Archives For November 30, 1999

Baseball is a game of long-standing tradition. I firmly believe that no other sport has remained as true to its original form.

Prior to the last couple of years, I could confidently state that basketball players were flashier, football players were more obnoxious, and golfers were overly tailored. The good ol’ boys of baseball simply came out to play. They only needed their mitts, their caps, and a wooden bat.

Baseball player uniforms were as pure as the game.

The uniform arsenal typically consisted of a white jersey and a jersey of color. Pants were either solid or pinstripe. If players wanted to get super crazy, they might choose to slap on some eye black.

Perfect swing by Chipper Jones of the ATL Braves

Perfect swing by Chipper Jones of the ATL Braves, who is darn near perfect himself.

Chipper Jones in the navy uniform.

Chipper Jones in a navy Braves uniform. Man, I miss seeing this guy on the big screen.

Then something weird happened around the year 2000. As far as I can tell by my extensive online research (searching Google for 15 minutes), the San Diego Padres decided to up their long-standing tradition of supporting the armed forces by introducing camouflage jerseys on Military Opening Day.

Over the past decade, much to my dismay, the camo jerseys have multiplied faster than mogwais dipped in water. Kids, if you don’t understand this reference, do yourself a favor and watch Gremlins today.

I mean, seriously…They. Are. Everywhere. From the big leagues to the little leagues and at every level in between. They are worn by players and coaches alike.

I now find myself walking into the ballpark somewhat guarded, wondering if I’m going to be attacked by a barrage of paintballers when I least expect it.

Some uniforms are more obnoxious than others.

camo

Exhibit A: San Diego Padres pitcher in his camo/cow print-inspired garb.

The little guys who look up to the pros want to emulate their idols. Therefore, new this season, both of my own boys’ teams have included a camo jersey in their uniform arsenal.

The 12-year old in his camo jersey - preparing for battle on the ball field (eye roll).

Exhibit B: The 12-year old in his camo jersey – preparing for battle on the ball field (eye roll). The 10-year old’s jersey has yet to arrive.

While I realize the game is not about ME and my personal preferences – this is an ongoing lesson I am struggling to learn – I’d like to believe I’m not alone when I say that the only people who should don the camo style are those serving in the military or trying to hunt down defenseless animals.

One serviceman quoted on Paul Lukas’ website, Uni Watch: The Obsessive Study of Athletics Aesthetics, had this to say:

“I’ve been in the Army for a little over 12 years. I appreciate the thought and tribute behind teams wearing military-themed uniforms, but I have yet to see one that didn’t look horrible. I hate to criticize without providing a viable alternative, but I think they should find another, more aesthetically pleasing, way to express their patriotism.” — Jon Vieira

Jon, I respect both your service to our country and your common sense in general.

I plan to continue to add pictures of camo jerseys I see at youth ballparks on this site as the season progresses. If you like them, try to convince me why in the comment section. If you don’t like them and agree with me that they’re obnoxious, I’ll count your comment as a signature in my ongoing petition against this black mark on the history of baseball.

Written by Heidi Woodard

If you know someone who knows someone who knows Theresa McDermott, please pass this along to her.

I intentionally let a few days pass before writing this post to you, Mrs. McDermott. I figured you and your family needed time to unwind and reflect on the last four years, your son’s amazing senior season, and that heart wrenching final game.

I mean, it’s not everyday that you go from feeling top of the world to bottom of the barrel in a matter of minutes: 40 minutes to be exact.

After all of the well-deserved accolades achieved by your son, Doug, throughout his collegiate career, I have got to imagine that you and your husband, Coach “Mac,” are still pinching yourselves to ensure it wasn’t all just a dream.

Although I’ve never met you, I believe you and I share a few things – albeit small things – in common.

I also married my college sweetheart and love him even more today than I did on our wedding day. We too went on to have three children together: two boys and a girl – the same ratio as your kids in the same birth order. My husband coaches our oldest in basketball just like yours does. There are times I want to simply sit back in the stands like every other parent with no connection to the coach, but I can’t because I’m watching the man I love mentor (and yell at) the boy I love. Although you didn’t graduate from Creighton like I did, I am willing to bet you bleed blue like the rest of us by now.

As I sat and watched Creighton get beat (sadly, beaten) by Baylor last Sunday, I thought about what it would be like to be in your shoes…or in your seat to be more specific.

Theresa McDermott captures one final memory of her husband, Greg, and son, Doug, sharing the court together.

Theresa McDermott captures one final memory of her husband, Greg, and son, Doug, sharing the court together.

Watching you want to comfort your son as he subbed out of his final collegiate game, but knowing in your heart that you couldn’t, tore me apart. I imagine the feeling wasn’t all that different from how you felt over two decades ago when you had to sit helplessly on the sidelines as little Dougie received his immunization shots. Or just a few years back when he wasn’t seen as the all star standout – far from it – on his high school team. Or at any point in his lifetime when he felt a little lost or homesick and simply wanted his mom.

