Friday, December 31, 2010

That Was the Year That Was: 2010 in My Written Word

For the third straight year, I look back at the year and pick out some of the highlights—and lowlights—of my written bleatings.



On Martin Mayhew:

“Mayhew was a splendid choice, as it turns out. He drafted better, in just one try, than his former boss, Millen, did in his eight drafts combined, just about. In October ’08, Mayhew, still interim GM, fleeced Jerry Jones and the Dallas Cowboys in his first few weeks on the job, taking them for a first round draft pick for receiver Roy Williams.

Mayhew spent most of 2009 combing the waiver wires, trying gamely to bring the most talented players he could find—defensive backs, especially—to the Lions. Not all of his expensive free agent signings during the off-season worked out, but the draft is where you really build a team. And in that area, Mayhew did wonderfully.”

Now all Mayhew has to do is…do it again, in 2011, for the Lions to contend in the NFC North.

On John Kuester/Pistons:

“The Pistons are, again, devoid of leadership. It’s been a black hole, a vacuum, ever since they traded Chauncey Billups away. Poor Michael Curry got swallowed up by it. Don’t believe me? Anyone see Michael lately?

The Pistons are a bunch of soft scorers and Ben Wallace. They play with no life, no urgency. The Palace is a great place to go to get caught up on some reading, or maybe study for a trigonometry test.”

Sadly, not much has changed around the Palace—the team’s ownership situation continuing to be an unsettling cloud hanging over the organization.

On Chris Osgood:

“So here we are, January 2010. And Osgood is suckering us again, or trying to. This year it’s Jimmy Howard, a rookie , who has some people thinking the Red Wings ought to leave Ozzie on the bench come playoff time—should the Wings qualify.

Why? Because Osgood is sandbagging it again in the regular season, while the kid Howard is doing things like stopping 51 of 52 shots, as he did in L.A. the other night.

I’m not much of a gambler. I can barely figure out how to work a slot machine. But if I saw Chris Osgood at a table, I’d beat it.

You want the rookie Howard in goal, instead of the proven Osgood, when the playoffs arrive—again, should the Red Wings qualify?

P.T. Barnum was right, and this is your minute.”

I missed on this one—Howard proved that he was more than ready to lead a team in the playoffs. And Osgood still looks suspect, too often.


On U-M football coach Rich Rodriguez:

“Rodriguez, heading into his third year as coach, still has stench on him. There’s a lot of sheister about him. Remember his clumsy parting from West Virginia? Remember the allegations of document shredding at WVU before the school could get its mitts on pertinent papers?

Remember the scuttlebutt over the amount and lengths of practices last summer? Remember the defection of players who were disgusted by the Rodriguez Doctrine?”

It’s looking more and more like Rodriguez will become “former Michigan coach” Rodriguez, doesn’t it?

On Johnny Damon/Carlos Guillen:

“If the Tigers sign Johnny Damon, as has been widely speculated, and insert him in left field, there wouldn’t seem to be any place for Carlos Guillen to play—at least not that involves putting on a mitt.

Guillen, whilst a Tiger, has been seen in various years at shortstop, first base, third base, and, most recently, in left field. Sadly, he’s also been seen very frequently on the Disabled List. He’s been more fragile than a carton of eggs.

The Damon signing might force the Tigers to do something I’ve been beseeching them to do for months: forget this notion of designated hitter-by-committee and make Guillen the full-time DH. Better than him being on the full-time DL.

Guillen’s glove ought to be swiped by the Tigers and hidden somewhere. Maybe that’s the only way to keep him healthy. Damon isn’t exactly a Gold Glover in his own right, but Guillen breaks too easily.”

Guillen, as usual, ended up on the disabled list, needing microfracture surgery on his knee. Surprise!

On Red Wings coach Mike Babcock:

"Mike Babcock is in his fifth season of coaching the Red Wings, so I suppose it’s about time to find out whether he can actually, you know, coach.

Don’t snicker—I’m not being flip. Since Babcock arrived in Detroit in the summer of 2005, when has he had to coach the team in the regular season like he has to at this very moment?

If the Red Wings were being overseen by the Department of Homeland Security, their threat level would be elevated a color.

This is big doings, folks. We’re closing in on 20 games remaining in the regular season, and the Red Wings haven’t been cleared for playoff flight yet.

