With the passage of time since the Dallas Mavericks traded their cornerstone player, Luka Doncic, to the Lakers, the deal remains universally incomprehensible. Sure, justifications have been offered such as Doncic’s defensive limitations, as well as his diet and conditioning habits that were thought to get in the way of his defensive abilities as well as to make him more vulnerable to injury. But the guy is a singular talent who, at age 25, led the Mavericks to the NBA Finals last year, was in consideration for league MVP, and is a generational force offensively.

He is also the face of the franchise and has been since he took the baton from Dirk Nowitzki after playing together with Dirk for a year. Luka viewed Dirk as a role model — a player who stayed with the same team for 21 years and led that team out of the NBA rubble to an NBA championship. A generation of Mavericks fans appreciated Dirk’s loyalty, and for kids who started their fandom at age 5, they would have never known a Dirk-less Mavericks team until they were 26. Luka would have taken them to age 46. There was a reason that Luka signed with the Mavericks at age 19. He hoped to emulate Dirk’s career arc. Luka was as popular a player as you could have (though yes, we sometimes had to overlook the whining to referees). If you are going to antagonize a fan base, you’d better be right. So far, you would be hard-pressed to find someone who agrees with the Mavericks move.

And that’s what saddens me about the whole deal — it seems that no value was put on Luka’s loyalty to the team and desire to be a lifer. Rather, it was something to be feared — that he would soon be eligible for a “supermax” contract extension that would have averaged about $69 million per year. It’s worth noting that Anthony Davis, the primary player for whom Luka was traded and who is 6 years older, is locked into a contract that averages $62 million per year. Davis is a superb player but with his own history of missing games due to injury.

I don’t know how you value the sort of mutual loyalty that kept Dirk and the Mavericks together for two decades and that most Mavericks fans were hoping would be the same for Luka. But the fans’ desires in that regard do not appear to be something that was valued by the Mavs’ front office. Jerry Seinfeld once observed that with the player movement in sports, what you are really rooting for is “laundry.” It’s the jersey that counts, and who is wearing it is interchangeable. As an aside, the Mavericks have been so cursed after the trade that they really may just be playing jerseys since they are hurting for healthy players to wear them.

I would have put a premium on a potential lifer rather than a shiny new, or in this case older, object. And I would have found ways to address Luka’s alleged conditioning liabilities. For instance, I might have brought in Colonel Nathan Jessup from “A Few Good Men” (played by Lakers’ fan Jack Nicholson) who rejected a suggestion from his subordinate officers that a sub-par Marine, Private Santiago, be transferred off the base at Guantanamo Bay. “Transfer Santiago? Yes, that’s the thing to do. Wait, I’ve got a better idea. Let’s transfer the whole squad. No, let’s transfer the whole division off the base. … Wait a minute. Maybe we should consider this for a second. Maybe it’s our responsibility to train Santiago! I think I read that somewhere once. And I’m thinking, Colonel, that your idea of transferring Santiago, while expeditious and painless, might not be quite the American way. Santiago stays where he is. We’re going to train the lad.” It will be interesting to see what Luka looks like in about six months if he follows the Lebron James fitness regimen.

If the training/reshaping of Luka by the Mavericks did not work, they could have resorted to the insight of the eloquent NFL coach Bum Phillips, who faced criticism of running back Earl Campbell’s fitness late in his career. When the press learned that Campbell could not finish the 1 mile run in training camp, Phillips was asked if he was concerned about it. “No,” he replied. “When it’s first down and a mile to go, we won’t give him the ball.”

The sad fact is that Luka was on his way to a statue someday being erected outside whatever Mavericks’ arena exists in the future. That seemed to be his preference, and it was certainly the preference of the fans — he would have complimented the Dirk statue very well. Instead, Mavs fans will have to adjust to the rotating cast of characters that fill the jerseys over the next 15 years.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

There are a number of ways to honor retired athletes and their exemplary careers for which the criteria are generally understood. We sort of know a Hall of Fame player when we see one, though we can debate around the margins. We also recognize an athlete who has contributed to his or her team for a sufficient duration that the team retires their uniform number. There are state halls of fame and college halls of fame, in addition to national halls of fame. There are more bespoke displays like the Yankees’ Monument Park and the Dallas Cowboys’ Ring of Honor that are nevertheless somewhat comprehensible. However, there is one method of honoring athletes that seems to be proliferating but for which the criteria are much more murky — The Statue.

