I Kid You Not

**I found this recap of my thoughts on sports after the fires that swept through Southern California in October of last year. Hopefully it still rings true today...**

Given what's happened in our town, in our county, and even throughout our state this week, I'm sure we've all heard, and many of us have said, the phrase, "It reminds us of what's really important."
For starters, I agree wholeheartedly. I have never been through anything remotely like the wildfires, the mandatory evacuations, and the smoky aftermath of this week. I grew up in Western New York, where the most we had to worry about was a lot of snow, and not to downplay the power of a lake-effect blizzard, but there's just something deeply, inherently frightening about fire. It moves quickly, it moves erratically, and it consumes everything in its path. And this week, it was on our doorsteps.
That's why it was such a shock to wake up at 5:30 a.m. on Tuesday to the smell of smoke, the wind howling outside my front door, and a county sheriff careening up the driveway to alert us that we needed to evacuate immediately. I admit it, I almost lost it. I stood outside for a good 30 seconds, just looking around and trying to process the movie-like scene in front of me. Thank goodness for my neighbors, who had been through this before, and assured me that everything would be alright. They calmly explained that we weren't in any imminent danger, but that I still needed to get some things together to be ready to leave.
In the five minutes I had to put together what I considered to be my irreplaceable belongings, I had to make some hurried decisions. Do I take my guitar? Obviously, yes. Do I take my Christmas tree, which is still up from last year? Obviously, no, since I got it at Target for like $15. Do I take my movie collection, my suits (which belonged to my dad), or my book collection? Those were not so obvious.
In the end, I loaded up what I thought was important: a few changes of clothing, my bedding, some extra towels and blankets, my guitar, my Bible, a painting done for me by a dear friend, my portfolio of articles I wrote for the newspaper back in New York, and my athletic equipment.
At that point, I realized something that I have since thought about further, and continue to find interesting -- that is, the fact that I saw fit to include sports equipment in the company of things I considered important enough to save from the oncoming fire.
Now, I don't consider myself anything but an amateur when it comes to athletics; I certainly enjoy playing sports and look for any excuse to do so. But what I have is all replaceable, from my soccer cleats, to my old baseball glove, to the football I just bought a few weeks ago to replace the one I left back in New York. None of that really matters in the grand scheme of things, right?
Well, maybe it does. I'm sure we all heard the pros and cons of the Chargers playing at home against the Texans on Sunday -- some said it was just what the people here needed, others said it was insensitive to presume that a football game was important enough to go on, even in the face of debilitating tragedy.
Yet it was played, and played quite well from a San Diegan's perspective. The message sent by the Chargers and the NFL was that yes, San Diego County (and all of California) has been through a terrible nightmare of a week, but in the end, if we can all come together for something as "insignificant" as a football game, we can certainly come together to help our neighbors and friends get through the process of rebuilding their lives.
Of course, sporting events in and of themselves are not to be taken as life and death situations; one team wins, another loses, we all are entertained and then we move on. But if Simon and Garfunkel are correct that each of us is an island, then sports provide an easily-accessible bridge to connect even the most isolated person. There have been so many times in my relatively young life when I've struggled to carry on polite conversation with a stranger -- until we realize that we're both sports fans, and then it's not too long before other people begin to wonder if we've known each other since grade school.
And sports become so much more important for those of us who have experienced what it means to be a part of a team. It's common to hear about the special bond players develop with their teammates, especially in the formative years between elementary school and college. Once you've been a part of a true team, you know that it's infinitely more than that -- those other guys (and/or girls) are like another family.
Possibly the most important role of sports, however, is that they give us a sense of normalcy that is impossible to replace. It happened for Virginia Tech after the campus was decimated by an armed attacker, it happened in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks in New York City six years ago, it happened in San Francisco after the devastating earthquake in 1989. Tragedy is a reality in our world, and though there is a time to pause and reflect, there is also a need to pick up what's left and keep going. Sports have played a pivotal role in the healing of our nation and our world, and I doubt that anything else could have done such a marvelous job.