Enter Babcock, whose mystique as a prickly, no-nonsense guy is about to be put to the test in a manner like never before in Detroit."

Babcock passed the test with flying colors, turning in his best coaching job ever in Detroit (keep reading).


On Mike Babcock (again):

“Babcock is a great hockey coach, and is having his greatest of seasons.

His greatest season wasn’t in 2008, when he brought the Cup back to Detroit after a five year absence. It wasn’t last year, when he nearly did it again.

His greatest season is right here, right now, guiding what was, for most of the year, a M*A*S*H unit through the rigors of an NHL campaign.

Babcock should get the Jack Adams Award for coach of the year, and mainly because he never put a pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.”

As expected, Babcock did NOT win the Jack Adams, but it doesn’t change the facts: last season was Babcock’s best in Detroit.

On Magglio Ordonez:

“If Ordonez can regain his mojo, the Tigers offense not only “sounds” better, it IS better.

It’d be terrific if the rookie Jackson and the grizzled veteran Damon can form a solid 1-2 punch at the top of the order. Cabrera will get his 30+/100+ in HR and RBI, no matter what.

But if the 36-year-old Ordonez, who figures to hit third, isn’t the Maggs we know and love, then the house of cards collapses.”

Sadly, Ordonez got hurt and the Tigers’ offense suffered immeasurably.

On Austin Jackson:

“We’re about to find out if this kid Jackson has the goods to not be dwarfed by the specter of playing centerfield in the big leagues. He’s not following Cobb or DiMaggio or Mantle or Mays, but you’d think so, gauging by the fans’ take in post-Granderson Detroit.”

Jackson more than held his own in Detroit, replacing Granderson at both the leadoff spot and in center field. Remember Jackson’s catch in the ninth inning of Armando Galarraga’s near-perfect game?

On the state of the Pistons:

“Dumars has no vision anymore. He’s become Mr. Magoo, and no one is more of a shadow of himself than Joe D. He’s the Incredibly Shrinking GM.

The Pistons still try to use “Going to work” as a marketing hook and it’s laughable. This team only goes to work for coach John Kuester on occasion; the rest of the time it’s out to lunch.

It’s sad what’s happened to this team, but that sadness pales in comparison to the future’s outlook, which is chillingly bleak.”

As stated previously, the Pistons’ future is indeed bleak, easily the bleakest it’s been since the late-1970s, when Dick Vitale ruined the team in less than two years.

On MSU basketball coach Tom Izzo, preparing for another March Madness run:

“Still, for all his success at MSU, Izzo has but one National Championship to show for it, and that came 10 years ago. Not that it’s for the lack of trying, or for not having come close. Izzo looks like he’s the most tormented man in America at times, coaching his kids in East Lansing, but somewhere deep down inside, he must like it.

But like I said, the guy’s a little nuts.”

Izzo would have a chance, a few months later, to prove how nuts he was—for MSU.


On Brendan Shanahan, who I interviewed in Trenton:

“Shanahan scored, and he fought. He also increased the interest in hockey among the females. Often all in the same game. The Brendan Shanahan Hat Trick was a goal, a fight, a swoon.

I wanted to know what this time of the year meant to an old NHL warrior like him.

‘You close yourself off to all other things,” he said. “Eating wasn’t enjoying food—it was just adding more fuel to your body. Sleeping wasn’t rest, it was something you needed. Everything was done for the next game. You sequestered yourself in the hotel with your teammates and you got blinders on.’”

Shanahan is now proving that he’s very adept at his new job—as an NHL Vice President.

On Austin Jackson’s fast start:

“Jackson is hitting a cool .306 with an OBA of .375. He already has four multiple-hit games. Nicely done, kid.

The Man who Replaced Curtis Granderson—how much longer before we drop THAT moniker?—is slapping extra base hits, playing solid defense, throwing runners out, and using his speed on the basepaths to make the other team nervous.

And there’s that keen batting eye, which belies his tender age.

Austin Jackson is the real deal. He’ll make folks around Detroit forget Curtis Granderson soon enough. Because he’ll be better than Curtis, when all is said and done.”

After Jackson’s rookie season played out in its entirety, I haven’t changed my opinion one bit.

