the heck is this moron?” look. Turns out that fella was MVP friend Phil, aka the White Rhino.

Ah ha! A partner in crime to rejoice in a majestic Yankee comeback and share in the metaphoric game of Texas Hold’em that would be the ninth inning.

Derek Jeter walked and Gary Sheffield roped a single up the middle. Woo hoo! Suited connectors! Now we’re playing some cards. Raise!

Alex Rodriguez struck out and the entire sports book went crazy. Some were rejoicing in his ineptitude in the clutch. Some were wallowing in his ineptitude in the clutch. I feel the sting of a bad flop.

“Phil, find me an Orioles fan so I can take my sneaker off and throw it at them,” I said.

Lucky for my perfect non-arrest record, he didn’t look.

Jason Giambi drew a walk to load the bases after Jeter and Sheffield pulled off the double steal. Oh lookee here, the turn just put me back in the race. Time to check-raise some tourists.

“I’m gonna throw my shoe at someone if the Yanks lose,” I said. “I’m gonna throw my shoe at someone if the Yanks win.”

The logic of the idea was non-existent. But here I am chasing a straight flush as the Yankees have the bases loaded with two outs, trailing by one at the Stadium and Hideki Matsui coming to the plate.

The first pitch from Orioles closer Chris Ray is a ball. Raise.

The second pitch is a strike. Check

Pitch three? Ball two. All in!

Pitch four? Strike two. Oops!

The fifth pitch is ruled a ball even though Matsui likely didn’t check his swing as the third-base umpire said he did.

Here we go. Full count. Two outs. Bases juiced. Yanks trail by one. Go ahead, dealer, flip over that river card and give me the straight flush so I can take down a huge pot of Baltimore angst and treat MVP Phil and the boys to a round of overpriced drinks at the pool.

The pitch . . . it’s outside . . . it’s strike three! Busted. Where’s the nearest ATM?

By Mike Casey

Folks, you might as well not even watch the Rangers-Devils series. Haven't you heard? It's over! The Devils won! They're in the second round. How do I know? I read the newspapers, the fan message boards, and the web. "Put it in ink," they say, "Devils in 5."

Balderdash, I say.

Congratulations to the Devils for winning the Atlantic Division and finishing the season on an 11-game winning streak. It's an incredible accomplishment. It's also virtually meaningless.

Easy for me to say, I know, since I was among many who were disappointed that the Rangers failed to lock up the division last week. But recall two weeks ago, when it seemed the Rangers were a virtual lock to win the division and the Devils were sitting in the No. 6 spot in the Eastern Conference. Weren't we expecting this matchup anyway?

And has anything really changed?

Yes, you could argue that the Devils wrested home-ice advantage away with their phenomenal season-ending run. But who would really call playing at the unwelcoming Meadowlands home-ice advantage? There will be enough Rangers fans at the Continental Airlines Arena to minimize the effects of the usually frenzied crowds of Devils fans. And of course, home ice advantage is only as good as the team that holds it. It only takes one home loss to completely erase it.

You could also say that the Devils look unbeatable now, with Brian Gionta, Patrik Elias, and Scott Gomez providing lots of scoring, the third and fourth lines providing grit, and a solid, playoff-tested defense. And... uhh.... Brodeur -- I think that's his name -- is pretty good in net, too. But to the fans and hockey pundits I say, get a grip. This is not the 1984 Oilers or the '77 Canadiens we're talking about. This is a team that is riding high and playing extremely well, but is not as good as some will make them out to be.

They have flaws. The Rangers surely have exposed them at times throughout the season, winning four of eight games against the Pitchforkers, but they have been covered up by a run that is equal parts skill and emotion.

But what happens when that emotional bubble bursts? We've seen it in sports a million times.

The pitcher loses the no-hitter in the 9th inning. The batter comes up and -- CRACK! -- over the fence.

The undefeated season ends. The team relaxes, exhales, takes a moment to pat itself on the back, and all of a sudden, the intensity is gone. They can't remember how to win again.

What happens when the Devils lose their first game in four weeks? Will they exhale and let down? Will they start pressing? It's hard to ignore that kind of natural human reaction.

A long winning streak is a big double-edged sword, which the Rangers can easily turn against the Devils by winning Game 1.

As poorly as the Broadway Blues have played, let's keep in mind their defense was almost completely decimiated by injuries and their starting goaltender was out down the stretch. The Rangers also played without two of their top six forwards, and the cumulative effect was that the entire team pressed way, way too hard.

With everyone finally healed (excepting Marty Rucinsky), the Rangers cannot possibly play any worse than they have during the past two weeks. Henrik Lundqvist is back in net. Tom Poti, Darius Kasparaitis and Marek Malik are back on D. Steve Rucchin is expected to play for the first time in nearly three weeks.

