Who's laughing now?

Throughout their six seasons of life, the only positive claim the Charlotte Bobcats could make was: Well, at least we aren't the Clippers!

Still, they were a ragtag, patchwork team of rejects, misfits and unwanted players owned by a guy bold enough to name the team for himself (Bob Johnson), coached by basketball's No. 1 nomad (Larry Brown) and managed by a legend who hadn't seemed to be able to do anything right since he last donned sneakers (Michael Jordan).

When the team's name was uttered by many fans,"Charlotte" was often followed by "Hornets," their predecessors who had long ago moved to the Big Easy.

This season, their roster includes castaways like Boris Diaw(notes) (Phoenix), Tyson Chandler(notes) (New Orleans), Acie Law(notes) (Atlanta) and Nazr Mohammed(notes) (pick a team). And then there was the NBA's ultimate castaway/scoundrel, Stephen Jackson(notes), who brought so much baggage when the team obtained him from Golden State in November that the airline's "extra luggage" charge threatened to put to Bobs over the cap.

Playoffs? Please. It's always been 82-and-out for this franchise and no one thought any different, even as MJ and his general manager, former teammate Rod Higgins, shuffled seemingly marginal players in and out with little semblance of a clue or plan. And that was before they traded for Jackson.

But now, the Bob-castaways are legit. In fact they've been the league's best team in 2010 -- 9-1, which includes a six-win homestand sweep that ended with a science-class dissection of Dwyane Wade(notes) and the Miami Heat, 104-65.

They're 21-19 now and fifth in the East, atop the conference's "second-tier" teams Miami, Toronto and Chicago.

That the catalyst for change in Charlotte has been Jackson surprises no one. That such change has been positive might leave your mouth agape.

At 6-foot-8, Jackson starts at shooting guard and along with power forward Diaw, also 6-8, the duo presents opponents with "twins" who often switch places and are equally deft at playing either position. (Jackson, in fact, once pulled a "Magic," playing all five positions in one Warriors game.) If a team's top defender is charged with checking Jackson, small forward Gerald Wallace(notes), the team's best player throughout the lean seasons, can break out. Check Wallace and Jackson can explode.

The cohesion didn't happen immediately, but almost. The Bobcats lost their first three games after Jackson arrived, then went 18-10.

They were averaging 82.4 points per game BJ (Before Jackson); now they hit at a 97.7 clip.

Jackson is the Bobcats' leading scorer (20.9 ppg) and should be -- gulp! -- an All-Star this season.

But Jackson's been equally impactful in an area beyond the box score -- swagger.

The attitude that has always seemed on the precipice of exploding (the only player more associated with the infamous 2004 Pacers-Pistons brawl than Jackson is Ron Artest(notes)) has infused the Bobs with a new confidence.

But their swag is about to be severely tested. On Friday the 'Cats began a real-or-fraud road trip in Atlanta. They will also soon visit Denver, Phoenix, Portland and the Los Angeles Lakers. Those teams win 65 percent of their games. The Bobs were notoriously bad on the road pre-Jackson (they lost 13 of their first 14 and even became a rare notch on the Nets' belt). But since then, they've beaten Miami and Cleveland on the road.

Teams without swag don't do that.

That swag has given Charlotte, in fact, an identity.

One that is finally beginning to overshadow even MJ's prodigious shadow.

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- Photo courtesy: AP

Red flag on Roger Goodell. He blew the call.

The NFL commissioner says neither the Washington Redskins nor the Seattle Seahawks violated the Rooney Rule, requiring teams to interview non-white candidates for head coach and front-office vacancies. "I can assure you they have complied with the rule …" he told the Associated Press over the weekend. " … They've been in compliance."

I don't need to go under the replay camera hood to overturn that call. The Redskins may have complied with the letter of the rule by interviewing assistant coach Jerry Gray before Mike Shanahan signed his contract to become the team's new head coach. But they talked with him before firing head coach Jim Zorn, then hired Shanahan almost before Zorn had finished shaking hands on the way out.

Over the weekend, the Seahawks scrambled to talk with Minnesota Vikings assistant Leslie Frazier after it was clear the true object of their desire was USC coach Pete Carroll. (Whom they reportedly pursued before firing first-year head coach Jim Mora.)

Both teams should be smacked upside the head with $250,000 fines for thinking the rest of us are stupid. (In 2003 the Detroit Lions were fined $200,000 for violating the rule in hiring Steve Mariucci. … You see how that worked out for them.) If Seattle CEO Tod Leiweke can't lock down Carroll during their tete-a-tete on Sunday, do you honestly think they'll turn around and offer the job to Frazier, apparently the only other candidate they deemed worthy ("wink") of interviewing? Or will they proceed to talk with other candidates?

