Law #3: Every action has an opposite and equal reaction.

Consequences suck. Many of us learn this the hard way at a very young age. For me it was a game of "house" that went terribly wrong at the age of 7. My cousin Daniella, five years my senior, and I played house everyday during the summer at our nonna's house (summer camp for Italians). Usually Daniella played the role of mom, but on this day it seemed only fair we switched it up. My Aunt Maddy had just bought me a brand new pair of fake plastic high heels, equipped with yellow stars and sparkles on the open toe. Yet, Daniella did not quite see it my way. I stood my ground though, a little too much maybe. As the fight escalated, I proceeded to grasp one of those shiny new shoes and unwind a Brett Favre (in his hay day) like pass at Daniella. But in a very current Brett Favre like way the pass did not hit her hands. I hit Daniella square in the forhead with the heel. Prompting her to cry, me to cry, and nonna to take out the scotch to calm us down. Not only did I get in trouble, my shoes were taken away, and I never got to be the mom. Sports stars don't have it so easy though.

Sports writers and the athletes they spotlight constantly preach to fans not to idolize players. Don’t put them on an untouchable pedestal. They are human, just like you. Judge them for their actions on the field, not in their mistresses’ bedrooms. Yet for all this lecturing, players continue to shoot themselves in the foot (or leg if your last name is Burress) in these situations. The Celtics’ Glen Davis is the newest big baby to be added to the list of irresponsible athletes bringing overtime issues of a different kind to the workplace. It is not fans, but players who blur the lines on viewing off and on the field antics. Bar fights and packing heat are not the character traits of an ideal role model. They are even worse attributes for a million dollar employee though. When big market players take risks after the final buzzer the repercussions become endless, leaving everyone involved in a haze.

When players get stupid off the field the consequences reverberate back on the field, whether it is losing the respect of fans, teammates, or that extra paycheck. You have to wonder how some players can make the decision to throw a pass into triple coverage to win the Super Bowl, yet cannot remember to wear their helmet when they rides their bike. Sports figures’ imbecilic actions are too often put off as a jock’s cockiness, a mistake anyone could have made, or a simple misunderstanding. What’s worse is too often sports writers move on as to not dwell on the embarrassment the player faces, and his teammates do not want to comment on. It is always the owner and the manager reprimanding their miscreants. Mom and dad come down hard, but your siblings have less to comment than ESPN employees with a sexual harassment case.

Clearly that method of coverage has not panned out though. Sports figures must have the memory

of a goldfish, or surely they would have learned from others’ mistakes by now. Charles Barkley and Larry Bird can tell you bars are made for drinking in, not emulating Tyler Durden. And the better remembered Boone brother can tell explain that the New York Yankees contract prohibits its players from participating in log-rolling, luge, steeplechase, croquet, and…basketball. And a Mr. Plaxico Burress is well versed in the specifics of the Second Amendment.So why, with all this history yielding the same outcome, do the headlines remain the same? Instead of stressing to fans that they are only human, it seems players should be reminding themselves that they are not immortal.

Players cannot expect fans and owners to not judge their off the field decisions when they impact their play on the field. Maybe we cannot condemn Michael Vick forever for his (lacking) morals, but the Falcons fans and owners can censure him for what his actions off the field caused for the team. If the two worlds never interfered then players could make the plea for privacy. Most times though that clear cut division does not exist.

A couple of weeks ago the Golden State Warriors Stephen Jackson spoke about his position as a role model to teammates after a two-game suspension for “conduct detrimental to the team.”

Jackson said in a San Francisco Chronicle article, “I don’t want these young guys to try to follow me. I can’t be a role model to guys who make the same amount of money as me. I think everybody is responsible for themselves, and that’s how it should be.”

It is fair to concede a role when the task seems too daunting, but playing for a team means being responsible for more than just yourself on and off the field. And stepping up as a role model to rookies does not equate to a pay raise. This is the same Jackson though, who was named captain of the Warriors in 2007. But he is also the “same” Jackson who scoured the stands in the infamous Pacers-Pistons catfight three years prior to his captainship. Fellow brawl-mate Ron Artest is a player parents would dread their children to admire based solely on his mannerisms on the court. But both have criminal records outside the game that mirror those in-game actions.

If not for their fans or teammates, then at least players should change their behavior for their pockets. Aaron Boone forfeited a nearly six million-dollar salary and Jackson gave back $140,000 after his suspension. Glen Davis’ tab will ring up even higher still.

