The WBC etc.

  The World Baseball Classic is akin to the NHL-invented Four Nations Cup. Except that the WBC is held during the exhibition season and the NHL stopped play for their tournament. Neither count for much other than bragging rights and something for journalists to pontificate about. 

Watching Shohei Ohtani hitting home runs in Tokyo is wonderful for the Japanese people who have their hero live and in front of them. But each team the the pitchers face—despite the many quality names—aren’t up to the capacity like they would be in the playoffs and World Series. 

So I feel kind of cheated by this event. It pales in comparison to the recently-completed Winter Games and the level of hockey demonstrated there. Even with Ohtani dramatically striking out Mike Trout, his former teammate in Anaheim to secure victory for Japan over the USA the last time the WBC was held, this just doesn’t measure up to the USA-Canada games—both men’s and women’s. 

Still, large crowds will be drawn to the venues. FOX is televising the games with partners. The baseball media is agog over it. Just not me. 

A regular season contest between North Carolina and Duke is more appetizing. There is always more at stake whenever these two fierce rivals collide. It’s just not there when Israel plays Venezuela, Nicaragua, the Dominican Republic or, hold your breath, the Netherlands. 

Watching Juan Soto deposit a ball into the seats for the Dominicans to walk off a game in seven innings due to the mercy rule against an overmatched Netherlands team won’t raise my level of excitement one iota. 

Moreover, this extravaganza is pitted against the start of March Madness. The eyes of the Nation are much more involved, as again, much more is at stake. Conference tournaments have begun. The final countdown to Selection Sunday has started. 

Yet a loaded team USA inexplicably lost to Team Italy 8-6 on Tuesday night. The Americans had to wait out the game between Italy and Mexico to see if they had made the quarter finals. 

The fact that this team found itself in such a precarious position has led to plenty of griping in the sports world. USA fans felt we were better than everyone else—like in Olympic men’s basketball. Which we barely were in the past Summer Olympics.

There were two buzzer beaters in the Patriot League which first catapulted #2 seed Lehigh into a second round game with a heave from mld-court. Then #1 seed Navy went ahead at home in the final seconds only to have #5 seed Boston University nail a three pointer from way beyond the arc to sink the Midshipmen and their hopes to go to the Big Dance. Either the Terriers or the Mountain Hawks will have their ticket punched. 

We are drawn to the underdogs. Long Island University clinched their first berth since 2018, winning the Northeast Conference crown. LIU won the berth when Mercyhurst, which they ultimately defeated, was ineligible to make the NCAA’s in a transition year from a lower division. 

Rod Strickland is the LIU coach, now in his fourth season at the helm. Those who are NBA fans recall that Strickland was drafted by his hometown New York Knicks and spent time with 10 NBA teams. He averaged 13.2 ppg in the regular season and 13.4 in the playoffs. 

Once a hot head and a divisive figure, Strickland has turned around the Sharks as LIU is now known. No matter how many teams he played on, Strickland came in and changed the atmosphere in Brooklyn. Maybe, if LIU gets to compete in a play-in game, the school can come up with that elusive first NCAA Division I Men’s Tournament win; they sit at 0-7. 

A week ago I might have unabashedly picked Duke to win it all in Division I men’s hoops. Guard Caleb Foster suffered a foot fracture against UNC; he is a very important cog in the Blue Devils offense. Plus some other key players are banged up. Duke’s chances aren’t as rosy.

Those anointing Michigan to win it all—be careful. No matter how powerful the Big Ten teams are and given high rankings, no school from that austere conference has won a title since 2000. That was Tom Izzo’s Michigan State team, which downed Florida. 

Speaking of Florida, aren’t they the reigning champions? Those necessarily counting them out—beware. Michigan may be as good, as is Arizona. Florida may still be better than those teams. Early season close losses to Arizona in Las Vegas, TCU, Duke in Durham by a point and UConn at Madison Square Garden showed me that the Gators are unafraid and battle-tested. Losses to Auburn and Missouri in SEC play aren’t disqualifiers in my mind for a team which wants to repeat. 

Prediction-wise, it looks like the Atlantic Coast Conference will get six into the tournament; the Big 12 might get seven in, as will the SEC; the Big 10 has eight likely to make it; the Big East will only have three selected, which will match the West Coat Conference. 

Of note, Gonzaga won the WCC for the final time. The Zags won the title for the 12th time in the last 14 years. Next season, they will join the Pac-12. 

Hofstra, High Point, Northern Iowa, Tennessee State, North Dakota State, Wright State, Queens (NC) and Siena have joined the party after conference tournament wins. Bubble teams include Oklahoma, Auburn, Texas, Missouri, Cincinnati, Central Florida, Indiana and SMU. There are bound to be more upsets within conferences like the Atlantic 10 and American. 

