Tony Giro, The Examiner
2008-08-04 07:00:00.0
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BALTIMORE -

I used to love professional sports. But then I realized something: Every negative thing I ever learned about sports, I learned from pro athletes acting like kindergartners.

Kindergartners show a need for attention — just like when an athlete, like say, Terrell Suggs, refuses to come to training camp because he’s unhappy making $8.5 million this season.

Kindergartners throw temper tantrums — so do athletes by demanding to be traded to a better team.

Kindergartners show inquisitiveness — so do athletes by trying to discover how fast they can drive before spilling their beer.

If I was good enough to make it to the bigs, I’d undoubtedly be the player with 15 kids in 13 cities, “making it rain” at the club, crying about being under-appreciated by the media and complaining to Steven A. Smith my quarterback, “just doesn’t get Anthony Giro.”

But I wasn’t good enough. And now, I’m tiring of many of those who are.

The strange thing is, I’m not a hater — maybe I’m just getting old. My license says I’m 31, but my body rapidly is going the way of Miguel Tejada’s intricate aging system.

Maybe the thought of 20-somethings earning more than the gross national product of Djibouti for playing sports reminds me I couldn’t hit Joe Saunders’ slider in when I played Division I baseball at High Point University. He struck me out faster than you can say “the Los Angeles Angels’ No. 2 starter.”

Or maybe, I feel foolish for sitting in front of the television all hours of the day, living and dying with my favorite teams like they actually give a damn if I give a damn.

Perhaps the fan-team connection is becoming more one way than Pratt Street even as fans’ passion continues to grow as the players’ loyalty to them shrinks.

It’s a union in desperate need of counseling.

It’s a marriage lost like Brett Favre’s conscience.

Favre, the legendary quarterback who once brought more smiles to the faces of Wisconsinites than a cheese of the month club membership, was once the king of Green Bay — a Super Bowl champion with more records than Elvis.

Now, he just looks like a spoiled brat who’s taking his ball and going home.

Well, his ball and a possible $25 million shut-the-hell-up-and-we’ll-name-a-street-after-you buyout from the Packers.

The marriage has eroded like the city of Boston’s love affair with Manny Ramirez.

The phenomenally talented anomaly who helped bring the Red Sox two World Championships was booed in his last days at Fenway Park. They were fed up with Ramirez hanging out in the Green Monster between pitching changes, demanding trades and having an approach to the game looser than Logan International Airport security. He finally got what the trade he demanded, but probably never wanted — call it Manny being manipulated.

The disconnect between reality and athletes goes deeper than Shaquille O’Neal’s voice and spans farther than a juiced home run ball.

Retiring and unretiring (Favre, Michael Jordan, insert your favorite boxer here) or demanding trades (Ramirez, Kobe Bryant, Chad Johnson) seem like child’s play when compared to the ever-growing number of players who display an above-the-law attitude that is enough to make Kobayashi sick to his stomach.

DUI? I don’t care.

Hit and run. No big deal?

Spousal abuse? She asked for it.

Dog fighting. Vehicular Homicide. Murder for hire. Gambling.

If I wasn’t on a word count, I’d keep going.

Maybe the athletes aren’t solely to blame. After all, in an era where wins and filling corporate suites far outweigh loyalty and integrity,  players are coveted by team owners and coaches no matter their past improprieties. Adam “Pacman” Jones, anyone?

But professional sports aren’t alone. College sports has its problems, from athletes submitting work done by “tutors” to low graduation rates to coaches jumping from school to school like overpaid kangaroos don’t make me feel warm and fuzzy.

But it gets worse. High school sports  — a faction of amateur athletics near and dear to me as a high school coach — has players going to the highest college bidder.

The outlet and innocence of youth sports could surely fill the void. Who doesn’t get a chuckle out of the 6-year old right fielder catching butterflies with his mitt or watching a 5-year old ice skating like a matriculating giraffe?

But where do we turn when the kids are talking trash to each other after a making a tackle? Or when Little League baseball is plagued with falsified birth certificates and the game’s biggest stage — the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pa. — has become as much about green as it is red, white and blue?

I’ll spare you the part about parents and coaches signing contracts to act civil or the story of a Pee Wee hockey dad who beat another dad to death inside an ice rink in Massachusetts.

I wonder where we learn these things?

Tony Giro writes about the NFL, Major League Baseball and college sports. He can be reached at timeout@baltimoreexaminer.com.