There really is no template for who gets a statue — no written or unwritten code. Some statues are obviously justified — Magic, Kobe, Shaq, Kareem, all outside the Crypto.com Arena. Jordan, Gretzky, Clemente, Willie Mays … the list goes on. All of them are honored at or near a stadium or successor stadium where their legendary feats took place, though the question of whether your statue is inside or outside remains a question of debate. Jordan was outside the United Center before he was moved inside. The statues generally honor a body of work and signature pose, though occasionally they capture an isolated play that was part of that body of work (e.g., Bobby Orr outside Boston’s TD Garden).

The above examples are non-controversial, both with regard to the athlete being honored and the location of the statue. But it can get very complicated very quickly. Should every Hall of Famer get a statute? Willie Mays outside Oracle Park? Yes. But if Buster Posey makes the Hall of Fame in three years, does he get a statue?

Outside the American Airlines Center in Dallas, there are statues of Dirk Nowitzki and Mike Modano on either side of the entryway — like imperial garden lions. Each led his team to one league championship and each spent several decades with the Mavericks and Stars respectively. If Luca Doncic leads the Mavericks to an NBA Championship and stays around for enough seasons, does he automatically get a statue? That would make for a lopsided imperial garden entrance.

Is it appropriate to erect a statue for performance over one season? The statues of Doug Flutie at Boston College and Robert Griffin III at Baylor University are examples of this. Should every Heisman Trophy winner get a statue at his alma mater?

There is also a danger in putting up statues prematurely. Banners, plaques and retired numbers are easy to reverse if something unsavory comes out about a player. Statues are a little bit harder to remove (see Paterno, Joe).

What are the rules as to who gets to erect such a statue and where? A Babe Ruth statue near the Orioles Stadium in Baltimore? OK, I can probably accept that. The Babe did grow up in Baltimore although he never played for the Orioles, and he has plenty of honors at Yankee Stadium. But should a Babe Ruth statue be anywhere other than the “The House that Ruth Built?”

In this category, there is the incomprehensible statue of Dave Winfield in Fairbanks, Alaska. Winfield’s Hall of Fame career is most identified with at least three MLB clubs — the Padres and the Yankees — which account for much of his career, plus the Twins in the town where he grew up and played for two seasons. Instead, he is honored where he once hit a 500-foot home run while playing minor league ball.

One of my favorites in the location category is the Allan Iverson statue at the Philadelphia 76ers’ practice facility. For an NBA player who, though known for his tremendous work rate during games, also gave one of the most famous quotes in sports history railing against practice, the 76ers’ choice is either odd or tongue-in-cheek — the equivalent of putting a statue in Hartford for a Broadway act, or a star on the Van Nuys Walk of Fame rather than the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

With rampant free agency in professional sports, and NIL money and transfer portals in college sports, the situation is likely to get worse before it gets better. “Yes, I will sign with the Giants in free agency as long as you promise me a statue that is reasonably adjacent to Willie Mays and Orlando Cepeda.” “Yes, I will transfer to your school for one season to try to secure an NCAA basketball championship as long as you promise me a statue near the Student Union building.”

For anyone examining college majors that may pay dividends in the future, might I suggest: sculpting.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

As 2024 gets underway, ZZ Top and Lynyrd Skynyrd will be continuing their “Sharp Dressed Simple Man Tour,” an amalgamation of ZZ Top’s “Sharp Dressed Man” and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.” It causes me to wish that somewhere, someone would combine Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” with the Beach Boys’ “Caroline, No” to start a “Sweet Caroline, No” movement.