On Miguel Cabrera, bouncing back from an ugly end to his 2009 season:

“His shoulders are plenty broad enough to carry the Tigers for stretches of time this season, if need be. And the need will be. Whether he does so won’t depend on his ability—it will depend on the space between his ears. The only thing Miguel Cabrera doesn’t have quite yet is a killer instinct in crunch time, when the games matter the most.

He’ll get that, too.

Scary, isn’t it?”

Cabrera had a monster year, and might be the best hitter in all of baseball in short order, if he isn’t already.


On the Twins-Tigers divisional race:

“This Twins-Tigers thing in 2010 is going to just about kill you, I’m certain.

They’re going to be so close to each other all summer, one will know what the other had for lunch. You won’t be able to get anything thicker than a credit card between them.

It’s going to be like this from now until the end, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Oh, someone will edge in front by a few games, beating their chest as the king of the hill. Then the other will yank them by the ankle and down they’ll go.

It’s going to be a back-and-forth, I got it-you take it sort of affair. Morneau will get as hot as a firecracker and the Twins will jump on board his shoulders for a week or two. Then Cabrera will see that and raise it a sawbuck.”

Umm, not exactly. The Twins ran away and hid from the slumping Tigers, post-All Star break.

On whether Steve Yzerman should take the Tampa Bay Lightning GM job:

“The Lightning wants Stevie Y to be their new GM, the scuttlebutt is.

This isn’t the brass ring of GM jobs. It’s beneath Yzerman, frankly, to go to work for a team that didn’t exist until 1992—when he was starting his 10th season as a player.

Going from the Red Wings—as solidly run of a franchise as any in pro sports—to the Lightning is like stopping midway through a lobster dinner and switching to Spam.

It’s beneath Yzerman to work for such a Mickey Mouse franchise, which needs three home dates to fill its arena, in a city that is as much of a hockey hotbed as Hades.

Someone of Yzerman’s stature deserves much more than being the GM of the Tampa Bay Freaking Lightning.

Yet, as much as this pains me to say it, he ought to take the job.”

Stevie Y took the job, and his Lightning are, surprisingly, leading their division, playing some marvelous hockey.

On LeBron James, before he left Cleveland:

“Cleveland needs LeBron James a whole lot more than he needs Cleveland. Then again, Cleveland even needed Buddy Bell more than Buddy Bell needed Cleveland, so I guess that’s not really saying much.

If I’m James, I take a good look at New York and take my chances with the Knicks.

It’s not going to happen in Cleveland. Clearly.

Then again, what does?”

But I didn’t mean for LeBron to LeGo the way he did!


On Pavel Datsyuk, after winning yet another Selke Award for best defensive forward:

“He usually comes from behind you. Most of the good crimes start that way, I know. But even if you know he’s behind you, it doesn’t do you any good. In fact, Datsyuk could give you a call and set up an appointment and tell you that he’s going to relieve you of the puck and it wouldn’t mean jack squat.

A common method is for Datsyuk to glide up behind you and neatly use his stick to lift yours off the ice surface, mid-stickhandle. In a flash, he has the puck and is skating away with it. He does it so fast you’d swear he was playing with giant chopsticks, not a hockey stick.

Another modus operandi involves Datsyuk pretending like he doesn’t know you have the puck, allowing you to skate by him, presumably unnoticed. But then a flick of his stick later, he’s poke checked you, you’re sans the puck and he’s with it and you can’t wait to see what the security cameras show.”

On Magglio Ordonez, again:

“Ordonez is back.

He’s hitting .322, with 10 HR and 49 RBI. That’s .048, seven and 25 better than last year at this time. The ball again explodes from his bat. The swing is back to its upper cut smoothness.

It’s more, well, Ordonez-ish.

Seems like he hasn’t forgotten how to hit, after all.

And his resurgence is a huge reason why the Tigers’ 3-4-5 hitters are among the best in baseball right now.”

But at least Maggs will be back with the Tigers in 2011, eh?

On Red Wings executive Jimmy Devellano finally being elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame:

“You’d like to say that Jimmy Devellano has forgotten more hockey than all of us know, except that I don’t think Jimmy has forgotten a lick.

The NHL shouldn’t enshrine him, they should clone him.

They’re finally putting Jimmy D. into the Hall of Fame. It’s almost a redundant move. Nothing’s been this overdue since an apology from Ann Coulter.”

Good for him.