So when the CIF canceled sports events and practices last week, I'm sure our student-athletes missed their teammates and the competition they love. And now that the danger has all but passed, I'm sure they are ready to get back to playing.
When they do, I hope you're there to see it.
Because no matter who you're rooting for, it's going to remind us all of what's really important.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light
And somewhere men are laughing, as they pat each other's backs;
But there is no joy in Boston - mighty Brady has been sacked.

For so many fans, Super Bowl XLII was another re-creation of Ernest Thayer's famous poem about the mighty Casey. And much like the Mudville faithful, those fans sit today in silence, wondering what in the world just happened.
"Eli Manning?" I'm sure they're saying to themselves. "Tom Coughlin? David Bleeping Tyree?!?"
But in the midst of the confusion, forming itself out of thin air, the thought must be sinking in:
We were this close to perfection.
For nearly six months, football fans could hardly leaf through the sports section (let alone finish an episode of Sportscenter) without an almost-constant reminder of what perfection is. We'd all heard that perfection is "the highest degree of proficiency, skill, or excellence," because another sportswriter took the time to visit dictionary.com and make a simple comparison.
We all saw the pre-game montage of the various New England Patriots explaining what a perfect season entails. I'm sure all the Pats fans had all but handed the Lombardi trophy to their favorite celebrity playboy-slash-quarterback before Jordin Sparks had even lip-synched the National Anthem.
But here we stand, hurtling through space on a big blue marble where the truth of the matter is this:
The New England Patriots just lost the Super Bowl.
For the record, I couldn't be happier. I despise the Patriots and all they stand for. I'm sure I'm not alone in my loathing of Bill Beli-cheat's inhuman, robotic glare; or of Tom Brady's "I'm-better-looking-than-you-so-I-father-children-with-supermodels-just-because-I-can" air of self-importance; or of Wes Welker's creepy 1980's mustache. It looked like he had an anemic caterpillar glued to his upper lip, for crying out loud.
But here's what makes this game, this epic failure, so timeless:
The Patriots blew it.
They straight up blew their shot to add their name to the list of immortal teams in sports. They had the chance to do the impossible, or at least the very improbable, and they ended up as just another footnote in history.
From now until the end of the world, when people remember the 2007 New England Patriots, they will not be discussing perfection. They will not be waxing poetic about Tom Brady's pocket presence, nor of Mike Vrabel's pass-rushing prowess, nor of Matt Light's textbook blocking technique.
One word will forever haunt the New England Patriots of 2007:
Cheaters.
We don't need to re-hash the details of the Tape-Pot Dome Scandal (I'm sick of the overuse of Spygate, so until we come up with a better name for the videotaping scandal, I'll use whatever political references I remember from ninth-grade history class. Feel free to send in your suggestions anytime.) There's a new story going around about how the Patriots even taped a practice that the Rams went through the day before Super Bowl XXVIL... uh... QRS... TU... Whatever 36 is in Roman numerals.
Anyway, whatever evidence comes out from this point on, it has already been established that the Patriots cheated. They broke the rules of the game to gain a competitive advantage over their opponents. They decided that it's better to have a tainted win than an honest loss, and that will never, ever be removed from their legacy.
And that, in the end, is why are so many of us, as in the Thayer poem, laughing and listening to the band play.
Because there's nothing we like better than seeing some slimy shyster get his comeuppance. Think back to the plot of every action movie you've ever seen. Some nasty little egomaniacal headcase thinks that his way is the only way, and he (or she) is so bent on attaining some goal that nothing is off-limits.
And how do they all end? With the hero, a hard-working, imperfect-but-still-trying-to-do-the-right-thing guy (or gal) finding some way to bring down the bad guy.
And you know what? We all keep going to see this movie. And we all keep hoping that the good guy will find a way to beat the bad guy, against all odds. And when he does, we all feel good inside. Again.
That is why, all across this favored land, the sun is shining just a little brighter today. That is why I got up this morning with a little bit of a spring in my step. That is why those poor souls in Boston won't find a sympathetic ear from anyone but their compatriots.