If you are a sports fan, it is almost impossible not to be chased down somewhere by the admittedly happy and upbeat “Sweet Caroline,” complete with “ba, ba, ba” and “so good, so good, so good” thrown into the mix. What started innocuously at Fenway Park in 1997 has now become a global, musical virus at sporting venues. Don’t get me wrong: I have always enjoyed “Sweet Caroline.” Its rollout at Red Sox games — making it part of the Fenway Park experience — was fine with me. But now it is seemingly everywhere — the University of Pittsburgh, the Carolina Panthers, England soccer, cricket and rugby matches, Jim Beam commercials (to name a few), and a somewhat creepy Adobe commercial with a young girl named Caroline. Did they not listen to the lyrics?

It has even found its way into sports theater. I attended a play entitled “Dear England” in London recently starring Joseph Fiennes as England soccer manager Gareth Southgate that ended with a rousing rendition of “Sweet Caroline” in which the theater crowd joined. (The play’s run ended January 13, so no spoiler here.) A feel-good moment, no doubt, but we are far past the saturation point.

One problem I have with the whole trend of sports teams adopting the signature song of another sports team is that it prevents a team from sports musical innovation. There is nothing amoral or unethical in adopting another team’s signature song, but why take the lazy way out? We Stanford alums were somewhat aghast when USC started playing “All Right Now” (by the English band Free) after each touchdown, which the Stanford band had done for at least a decade before.

I will note that I do not have a problem with the use of a conventional and simple guitar riff being played at multiple sports venues. The opening chords of the Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” is the perfect accompaniment to the initial puck drop at an NHL game, and many arenas use it. It’s short, punchy and somehow doesn’t seem as insidious as “Sweet Caroline” has become. I am also fine with “We Are the Champions” being played for the champions — if, indeed, they are the “champions of the world” and not just of a single nation (e.g., the USA).

As his iconic song “Hallelujah” was starting to suffer from overexposure, Leonard Cohen once remarked: “It’s a good song. But too many people sing it.” Perhaps Neil Diamond could encourage a moratorium, or at least a dialing down, of “Sweet Caroline,” but he would seemingly have little incentive to do so. Or perhaps sports teams could be a little more creative in finding a song that appeals to their fan base. The Chicago Blackhawks, for instance, imported “Chelsea Dagger” (which admittedly had been deployed by several soccer teams in the UK) and used it to great effect during their Stanley Cup runs in the 2010s. That, of course, caused other hockey teams in the college and pro ranks to start using it as well. However, it has a long way to go to reach the saturation point that “Sweet Caroline” has.

I hereby offer a challenge to sports franchises and venues to experiment with the music that might fuse well with their own team, and eschew the musical cliché. That would be “so good, so good, so good.”

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

As the sports calendar turns from spring/summer to fall/winter, it is an appropriate time to reflect on one of the great stories in sports this year, that being Michael Block’s stunning closing holes to finish in the top 15 of the PGA Championship, thereby earning a return trip to next year’s tournament. Block ably personified a modern-day Walter Mitty — James Thurber’s fictional character who lives an ordinary life while dreaming of himself in extraordinary situations.

Identifying the Mittys in sports depends very much on how you define a Mitty. I tilt toward a very strict definition, and therefore come up with precious few of them. Sure, there are feel-good stories like “Rudy” and “The Rookie” (the latter being the chronological journey of Major League Pitcher Jim Morris) but they don’t really qualify as Mittys. Rudy had not yet settled into the ordinary life as ascribed by Thurber to Mitty, and Morris and had more than just a single moment in Major League Baseball, lasting two years. It was also a special moment in April, when Drew Maggi of the Pittsburgh Pirates finally made it to the majors for three games, after 13 years in the minors.  Maggi went 2 for 6 in those three games to make his lifetime MLB batting average .333.  But Maggi was a professional baseball player the entire time — he had not entered the sphere of “ordinary life.”

There are rare occurrences when an unseeded tennis player might win a major, as Marketa Vondrousova did at Wimbledon this year.  But she is a fully professional tennis player.  Similarly, the low amateur at the Masters is always a good story, especially if he is within range of the professional leaders before having to endure an always cringe–worthy presentation in Butler Cabin.  But that low amateur is often an up-and-coming player, destined for a professional career, not “ordinary life.”

The most institutional opportunity for a Mitty in sports is the National Hockey League’s requirement that all NHL games have an EBUG (Emergency Backup Goaltender) on hand. Only a handful of EBUG’s have ever seen action in an NHL game. An EBUG might be a beer league player, as was the case with Scott Foster in 2018, who played 14 minutes for the Chicago Blackhawks and saved seven shots. David Ayers, a building operator in Toronto, is the only EBUG ever credited with a win in NHL history, playing for the Carolina Hurricanes for the final 1-1/2 periods of a game.  Foster and Ayers are two of only three EBUGs to ever make a save in an NHL game, each only appearing once and truly meeting the Mitty definition. I await the day when I am sitting in an NHL arena next to a middle-aged guy with a bit of a pot belly, as his phone rings and he excuses himself, saying: “I’m sorry — I have to go down and play goalie.” It has not happened often in NHL history but the allure is there.

Do other sports have opportunities for Mitty moments? Should they? And what happens to a Mitty once he has lived his fantasy? The answer to the latter may have come when Michael Block accepted a sponsor’s invitation to play in the Charles Schwab Challenge the week after his PGA showing — and finished a distant last. The lesson being: Don’t overstay your Mitty moment.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

The inaugural World Baseball Classic took place in 2006. In 2023 — as many 17-year-olds do — it came of age, capturing the attention of both baseball traditionalists and the general sports fan, while converting elite American-born players to the value of international play.

Americans have always been slower than our foreign counterparts to revel in a global competition between national teams. Our focus is generally on domestic professional play. Thus, we have a “World” Series in baseball that does not involve the rest of the world. We declare our NBA victors the “World Champions” of basketball, and the winners of the Super Bowl — which actually began as the “AFL-NFL World Championship Game” — self-identify as the “World Champions.” Meanwhile, MLB players from other countries, including Hall of Fame-caliber players like Ivan Rodriguez of Puerto Rico, Miguel Cabrera of Venezuela, Robinson Canó of the Dominion Republic and Ichiro Suzuki of Japan, enthusiastically represented their respective countries in the World Baseball Classic.

Maybe it took the post-season starved Mike Trout to rally the American baseball troops, and he certainly deserved to finally play in elimination games as a professional. When the best player of his generation sounded the call, other players answered it, which in turn generated enhanced interest from American fans, including this one. I personally was glued to the competition even when the USA team was not playing, though watching Trea Turner announce himself to the world while wearing an American uniform was certainly impressive and may help encourage other American stars to suit up. While the dropping of baseball from the Olympic program may have been the impetus for creating the World Baseball Classic as a way to establish baseball’s global bona fides, the Classic has now become a compelling competition in its own right.

 I did not think that the sight of arguably the two best players in the game — Angels teammates Trout and Shohei Ohtani — carrying in the flags of their respective countries (arguably the two best national teams in the world) before the final could be topped. And then it was, by the final showdown of Ohtani on the mound vs. Trout at the plate.

Even significant injuries to José Altuve of Venezuela and Edwin Díaz of Puerto Rico in the Classic did not seem to cause anyone to question the value of the competition — certainly not Altuve or Díaz, who expressed their desire to do it all again in 2026. The Astros and the Mets may not be quite as enthused, but the players have spoken and are continuing to speak about their love of the competition, and that it is making a difference.

Now that the Classic has registered on the Richter Scale of the American sporting landscape, those who have been ignoring it are suddenly full of suggestions as to what to do with it. Those suggestions include pausing the MLB season for a couple of weeks in the middle of the summer every four years in order to stage the Classic at that time — sort of an extended All Star break — as if pitchers and even position players are less worn down in the middle of the season than before the season starts. There was also chirping about the limitation on the number of pitches thrown by any pitcher at this time of the year, though when is the last time (or even the first time) you saw a pitcher throw six or seven innings in an All Star Game? The pitch count did not detract from the competition, and if that is what it takes to get MLB and MLB pitchers on board, then so be it. When Ohtani was on the mound for the final out against Trout, was anyone thinking about the limited number of pitches he had thrown? Plus, the Classic gives players a chance to play meaningful games before the MLB starts rather than exhibition pre-season games.

