Olympic Softball Remains Don Porter's Quest!

The rain drizzled and the air chilled on that dreary night of Aug. 21, 2008, in Beijing.

It was the end of something that had had such a nice beginning. It was a night when sadness was understandable, even while a group of Japanese women deliriously celebrated what they had just achieved.

Through the mist and gloom, Don Porter saw the glass half full, as usual.

In sports significance and popularity, what happened on this Olympian night didn't even make the scale of 1 to 10. This wasn't about a dream team, just a dream. This didn't have them buzzing at the water cooler back home — unless home was in Japan. Nobody was measuring network TV ratings or scrambling to get one of the stars on the "Today" show.

It was women's softball, the Olympic gold-medal game, the U.S. juggernaut versus Japan. It was played at Fengtai, a half-hour taxi ride from the heart of Beijing. The stadium seated 10,000 and it was filled. Bobby Valentine was there. So were more than the usual handful of International Olympic Committee officials. Some were there to support the show, others just to be the show.

In his office under the stands, Porter scurried and worried. It was a grand moment, the fourth gold-medal game over which he had presided as president of the International Softball Federation.

It was also his darkest time, because the fourth would be the last. At least for the foreseeable future.

Starting in 1996 in Atlanta, the Olympics had given Porter's sport a nice blip for two weeks, once every four years. They had created stars, who had created interest and role models for little girls. They had validated the hundreds of meetings and thousands of hours Porter had spent shaking hands, writing letters, doing interviews and hoping for exactly what had eventually happened.

On the field were the stars, watching in shocked disbelief as the Japanese and their pitching hero, Yukiko Ueno, celebrated. The runners-up were the women who had defined the game for the world while Team USA was going 32-5 in Olympic softball and winning the first three gold medals offered — in Atlanta, Sydney and Athens. Their names were Cat Osterman, Jennie Finch, Natasha Watley, Stacey Nuveman, Jessica Mendoza and Crystl Bustos, among others. Watching, undoubtedly, was UCLA's own Lisa Fernandez, who had retired from the gold-medal pursuit after leading her team to three of them. After Athens, the greatest female softball player ever got married and had a baby.

This group had won 22 Olympic games in a row until Ueno beat it that night, 3-1. She had pitched through the losers' bracket and a semifinal before beating the unbeatable. Her workload totaled 28 innings over two days, and nobody was yanking her out because of a pitch count.

Who needs testosterone? This was really true grit.

The drizzle and the mist hung overhead as Porter hovered nearby. IOC officials were presenting medals. Anita DeFrantz of Los Angeles was there. So was Dick Pound of Canada. Both were friends of softball. Also on hand was Jacques Rogge, president of the IOC and not so much a friend. His appearance at softball that night was either ceremonial necessity or chutzpah.

As far back as 2003, Rogge had led a movement to rid the Olympics of baseball and softball. Speculation as to his reasons included that these sports were all too much American and all too little European. Other kinder theories were that he and his backers were simply looking for more variety.

In one of the endless meetings and conclaves that the IOC has, the idea of dropping baseball and softball came to a vote and Rogge was defeated. The sports were retained, at least through Beijing. Rogge then broadened the concept by announcing that all Olympic sports would be reviewed. One can only imagine the fear and anxiety piercing the gymnastics federation.

Through it all, Porter lobbied, shook hands and worked the room at every IOC gathering. He is more politically savvy than confrontational. He disdains rants for logic.

In 2005 in Singapore, the IOC voted again. This time, softball lost, 52-52. Beijing would be its last hurrah. One more vote and Fernandez might be answering to "Coach" now and Bustos would be dreaming about how to crank one of her tape-measure homers off Ueno in London. Instead, as Finch called it the night of the final, softball took "a knife to the heart."

Porter says he never has learned who voted how. The IOC made the vote secret.

"The IOC was 112 members then," he says, "but some left the meeting early, some abstained and some recused themselves."