On Dave Pallone, the only openly gay umpire in MLB history, and who I had the pleasure of interviewing:

“Pallone, for 10 big league seasons, was two people.

There was the tough, talented umpire Pallone, who toiled in the minor leagues for eight years before getting his chance in the wake of the infamous big league umpires strike of 1979. There was the guy who wouldn’t be shoved out, despite atrocious and reprehensible treatment by his so-called brethren who looked at him and saw scab.

Then there was the “other” Dave Pallone—the one who told bold-faced lies regularly.

The one who didn’t want anyone to know what he was really up to. The one who lived in daily fear of being found out.

That Dave Pallone was gay.”

Pallone was fired for being suspected of being part of a gay sex ring, which was proven to be untrue. Still, he chose not to sue baseball, taking a cash settlement instead.

On Tom Izzo as he contemplated leaving MSU for the NBA’s Cleveland Cavaliers:

“Izzo is no more serious about taking this job in Cleveland than he is driving his car into a brick wall tonight.

But he won’t say that, because he gets off on this stuff. It’s enough for him to remind the people in East Lansing that he can crush them into a fine powder.

NBA teams keep Izzo’s phone number on speed dial because they haven’t been instructed not to—by Tom Izzo himself.

Izzo can end all this nonsense. He can come out and say, ‘Look, NBA, save your breath. I ain’t never turning pro! And you can’t make me.’”

Izzo stayed at MSU, and finally did close the door to the NBA, thankfully.

On Armando Galarraga’s near-perfect game:

“Jim Joyce picked the worst possible time to be human.

Don Denkinger, move over—we’re seating a second at your table.

Armando Galarraga lost a perfect game but gained the respect of the entire country. Hell, the world.

At the precise moment when most mortal men would have collapsed or thrown a temper tantrum, Galarraga stood holding what should have been a baseball headed for the Hall of Fame this morning and smiled.


This is a story that we won’t ever forget in Detroit, and we should all be honored that we were around to see it unfold.


On Ben Wallace coaching the Pistons:

“Wallace was never a guard. The offense never ran through him. He never called plays, or even for time outs. His words can be measured by the handful.

But he’s won, and he’s been around a lot of different coaches. He can pull the best from many of them.

I wouldn’t put anything past an undrafted multiple All-Star and NBA champion who played a position that he’s several inches too short for, from Virginia Union.

Pistons coach Ben Wallace.

It’s just crazy enough to work.”

Another of my cockamamie ideas that will likely never see the light of day, but it was fun to throw out there.

On throwback linebacker Chris Spielman, who was elected to the College Football Hall of Fame:

“(When Spielman played) there should have been no facemasks or elbow pads. The forward pass should have been considered radical. The drop kick should have been part of the playbook.

The games should have been heard on radio, not seen on television. The accounts should have been read from a newspaper, not the Internet.

The players should have played both offense and defense. There should have been one coach per team.

Red Grange should have been around for advice. Jim Thorpe, too.

Chris Spielman was born too late. Like by about 50 years.”

On LeBron James leaving for Miami:

“James’s absconding to Miami was an act of cowardice because he didn’t have it inside of him to stick it out in Cleveland. His impatience is only matched by his gutlessness.

James had an opportunity to never turn his back on the folks in northern Ohio, and to see the journey to an NBA Championship all the way through. He had the chance to be a genuine hero, and to be placed shoulder-to-shoulder with other true NBA greats.

LeBron James can’t hold the jock straps of any of the superstars who won championships in the 1980s and 1990s. His heart is infinitely smaller. His fortitude is laughable.”

Why don’t I tell you what I REALLY think?

On lack of a quarterback controversy in Detroit:

“But mostly, Matthew Stafford won’t have any competition.

For the record, the backup QB is a guy named Shaun Hill. The Lions got him from the 49ers and he’s not a tomato can—he can actually play.

Still, I just as soon we not see him—no offense, Shaun.

The quarterback in Detroit is Matthew Stafford, and should be for years to come. Future signal callers will be drafted just so the Lions can be polite.”

Well, we saw Shaun Hill—a LOT of Shaun Hill. And not much Matthew Stafford. Let’s hope that’s not a scenario that’s repeated in 2011. Again, no offense, Shaun.