So, let’s just enjoy how the competition has blossomed and look forward to the next incarnation in 2026. Just like the caveman did not discover fire in order to burn the cave down, the stewards of baseball need not blow up the competition, but rather just keep the flame lit.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

Fans of baseball and of baseball history have had much to feast upon this MLB season. In particular, the American League MVP choice between Shohei Ohtani and Aaron Judge presents a fascinating debate for fans of old-school baseball, new-school baseball and unheard-of-before baseball. By focusing on Ohtani and Judge, I mean no disrespect to Albert Pujols going out with a resurgent bang, as well as dignity, nor Paul Goldschmidt who has had a terrific season in the National League.

So much has been written and debated about whether Judge’s offensive numbers are enough to overcome Ohtani’s contributions as both a hitter and one of the best pitchers in baseball. The games of September 17 are instructive in the difficulty of the debate. Ohtani pitched seven shutout innings against the Mariners, struck out eight, and collected his 13th win — only because he doubled in a run in his first at bat and walked and scored in his second at bat. All eight Angels in between those two at-bats were retired. The Angels won 2-1. To say that he single-handedly won the game is not an overstatement. Meanwhile, Judge hit two home runs to inch closer to the American League single season record, drove in four runs and went 4 for 5 to raise his batting average almost to the top of the league. He could well achieve a hitting triple crown. How do you compare those two performances on the day? How do you compare them over a season?

In order to resolve this debate, at least in my own head, I’m going to draw on my own idiosyncrasies, and they cause me to tilt toward Ohtani. He has brought back into my consciousness two things that have been shrinking from modern baseball lore: the triple and the box score. In addition to hitting 46 home runs in 2021 and being among the league leaders again in 2022, Ohtani also led MLB in triples last year and is among the league leaders again this year. Watching a power hitter’s eyes light up when he knows that the trajectory of his hit may land him on third base is a throwback to an era when players worried less about pulling a hamstring and more about digging for that extra base.

The triple has become a dying priority — seemingly inconsistent with a player’s role as a power hitter. Only five players have ever led their league in triples and home runs in the same year, and four of them are in the Hall of Fame, including Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays. Jim Rice was the last to do it, in 1978. Ohtani came oh-so-close last year, and if not for Judge’s destruction of baseballs, would be close again this year. Judge, despite what might be the highest untainted season home run total for any player in MLB history, has zero triples. Ohtani takes off from the moment of contact. His speed from home plate to first is among the best in MLB. In a recent game, he went from home plate to first base in 3.97 seconds simply to avoid a double play. No less a power-hitting giant than Hank Aaron once said, “The triple is the most exciting play in baseball. Home runs win a lot of games, but I never understood why fans are obsessed with them.” To me, Ohtani’s triples reveal something more than just the statistic. They reveal how he plays the game, not just how well he plays the game.

Only one player who played as late as the 1970s is in the top 50 all time in triples: Roberto Clemente at No. 27. Stan Musial is the only player other than Clemente who played since 1960 (or since 1950) in the top 50 in all time triples, tied at No. 19 with “Rabbit” Maranville. When you’re not exactly known for your speed and are tied with a guy nicknamed “Rabbit,” it says something about how you played the game. And yes, I understand the argument about the different configurations of ballparks back in the day, but yet Musial and Clemente were able to do make it to third base in fairly modern ballparks (as were Lou Brock and Willie Mays, who are among the top 70). Ohtani is that kind of player. Judge is a phenomenal athlete and a good baserunner. He has stolen more bases this year than Ohtani and has been caught stealing fewer times. He is also a good defensive player, although “defense” in baseball generally starts and ends with pitching, which Ohtani showed in his recent outing against the Mariners. Judge cannot shut out the opposing team; Ohtani can, albeit only on days when he pitches (a factor that contributes to the debate as well).

