"The Florida way"

When new Gators football coach Will Muschamp pledged to have his players represent the school “the Florida way,” I know what you were thinking:

Uh-oh.

And you were right.

After all, under previous coach Urban Meyer, representing the university “the Florida way” meant 30 arrests involving 27 players in six seasons.

Now, “the Florida way” under Muschamp has its first arrest — star cornerback Janoris Jenkins, busted on a marijuana possession charge, his second arrest in the past 20 months.

On the positive side, Jenkins’ first arrest involved the police use of a stun gun. This time he apparently surrendered peacefully.

That’s progress.

One to learn by

Undoubtedly, there are some who will call Gil Meche a fool for turning his back on $12 million of the Kansas City Royals’ money just because he knows he wouldn’t actually earn it.

But for spurning the cash, Meche is not foolish; he’s honorable.

Explained Meche, who has an injured right elbow that he’s certain will prevent him from ever pitching effectively again:

“When I signed my contract, my main goal was to earn it. Once I started to realize I wasn’t earning my money, I felt bad. I was making a crazy amount of money for not even pitching. Honestly, I didn’t feel like I deserved it. I didn’t want to have those feelings again.”

Rather than engage in a game of charade and collect the dough, Meche retired. He noted the Royals had already paid him $40 million. By stepping on a baseball field, Meche provided financial security for his three children. By stepping off one, he’s provided an amazing lesson.

Just don’t expect Meche to be asked to speak to a gathering of the Major League Players Association anytime soon.

Speaking of teaching one’s children …

I give you one Michael Todd Forrest, who apparently became upset with his son’s high school hoops coach in North Stanley, N.C. The nature of the unhappiness is unknown, though in these types of cases it often has to do with the son’s playing time.

In any case, Mr. Forrest apparently expressed his displeasure with Bobby Staley by attacking the coach as he was putting equipment away following a game.

Mr. Forrest also apparently involved his son in the fracas, which is not the sort of father-son bonding activity one would hope to see.

Unfortunately for Mr. Forrest and his son, the — uh, alleged — assault happened in front of a police officer.

Mr. Forrest has been arrested; the fate of his son, Logan, 17, is up in the air. Undoubtedly, though, he’s benefited by the paternal example.

Friday column: A changed man? Only time will tell

Let us now praise famous men.

Especially quarterbacks who have managed to go a full 10 months without being accused of sexual assault.

Yes, the re-deification of Ben Roethlisberger has begun.

After the Pittsburgh Steelers held off the New York Jets 24-19 Sunday to earn a Super Bowl berth, a writer for SI.com purred, “This effort illustrated the entire palate (sic) of greatness Roethlisberger possesses … He improvised, extended plays and showed the will of a champion.”

He gave Roethlisberger an “A” for his performance.

Pretty high mark for a quarterback with a passer rating of 35.5.

But Roethlisberger’s team won, and winning is the all-powerful deodorant, strong enough to lead team president Art Rooney II to gush, “I’m proud of the way he picked himself up and acted like the man he really is.”

The man he really is.

As if Rooney knows.

Rooney’s comment, of course, wasn’t — ostensibly — about Roethlisberger’s play on the field but his actions off it, specifically his keeping his nose clean since the March incident in Milledgeville, Ga., in which he was accused of buying alcohol for a group of young women, then assaulting one in a bar bathroom while his creep cop friend guarded the door.

The district attorney, you might recall, didn’t prosecute Roethlisberger — but not because he believed the incident didn’t happen.

This was the second time in recent years Roethlisberger had been accused of rape. Less-serious black marks on his character also surfaced, painting a portrait of a rich, boorish athlete with a serious case of entitlement-itis.

Asked if the Steelers had considered dumping their franchise quarterback in March, Rooney said, “You go through a lot of different thoughts at times like that. But, at the end of the day, I knew Ben and I knew his parents. I just believed that if he got back to being the type of person he really is deep down inside, he is still the type of person we want to be around. He hasn’t disappointed us.”

He certainly hasn’t disappointed his handlers, staying out of trouble and saying the right things, which shows he has some brains. Good for him.

But for his being a changed man, in 10 short months?

I’m a believer in repentance, and I hope Roethlisberger’s purported turn-around is genuine. But his cleaning up his act during one season isn’t enough to convince me. Like with Michael Vick and his story of regeneration, time will tell.

But part of repentance is facing up to what you’ve done wrong.

Which brings me to an exchange Roethlisberger had with a reporter following the Steelers’ victory Sunday.

Asked if he thinks about what he did in Milledgeville, Ga., Roethlisberger said, “I don’t. I don’t. I’ll stop you now. Not at all.”