On Bob Probert, who died tragically on July 5:

“Bob Probert, the former Red Wings and Blackhawks player who died Monday at age 45, wasn’t a great player. Hundreds of men suited up for the Red Wings who had more talent in their left pinky than Probert possessed in his mammoth body.

But none of them owned Detroit like Probie owned it.

Probert wasn’t a hockey player, he was a spectacle.

Time was, you had a few pops in Greektown or the watering hole of your choosing, hopped on the People Mover to the Joe, and took in Probert first, the Red Wings game second.”

Probie’s loss was just one of several we suffered in Detroit in 2010, but he was by far the youngest of the ones who passed away.


On the Pistons signing Tracy McGrady:

“The Pistons-McGrady marriage couldn’t be one of more convenience if they put a Slurpee machine, some beef jerky, an ATM and a magazine rack in the locker room.

But that’s OK. This is a business and both parties need each other.

The Pistons need McGrady to put some fannies in the seats. McGrady needs the Pistons to showcase his talents.

Till death—or 2011—do they part.”

My opinion hasn’t changed, but it’s good to see McGrady beginning to play more like the superstar he used to be.

On the Granderson/Jackson trade:

“The trade is already a great one for the Tigers.

Austin Jackson is six years younger than Granderson and is every bit as good defensively. He doesn’t have Grandy’s power—not yet—but is OBA is a robust .352. Jackson also fans a lot, so that’s a wash.

As I’ve written before, I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ve already seen the best of what Curtis Granderson can do. He’s topped out, in my mind, as a big league ballplayer.

Doesn’t mean he’s not a good one—just that I don’t see him getting much better, if at all.

Austin Jackson, on the other hand, has a ceiling that far exceeds Granderson’s.”

Granderson played OK for the Yankees, and Jackson was mostly outstanding for the Tigers.

On Mike Modano signing with the Red Wings:

“A 40-year-old hockey player with 21 NHL years behind him ought to have a face that looks like un-ironed corduroy. His voice should be raspy and his tongue should be pocked with marks from hitting the gaps caused by his missing teeth.

His face shouldn’t be tanned, it should be yellowed. You should be half looking for bolts coming out of his neck.

But there Modano sat, chatting as if he was an author on a book tour, not a 40-year-old giving the NHL another go, having wondered mere weeks ago if he had it in him to play another season.”

Unfortunately, Modano was felled a quarter through the season with a gashed wrist.


On the Lions’ recent kick return game, and newcomer Stefan Logan:

“In the 2000s, the Lions have been returning kicks politely. Their return men frequently collapse to the ground easily. They’ve been as elusive as a turtle, and as slippery as flypaper.

In 2010, there’s a new kid back there fielding kickoffs. His name is Stefan Logan and he’s the size of a matchbox. Maybe the Lions are hoping it’ll be 20 yards before anyone finds him, let alone tackles him.

Logan had one decent return last Sunday, just before halftime—and just before the ill-fated sack of QB Matthew Stafford. Beyond that, he didn’t show me much.”

Logan ended up having a solid season—showing me something, after all.

On the reborn Red Wings-Blackhawks rivalry:

“This is going to be a doozy for the NHL for years to come. Rumors of the Red Wings’ death have been greatly exaggerated.

Thanks to a second round KO last spring, the Red Wings have had much more time off than they’re used to getting. It got so weird that superstar center Henrik Zetterberg got married to a beautiful Swedish TV personality, and was STILL hunkering to get back to Detroit to get into hockey mode.”

It’s always fun when two of the Original Six are league rivals.

On Matthew Stafford, yet again:

“Stafford is the unchallenged, unquestioned leader of the Lions, in just his second season. He’s the closest thing to Elway and Montana and Favre and Manning that the franchise has ever had. By far.

Stafford is handsome, football smart, possessor of a cannon for an arm, and with leadership skills beyond his tender age. He has everyone’s trust in the Lions organization.

Matthew Stafford is going to make Detroit go crazy.

You get that feeling.”

That craziness will have to wait until next year, at least.


On the U-M/MSU football rivalry, in the week leading up to the game:

Michigan and Michigan State are going to get it on and this is serious business, folks.

This isn’t a rivalry in name only. It’s not a titular game. There won’t be any little brothers on the football field. Michigan can’t play this one with one arm tied behind their back, like so many of the other encounters

The loser of this one will look like he bit into a lemon for a whole year, just about. It’ll be almost 52 weeks of grumpiness, a year of Monday mornings.