Decision-making skills learned in the fourth grade need to be carried into everyday situations that do not involve a referee or time clock. Big Baby’s 4 a.m. bro fight in Waltham early Monday morning cost him more than just a hospital bill for hand surgery. His indefinite suspension handed down Tuesday will cost him nearly $27,000 per missed game according to the Boston Herald. More importantly his reported eight-week recovery period will give him plenty of time to focus on using his words for future altercations. Hopefully he can spread the word.

Rule # -7: Have Mercy

In high school, there are mercy rules for games like these. Mercy rules to keep games in check. They attempt to maintain any dignity that remains for the losing squad. Coaches take out their star players. Some choose not to go for the extra point. Others lack the sportsmanship or compassion to stop pushing to score. But just like there’s no crying in baseball, there’s no mercy in pro sports, especially the NFL. No one is there to give the archaic Kerry Collins the “you’ll get ‘em next time, slugger” pat on the back. And there are surely no moms running over more heating pads and hot cocoa to the sidelines. There was no sympathy for the Titans in Sunday’s newest Boston massacre installment, a 59-0 loss. A winless team continued to struggle in quite unwelcoming weather conditions.  So the burning question remains, why should the fans and press praise the Pats as if they actually had defeated the Giants in 2008?

Titans coach Jeff Fisher and quarterback Kerry Collins had little to say about the unfamiliar territory they faced in over three decades combined in the NFL

“I haven’t been a part of a game like this in the pros,” Collins said.

Fisher, who has been with the team for 15 years, said, “Career-wise, I have never been through anything like this before. I am very disappointed obviously and embarrassed to say the least.”

Yet, it was Tennessee linebacker Keith Bulluck who gave Sunday’s game an even wider time prospective.

“I have been playing this sport since I was eight,” Bulluck said, “and never in any sport have I experienced anything like this.”

            “Shellacking,” “blowout,” “thrashing,” and “routing” all littered the papers, and Sportscenter analysis, to describe the woeful happenings at Sunday’s pre-winter wonderland. But what continues to get disregarded is the Patriots did what they were expected to; a fact that seems to elude fans’ memories after just one loss. Repeat after me: The Patriots are a solid team. With only two loses, one in overtime, the Pats did not need much to bounce back against Tennessee. Excluding foreign weather conditions, the Gators could have pounced all over the lackluster Titans. So how proud can the Patriots be of defeating a team with more dropped passes than a dive bar and less passing yards than a peewee league scrimmage? Tom Brady had only two more passing yards in this week’s win than in his one-point victory over the Bills in week one. To have 41-year-old Junior Seau refer to the game as “my training camp” does not make for a game to go down in the annals of sports.

Yes, Brady finally looked to be more of the quarterback New England once worshiped. And yes, he showed improvement, finding Wes Welker and Randy Moss downfield as planned, due mostly to a Titan’s secondary with more holes than Augusta. And yes, fantasy footballers got two or three weeks of points faster than the snow fell in Foxboro. But if fans did not think their franchise team could capitalize on six fumbles and NEGATIVE seven passing yards, then maybe they do have a reason to fret. As in other big market cities, criticism is rampant, but quickly quieted with a big win. Fans forgot the cursing, pouting, and questions last week’s game left them with.

            Luckily Patriots coach Bill Belichick used his offense’s nearly five dozen-point lead to play a little in-game Madden, rearranging his roster because he could. While Tom Brady tried to catch snowflakes on his tongue during the fourth quarter, Adalius Thomas did not get to share in such enjoyment on the bench. After openly discussing (openly in Belichick terms that is) Thomas’ role, or lack there of, on the team, Belichick benched him on Sunday opting to put in “players we thought would have a bigger role in the game.” Playing winless teams makes coaching decisions to deem $35 million players inactive less outrageous, and less questioned for all involved. This Sunday’s game will allow for much of the same, although the location for this away game will not be so regular.

            The 4-2 Patriots will play 0-6 Tampa Bay Buccaneers at “home” at Wembley Stadium in London, bringing a new type of football to the other side of the pond. But after the Pats ruthless trampling of the Titans, rookie Buccaneers head coach Raheem Morris has little hope for getting cut any breaks.

“Bill Belichick is not going to take it easy on us,” Morris said. “He just played and 0 and whatever team, and the score was 59-0. Now he’s going to play another one. I’m sure Bill Belichick is licking his chops.”

It seems Pats’ fans will get a chance to take their gloating international this weekend. They’ll be able to keep their criticism dormant for at least another two weeks when they play a team that has actually won a game this season. Until then, all the Pats’ opponents can ask for is mercy. Morris and his Bucs are hoping that word translates into British jargon this Sunday.

In game update...

Kate Hudson, if you're going to be graced with thousand dollar, front row seats the least you can do is wear a Yankees' jersey. Take a tip from Jay-Z, I'm sure a fitted won't ruin your perfect golden locks.

Also, Jorge Posada. Kindly stop playing like Jason Varitek. Jose Molina is not Victor Martinez. 

Rule # 12: Rules that were meant to be broken shouldn't have been created.

Growing up with five older male cousins toughens you up. I learned at a young age I wouldn't get anywhere playing dolls with the girls. On arrival at my nonna's one day I entered the hallway to find that my favorite doll had apparently "hanged herself" from pull-down string for the attic. After that I manned up, because there's no crying in domestic abuse. When I swing a playful punch now, I know to throw the right hook while protecting my face with my left arm because my 30-something cousins, most former army officers, will retaliate if antagonized. I may dish out trash talk dirtier than Paris Hilton's panties, but it's only because I've been seasoned to take it. Sensitivity is a learned feeling, born from overprotectiveness. Two words in the english language least associated with sports. Especially football. So after Sunday's game in Foxboro, my question: is Gisele practicing diaper changes on Tom already?

Since Columbus "discovered" America, we've been missing the boat on correct accreditation (no pun intended). So let's get things straight, Tom Brady's opening game knee injury last season was not penalized as an illegal tackle. This year's stricter roughing the passer penalties, so gratuitously nicknamed "The Brady Rule," is a misnomer worse than referring to Jose Canseco as a loyal teammate. Owners are not worried about their QBs' safety or the sanctity of the game; they're worried about falling cash flows. Regarding the new rule change, Patriots' owner Robert Kraft told the Boston Globe in an article last March what keeping quarterbacks protected meant to him and the league. He said, "I think the whole NFL suffers....It's not good for the league. What makes it special is special players. It's like going to see a great movie and the star isn't in it. It's the same principle."

After last weekend's performance though, Brady may be guilty by association for different reasons. After two extremely questionable roughing the passer penalties were called against the Ravens' defense led to two Patriot scores, outrage can only be expected. Especially after Flacco was hit hard at least six different times and the men in stripes reached in their pockets on just one of the six plays. 

Although the stricter rules have been strongly supported by owners in an attempt to protect their money players, the high profile QBs, it is the NFL's competition committee who actually overlooks rule changes. Owners are more concerned with revenue than sportsmanship. According to a Dan Steinberg article in the Washington Post last September, Brady jersey sales dropped to fourth in the league after his injury, after Favre, Romo, and the Giants' Manning.  Referring to rule changes in years past, the Steelers' Troy Polamalu said, "It has more to do with money and not really with our safety. ...[Football] just loses so much of its essence when it becomes like a pansy game." Co-chaired by the Falcon's president Rich McKay and the Titan's coach, Jeff Fisher, the competition committee has let referees take the brunt of the recent media and fan firestorm on roughing the passer controversy. According to NFL.com's website, the NFL's vice president of officiating explained that legal hits on the QB only range above the knee and below the neck. Anything more results in a 15-yard penalty, and/or personal fines.

In a world where schools are banning teachers from using red ink to grade papers because it "emotionally scars students," football seems steps away from using purple ink in their play books as well. Ray Lewis put it best in a post-game interview describing his opinion on the calls in question (statements against officials that were surprisingly not fined), 

"It's embarrassing to the game....A personal foul and he [Brady] isn't even touched. He's a man. They can be hit, just like us. We stop them and then you look back and see a flag or a personal foul and Tom Brady is laughing. It wasn't no personal foul if he's still smiling."

Although Ray Lewis runs his mouth a fair amount of the time, he is no T.O.; his outbursts are usually merited and prompted by a respect for the game. (It was also a bit more eloquent than teammate Terrell Suggs' burn stating, "Maybe next year it'll be two-hand touch to get a sack.") And with Brady's postgame excuse ridden reaction statements, he isn't gaining much sympathy from third-party players and fans alike.  Referring to the calls, Brady said, "We're unprotected, just sitting there defenseless, so they've got to stay away from me." 

Note to Tom: if you're left unprotected it's not the opposing team's defenses' problem. This is TACKLE football. 

Brady may come through in the clutch and be one of the game's greatest QBs, but it seems he's getting soft with age. Tom might have to take some advice my cousins have (physically) ingrained in me (other than "Laura, you can't play sports, you're a girl"),  "Shut up and play the game." Hopefully the Bronco's undefeated defense will do just that this Sunday. 