And that brings us to my next reason for my Ohtani pick — the box score. Just as the triple has given way to the home run in modern baseball, so has the box score given way to highlights on “SportsCenter.” Ohtani is single-handedly bringing back my interest in the box score. In virtually every game he plays, there is a nugget in his line, particularly if he is pitching. Did he pitch enough innings for his ERA to qualify to be among the league leaders? (Right now, he is on track in innings and his ERA stands at 2.43).  In how many of the most compelling categories in baseball has he remained in the top 10 or top 20 after that particular game — home runs, RBI, OPS, slugging percentage, triples, ERA, strikeouts by a pitcher, wins, WHIP? The fact that he shows up among the league leaders in such a variety of categories, including the most prestigious ones in both hitting and pitching, is remarkable and unprecedented — unless you are talking about Little League and the kid who has gone through puberty earlier than anyone else. The difference is that every player in MLB is post-pubescent, at least physically. Yes, I do look at Judge’s box score line to see whether he has increased his home run total and I enjoy watching his bombs on “SportsCenter.” But it is Ohtani who is drawing me to the box score.

If my assessment is coming across as being too hard on Judge, it is not intended. Judge and Ohtani share one trait in common that puts them above anyone else in baseball: When they are playing and you are in the stands, it is impossible to take your eyes off of them. There have been few players I personally remember who are like that — Bo Jackson comes to mind. The beauty of the reconfigured schedule for 2023, in which every team in baseball will play every other team, is that every baseball fan in America will have a chance to see these guys play. I don’t plan to miss it.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

One score and five years ago, the founders of SportsTravel brought forth a publication conceived from a passion for sports and dedicated to the proposition that sports-related travel is a worthy endeavor. As if I needed confirmation of that, the 25th anniversary of SportsTravel — which is also my 16th anniversary as a columnist — coincided with the first full-blown March Madness in three years. As I raised a Sazerac glass at the Men’s Final Four in New Orleans to commemorate those anniversaries, I was struck by the realization of what we missed during the pandemic and how the re-emergence of sports-related travel is as welcome as the publication celebrating it.

The tribalism we see in our politics and in other areas of societal discourse has become toxic, but the fan base of the four storied basketball programs that played in New Orleans showed that good-natured partisanship need not tear us apart.

The presence of both Duke and North Carolina was instructive. There are few rivalries in American sports that match that one, but when you get them beyond the eight miles of road that separate them, aided by the number of “blended” families arriving on the scene where one family member is in a Duke T-shirt and another is in a UNC T-shirt, the rivalry becomes more of a celebration of sport. To be sure, there were plenty of “I Still Hate Christian Laettner” shirts to be seen. But it perhaps helped the positive engagement between the two camps that Duke fans found willing takers for tickets to the Final in their nearby rivals. I myself helped facilitate a transaction between Duke ticket holders and a pair of childhood friends – one supporting UNC and one supporting Kansas – for tickets to the Final, and watched the streets of New Orleans on Monday turn a paler shade of blue.

Like many events that this publication has heralded over 25 years, the Final Four provides an excuse for annual reunions of classmates, friends and assorted sports travelers, such as the trio of Villanova alums I came across who started their careers in the same office in New York in the 1980s and have since scattered to different parts of the country, but make the Final Four their annual gathering point. Those gatherings have not happened in three years, and the presence of fans supporting other teams does not diminish their experience but rather enhances it. Indeed, I encountered the Villanova trio in a designated “Kansas” bar.

The pandemic has not only given us new appreciation for the ability to have these experiences once again, but also has engendered a renewed commitment to support local economies and those in the hospitality industry who have struggled over the last couple of years. These were all the precepts upon which SportsTravel was founded, and it is apparent 25 years later that the world can learn a lot from the passion and goodwill of sports tourists and their hosts.

I began this column with a shout-out to Abraham Lincoln, so I will close with a quote from the Abraham Lincoln character in “Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure” that can serve as a motto for sports-related travel for the next 25 years: “Be excellent to each other. And party on, dude!”