Not at all?

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Friday column: A tactic is cheesy but effective

Decades ago, covering a high school baseball game in Southern California, I saw a diamond tactic I’d never before witnessed: At one point in a middle inning, every member of the home team stood on their dugout bench, looked at their opponents on the field and screamed, “I hate you.”

Over and over and over.

I don’t remember the name of the molder of young men who came up with such a brilliant stratagem, but I can tell you this about him: He was in the wrong sport.

He should have been a football coach.

Like Rex Ryan.

Now, to be sure, the New York Jets’ head man is a top defensive mind with more than a single skill, but in a recent column for ESPN, Gene Wojciechowski quoted an NFL team executive who knew Ryan well. “His No. 1 ability,” the exec said, “is to get his players to identify hate in the week (before a game).”

Ryan does this, in part, by using a related tried-and-true artifice: getting his team into an “us vs. the world” mentality. Also known as “no one respects us.”

The effectiveness of this flimsy contrivance can be seen in the Jets’ upset of the Patriots on Sunday, and also in New York linebacker Bart Scott’s on-field rant following the game:

“To all the nonbelievers, to all the nonbelievers!” Scott screamed at an interviewer. “Disrespect us. Talk crap about the defense, and we’re the third-best defense in the league.”

I don’t recall anyone running down the Jets defense before the game, but that hardly matters. It was enough that Ryan got his players to believe it. And getting players to believe such tripe has been a Ryan staple for years, even at such a modest football program as New Mexico Highlands University.

Wojciechowski quotes West Las Vegas head coach Mike Ulibarri, who played for Ryan when Ryan was an assistant at Highlands in 1989. Ulibarri still remembers a speech Ryan gave before the Cowboys played Mesa State.

“Nobody’s your friend on the field. You want friends? You can have friends after the game. Right now, it’s you against everybody, and you have to prove yourself every time.”

Ah yes, you against the world.

(Sigh.)

Ryan’s motivational skills — “his ability to get his team to identify hate” — impress even players of other teams. This week, New York Giants safety Antrel Rolle openly admired Ryan’s approach, and said of the Jets, “That team is going to war for him.”

The war reference may be odious, particular in a time of actual combat and loss of life, but it’s also apt in that nations have sought to demonize the enemy — and thereby work up a good hate in their soldiers — for millennia.

Why? For the same reason Ryan does. It works.

And what does it say about us as a species that it continues to work so well, even in our games?

Nothing good.

Friday column: She found meaning everywhere she looked

Published: January 14, 2011

The person who ended the life of 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green was said to be a nihilist — someone who contends that there's no meaning in life, no meaning in anything, anywhere. From what we know about her life, Christina Taylor Green found meaning everywhere.

She found meaning in sport, playing for her Little League baseball team and following in the footsteps of her grandfather, former major league pitcher Dallas Green.

She found meaning in school, where she not only learned, her teachers say, but helped others do so.

She found meaning in service, recently being elected to her school's student council.

She found meaning in family.

She found meaning in faith, having just received her first Holy Communion.

"She was interested in everything," her mother said.

A Washington Post story noted, "The girl was already aware of the "inequalities" of the world, Roxanna Green said. Christina often repeated the same phrase to her mother: 'We are so blessed. We have the best life.' "

A violent act put an end to Christina's life — along with the lives of five others — and damaged beyond measure the lives of many, including that of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, the killer's main target. Yet, in Christina's faith tradition, it is the bedrock belief that such violence does not have the last word.

That belief was on display Thursday inside St. Elizabeth Ann Seton church, where her funeral was held.

Surprisingly — but thankfully — in this voyeuristic age, television cameras were not allowed inside. But still-photographers were.

Traditionally, in Roman Catholic funeral rites, clergy wear purple or black for mourning, understandable for any loss, let alone one as tragic as this one. In some parishes, though, those colors have given way to white — considered more appropriate for a service where the underlying theme is not burial, but resurrection; not death, but life.

White was the color of the day at

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, the same color worn by many of the mourners who lined the way to the church.

White also is the funeral color worn in the tradition I'm more familiar with, that of the Episcopal Church, where mourning is acknowledged but the resurrection theme predominates -- in word as well as color.

Perhaps the most beautiful words of the funeral service are heard in the commendation, a place where the priest, quoting Genesis, reminds all in attendance that "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

Then the liturgy -- emboldened by faith in resurrection and thus defiant in the face of death -- continues: "All we go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."

For Christina Taylor Green, a 9-year-old who found meaning in so many places, though she goes down to the dust, we, too, make our song: "Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."