The Mighty Patriots -- the once-undefeated, record-setting, nearly-perfect, running-up-the-score-in-the-fourth-quarter, posing-on-the-cover-of-GQ, counting-their-chickens-before-they-hatched Patriots -- have struck out.

2007 was a great year. There were so many heartwarming moments of triumph, so many gut-wrenching moments of defeat, and so many laugh-out-loud moments of craziness in the world of sports that won't soon be forgotten.
But now it's 2008, and like so many "Rocktober" t-shirts, 2007 has been tossed on the proverbial burn pile in favor of the anticipation of another unforgettable year in sports.
What will 2008 bring? I can't claim to know what will happen, but I can offer a brief list of what I would like to see happen in sports in the upcoming year.
1. A use of video replay in all major sports.
This should be an easy one to get, as it seems to be on the verge of happening anyway, but there is a surprising backlash against the process.
I can understand why, though; the NFL has bogged down the replay process to a Bledsoe-ian running speed.
Once the questionable play happens, the team's video guys look at it, then they tell the coach to throw the flag, then the referee discusses it with the coach for a while, then the ref looks at the play, then the ref looks at the play again, then the ref steps back from the video booth to talk about the play with the video officials, then the ref looks at the play again, then the ref scoots back out onto the field to discuss it with the coaches for a while, then the ref announces his decision, then the game is finally allowed to resume. Whew. And all in slightly less time than the typical cricket match.
This may be the first and only time you'll hear me say this, but here's an area where I agree with the process used in college football. The NCAA simply puts an official (actually, three officials) in a video replay booth up in the press box area of the stadium, and allows them to make a call without having to go through the coach's challenge process. If a questionable call is made, the replay officials look at the video to see if a change is needed. If it is, they alert the on-field referee of the correct call; if not, the game simply continues uninterrupted. The coaches do have the ability to challenge a play if the replay officials do not initiate the process, but the on-field referee does not have to run over to a little hood-covered booth or anything; the replay officials in the press box still make the call.
It's simple, it's effective, and it doesn't bog the game down. Before we get to 2009, I'd like to see this kind of replay officiating implemented in the NFL, MLB, the NHL (which already has some kind of replay, but it could use some tinkering) and the NBA (also featuring an existing system that is a little short of perfect).
2. More ejections.
And not just in baseball, where it's extremely amusing to watch a manager get tossed, then continue his tirade until he is all but forceably removed from the field.
What I'm getting at is the increasing regularity with which we see highly- (overly-?) paid athletes ignore the rules of the game, only to be confronted with a minor penalty at best.
In the area of properly punishing offenders, the NHL is the current front-runner of the major sports. Already this season we've seen players who have purposely tried to injure an opponent immediately removed from the game, and from a sizeable portion of his team's following games. Take last March's Chris Simon incident, in which the New York Islanders' forward bashed in the face of Ryan Hollweg of the New York Rangers. Simon received a match penalty and was kicked out of the game, then was handed a then-record 25-game suspension that has stretched into this season. Jesse Boulerice of the always-thuggish Philadelphia Flyers was also suspended for 25 games after cross-checking Vancouver's Ryan Kesler in the face in October.
The swift, drastic action taken by the NHL in this regard is appropriate because of the nature of hockey as a sport -- any time you have large men with sticks traveling at high rates of speed across a sheet of ice, somebody's going to get hurt -- but it's also noteworthy because we don't see players ejected from other sports very often, MLB notwithstanding.
In the NFL, Warren Sapp of the Oakland Raiders was ejected from the Dec. 23 game against the Jacksonville Jaguars after receiving three unsportsmanlike conduct penalties in one play, which has to be some kind of record. Before that, it's hard to recall the last ejection in the NFL, let alone find it online (thanks for nothing, Google). I think it might be the 1999 game in which Cleveland Browns lineman Orlando Brown was inadvertantly hit in the eye with a penalty flag (which is pretty funny, actually) and went crazy, shoving referee Jeff Triplette before getting ejected and eventually suspended from the league.
But these two incidents are isolated against the seemingly ever-present backdrop of inappropriate in-game behavior that goes all but unnoticed. I have actually heard (and would love to see a YouTube clip of) an NFL referee picking up a flag, noting that it was "just some pushing and shoving." There are a few YouTube clips of referees actually calling penalties for, and this is a direct quote, "giving him the business." I hope this does not become an officially recognized way to call penalties.
Whatever it's called, there are far too many extra-curricular activities happening in any given NFL game, whether they be celebratory or confrontational in nature. If Terrell Owens should be fined for the simple, relatively benign act of dumping popcorn on his face after a touchdown, why should players (and coaches!) be able to verbally abuse officials game in and game out without any sort of punishment?
In 2006, Tyler Brayton of the Raiders (there seems to be a pattern here, yes?) was penalized and eventually fined for kneeing Jerramy Stevens of the Seattle Seahawks in the groin on Monday Night Football. Stevens was also fined, but neither player was ejected during the actual game.
My point here is that the old adage of "hit 'em where it hurts" comes into play, and that "where it hurts" is not where it used to be. For the average person, a fine of $15,000 would be pretty devastating; or at least, it would make him or her think twice about repeating the action for which the fine was enforced. But for an NFL player, even those in the lower echelon of talent like Brayton and Stevens, $15,000 is not that big of a deal. The average NFL salary is again over $1 million per season, which means that the average game check in the NFL is $62,500 (one million divided by 16, the number of games each team plays per season). In reality, $15,000 is what the average player gets paid for less than a quarter of play, which really doesn't dent the old bank account very much by the end of the year.
So hitting them where it hurts has to be where it really will hurt, and that's in the time they're allowed on the field. If you kick a player out of the game for acting like a jerk, chances are other players in the league will see that acting like a jerk will get you kicked out of the game. And most players, given the high levels of competitiveness needed to be a professional athlete, would rather cut off an appendage (see: Ronnie Lott) than miss any playing time.
3. Another all-time classic sports movie.
There have been a few in the not-too-distant past -- Remember The Titans, for example -- but gone are the days of Willie Mays Hayes prowling centerfield for the Cleveland Indians (with Bob Uecker in tow!) and Johnny Moxon coming off the bench to lead the West Cannan Coyotes to the inevitable championship triumph (yes, I just referenced Varsity Blues in conjunction with classic sports movies).
There have been some close calls, like 2006's Invincible, the true story of a Philadelphia bartender who earns a spot on the Eagles' roster in the mid-70's. We Are Marshall was also a worthwhile cinematic experience, but both films came up a little short. If I had to put a finger on it, I'd say they were a little bit too real, actually. If you haven't seen the movies -- SPOILER ALERT -- skip down to the next paragraph. At the end of Invincible, we find out that Vince Papale didn't even win the Super Bowl with the Eagles, and at the end of We Are Marshall, we find out that the team only wins one game that season. The Miami Dolphins won only one game this year -- granted, they didn't have a tragic plane crash kill all but three players, but the season was enough of a trainwreck as it was -- and we'll not likely see a movie about them in the near future.
All I'm looking for is a good, old-fashioned, good-guys-win, bad-guys-lose, overcoming-insurmountable-obstacles, triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity, don't-mess-with-me-because-I-like-writing-sentences-with-hyphens-instead-of-spaces kind of sports movie.
And it had better include some kind of 80's music training montage, or I'll walk right out of the theater.
Well there you have it, the top three things I'd like to see happen in sports this year.
How about you? What would you like to see from the sports world in 2008? A BCS playoff system, perhaps? More steroid testing? Some kind of inter-sports all-star competitions in the vein of the Battle Of The Network Stars?
I would love to hear your list, and I'd love to share it with our faithful readers, so send me your thoughts.
Drop me an e-mail at sports@valleycenter.com, or send me some snail-mail to PO Box 1529, Valley Center CA 92082, and I'll put it in next week's edition. Include your name and phone number, just in case it's a really good idea and I want to hear more about it.
In the meantime, start thinking about some things you'd like to see the sports world do away with in 2008, so we can discuss that next week.

The Valley Center Jaguars are the CIF champions, and there's only one reason why:
They did it the right way.