Rule #4: Retiring isn't Quitting

My nonna doesn't know very much English. Everyday at 11am though, you can be sure she is watching The Price is Right. Although she refers to it as "The Right Price" in her broken English, and she may not always understand what's being whored out in the Showcase Showdown, she has watched Bob Barker longer than she's known me. So you think his retirement would call for parting shots of Dewar's (my nonna doesn't cry when something happens, whether its good, bad, or just a Sunday the ring of shot glasses come out.) Instead when I asked her what she thought about Drew Carey taking over she simply said of Bob Barker, "Ah, him-a too-a old-a." If my 87-year-old Sicilian grandmother can understand this, why can't a 39-year-old quarterback from Mississippi see the inevitable just as clearly?

Teammates once revered players like Brett Favre and Jason Varitek as  leaders in the clubhouse; guys that rallied their teams together on and off the field. But the line between respecting leadership and seniority, and raw talent and production on the field is becoming fuzzy. Speaking with WEEI.com's Red Sox beat writer, Rob Bradford, this week in class, he seemed confident that Victor Martinez, not the Sox captain, would start ALL of the upcoming postseason games. After hitting just .123 since Martinez's acquisition at the trade deadline, Varitek has little to back a playoff plea. Although that "C" may be stitched on his chest, the captain of five seasons will be settling the pitching staff from outside the white lines for the first time in his postseason career. The title of captain comes with responsibilities to the team, the fans, and yourself. So when those responsibilities are no longer being fulfilled, who takes the responsibility of removing that title? Office managers get fired. Politicians get impeached.  Even beauty queens have their crowns taken when Donald Trump can't use the "beautiful young lady, who's made some mistakes" excuse anymore. 

Yet, in sports the issue of pride becomes more prominent than productivity. There is an unwritten code. Sure Terry Francona will bench Varitek, but to strip him of his beloved "C" although his time has come, would be a breach of man law. The Wizards didn't tell Jordan they'd pass because he was past his prime. Just like the the Jets and Vikings had more trouble passing on Brett Favre than Michael Vick skipping out on a trip to the pound. Clubs leave the job of destroying confidence and pressuring retirement to the sports media and its loyal followers. Unless you are George Steinbrenner or Mark Cuban that is. Rather than using the writers as worse scapegoats than Cubs fans did Steve Bartman, owners like the previously mentioned make their goals clear upon players' arrivals. For them, winning is everything. If you don't produce, you will be removed. There is no emotion, no friendship, no loyalty, just playing. And more importantly just winning. And winning it all. Derek Jeter's favorite go-to quote seems to be, "There's only one goal and that's to win the World Series. Not win the division. Win the Series. And if that's not the way you look at things, then you shouldn't even be here." That is why Jeter has been so successful under the Evil Empire. 

Although Varitek still carries himself as a team leader off the field and Favre has gone 2-1 to date, the two can be considered expendable. Jay-Z once articulated, "Can't leave rap alone, the game needs me." That dependent relationship is not present for these men, but pride is fogging up their view of reality. The only hardware better than a championship trophy is a Hall of Fame induction, and squeezing out one more unproductive season isn't helping anyone's cause. And ESPN is always searching for more talking heads to get yelled at by Skip Bayless.  Retirement isn't all that bad, just ask Bob Barker.

Rule #102: Always be prepared to never beat the traffic.

10:34 pm (Mom Cell): Is that why you stay 'til the end? holy crap.

I did not see tonight's Yankees game. I didn't see their two-out, ninth inning rally. I didn't see Juan Miranda hit his walk-off "single" against Kyle Farnsworth. Moreover, I don't even know who Juan Miranda is (and with a dribbler like that off Farnsworth, I'm not too concerned.) We were down by a run in the bottom of the ninth against the Royals, on the second day of a champagne hangover, with four games left before the new stadium is christened with post season play. Needless to say, I was more worried about changing the water in Ghostface Killah's fish tank than the possibility of a post-clinch loss. So, Mama V's text after her first trip to the new stadium came as a satisfying surprise. First off it's a refreshing feeling to be on the winning side of a Farnsworth blown save.  More importantly, she finally knows why you don't leave the game at 9:30 because you can "just listen to it in the car." It's one of the first, and greatest, "I told you so"'s I can pull on a woman with intuition rivaling Nostradamus.It's also the point I've been preaching since my tenth birthday. Real fans don't leave the game early. 