Like me, NBC analyst (and former Indianapolis Colts head coach) Tony Dungy believes Goodell is offsides on this one. "That is not what the Rooney Rule is supposed to be, [that] you make up your mind and then interview a candidate for it anyway just to satisfy the rule," Dungy (pictured with Lovie Smith after Super Bowl XLI in 2007) told the AP.

I tweeted my view on Saturday and got a firestorm of responses, running the range from  "You go!" to "You racist!" (I also suggested money from the fines should be used for programs that would develop and expose more non-white coaches to the people and processes who make key NFL decisions, similar to the camps hosted by the late former San Francisco 49ers had coach Bill Walsh. One enraged tweeter asked if I wanted to hang a "No whites allowed" sign outside camp. Haha!)

In truth the Redskins and Seahawks not only spit on the Rooney Rule, I'm not convinced the objects of their affection are the best coaches available. Sure, Shanahan and Carroll have A-list credentials. But how do the teams know they hired the best coach for them when they didn't bring in at least a handful of equally capable candidates before making a decision? It was as if it was last call and the teams grabbed for the prettiest girl left at the bar.

And black coaches aren't the only ones passed over. "The idea of the rule is to slow down the process and get teams to do their homework and investigate a lot of candidates, not just minority candidates," Dungy also told AP. "You went through the process, and in doing that sometimes you uncover people."

Instead the Redskins and Seahawks did zero work. My 15-year-old son could have come up with the names of Shanahan and Carroll. They went for the most high-profile guys available, guys who would give their moribund franchise, if nothing else, instant buzz and at least some for-the-moment credibility.

But did they get the best coach?

The Redskins may have overlooked the next Rex Ryan or John Harbaugh, neophyte head coaches who are now in the playoffs. As well as the next Jim Caldwell or Mike Tomlin, neophyte black head coaches; one has won a Super Bowl and the other coached perhaps the best team this season.

The Rooney Rule, when followed by the letter and the spirit, not only allows non-white candidates the opportunity to perhaps surprise a team during the interview process (as Tomlin did) but also affords them valuable exposure and experience.

It also gives white candidates – guys who may not be the prettiest, most obvious girl at the bar – a chance to prove they deserve a shot, as well.

When the Rooney Rule works, when it's respected, everybody wins.

When it's not, there should be consequences.

Too bad Goodell missed the call. I'm just throwing the red flag.

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AP photo 

"It wasn't until the Senior Bowl that [quarterback] transformed from glorified option to one of the primary options in the draft."

"Sometimes gets too confident in his running skills, forgetting to eye his secondary receivers in order to run with the ball when his primary target is not available."

"Although he is improving, [quarterback] has a long way to go as a passer at the next level. His mechanics are inconsistent … "

Those assessments were pretty standard thinking among pre-NFL draft prognosticators in their descriptions of Donovan McNabb, Michael Vick and Vince Young, each of whom happen to be African-Americans and who went on to be pretty good NFL QBs.

Now we have another young "black" QB, prime for the upcoming draft, who's being brushed with the same labels: Runs before throws. Forgets secondary receivers. Bad mechanics.

His name is Tim Tebow.

Like his "brothers" – or former Nebraska QB Scott Frost, who primarily played safety after being drafted by the Jets in 1998 – Tebow doesn't fit the mold the NFL trots out each year to describe its ideal QB. He is as much of a threat to run as pass, which can sometimes make a guy a one-hit goner (See: Miami QB Pat White). And often during his four years at Florida, he used his massive legs when, yes, there might have been a secondary or check-down option.

And even I know he throws funny – almost like the ball is too small for his massive hands or maybe he doesn't want to hurt someone by throwing it too hard. So he kind of sidearms the thing, which means an NFL lineman on his knees might bat it down.

I'll grant you all those truths, but none of them would sway me into trying to make the guy, say, a linebacker.

Tebow will find a way to be an above-average NFL QB. Not saying he'll be a perennial all-pro. But he won't be Alex Smith. Or, ahem, JaMarcus Russell.

He'll work, listen and grow his way through the scouting combine and pre-draft workout sessions, and he'll come to training camp like he did as a Gator freshman, prepared to sit behind an incumbent until called upon.

Tebow has gifts. Some tangible, very tangible to any defender who tried to tackle him. He also played on two national championship teams, won a Heisman (and was such a lock-on finalist the Downtown Athletic Club might accidentally invite him back next year) and as a starter perhaps played in more pressure games than any player in the history of college football.