Last week in this space we discussed what it means to be a champion, and concluded that a key ingredient is performing with excellence under the greatest pressure.
But we may have missed out on something even more important; something that goes beyond just football, or even sports in general -- we failed to see that it's not just what you do, but how you do it.
For the greatest of champions to be truly loved by the fans, character is indescribably important. Sincerety and graciousness in winning or losing are to be very highly regarded, and when these qualities are absent, it takes away from the accomplishments on the field instead of adding to them.
Take, for example, the New England Patriots in the NFL. Their head coach is widely considered to be the premier mind in football, their quarterback is on a record-obliterating pace, their once-controversial wide receiver is quietly (for once!) having the season of his life, and they have a defense that could probably hold a rampaging army of killer cyborgs to at least a field goal.
But people hate them. Hate them. Well, people outside the New England area, anyway. Why is that? Why aren't the Patriots commonly loved and admired like the Dallas Cowboys of the 1970s, or the 49ers of the 1980s? Why do most fans cringe every time we have to see another Brady-to-Moss heave that ends up as a touchdown?
It's because of the way they're winning. They seem to have convinced themselves that they are the victimes of the early-season "Cameragate" scandal, and they somehow manage to take even the smallest slights as an affront to their collective, personal well-being. Basically, they think everybody's out to get them, and that somehow they don't deserve it.
For the record, I think they cheated, they admitted they cheated, and they were punished for cheating. It pretty much seems like the situation has been resolved, right? But it has somehow gotten worse as the season goes on.
The Patriots have won 16 straight games now, but they play in probably the least competitive division in football (the AFC East, home of the 0-16 Miami Dolphins). Their division is also playing the NFC East this season, presenting some challenges (the Dallas Cowboys), but also serving up another cupcake opponent (the Washington Redskins, who lost by a score of 642-0, if I remember correctly).
The Pats aren't just content to win, they want to rub their opponents' faces in it, and they want to pad their own stats in the meantime.
Which goes against the great Patriots teams of the past seven years, who were known for their subtle gameplans, their ability to use just enough of the playbook to win, and who seemed genuinely happy to be successful. I wonder, if we were to show Tom Brady the film of how he celebrated after beating the Rams after the 2001 season, if he even recognizes himself. He's gone from a happy kid playing a game to a morally-questionable sourpuss who chews out his teammates for missing a route when the team is holding a 30-point lead in the fourth quarter.
And that brings us back to the Valley Center Jaguars, because they are the polar opposite of the New England Patriots.
Head coach Rob Gilster may not have a ripped-up hoodie or every sportscaster in the nation calling him a genius, but when he took over the playcalling duties at the beginning of the season, he knew what he was doing. Time and time again, when the Jaguars needed a big play in a tight spot, coach Gilster found a way to get the ball into the hands of his playmakers and the team responded.
And so did the rest of the coaching staff, from defensive coordinator Randy Cowell all the way through the kids charting the offensive plays on the sidelines. Sure, the players missed assignments, or lined up out of position, and the coaches called them on it. But they didn't stop coaching, and once again, the team responded.
The moment that most indicates the heart of this Jaguars team came after the win at USD, after the celebration, after the crowd started filing out to head home. As the players headed up the ramp to get on the bus, senior linebacker/tight end Burt Lund, who won the sportsmanship award at the game, ran up to quarterback Tyler Bernard and put his arm around his shoulders.
"Hey Tyler, thanks for getting us here," Lund said. "And sorry I dropped that fourth down catch."
Bernard looked up and laughed. "Shut up," he fired back with a grin.
That little exchange showed that the team was glad to be there, even though it's becoming something of a habit to be in the CIF final. But it also showed that these players, though grateful for success, weren't satisfied with anything less than their best effort.
And in the end, it showed that no matter what, they were in it together -- not for the hype, not for the prestige, not for the glory -- but for each other.
These Jaguars are truly champions.

What does it mean to be a champion?
I've been thinking about that lately, especially with the excitement surrounding the Valley Center Jaguars and their quest for a third CIF title in four years.