Every year since my father felt comfortable enough to bring his only daughter to the Bronx, I have gone to a Yankee game on my birthday. Bleacher creatures do roll call. The grounds crew does the YMCA. Drunken Italians fight drunken Irishmen. Fans watch as they are "escorted" out by the NYPD instead of watching Jeter stick his ass out on the first strike. Frank Sinatra sings. Nothing changes. I was in the tier reserved for Giambi's grand slam in the bottom of the 13th in the spring rain. I was behind home plate for Jeter's epic date with the third base side seats. I was in the left field bleachers for Game 7 in 2004, the day the music died. Yet, my most vivid memory from the stadium on 161st Street is that warm July night in 1999 when we beat the traffic. 

The one and only time I ever left a baseball game early was by force because even at the age of ten, quitting my team wasn't an option. At the annual birthday game trip, my very own midsummer classic went into extra innings. With the score tied at 7-7 after the bottom of the ninth and me displaying little desire to depart, my parents pushed the laundry list of excuses on me. "It’s really quite late for you to still be awake." And, "You never know how long these things will last." Throwing in the, "Listening to the rest of the game on the car ride home will be the same." And then they gracefully placed the cherry on top of the sundae of bullshit they were dishing out. Words uttered by more baseball “fans” nationwide than the word “like” by valley girls at the mall.  "We can beat the traffic." A mother cannot abandon her child on his or her birthday, but my mother had signed up for a nine inning baseball game, extra innings were non-negotiable, no arbitration necessary. 

Over a decade later, I still wonder how I was so naïve to surrender to such a poorly formulated justification. I disappointedly trudged out of the cathedral that was Yankee Stadium, and soon crawled into the backseat of my father’s Toyota Camry. Then, while still in that cement devil of a parking lot, beating the traffic with the rest of the Bronx, John Sterling roared as Derek Jeter hit the game-winning double—gaper to right center in the bottom of the tenth. According to Buster Olney's Times article the next day (yes, Baseball Tonight hired him for a reason), the game lasted 4 hours and 33 minutes and Jeter's hit "thrill[ed] what remained of the original crowd of 52,704." I got to be thrilled we reached the GW bridge before midnight.

In that moment, as my hero ripped the game-winning hit on my birthday, I could only imagine the perfectly trimmed squares of emerald grass cradling the red-seamed sphere’s landing, just out of Manny Ramirez’s reach (remember it was '99, so "hustle" was still in his vocab then.) While I was forced to listen from a parking garage three blocks away, I realized that America’s pastime was more trustworthy than the parents who bore me. Baseball was something I could rely on to come through in the clutch. Its rules and reasoning are clear and thorough, unlike the thought patterns of most people.

The trait I admire most about baseball and its fans, then and now, is that giving up is never an option. There is an unwavering faith among baseball fans that is more inexplicable than why women go to the bathroom in groups. After being slapped around and emotionally abused more than Whitney Houston, while dangling happiness on a string and continually whisking it away for 86 years, any other relationship victim would call it quits. Any business that has not seen success since 1908, would surely have closed up shop over a century later. And, if an employee only did his work correctly 40 percent of the time, he would not be considered the best and most reliable there ever was to have graced the office.

These masochistic and backwards standards are what makes baseball so beautiful though. Every company should dream of hiring a true baseball fan because of that undying glimmer of hope in their eyes. Instead of dwelling on the negative aspect of your performance, what other boss could end all qualms with three simple words, shake it off? After the National Anthem and “Happy Birthday”, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” is the most played song in the United States.  During World War II, President Roosevelt knew that is was going to the ballgame that would keep America’s spirit on the home front alive. And after the terrorist attacks of September 11^th, it was baseball that rose New York City from the ashes. 

America’s pastime is what is holding the American dream together. It is no surprise that F. Scott Fitzgerald once referred to baseball as “a game played by idiots for morons.”  Another man with a dull outlook on the American dream, Arthur Miller was probably not a fan of the sport either after his ex-wife Marilyn Monroe married jolting Joe DiMaggio.  Maybe I’m just being naïve again, and maybe my hopelessly romantic baseball outlook is not transferable to life. Or maybe those who disagree just see baseball and their lives as a slow moving and boring game that can’t end soon enough. I am sorry for those people.

 After my tenth birthday disaster, I can proudly say that I have never, and will never, leave another baseball game early because it is the mystery of how and when the game will end that keeps you at the edge of your seat. More importantly though, the game does not end just because you walk out of the stadium to beat the traffic. Mama V. may have taught me to cook a mean meatloaf, but tonight she learned something from me and the game I love.