But mostly, his assets are intangible: An ability to inspire and lead. To win.

For those there is no mold, which is why every NFL exec is wringing his hands over whether to go with the mold and risk passing on one of the most productive QBs of the next generation, or put their job on the line by tabbing him in either the first or second round.

Of course the mold has cracks, and it has worked against some black QBs.

"Well you can just see it. Just a flick of the wrist he can throw the ball 55-60 yards downfield, no effort … he can make a throw only a great athlete can make."

One NFL coach said that about Akili Smith, an Oregon QB who was subsequently taken with the No. 3 pick in the 1999 draft by the Cincinnati Bengals. In four years he started only 17 games, and is now preparing to earn his masters in theology and become a pastor.

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Photo by Reuters

A couple of economics geeks pimped the spotlight this week by announcing the results of a "study" they conducted, which concluded that the Tiger Woods saga may have cost shareholders of the companies he endorses (or endorsed: See Accenture and now AT&T, which has a "map" issue more than a Tiger issue.) "up to" $12 billion.

I presume researchers Victor Stango and Christopher Knittel of the University of California, Davis, did all of this with a straight face while chuckling "gotcha" at the flurry of coverage the findings received. The low side of their estimate was $5 billion (a figure conspicuously omitted from most stories and headlines). And they did acknowledge their study – which looked at the companies' stock prices in the 13 days after Woods crashed his car outside his home – had a "particularly large" margin of error.

But two major flaws should be noted:

First, relative to the combined revenues of the companies, $12 billion is akin to Woods losing his wallet at a mall. (The researchers acknowledge their totals represent only a 2.3 percent drop.) Losing the cash hurts but he'd still be able to eat.

Also, to ascribe the totality of the losses in stock price solely to the saga neglects all the other factors that affect stock price – such as revenue, etc. Sure, much of a stock's value is based on the perception of its future value but perception does not account for 100 percent of any change in value (after all, while one person is selling, another is buying.)

All that said, Woods' "stock" (his value in the marketplace of public appeal) clearly has taken a Lawrence Taylor-type hit. If he were a stock listed on the NYSE, you might be thinking Enron – toxic beyond salvaging.

So do you sell? Buy? Or hold?

History may provide a clue. Starting with Martha Stewart. On the day in 2004 when the CEO of Martha Stewart Omnimedia was found guilty of obstruction of justice and lying to the government about her sale of another stock, the price of MSO fell 22 percent to $10.86. Less than a year later, it had surpassed $35.

What about in sports?

Perhaps the biggest collapses of late have involved baseball and steroids. Three names come to mind: Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez. Of the three, only A-Rod's "stock" has rebounded. Why? Because he a) did the public mea culpa and requisite apology (whether you believed him or not) and b) performed extremely well this season, helping to lead the Yankees to a World Series title.

Clemens and Bonds have done neither. If you didn't sell their "stock," you're stuck with dogs.

Throughout sports history the "stocks" of Ben Johnson, Tonya Harding and Pete Rose took precipitous drops. Johnson and Harding have all but been liquidated, while Rose holders are probably hanging on for sentimental value (and some thin hope that he will still someday wind up rightfully in the Hall of Fame).

The summer of 2003 saw the stock of one of the NBA's biggest young stars fall to the brink of bankruptcy. Kobe Bryant was accused of sexual assault by a 19-year-old Colorado hotel employee and endured a trial of OJ-like proportions. (OJ's "stock"? Hard to believe it was ever high at all.) Like Tiger, some companies abandoned him while other's chose to "hold." Now (the case was eventually dismissed), Kobe is a global icon whose marketplace value has never been higher.

In golf, John Daly's "stock" suffered several rock-like drops as he battled alcohol and marital problems, and never reached the level it once achieved.

So what are prospects for Tiger's "stock?" I'd say definite "hold" (if you're already in the fold) or "buy." (If you're Verizon or another AT&T competitor.)

America loves a comeback. And like A-Rod and Bryant, Woods has an opportunity to revive his "stock." First by following their lead and stepping into the light of scrutiny and telling us what is in his heart rather than pinging us through his website. And secondly by winning golf tournaments again, by re-engaging his assault on Jack Nicklaus' record for major victories.

In fact, Woods should make his "indefinite" hiatus from golf definite and announce he will return in time to play in the Masters. (That would require him playing in perhaps two tournaments prior.) He should purge himself before the cameras, then head directly to the first tee.

It might become the most watched moment in Masters history. And should he be in contention on Masters Sunday, well, "Tiger" shareholders will be seeing green again.