For the record, since I'm the hometown sports writer, I don't have a problem admitting that I root for the Jags. We in the media are supposed to "be objective" and "not pick sides" and all of that, but when you're on the sidelines with the team every week, it's hard not to get caught up in the emotion of the game. I was really thrilled to see them beat La Jolla after the heartbreaker they had down there earlier this season, and I can't wait for the championship game.
But even if (excuse me... when) the Jaguars take the title, what will make them champions? Will it simply be that they were the best team in Division IV this year? In this specific case, yes... that's pretty much it.
Still though, there must be something more to being a true champion. As Freddie Mercury so poetically postulated, a champion seems to be someone who, A) keeps on fighting to the end, and B) has no time for losing. Evidently by following this simple formula, Queen was able to achieve some sort of world championship. Which seems pretty impressive.
But in the discussion of sports heroes and their legendary battles, Lance Armstrong immediately comes to mind. When you face something as scary and oppressive as cancer, then not only live to tell the tale but go on to dominate a sport at its highest level of competition, there's something special there. And no, I'm not referring to any sort of performance enhancements, but the mere fact that I have to make mention of such a thing here means that there are more issues to examine.
So another name that comes up is Muhammed Ali, perhaps the greatest boxer of all time. He broke down racial, social, religious, and even comfort barriers (Howard Cosell sure didn't look at ease in most of those interviews) and somehow still had time to win title bout after title bout. He certainly set an example, although if one really wanted to teach young athletes how to win graciously and humbly, without calling attention to oneself, there may be other examples better served for such lessons.
Hank Aaron certainly enters the discussion, having established the all-time home run record that stood for nearly 40 years and playing the game of baseball like a true gentleman no matter the circumstances.
And what about Jim Brown, who is widely considered the greatest football player ever, despite an early retirement that left fans wondering what limitless heights he could have achieved?
As more and more examples come up, like Jim Thorpe, Willie Mays, Wilt Chamberlain, Bobby Orr, Reggie Jackson, Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky and Jerry Rice, one common bond links the greats and separates them from the mediocre -- true champions are at their best in the biggest moments.
Think about Ali beating Joe Frazier, or Jordan's shot over Craig Ehlo in the finals, or even Jesse Owens sticking it to the Nazis in the 1936 Olympics. When the stakes are the highest, the great ones shine the brightest.
So as the Jaguars get ready to take on Mission Bay on Saturday, amidst all the game film, strategy and endless repetition of the game plan, I know the coaches will all be instilling one final bit of encouragement:
Champions are made in games like this.
Good luck, Jags!

By now I'm sure we've all heard about Bill Belichick and the admitted cheating done by the Patriots in filming the Jets' defensive coaches during their week one matchup.
Of course, those of you who are Chargers fans saw firsthand what the Patriots are capable of with or without the aid of extra film. I'll give you a moment to collect yourselves; I know it's a painful memory.
Welcome back.
I bring this all up because it occurs to me that we need to discuss the prevalence of cheating in sports, both professional and amateur, and what, if anything, is being done about it.
First, we need to ask if cheating is something that happens a lot, rarely, or not at all. I don't think I'm alone in assuming that there has to be some kind of illegitimate advantage being sought throughout professional sports, but how much does it really happen?
The place where it seems to happen the most is in NASCAR, where the old motto of "If you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin'" still has some hold on the way things are done. Consider that both Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson, who are currently tied for the points lead after the first race in the Chase for the Nextel Cup, had their crew chiefs suspended for a month this season after illegal modifications were found on their cars.
Some kind of shady business is almost always going on, whether it's as sly as Kevin Harvick's team rigging up his fuel tank before qualifying, or as blatant as Sterling Marlin climbing out of his car under a red flag to pull a fender away from his front tire. Cheating in NASCAR goes by a lot of different names, but that just means that it's a pretty big (and accepted) part of the sport at this point.
It's obviously a lot harder to tell if and when cheating is happening in other sports, mostly because there isn't any kind of post-game inspection of athletes, equipment and film. Although, given the current NFL scandal, perhaps something like that isn't too far off.