Softball tried again in Turin, Italy, in 2006 and lost, 47-43. Its next chance is in 2013 at meetings in Buenos Aires, for a return to eligibility in 2020. Porter says he will be there, fighting the good fight.

He is 81, born and raised in the Valley and a product of San Fernando and Canoga Park high schools. He played football for an undefeated team at East Los Angeles College that lost a spot in the Junior Rose Bowl when promoters opted for a Compton College team starring some guy named Hugh McElhenny. Porter went into the service, played military baseball in Korea, and was in a game against a group of traveling major leaguers that included Joe DiMaggio.

While he was starting a career in softball administration that has spanned nearly 50 years, Porter worked as an official for Big Eight Conference football and, for four years, the NFL.

"I remember working in one Rams game," he says, "and I got blindsided along the sidelines. I was out and when I came to, there was George Allen, telling me to get up, that they had a drive going."

The silver lining Porter saw that night in Beijing was that, if nothing else, the Japanese victory proved that Olympic softball was not merely a U.S. sport.

Mike Candrea, Team USA's coach, saw the same thing that night. More than an hour after perhaps his biggest professional disappointment, he stood in a dark, wet parking lot, surrounded by reporters, and keynoted the hope that might come from his despair.

"If this is what it takes to bring it back," he says, "then so be it."

These days, when Porter isn't traveling, he sits in his office at softball federation headquarters in Plant City, Fla., and occasionally glances at a box he keeps nearby. In it are printouts of more than 500 emails he has received since softball was cut from the Olympics. Most of them, he says, are from young girls who say their dream was taken away. Many ask him to keep fighting.

"We will," Porter says.

Article by Bill Dwyre - Los Angeles Times 2012

Cal Ripken's 2131 Night - The Night That Saved Baseball

Many things intrigue players and fans about the game of baseball they enjoy so much. One of these things is a record. A record in sports is defined as the known history of performance, activities, or achievement.
Many athletes say that records are "things that are made to be broken". However, one record in sports stands the test of time. A record so laborious that men in this day-in-age have a hard time imaging it.
A man by the name of Lou Gehrig set a record for the most consecutive games played in Major League Baseball at 2,130 games. Like many athletes say, records are made to be broken. This record was indeed broken. Broken on a magical night in the confines of Oriole Park in Camden Yards.
The light shined down on the stadium as the night edged into Baltimore on Sept. 6, 1995. A sea of orange and black crowded the seats as the players swarmed onto the field.
As Cal Ripken Jr. stepped onto the turf, the crowd went ablaze. As the sun settled down on the horizon, the fans rose up in their seats to congratulate their own hometown hero. Cal Ripken Jr. had just done what many believed could not be accomplished.
Finally, the last number of "2131" was released from the warehouse seen in the twilight of right field and a new record was set. This record, many have said, can and will never be broken. Cal Ripken Jr.'s consecutive games streak may be one of the hardest to grasp in all of sports.
Just imagine playing everyday for 2,632 straight games (that's the new record). That is tiring enough. In order to accomplish this task, you must do everything right. Avoiding injuries, always being prepared, and always going out with your heart in the game.
It's something that each and every one of us should stop and think about, because it's pretty extraordinary to say the least.
As a 15-year-old sports writer, I was not able to fully grasp the night back when I was just about to turn three. Now I look back at not only how it helped the Baltimore area, but also how it helped Major League Baseball as a whole.
For that night would live in the glory of the game and would never be forgotten by any baseball fan in our modern day society.
Back in 1994, the MLB was going through a tough stretch. A 232-day strike, which lasted from August 12, 1994 to April 2, 1995. This strike led to the cancellation of 931-948 games overall, including the postseason and World Series.
The Players Union continued to this until its final days, ruining the baseball world for a period of time. Because of this, attendance went down dramatically in stadiums throughout the nation (this would eventually lead to the Expos leaving Montreal).
However, during Cal's consecutive games streak, Camden Yards began to see more faces come out to the ballpark. His streak attracted attention throughout the baseball world and Ripken would soon recognize it.
He stated, "The streak has become my identity; it's who I've become."
From then on baseball slowly began to change. Some even go on to say that the streak was one of the things that saved baseball. Ripken's streak was not only one for himself, it was one for the city of Baltimore.
It was one for baseball.