And if coach Tom Renney can get his defensemen -- particularly Poti, Fedor Tyutin and Sandis Ozolinsh -- to play a smarter game on the point, a large percentage of the Rangers' recent shortcomings will have repaired themselves.

Of course, they'll still have to figure out a way to get Jaromir Jagr back on track, how to keep him away from Jay Pandolfo and John Madden, and how to get scoring from their second line. And their tendency to take momentum-killing penalties could be very costly.

But for the first time in 10 years, the Rangers have a team willing to be coached and play disciplined hockey. To play... well, like the Devils. If that Rangers team shows up in Game 1, all bets are off.

By Mark La Monica

The Rangers are in the NHL playoffs for the first time since 1997. The Knicks stink and their season will mercifully come to an end on Wednesday night, and Stephon Marbury has promised to dish the dirt on locker room clean-out day. The Jets have the No. 4 pick in the draft in two weeks.

But first and foremost, New York is a baseball town. No matter how good or bad any other professional sports team in the Big Apple is, New Yorkers breathe baseball.

We’re still in that part of the season where 3-for-4 at the plate can boost a player’s batting average 58 points in three hours, as was the case with the Yankees’ Jason Giambi on Sunday.

We’re still in that part of the season where one scoreless inning of relief can lower a pitcher’s earned run average by 4.21 in five minutes, as was the case with the Mets’ Jorge Julio on Sunday.

It is way too early to overreact to anything that has happened in New York baseball, and there is certainly no reason to include wild card standings in the agate pages, as one New York tabloid in particular does.

There’s a cliché out there for baseball, something about a really, really long running race compared with a really, really short running race.

But there is much to appreciate through the first two weeks here in New York.

The Mets just keep scoring runs and getting good starting pitching. Even Victor Zambrano, a favorite whipping boy for all Mets fans, threw five serviceable innings this past week for the win.

Unfolding before Mets fans’ eyes is the burgeoning superstar that is David Wright. There’s nothing like a young, superbly talented player performing exceptionally well to ignite a fan base. Mets fans are experiencing what Yankees fans did in 1996 with Derek Jeter.

Through Sunday’s games, the Mets possess the best record in baseball at 9-2. For a franchise that has tumbled since reaching the 2000 World Series, every early win provides more hope that those dark days of 66-95 in 2003 are as much a memory as using a walkman to listen to music.

They are an intriguing bunch of players to watch right now as they attempt to rise from the ashes of the NL East. Big offense. Deep lineup. Good defense. Nice rotation. Good closer. All of that makes this week’s three-game series with longtime nemesis Atlanta even more compelling. A series win here and the Mets can legitimize their hot start and give fans something tangible to cling to as the remaining 91 percent of the season plays out.

Across the river in the Bronx, the Yankees are more compelling when they struggle early. It’s a natural byproduct of extended winning, which is what the franchise has done since 1995. (Just ask the Atlanta Braves, which have won 14 straight division titles and now barely fill their ballpark for the first round of the playoffs.)

In the first dozen games of the season, the Yankees have either raked or flaked. The offense either exploded for 10 runs and the team won. Or they looked like Pedro Cerrano trying to hit a curveball in the first half of “Major League” and the team lost.

It’s not exactly the most comforting way to play the game for a manager or anyone else who relies on George Steinbrenner for their income. But such momentum swings with a $200 million investment makes for great entertainment.

By Mark La Monica

Some observations and thoughts from the Bronx as the Yankees played their first home game and beat the Kansas City Royals, 9-7:

* "What does his sign say?" quipped a young female Yankees fan outside the ballpark about 90 minutes before the first pitch. Clearly, she was inquiring about Freddy, a sort-of cult figure around the Stadium. Freddy is an elderly gentleman who walks around the Stadium at home games with a sign, a pan and a spoon and asks fans to hit the pan with the spoon to help support the Yankees. His sign today read as follows:

Freddy "sez"
2006 OPENING DAY
LET'S GO YANKEES
SHOW THE WAY

* One proud man walking around outside the Stadium with a George Brett throwback jersey.  Impressive.

* Way more than one person chirping and staring at the one proud man walking around outside the Stadium with a George Brett throwback jersey.  Expected.

* $4 jumbo pretzels just might be the best value at the Stadium if not the city. A giant beer for $8.75 is definitely not the best value, even if you take the plastic bottle home with you and try to return it for the 5-cent deposit.

* Ron Guidry received a terrific greeting from the fans when his name was announced as the pitching coach during pre-game introductions.