But I'd say it still happens, like when we saw some kind of "substance" on Kenny Rogers' pitching hand during last year's World Series, or when Sammy Sosa's "practice" bat littered Wrigley Field with cork after it split open, or when John LeClair gets sent back to the bench to change hockey sticks because the curve on his blade doesn't meet specifications (again).
These little nuances of the game make most fans wonder, "If they're catching these guys, how many others are getting away with it?"
Obviously we can't answer that accurately, but if I'm going with my gut feeling, I'd have to say there's probably a whole lot more going on than we as fans realize. I can't imagine every athlete who gets paid to excel in such a highly competitive arena will also have the moral fortitude to turn down an advantage that may or may not be noticed.
So if we assume that cheating is happening, and that it's happening in more instances than what is being caught, what can we assume is being done to protect the integrity of these games?
I suppose we should first ask what a game's integrity entails, because some could argue that these aspects help shape the sports we know and love, and are therefore just as important as any other tradition. If push came to shove, I suppose I'd probably have to agree with this thought, mostly because the vast majority of illegitimate competitive advantages are minimal at best, and unless your name is Gaylord Perry, they usually come back to haunt the players involved.
But we must always consider the effect these things have on amateur and youth sports.
It goes without saying that the message we all want to send young players is that cheating is bad. But we also have to send a message about why cheating is bad, and specifically why cheating is still bad even if you don't get caught.
I don't think we want to get bogged down by too much social commentary, so I'll just say that it's still very important -- perhaps even more so these days -- to instill a sense of integrity and pride in our youngsters. The idea that a job well done isn't as important as a job correctly (and properly) done carries over into so much of life, and since sports do so much in teaching kids life lessons, it seems important to maintain this attitude in friendly athletic competition.
In the end, the problem with filming your opponents' coaches, or using a corked bat, or qualifying on a nearly-empty tank of fuel isn't that it's morally reprehensible, or that it's going to turn kids into lousy stinking cheaters.
The problem is that it makes it that much harder for caring, hard-working coaches and parents to remind young athletes that competition isn't just about beating the other guys.
It should be about making yourself better in more ways than just the statistics.

I love football.
I know, I know, we've discussed the NFL at length over the past few weeks. And I'm unbelievably excited about the amazing action we saw this weekend.
But the best game I saw wasn't on national television, nor will it be discussed at length on ESPN anytime soon.
To me, the best game of the week happened in La Jolla when our own Valley Center Jaguars took on the Vikings on Friday night.
I'm sure you've seen that we (yes, I'm allowed to root for the Jags -- I'm the hometown sports writer) just missed completing a great comeback in the fourth quarter and ended up losing by a field goal. But the outcome isn't what made the game such a treat to watch.
I love seeing really good competition, and this game had a lot. At first, the Jags looked -- well, I have to be honest -- pretty much out of it. They were slow getting off the ball on the snap, they looked confused in their assignments, and seemed to be easily disheartened, especially when the first pass of the game got picked off.
But I also got to see first-hand one of the aspects of sports that is invaluable in our society -- heart. The coaches talked to the players at halftime, and the players responded with a new attitude that translated into better play in the second half.
The little things started to happen the way they should, like a great block by a receiver to allow the running back to pick up a few more yards. The sideline started to pick up the enthusiasm levels, and the Valley Center crowd followed suit. Even the coaches themselves were getting more and more excited, like when offensive line coach Kelly Stewart screamed, "We're going for it! We're going for it!" on a key fourth-down conversion attempt (that the Jags converted, by the way).
Sure, the game came down to a few inches, and I know Tyler Bernard feels like he let one slip away. But he especially elevated his level of play in the second half, and on the sideline, I could sense how his calm confidence affected his offensive teammates. During the Jaguars' final drive, everybody but Bernard was jumping and yelling, but the junior quarterback huddled the team up and called the next play to keep the clock from running down any further.
This Jaguars team is going to win a lot of games, and they're going to put up some impressive numbers along the way.
But what I'm most excited about is getting to see how this team comes together when it matters, how they learn to lean on each other when all the chips are down, and how they bounce back from a tough loss after giving all they had.
And it may not be a Sportscenter highlight reel, but it's going to be something worth watching.