And for the winner? Well, MSU doesn’t play Ohio State this season, so if they win Saturday, the Big Ten title doesn’t look like anything like a fantasy. If U-M wins, Rodriguez’s detractors will temporarily have a sweat sock stuffed in their mouths.”

MSU won for the third straight year, and Rodriguez’s detractors are still out in full force.

On Jimmy Howard:

“The goalie’s resume is the length of his last game, at its longest. Often, it’s not even “What have you done for me lately?” It’s, “What have you done for me the last shift?”

The Red Wings, it says here, will be among the final four teams standing next May—with one big caveat.

If Jimmy Howard doesn’t mess it up for them.

Isn’t the life of a goaltender grand?”

Howard hasn’t done anything to “mess up” the Red Wings’ chances this season.

On John Kuester:

“The Pistons’ coach is a pleasant enough looking man with thinning hair and an easy smile. He looks more like one of the dads at your kid’s school than an NBA head coach.

Kuester, a grad of that basketball institution North Carolina, has been called the “G” word by some in the NBA’s inner sanctum—a genius of offensive schemes and strategies. But that was as an assistant. He’s in his second year as a head coach and we still don’t know if he can really be a head coach or not, because last year’s Pistons were a fractured, splintered group—literally. Their injuries were early and often. Rip Hamilton hurt himself on opening night and the tone was set.

Kuester has a bunch of Twos and Threes and from that he’s supposed to accumulate a bunch of Ws.

Now THAT would be genius!”

Poor John Kuester.


On Tigers retiring No. 11:

“Yes sir, the Tigers should retire no. 11, and erect a statue of the man who wore that number proudly.

Why haven’t the Tigers so honored Bill Freehan?

Excuse me—did you think I was speaking of someone else?

In the wake of the sad news of Sparky Anderson’s passing, there’s been a call to retire Sparky’s no. 11. The dispute between Sparky and the Ilitches aside, I can see where a case could be made to formally ensure that no Tiger ever again slips on no. 11, even by accident.

But that number shouldn’t have been available to Sparky to begin with. So says me.

Freehan, a Tiger (and ONLY a Tiger) from 1961-76, was the best catcher of the 1960s—American or National League, Earth or any other planet you got. Period.”

I’ve long wondered when the Tigers were going to come to their senses and honor Freehan, a local kid and a great Tiger.

On the ageless Nick Lidstrom:

“Lidstrom plays hockey with the efficiency of a coffee filter, and with about as much effort. He plays 30 minutes a game but he doesn’t actually play them, he conducts them, like clinics. Have you ever seen him sweat?

Lidstrom isn’t human, I’m telling you.

This is a man who ends opponents’ rushes into the Detroit zone like an altar boy with a candle snuffer. Some Fancy Dans have tried stickhandling past him, but that’s like trying to beat a frog in a staring contest, or a man trying to win a fight with his wife.

Others have tried sucking Lidstrom into them and then passing the puck, but Nick’s hockey stick is more precise than a surgeon’s scalpel. He’s ruined more passes than a girl in a bar full of drunks.”

Lidstrom is having a great season, even by his standards. It’s amazing.

On the passing of Sparky Anderson:

“With the Tigers, Sparky took a collection of young, impressionable men who thought they knew a lot and was able to, at the same time, both remind them that they knew precious little, as well as turn them into champions. He also made them into men in the process, even if they didn’t know it at the time.

They know it now. Upon the news yesterday that Sparky had been placed into hospice care, one by one his former players spoke of how much he taught them about baseball and about life.

Pain don’t hurt, Sparky once said.

But his death sure does.”


On Rich Rodriguez’s performance at the U-M football bust:

“U-M coach Rich Rodriguez, in his clumsy, ham-handed attempt to ingratiate himself with the Wolverine faithful, instead brought the program to the national forefront as a big, fat, maize and blue joke.

The desperate plea by Rodriguez that he wants to be a “Michigan Man,” the hand-holding, the biblical quotes, the swaying back and forth while “You Raise Me Up” played in the background—it all added up to staining Michigan football for untold years to come.

The display confirmed what I’ve suspected for quite some time—that Rodriguez puts himself first.”

So there you have it—the bon mots from 2010. As usual, there were hits and misses

Here’s to a great 2011, everyone!

No comments: