Mike O'Connell

If you ask me, Presidents’ Day is a stupid holiday. Or is it President’s Day? Look around and you’ll see we can’t even agree on how to spell it, let alone agree on exactly who we’re supposed to be celebrating. Or is it whom?

Indeed, there are at least a dozen ways the holiday is officially listed among our 50 states. For example, it’s Presidents’ Day in Texas and Vermont, but President’s Day in Maryland and Nebraska. It’s Lincoln/Washington/Presidents’ Day in Arizona, and here in Virginia it’s actually called George Washington Day.

Yup, we still hold grudges re: Mr. Lincoln.

To me there are only three options to solve this mess.

1.) Go back to calling it just “Washington’s Birthday” and celebrate it on February 22. Or February 11, as went the Old Style calendar of his day.

2.) Scrap the whole thing. I mean come on, a holiday to celebrate all presidents? I hate politicians anyway. And anybody out there really want to commemorate Millard Fillmore or Franklin Pierce?

3.) Go with the politically correct “Generic February Monday Holiday.” Nobody’s offended, everybody wins.

And we all still get a day off from work.

Allow me to add a word to the story everyone in America has been talking about the past week: the passing of basketball coaching legend Dean Smith.

You know you’re somebody when the President himself offers his condolences upon your death, and in the past four days I have not heard one unkind word about the man so many have idolized over the years. Myself included.

We all know Dean Smith’s accomplishments as a coach: 879 wins, 13 ACC Tournament Championships, 11 Final Fours, two national titles, an Olympic gold medal, and a slam dunk member of the Basketball Hall of Fame. It is his accomplishments of the court that have received much attention over the past few days, however much they were overshadowed during his career: something like a 97% graduation rate among his players, and–there’s no other way to say it–turning boys into men. They say Dean Smith treated everyone on the team fairly and with kindness, from Michael Jordan himself down to the equipment manager and ball boy. Was this true? Well, have I heard anyone deny it over the past 50 years? Nope.

There is nothing I can write here to add to Dean Smith’s legacy. It speaks for itself. One personal word, though, on his aura.

No athlete from my hometown of Binghamton, New York, was ever more heralded than King Rice (currently the head coach at Monmouth University). If you’re from the Binghamton area, King Rice is the best you ever saw, bar none. When King was choosing where to go to school, what did our local folk say about his decision? Did they say, that King Rice is going to play Division I basketball!

Nope.

Did they say, that King Rice is going to play at the University of North Carolina!

Nope.

They said: King Rice is going to play for Dean Smith.

That is all.

We can’t seem to stop hearing about the Super Bowl. The game, the ending, the seemingly bonehead idea to pass instead of run, Deflate-gate, Marshawn Lynch, Left Shark, and tearjerker commercials.

But there’s one thing one which I must comment: the Pats’ place among football’s great dynasties.

The thing about dynasties is that there’s no real official definition of what exactly one is. Is it two Super Bowl wins in a row? Three in five years? Seven great years in a row but only one title? These are legitimate questions.

I’m not one to toss about the word dynasty casually. Most troubling to me about this particular case is the length of time: 14 years. Fourteen years of good football is great. But it was three Super Bowl wins in four years, then a decade before the next one. That’s nine years of someone else holding up that trophy and going to Disney World.

In the era of great player turnover, can we even call it the same team? Yes, I understand it’s Brady and Belichick. But other than Brady, can you name one player on both the 2004 Patriots and the 2014 team? There’s only one: Vince Wilfork, a rookie in 2004 and hardly a household name.

Were the Pats from 2001-2004 a dynasty? Three Super Bowls in four years is pretty damn good. Seems to me though a bit too short to be a dynasty. And adding a fourth a decade later, with different players and assistant coaches? Well, that might be too long to be dynastic. Hmm.

Were the Yankees of 1996-2000 a dynasty? Four World Series wins in five years? Pretty good if you ask me. How about when they tacked on a fifth nine years later with a new manager and (mostly) different players? I wouldn’t call the whole era dynastic, and the Yanks at least had a “core” (I use the term with purpose) of consistent players. If the Patriots are the New York Yankees of football (other teams and fans hate them for their money and success), can we give them the benefit of what we deny the Bronx Bombers? And let’s not forget, the Pats were half a yard from losing three Super Bowls in a row.

I guess that’s why we don’t put an official definition on “dynasty.”

Well, the game has been played and the Patriots won fair and square. At least we don’t have to hear about Deflate-gate any more.

Are you kidding me? It took less time for that line of questioning to come out than it did to get the air out of the balls!

Kudos to those Patriots who kept it together when those questions came up. I could probably imagine myself not being quite so civil.

(Pause for dramatic effect.)

But I’d still go to Disney World.

I’m pretty sure I’m the only commentator left in America who has not weighed in on “Deflate-gate.” Let me amend that.

By now we have all heard the story—under-inflated footballs used in the AFC Championship Game seemingly with the knowledge of the home team—and speculated about which Patriots knew what and who told who to lie about it. Guh. At least we stopped talking about domestic violence and child abuse for a few minutes. Anyone know there’s a game on Sunday?

The real problem is that this is exactly what the Super Bowl is. People who don’t care about football 364 days a year jumping in for one day to watch singers, dancers, commercials, wardrobe malfunctions, and sixth grade gossip.

To the game, I do think the Patriots will emerge victorious, regardless of what size balls are used. Too bad their victory’s already tainted. And they’re really in a no-win situation here: win and you’re still a cheater; lose and you obviously got here only by cheating.

Pitchers and catchers report in 21 days.