Coach Doug McDermott subbing out his son, Doug. It was the final chapter of Doug's esteemed collegiate career.

Coach Greg McDermott subbing out his son, Doug. It was the final chapter of Doug’s esteemed collegiate career.

Watching you fully realize that this was the last time you’d see your husband and son embrace on the court as coach and player, well, it choked me up. I was fighting back the tears along with you.

I know that being #3’s mom on that particular night is just one hat you wear.

You have two other children who you’ve nurtured and supported. I assume that Doug’s transformation into the confident young man we witnessed time and time again on the court was a gradual and powerful one for you to go through. I am guessing your younger son is a people pleaser who is very proud of his big brother and considers him a hero of sorts, but also refuses to take any crap from him. I’m willing to bet your youngest sat back, took notes, and can’t wait to show the world what she’s made of.

I am confident with these assumptions because that’s how I view my own three kids.

I know there were lots of days and nights when you were raising them on your own while your husband pursued a profession at which he clearly excels. He is blessed to have you in his corner and has thanked you in the media enough times for me to believe that he realizes a good thing when he’s got it.

You must be extremely proud of Doug and Greg for what they’ve meant to Creighton University, as you should be, but you should also take pride in the way you’ve helped support your family.

Thank you for being an inspiration to many moms like me who you’ve never met.

Sincerely, Heidi Woodard

 

Editor’s correction: When you own and operate your own blog, you can give yourself fancy titles like “Editor,” right? I’ve had two people kindly inform me after I published this post that Doug McDermott is Greg and Theresa’s middle child (I mistakenly implied he is their oldest son). Nick McDermott, the couple’s oldest son, still looks “up” to his younger brother. He graduated from UNI and excelled at golf. Thanks to everyone who has read this piece and continues to share it.

Ssshhhhh. Do you hear that? It’s the sound of hardwood nirvana – on the college court, on the high school court, and in the Woodard household.

Sportscasters and fans alike like to refer to this time of year as “March madness,” but to me, it is a moment every year where basketball players have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to convert their dreams into reality.

I graduated from Creighton University, home of the Bluejays and a special basketball player named Doug McDermott. I could go on and on about what this young man has meant to my alma mater, but here are a few highlights worth mentioning:

– National Player of the Year

– Son of the head coach, Greg McDermott (one of the coolest father/son relationships I’ve ever seen)

– Holds Big East tournament single game scoring record (he sunk 35 points last night in Creighton’s first game in the Big East tournament, in a far tougher battle field as compared to the Missouri Valley Conference the university left last year)

– Pictured on the latest issue of Sports Illustrated in a throw-back, Larry Bird inspired cover

c/o Sports Illustrated

c/o Sports Illustrated 1977 & 2014

– Surpassed the NCAA college basketball 3,000 points mark at home in front of a record breaking crowd in Omaha, Nebraska (scored a mere 45 points that game)

– Heading into tonight’s game against Xavier, sits at #7 on the NCAA all-time scoring leaders list (must score at least 20 points to jump to #5)

– Doubted his own potential to succeed in basketball and once considered retiring from his playing days to become a team manager for his dad

– Thanks his family, his teammates, and his university every chance he gets – both privately and in front of the media

– Can score from literally anywhere on the court  (Think I’m exaggerating? Watch this gif pinpointing every place on the court he scored from last night.)

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My two sisters-in-law played basketball at Creighton. And I played softball there. Now you know why I bleed blue.

Here’s an understatement for you: I married into a family that somewhat appreciates the game of basketball.

I personally transformed from a player who played the sport in high school to keep myself in shape during the off-season into a mom who voluntarily pulls her kids out of school to support their grandpa and future high school in the postseason.

The Woodard clan (L to R): My daughter on my shoulders, my husband, my mother-in-law, my two nephews, my brother-in-law, my sisters-in-law, and another brother-in-law

The Woodard clan (L to R): My daughter on my shoulders, my husband, my mother-in-law, my two nephews, my brother-in-law, my sisters-in-law, and another brother-in-law. Yep…we’re that family rocking the matching shirts.

My father-in-law was my former teacher in high school and coached my husband and my brother-in-law nearly two decades ago in basketball.

He continued to coach throughout the years and decided to move from our smaller high school, Roncalli Catholic – where his team won a state basketball championship in Class B in 1996 – to coach at one of the larger high schools in the city where we live now. During his time at Bellevue West, the TBirds have won three state championships in boys basketball: 2000, 2004, and 2005.

They’re back competing in the NSAA State Tournament at the same time their college idols are playing in their respective post-season conference tournaments.

They just dethroned the four-time defending Class A state champion Central Eagles in their tournament opener last night. They’ll face the Norfolk Panthers tonight in the semifinal.

They are hungry.

That makes me happy.

I know I’m not alone when I say this is a special time of year. My hope is that, no matter what the score reads when that final buzzer sounds, these young men can step outside of themselves and fully appreciate this amazing chapter in their lives.

Written by Heidi Woodard