* Don Mattingly received an even better greeting at the team's hitting coach.

* The Bleacher Creatures are already in mid-season form. This does not bode well for visiting right-fielders.

* The relationship between Bernie Williams and the fans will be interesting to watch this season. His not starting in centerfield but still being in the lineup was strange. It was made even stranger by his being included in the patented Roll Call by the Bleacher Creatures. Wonder how Johnny Damon felt about that. Clearly, the fans respect what Bernie Williams has given the Yankees the past 14 seasons and will appreciate him every chance they get. Of course, if he's hitting .234 in June, well, we'll just have to revisit this relationship.

* Jason Giambi has some seriously large guns for arms, regardless of how they may have been created.

* Gary Sheffield wears phat suits.

* It's virtually impossible to see Jimmy "The King" Leyritz and not hear the clanking of metal his home run in Game 4 in Atlanta created 10 years ago.

*  Goose Gossage is a very large man.

* Mariano Rivera on the mound. Always noteworthy if for no other reason than he's Mariano Rivera and he's the most dominant closer of his generation.

* Of the 54,698 fans in attendance, maybe four or five were not wearing some form of Yankee paraphernalia.

* "Reggie Sanders, you're a bum," one fan screamed from behind the plate. Next pitch, boom! Home run, Reggie Sanders. "You're still a bum!" the fan said. Ah, such reasoning.

By Mark La Monica

Most days, golf can be more boring than boring to watch on television. Not this past Sunday. Not at Augusta.

We're talking about the final round of The Masters, the ninth best sports day of the year.

It's not so much the actual striking of the ball and the walking to the ball and the striking of the ball again and the walking to the ball again and the putting of the ball and the picking up of the ball and the repeating of that process 18 times that makes the final round of The Masters so compelling. Surely, all that stuff is just like any other day television decides to broadcast live golf events.

The enjoyment of the final round is the pressure and the pursuit of the green jacket, golf's most coveted prize. It's golf first major of the season and deeply rooted in tradition, just like the CBS commercial spots for it say. It's played at the same course every year -- Augusta National Golf Club -- whereas the U.S. Open, British Open and PGA Championship move around each year.

This sort of tradition deserves a sports fan respect and admiration.

Plus, the broadcast has very few commercial breaks, thanks in part to Martha Burk's protesting about sexism at the club a few years ago and Hootie Johnson's decision to not use advertising in response to Burk's threat of boycotting those companies who bought advertising time on CBS.

You may hate to play, hate to watch, hate to even hear about golf, but a true sports fan must see the bigger picture of the American sporting landscape and embrace its mighty, cross-platform appeal. The Masters is big business, just like every other professional sport, and Sunday is golf's Super Bowl.

It's as good as golf gets, regardless of who's in contention on the final day. This year, we lucked into a great Sunday, full of the biggest names in the sport, an old guy recapturing his younger form in Freddy "Boom Boom" Couples, the amazing scenery that is Augusta, some extra holes thanks to Saturday's third round being suspended partly through because of rain, and the soldification of Phil Mickelson as a major champion with his second green jacket in three years.

No matter the storyline, Sunday at Augusta remains a great day for sports. So great, it's the ninth best sports day each year.

By Mark La Monica

When Billy Wagner saves 50 games for the Mets this season, will anyone care what his entrance music is?

When he serves up a home run in the ninth inning to blow a save at Shea, will fans honestly believe it was musical karma and not a misplaced slider?

Welcome to the first non-issue of the baseball season here in New York. Impressive, what with it taking less than three hours of the season to develop.

Mets closer Billy Wagner enters the field from the bullpen as Metallica's "Enter Sandman" plays on the PA system at Shea Stadium. The Pavlovian reaction is one of "Who does this guy think he is, Mariano Rivera?"

Sports talk radio hosts and callers have had a field day with it since Monday afternoon. What they apparently failed to do was learn that Wagner has been doing it since he was in Houston.

The playing of "Enter Sandman" for someone other than Yankees closer Mariano Rivera is, at first, a jolting experience. After about 10 seconds, it's really a non-issue.

Let Wagner have his song. This is still Rivera's town. One song of four minutes or one city of eight million people? Hmmm. Not a tough call.

At the Knicks' home opener last November, the jumbotron showed the celebrities in the crowd and Rivera earned the biggest, loudest and longest ovation.

Rivera is an untouchable in New York. The Eliot Ness of baseball in a media town more ruthless than Al Capone.

No one has done what he's done, from the 0.81 postseason ERA to the continual dominance to the one-pitch-and-they-still-can't-hit-it.