By Lawrence Barreca (Bleacherreport.com) 2008

Sportsmanship: Is It Officially Dead??

Let’s be clear: Alex Rodriguez knew exactly what he was doing when he crossed Dallas Braden’s pitching mound during a Yankees/A’s game last week. Anyone who has played organized baseball at an eighth-grade level or beyond knows there are certain unwritten rules you don’t break without repercussion, and walking across the pitcher's mound when trotting back to first base after a foul ball is one of them.

And A-Rod’s repercussion is coming -- count on it.

But the Yankee slugger’s latest ego-trip outside the rules for mere mortals raises more important questions than just how arrogant one of MLB’s top stars really is. Sportsmanship: Is it dead? What is the point of these so-called unwritten rules? They exist in every sport, but why?

Sportsmanship: What happened to it?

Like it or not, the traditional notions of respect for the game (including the opponent) are dying. Perhaps they’re being replaced by subtler versions of equal value, but we’d say every absurd arrest, ostentatious celebration and NBA superstar barking on all fours argues otherwise.

Ever since big money started creating bigger reservoirs of self-regard, “me” has become the focus for a growing number of athletes. Less energy can be spared worrying about the team and even less for any concern requiring greater depth of thought.

The fall of sportsmanship: NFL and NBA already casualties

Both the NFL and NBA are faster paced, more emotionally charged leagues than MLB. It drives their popularity, but the visceral nature is a double-edged sword. The competitive juices sometimes get too hot and in their wake are some of our most egregious examples of sportsmanship’s demise. Combined, these leagues have given us the Ron Artest melee, Terrell Owens, Chad Ochocinco, Stephon Marbury, Vince Carter, and the list goes on.

Off the field, the story is even more gruesome yet -- for all his Draconian countermeasures, even Roger Goodell has been powerless to stop the decay. But what about the unwritten enforcers?

Their unwritten rules are different

These two more violent bedfellows do have some unwritten rules. The NBA’s unwritten rules say never pad your stats, don’t use full-court presses in blowouts, no threes once the margin gets too big, and others. Nevertheless, these are more like unwritten encouragements (i.e. the worst you’d get for breaking one is a little trash-talk), so who really cares?

The NFL’s oral agreements are more numerous, but they’re aimed at keeping players physically safe rather than the more trivial interests of congeniality and mutual respect. The one standard seems to be don’t run up the score, which encompasses stuff like don’t pass in a blowout, don’t go for two when the game is in hand, etc. Here again, however, we find an enforcement mechanism that lacks any serious teeth.

Baseball’s unwritten rules

For all its steroid warts and complaints about tepid action, professional baseball has an obvious and massive edge on its two most powerful competitors with regards to pastoral splendor. Much of the advantage can be attributed to the paramount importance its athletes place on sportsmanship and respect for the game.

The reverence isn’t innate; ballplayers don’t simply arrive in the Big Leagues with it intact.

That’s where its litany of traditional no-nos comes in to play and there are tons. A sample includes no sign-stealing; no excessive celebrating unless you’ve earned it (even then, it better be limited); no breaking up a no-hitter with a bunt unless situationally appropriate; no talking about a no-hitter after the fifth inning; no calling time-out in the middle of a pitcher’s windup; and no yelling at infielders trying to catch a pop-up.

Of course, the glue that holds it all together is the beanball, which is an acceptable form of retribution so long as it isn't at the head (which is never OK unless it’s return fire for the same offense).

Sportsmanship is about respect

Former player, manager and current broadcaster Bob Brenly once described baseball’s unwritten code as being about three things: “respect your teammates, respect your opponents and respect the game.”

You can see those strains running through almost every one of its unwritten rules.

And if you don’t agree, you’ll see 108 stitches coming at you.

Apparently, that’s more persuasive than a fine.

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