Selection Sunday will sort this all out. I am sure that there will be schools which get left out that think they were worthy of joining the others in this great national celebration. Good luck to the Tournament committee in seeding this version. 

With the women, it comes down to two schools. Undefeated UConn and one-loss UCLA. Anybody else will have to be lucky. For that matter, if the Huskies and Bruins meet for the title, somebody might need some good fortune to walk away with the crown. 

Over in Division III, the 64 school field has already been pared to 16 after two rounds were completed. For the most part, the seeded teams advanced. 

Franklin and Marshall, a great team at home but not so good on the road or at neutral sites, was eliminated by a SUNY Cortland team which outplayed, out hustled and out shot the Diplomats. I have strongly felt that F&M was not that good despite its record now 22-6 after the loss at Endicott College in Massachusetts. (Cortland lost by a point to Endicott in the Round of 32). All three Centennial Conference teams which made it to the tournament were eliminated in the first round. 

Emory eked out a second round win at home. The #2 seeded Eagles now draw a feisty Yeshiva squad on Friday afternoon. Trinity (CT) remains the favorite going forward in the bracket; other title contenders include two other conference foes, Tufts and Wesleyan meeting on Friday; upstart Hood, which travels to Hartford to take on Trinity; Endicott and Illinois Wesleyan battle next; and two other UAA schools besides Emory remain in action in Washington University in St. Louis and the University of Chicago. 

On the women’s side, NYU has been dominating. They face Hardin-Simmons next then if they advance, the Violets host the winner of Southern Maine and Wisconsin-La Crosse. Should Scranton get by Bates and Johns Hopkins defeat Concordia-Moorhead, the two powerhouses will collide. 

The other side of the bracket has a distinctly Midwestern flavor to it. Only Washington & Lee isn’t a school west of Pittsburgh. Bethel, John Carroll, Denison, Hope, Chicago, Washington (St. Louis) and Wisconsin-Oshkosh (B’gosh!) are still in the hunt. 

I saw a highlight of the hockey game between Tampa Bay and Buffalo. The final score was 8-7 in favor of the streaking Buffalo Sabres. That’s right. Let me repeat myself—the streaking Buffalo Sabres. 

The franchise hasn’t seen the playoffs since 2010-11. It has never won the Stanley Cup. With 86 points in 65 games, Buffalo is tied with Carolina for the most points in the Eastern Conference and are four ahead of the Lightning. 

That game featured over 100 penalty minutes in a fight-filled affair. Every minute it seemed that the teams wanted to drop the gloves in some capacity. 

One fight occurred four seconds after a previous one. I didn’t realize any animosity existed between these two teams. It reminded me of the Philadelphia Flyers of the 1970’s, when fights would happen before the puck ever dropped. 

Notice that the Florida Panthers, winners of the past two Stanley Cups, along with the Edmonton Oilers, their opponents, are struggling to compete for playoff spots. Edmonton is in a better spot than Florida, but any losing streak will jeopardize their chances. 

Playing all those extra games does catch up with teams and players. Especially as they age. It is small wonder that Steph Curry and LeBron James, as marvelous as they remain, are accumulating wear and tear injuries which keep them sidelined. 

In Curry’s case, the Golden State Warriors have all but lost an opportunity to escape the dreaded play-in games. Without him, GSW has no chance to advance to the main draw.

Finally, NFL free agency and trading has gotten underway. The New York Jets are bringing back Geno Smith to be their quarterback after he had a rough year in Las Vegas. Jets fans shudder, thinking about how a younger Smith was not very good leading the team’s offense. 

Then there is the Max Crosby affair. The star defensive lineman was not happy in Vegas. Management made a deal with Baltimore, shipping the unhappy player East in exchange for  two first round draft choices. It seemed like a coup for the Ravens. 

Until team doctors weren’t happy with the examination of Crosby’s knee, which had a meniscus repair in January. The deal was voided. Instead, Baltimore signed free agent Trey Hendrickson, thus not losing its first round picks. 

Still a coup for the Ravens—perhaps even better than the Crosby deal. Vegas must now figure out what to do with him—trade him or keep him or mend fences. 

Unsurprisingly, I spent more time on anything but the World Baseball Classic. The WBC doesn’t do it for me.

An Ode To A Special Man

  Normally, these pages would be filled with sports. That’s what this former lawyer-turned-sports blogger is about. Pick a sport, pick a team. Remember an event. 

That’s what my blogs are about. The details. The thoughts. The people.

But with this installment, I will shy away from that for a moment. For good reason. Then briefly come back to sports to end the blog. This an ode to a special man.