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

In the days since the passing of the legendary John Madden, well-deserved tributes and colorful stories have proliferated. It has been uplifting to read them all. But there may be one question that a younger generation — one that is familiar with Madden only as the namesake of the Madden NFL video game — is asking: What made this guy so great? If they wanted to do their research, they would of course find that he is the coach with the highest winning percentage in NFL history among coaches who have won at least 100 games. But how did he come to be regarded as the king of the hill among NFL broadcasters?

It is similar to the question that the Los Angeles Times asked in the first sentence of a story in the mid-1990s after Madden left CBS to sign with Fox Sports: “Is John Madden worth $8 million per year?” I loved Madden as a coach, as a pitchman and as a broadcaster, but it seemed to be a legitimate question at the time. It also seemed to be a question for which an answer would likely be elusive. How do you evaluate something like that? Yes, Fox was trying to establish itself as a sports broadcast network. So, to get credibility, the network had to go after the best, and knew that it may have to overpay to do so.

For me, the resounding answer to the question posed by the article came in one singular moment, on January 31, 1999, during Super Bowl XXXIII between the Broncos and the Falcons in Miami (which, incidentally, was John Elway’s last game). It was the second Super Bowl that Fox covered, after having signed not only John Madden but also the other half of the best ever NFL broadcast duo: Pat Summerall.

The Broncos took an early lead. The Falcons (coached by the late Dan Reeves) had another chance to get their offense going, trailing 10–3, after a Broncos field goal about six minutes into the second quarter. Before the first play on that possession, the Fox broadcast went to a crowd shot and focused on Calista Flockhart, at the time the title character of the Fox TV show “Ally McBeal.”  She was wearing a New York Yankees cap and chatting in an animated fashion with the guy sitting next to her (this was pre-Harrison Ford). The commentary proceeded as follows.

Summerall, in his usual understated fashion, says: “Under that hat, Ally McBeal.”

In comes John Madden: “You know, Ally was just saying — and what she is saying to that guy is: ‘Chris Chandler has only thrown three passes today. Every time on first down it’s been a run.’ And she thinks — Ally thinks — that right now would be a good time for Chandler to start passing, and specifically to start throwing some on first down.”

Summerall: “You really think that was the subject of their discussion?”

Madden: “Right here, right now, this play.”

The play unfolds and, indeed, the Falcons pass for the first time in the game on first down. Summerall: “Chandler drops, outside man is open, it’s Mathis,” as Terance Mathis catches the ball for a 15-yard gain.

Madden: “She’s amazing! That Ally McBeal is utterly amazing!”

Right there, right then, on that play, was the genius of John Madden. In one extemporaneous take, he simultaneously informed, entertained and plugged a Fox TV show. The ratings for “Ally McBeal” that season — the second of its five-year run — ended up being higher than for any other season it was on the air.

I don’t think Fox, like CBS before it, ever had any hesitation signing John Madden’s check.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

The Tokyo 2020 Olympics and Paralympics will be discussed and debated for years to come — whether they should have taken place at all, and the costs (in all respects) versus the benefits. The financial and health consequences of the Games are very real and will likely take a while to measure. However, going eight years without bringing the world together for a summer Olympics and inspiring a generation of young athletes and fans around the world would have had immeasurable negative effects as well. So, now that the Games did take place, I’m going to go all James Brown and focus on what I feel good about.

I feel good about the recognition that winning a silver or bronze medal does not mean that you lost gold. We learned that lesson from athletes who have experienced a full tray of medals. Katie Ledecky was grateful and pleased with her silver medal performance in the 400-meter freestyle swim. Allyson Felix was classy and inspirational as always in winning a bronze medal at age 35 in her fifth Olympics in the 400 meters (not to mention the exhilarating gold medal performance of the women’s 4×400 Dream Team). Simone Biles fought for a bronze on the balance beam even harder than she fought for gold on other occasions. I feel good that Biles reminded us that the athletes we watch are very human, that the margins of success are very thin, and that success can be defined as being the best you can be on a certain day.

