Boo-Hoo: Crying Crybabies In Sports

Professional athletes, just like Clint Eastwood or Ving Rhames, should not be crying. 

Sports figures are suddenly the softest people on the planet. They win, they cry. They lose, they cry. They let down their team, they cry. They retire, they cry. 

We have long seen the days since Vito Corleone whacking a young, bawling Johnny Fontaine in the face during the opening scenes of "The Godfather" (1972) and telling him to, "act like a man." 

Apparently in today's world, "acting like a man," is sobbing through your $20,000 sunglasses about how much you back your quarterback, like Terrell Owens did after the Eagles demolished the Cowboys last season. 

What has the world come to when one sees Adam Morrison, while at Gonzaga, whimpering on the court while watching the waning moments of his college career evaporate against UCLA? The game was still going on, with Gonzaga only needing a basket to win the game. No wonder Morrison sucks so much in the NBA. 

Professionals have to keep their emotions in, right? Well, not so much these days. Derek Fisher, playing guard for the Los Angeles Lakers at the time, cried like a baby during the last seconds the 2003 Western Conference Finals as his team was eliminated by the San Antonio Spurs. This is everywhere. 

Granted, I can definitely forgive retirements. Bobby Orr and Mike Schmidt both shed tears during their retirement speeches, and Bruce Smith, former defensive end for the Buffalo Bills, did as well when he was inducted into the Hall of Fame. 

Brett Favre cried after his supposed retirement after the 2007 season, but I have a suspicion now that was only because he's a waffling pansy. 

Crying is very acceptable in sports today, which is odd considering why we value athletes in society. 

We grow up admiring champions like a Tom Brady or Kobe Bryant. Isn't it because they represent the ultimate man? Brady and Bryant, just two examples, are fiery competitors. They lead teams that constantly dominate the competition, they break records and they are tough in the face of adversity.

These two men come in a long line of hardened, disciplined athletes like Gordie Howe, Johnny Unitas, and Joe Dimaggio. They were classy, they rarely showed emotions, they never complained, and they won championships by the handful. 

When athletes cry, it might make them look more human. It might allow them to show emotions that they have wouldn't have been able to show otherwise. But it also brings them down a level. 

I don't want my athletic idols to be like the people I know. I want them to be larger than life. I want them to be tougher than me, more disciplined then me. I could care less about emotions.

One of the most disappointing sports moments of my lifetime was watching Morrison break down during the end of that game. 

If you don't remember the guy, he was the long-haired, pure-shooting, diabetic player who led the NCAA in scoring his last college season. Interesting tidbits kept coming out about his life as the season wore on: he was a hard-core fan of System of a Down, he always looked like he was playing on a combination of about four different uppers, he smoked two packs a day and he had a mustache like an amateur porn actor. 

All in all, this was a man who should have taken the torch from John Stockton as the little, white guard who hustles every game. But when Morrison cried at the end of that game, he was never an effective player again. A coincidence? Probably a stretch, but it still makes me angry.