There is nothing more thrilling for Yankees fans than being in Yankee Stadium when Rivera jogs in from the bullpen. "Enter Sandman" blasts from the Stadium. The crowd watches every stride Rivera makes from left-centerfield toward the mound.  It's as close a thing to guaranteed victory as there is in sports.

When the opposing team has runners on second and third and no outs, down by one, and Rivera comes in, Yankees fans can breathe easy.  That's the psychological comfort brought about by hearing Rivera's entrance music. It's like watching professional wrestling when the match is over but the fighting continues in the ring with steel chairs, garbage cans and no referees. Then, all of a sudden, there's this sound of glass breaking and everyone erupts because they know here comes "Stone Cold" Steve Austin to save the day.

The song was chosen for Rivera, not by Rivera, and he has owned it just as much as the actual group. If anything, Metallica should consider giving Rivera a small cut of the royalties from that album.

Rivera would never say anything about this "issue" because a) that's the type of person he is; b) the Yankees are concerned with October; and c) it's not an issue.

Mets fans shouldn't care about the Yankees, but rather about how their team can make the postseason for the first time since losing the 2000 World Series in five games to the Yankees.

Yankees fans should care even less about what music Wagner plays. Worry more about the health of the starting pitchers over the course of the season.

If Yankees fans still feel the urge to complain about it, ask yourself this question: Would you rather have Billy Wagner or Mariano Rivera as your closer?

By Mark La Monica

Sitting on a chair on the corner of 57th Street and 7th Avenue on the sort of beautiful spring Sunday that is morally illegal to remain indoors, a jazz man worked his saxophone. The tune was instantly recognizable.

The jazz man played "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" and there was no way for passers by to refrain from internally reviewing the words of that classic tune.

It was the perfect mood and scene setter for today, Monday, the best sports day of the year! Opening Day for baseball.

It may seem anticlimactic to reveal the No. 1 sports day of the year before the entire list is complete, but changing the way the calendar works is not possible at this time.

Of the other 364 days on the calendar (or sometimes 365), they all are a distant second to the first day of Major League Baseball.

We even set the clocks an hour ahead the weekend before Opening Day just so news of the first pitch will reach us sooner.

Legally speaking, the 2006 season began on Sunday night when the Chicago White Sox hosted and beat the Cleveland Indians, 10-4. But that doesn't count.

Even ESPN, which televised Sunday night's game, has been promoting today's slate of games as "Opening Day."

Besides, the Sunday night opener is for marketing and television purposes, and it was marketing and television purposes that destroyed what was once the fourth best sports day of the year -- New Year's Day when all the college football bowl games were on.

Baseball rosters have been cut to 25. Tickets have been sold. Hot dogs have been ordered. The smell of roasted peanuts and fresh jumbo pretzels wofts through the air whether you're in the stadium or not.

Opening day – the real opening day – of the Major League Baseball season as arrived.

Thoughts of these aromas evoke a few rituals for diehard fans. Whether it's cutting school or creating a new 24-hour virus excuse to tell the boss, there's no way a baseball fan can miss that first televised pitch of opening day on ESPN.

This year, that pitch will roll off the left hand of Mets starter Tom Glavine, just a few minutes after 1 o'clock this afternoon.

Opening day will forever be an American tradition, an American holiday. It really should be printed on every calendar sold in the states.

The beginning of the baseball season ignites fans like no other sport. And when news of the first hit breaks, look out. Fantasy baseball participants begin furiously typing e-mails to league members saying their team will win it all this year because their player got that hit off of someone else's pitcher.

Those watching on television will hear something to the effect of, "And there it is, the first hit of the new season."

Fans at Shea Stadium have two choices. Mets fans will most probably be upset if the first hit of the season came in the top half of the first inning. However, those faithful Nationals fans that made the trek from Washington D.C. will cheer on their hometown heroes.

Either way, the fun of rooting through your favorite team's ups and downs for the next six or seven months has returned. You can wake up every morning, check the box scores. Who had a double last night? Anyone hit a sacrifice fly? Who moved runners up? Who grounded into a double play? Who's pitching for and against us tonight?

Remember last year when Braden Looper served up that two-run bomb to Joe Randa and the Mets gave up three runs in the bottom of the ninth to lose the opener at Cincinnati? Ultimately, the game didn't mean anything in the final standings, but how crushing was that loss for Mets fans? Conversely, Yankee fans reveled in their 9-2 win over Boston on Opening Day at Yankee Stadium.

Victory on Opening Day puts fans in a good mood. That's all we want. Give us some hope for the season, a reason to drop mad cash for tickets and hot dogs and programs and t-shirts and souvenir-cup sodas. Let us start the dumb-but-still-fun "We're on pace for 162 wins."