I feel good that our men’s and women’s baseball and softball teams had a chance to play in what will be the only Olympic competition for their sports for a period of at least 20 years (2008 – 2028). A generation of baseball and softball players would not have had an Olympic experience unless these Olympics took place.

I feel good that 13-year-old skateboarders and 14-year-old divers were able to display their talents when they were in their “prime.” I feel good that Kevin Durant, whose commitment to the U.S. men’s basketball program has been unwavering, was able to step up and claim a third gold medal. I feel good that an athlete like Molly Seidel, running only her third marathon, rose to the occasion and claimed bronze. Who knows if in 3 years such a transcendent performance would have happened.

I feel good that exemplary sportsmanship was once again on display as high jumpers Gianmarco Tamberi of Italy and Mutaz Essa Barshim of Qatar agreed to share the gold medal rather than proceeding to a jump-off after they tied for first place. Gestures of good will and friendship mean more than ever in a world that seems to be cracking.

I feel good that although the Afghan Paralympic Team could not travel to Tokyo, two Afghan Paralympians were able to make it after being evacuated to France. And I feel especially good for all of the Olympians and Paralympians who were able to compete and display the skills they have spent a lifetime cultivating. In doing so, they brought joy to a global audience and allowed future Olympians to dream. It’s hard to overvalue that.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.

We survived for more than a year without sports — and more particularly, sporting events — as we used to know them. We first had to learn to live without any live sports at all. Then, largely with the help of the NBA, we became accustomed to watching live sports on TV from empty stadiums, arenas and playing fields, while the athletes who brought us back into the world of sports existed in the newest incarnation of a biosphere: the sports bubble.

As crowds trickled back into sports venues, we had a taste of the additional excitement and ambiance those fans brought, and the dynamic between players and fans was marginally reignited.  If you were lucky enough to go to a live sporting event in that period of time, you might have found, as I did, that the experience was not as unifying as it used to be. It instead revealed, among other things, the wide disparity in the interpretation of the phrase “actively eating and drinking.” I was in one arena that played a video tutorial on the large screen showing how to put your mask back over your mouth and nose immediately after eating a kernel of popcorn or taking a sip of a drink. It should not have been that hard.

But it does highlight what we have not yet fully brought back: The contribution by sports to the social fabric of our society.

For avid sports fans and sports travelers, many of our relationships and social networks are tied to sports.

One of the arguments continually advanced with regard to our children returning to school is they not only need to learn but they also need the socialization that the school environment provides. Adults are not that much different. And for avid sports fans and sports travelers, many of our relationships and social networks are tied to sports. While we have been able to watch sports and even attend sporting events, those relationships and networks had to take a back seat — or a virtual seat.

This brings us to the unfortunate news that, while the Olympics are scheduled to take place and will no doubt look compelling on TV, we will miss the gathering of the worldwide Olympic family over those 16 days. The closing ceremony of every Olympics includes the rallying cry for the “youth of the world to assemble,” four years hence. It is perhaps the most overt acknowledgment in sports that the events are not just about the competition but are also about bringing together people from all corners of the globe who share a common passion. With foreign spectators not being allowed in Tokyo, so much of that will be lost.

The same ethos that plays out at the Olympics also plays out at college football games, March Madness, the Indianapolis 500, or whatever your favorite sport gathering point is — where you reconnect with old friends, make new friends, share emotions and share a commonality of spirit.  The cutouts in the stands and the various drapings and set designs that characterized some sporting events in the last year made it look less obvious on television that something was amiss, but did not further the cause of social nourishment.

I have loved the competition, and I have been pleased that so many elite athletes — who have a limited peak performance window — have been able to showcase their talents during the pandemic. And I will certainly watch the Olympics. But for me, it will not be truly “normal” until people from all walks of life and all parts of the globe can gather, connect with each other and share the unbridled emotion and common spirit that makes sport such an important unifying element.

Bob Latham is a partner at the law firm Jackson Walker, L.L.P., and a World Rugby board member. A compilation of his best columns titled “Winners & Losers: Rants, Riffs and Reflections on the World of Sports,” is available for purchase at amazon.com.