I attended a memorial service for a Franklin and Marshall College classmate this past Wednesday. His name is Lee W. Stremba. 

Unless you were a classmate or a close friend of Lee’s, you might never have heard of him. I believe that’s the way he liked things to be. Private and personal. 

I lived on the same dorm floor as Lee for my junior year. Essentially, I was the new guy on the block, as the floor’s occupants knew each other from previous on campus living arrangements. 

I was paired with David Halpern, a Jewish pre-med student from Belleville, New Jersey. Talk about a funny guy who was serious about his studies. Halpern was a member of the band and always had an angle on something, as he was instrumental in getting the newly-admitted co-eds to become cheerleaders (F&M first brought women in as full-time students in 1969). 

He had to put up with me, a Government major whose major concentration was playing baseball his junior year after making the varsity as a sophomore. I wanted to be an integral part of the floor activities, but I had to learn how to navigate the personalities. 

I really only knew four people on the floor before that year. Two guys from just outside of Philadelphia who were smart and studious. I still call Jeff Bomze and  Fred Rubin friends after all these years. I knew another pre-med, Dan Schwartz, of Scarsdale, New York. And I had my baseball teammate, pitcher Bob Byelick, on the floor.  

The group which formed freshman year in Buchanan House was mostly intact. As much as they were together for living purposes, it was a social and athletic bond which tied them together. 

Whether it was movies on Saturday night followed by greasy pizza at the House of Pizza just off campus or an intramural competition for the sacred team named “The Trojans,” there was unity among this aggregation. Noontime Jeopardy in the common area and campus trivia contests brought out the best in this highly motivated bunch. 

As with any grouping, there were de facto leaders. To me, it was Tim Kearns, a wise-cracking guy from Princeton, New Jersey who could play some mean basketball. 

His roommate was Lee Stremba. An almost perfectly paired odd couple. 

My memories of Lee was that he played a lot of cards. It seemed like he never opened a book. This prodigy, born in Reading, Pennsylvania and raised just outside the small city, was as silent as he was confident. 

Formally, Lee majored in Economics. It seemed like he had a plan—one he wasn’t privy to sharing—and this course of study was integral to that. 

I mistakenly took an introductory Economics course that year. I thought this might help me should I go on to law school, which was my projected goal. I found the teacher, who became a cabinet member in the Commonwealth government, very unfriendly and unwilling to help a young man lost in the course work. 

So I went to Lee for assistance. He took the time to try to explain the information to me. It was clear that his grasp of the subject matter was way beyond mine. 

That’s when I understood the powerful intellect Lee possessed. It was intimidating as much as what he said was correct. While I thought the pre-med students surrounding me were on another level, Lee even exceeded that. 

I felt that Lee was a student who would have fared well at an Ivy League school. Instead he chose Franklin and Marshall and the fit was perfect for him. 

He could be himself, excel at his studies while having an earnest communal social life which would allow all of us to reconnect 50 years or more later as if we were still students and had been in touch for all those years instead of periodic get togethers every five years. Even with a superior mind, Lee was definitely one of us.

This man could walk hand stands down a hallway, a trait he acquired as a gymnast, which explained his lean and muscular frame. Lee would join us in nocturnal raids of the dining service two floors below by accessing the door through cajoling Byelick, who had the keys as part of his work study. It was theatrical watching Lee scarfing up desserts after technically committing a felony. Hunger trumped the law at that time for all of us. 

Kearns, Byelick, Mark Rickards and Halpern were instrumental in getting me to participate on the intramural team. Lee was an aider and abetter. Although I was a varsity athlete, I was not as athletic as many, yet I wanted to help. I got us a point for cross-country, which I was highly unsuited for. 

Lee joined the chorus (he was a very talented singer in a campus harmonic ensemble called “The Poor Richards,” a Ben Franklin-themed reference) in getting me to wrestle. I had some wrestling in my genes from my father, an F&M alumnus. I gave it a try. 

Whereas Lee had been pinned quickly in his only try, he convinced me that I would be better than him. In reality, I actually was, winning some matches. At the same time, I evidently separated my shoulder—something which was confirmed many years later on an operating table for repair of my right rotator cuff when I awoke in the middle of the operation and the surgeon asked me if had ever injured the shoulder previously.

This cost me my varsity baseball career for my junior year, no matter that I had jammed my shoulder back into place in order to participate in the pre-season. I wan’t good enough due to the injury. 

Being a part of this great collection of men was so thrilling that I never blamed them. It was my choice and I had succeeded on one front for the team. I was indeed one of them. Lee was at the forefront of those who cheered me on.

I parted ways with the guys my senior year, as I was attending the Washington Semester Honors Program in Government at American University, which allowed me to continue my summertime Congressional internship. When I returned, my contact with my former dorm mates was tangential due to baseball, a girlfriend and living off campus. 

When we graduated, I followed where many went for professional school. So many of my junior year buddies went to medical school, dental school, law school or obtained graduate degrees. 

That was something I tangentially had in common with Lee. Whereas I squeaked into a new law school in Wilmington, Delaware, Lee was headed to a far more prestigious place—New York University. I had all the confidence in the world to believe Lee would be a success thee while not knowing what direction my pursuits would take me. 

Thus, after college, I would not become a close friend of Lee’s. We would connect at school reunions. The conversations were like they always were—short and to the point. Humorous and witty with a little bit of sarcasm thrown in. He and Halpern remained tight; I followed them around largely because they were familiar to talk to and laugh with. 

Lee proved me right, becoming a highly successful attorney as a litigator in major business transactions. He had fallen in love with Manhattan, as it offered him a plethora of performance arts which he ate up as readily as the desserts quickly taken back to the dorm floor in our felonious activity. 

New York City was the perfect place for Lee to settle, raise a family and expand his horizons even more. Which he did with aplomb. 

Our group became tight again with Zoom calls periodically. We shared a commonality that started all those years ago in Lancaster, augmented by our worldly experiences. Lee was a frequent participant from his Lower Manhattan apartment, sharing his retired exploits as an extra on TV and in the movies, along with detailing the woodworking projects he was undertaking. Everybody couldn’t wait to hear what he was doing.

I was fortunate to have lunch with Lee at one of my favorite restaurants, the Smith. That was where I learned so much more about him. Still somewhat guarded about what he would divulge about himself, he gave me a great picture of who he had become while retaining his character from college. 

I knew I was in the presence of greatness. He never made me feel uncomfortable as we exchanged stories and recollected about the past. That day remans seared in my memory.

The news was devastating and shocking to us all. Lee had been diagnosed with glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. The prognosis was not good. The terrible irony was that so marvelous a mind was being attacked so heartlessly. 

Lee soldiered on as only he could. Our Zoom buddies wanted updates on his health before we began our sessions. He persisted in his fight until his body could no longer fight the disease. 

All of us grieved. He was one of us. This shouldn’t have happened. Especially this way. 

The service was held at the Church Center for the United Nations, across First Avenue from the iconic United Nations building. I don’t know how the location was picked, but it represented New York and the world in one site. A place for reflection, hope and peace. 

Family both tearfully and joyously remembered Lee. So did David Halpern offer a memorable eulogy borne from his deep friendship with Lee. 

What made this memorial unique was the integration of music into the service. Lee evidently was fond of karaoke. As a single voice, the attendees sang songs from Frank Sinatra and Bobby Darin. These were his favorites. 

I was graciously invited by his wife Cynthia to join David, his wife Barbara and some close friends at their apartment. What I thought would be a short visit turned out to be much longer. 

It was a happy occasion notwithstanding Lee’s death just two months prior, a day before he became 75 like most the rest of us. The conviviality overshadowed the loss we all had suffered. 

His apartment, along with the hour long video montage which was played after the ceremony and again at home, was a true reflection of a great life lived. I saw his woodwork projects. I took in the art work and sights, fragments yet statements of a life well-lived but cut way too short. 

When I left, I was reflective and honored. Happy to have met someone like Lee Stremba. A paragon in my days in college, a still large figure in his retirement. 

The commute home was atrocious due to PATH problems. Although I was exhausted from such a long day, I came away in a better place having gone to the memorial and meeting Lee’s family. 

I cherish even more what I have and what I will do going forward. Lee’s inspiration, along with his family’s solidarity, will leave a lasting impression on me. 

Unfortunately, Lee’s death wasn’t the first in our circle nor will it be the last. We are at that age that the inevitability of life transitions into decline through aging. 

Go on and live your life. Enjoy the things you love the most. Understand that there are uncontrollable destinies we all face, as loss of friends and family is inescapable, like our own journey will ultimately be. 

I will return to blogging about sports, worrying over the Yankees, watching F&M basketball and baseball, commenting on the plight of Rutgers sports, the New York Jets and a myriad of subjects related to a singular theme. That, along with my love for my family, friends  and my joy of traveling, will persist. 

One thing is for sure. I was deeply touched by a man I didn’t know well. We were so different in so many ways. But that didn’t matter. I appreciated and admired him. The occasion of his death had a profound effect on me. 

I will carry his memory with me. Godspeed to his beautiful family and our classmates as we navigate our futures. 

Rest easy, Lee. Your memory is a blessing to us all.