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UPI Photo.

If I told you a quarterback completed on average more than 6 in 10 passes, threw for 20 TDs (with only 6 INTs) and led his team to a 14-2 record, I wouldn't get much argument that he should at least be in the discussion for NFL MVP.

Vince Young has started only eight of the Tennessee Titans' games, but those would be his numbers if you extrapolated his stats (62 percent completions, 10 TD, 4 INTs and seven victories) over an entire season. Moreover after being inserted as the starter on Nov. 1, with the team at the depths of an 0-6 record, Young has the Titans toying with making the playoffs.

So why isn't he being touted as a worthy MVP candidate?

Sure, Peyton Manning is the likely choice (pulling ahead of Brett Favre when the Minnesota QB fired his ugly side at head coach Brad Childress like a 60-yard howitzer). But Young is as worthy as San Diego's Philip Rivers and Drew Brees of New Orleans, and should not be penalized because of the number of games he played.

Or didn't play.

Blame Jeff Fisher for that. The Titans' head coach was as stubborn as Senate Republicans as the team's season got off to a start for the ages – the dark ages. Loss after ignominious loss occurred  – 59-0 to New England! – as Fisher all but refused to pull Kerry Collins. No, the losses could not all be pinned on the QB but something had to be done – if for no reason other than to discern whether the team's most significant investment since Steve McNair (Young as a No. 3 NFL draft pick in 2006) could even play, let alone be the team's future leader.

No need to recount how far Young had fallen - from being booed off the field at the start of last season to the fears that he might have been suicidal one afternoon to the self-doubt that led Young to question whether he still wanted to play the game. That tale makes him the NFL's unquestioned Comeback Player, but he's more than that.

Some argue Young's teammate, the "sick" talented (as my 12-year-old daughter would say) running back Chris Johnson, should be in the MVP hunt. No doubt his gargantuan numbers (1,730 yards and 20 runs of 20-plus yards – nine more than any other back) make him worthy. But consider this:

Johnson played during the 0-6 start, and if the Titans had continued on that path, Johnson would be Steven Jackson, a great back on an abysmal team.

The only reason Johnson is in the MVP discussion is that the Titans are winning.

And they're winning because of Vince Young.

Because he emerged from the near ashes as a smarter QB, better able to go through his reads and make brighter decisions. His quarterback rating (92.5) is by far the highest of his career and in the middle of the pack among his peers, a tad higher than Kurt Warner's and just behind Donovan McNabb's.

The Titans must win out, starting with a true test against San Diego on Friday night. Should they win,and ultimately reach the postseason, Young should not only be in the discussion, he just might be the final word.

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AP photo

I don't care who he talks to -- Bryant Gumbel, "60 Minutes," Robin Roberts, Oprah, Larry King. Or me! OK, I do care, please don't talk to Larry King.

Whoever snares the first Tiger Woods interview will consider it a career-boosting coup. But whom he spills to, or even what he says, isn't as important as what must happen now: Tiger must come out of hiding.

He needs to walk out the front door of his now-infamous and certainly lonely mansion, or bring his yacht in to port and stride confidently toward his car and just do something.

Tiger would be well-advised to avoid nightclubs, parties or any place infested by pretty young things with little else going for them. Better yet, the age doesn't matter. In fact, Tiger doesn't need to be seen with any woman other than his mother for a bit.

But he should go to the mall. Go get gas -- it worked for Elin. Go to a Magic game, a restaurant or a church, perhaps.

He should call his boys back. MJ. Charles. Federer. He should call Kobe, A-Rod and John Daly and get some advice, for goodness sakes.

In short, it's time for Tiger to start living again.

It's been a month since we've seen the world's biggest and richest celebrity/pro athlete. It's no doubt been the worst month of his very-blessed life. Through no one's fault but his own, he's lost his wife, perhaps his kids, millions of dollars and the respect of countless people who had placed him on a pedestal because of the magic he wields with a golf club.

He's the object of scorn and a gift to joke writers everywhere.

Tiger's month stunk.

Still, it's time, Tiger. Time to pick yourself up, deal with the sloppy mega-mess you made and move on.

One of my golfisms is that it's less important that you hit a bad shot than what you do with your next shot.

Your last month has been one big, funky shank. Into the woods. In the water. Out of bounds. Worse, actually.

But hey, Tiger, now it's time to take your next shot.

Come out and play! And I'm not talking about golf. Talkin' about life.

Often you were able to overcome a miscue with a miraculous recovery, the kind of only-Tiger-could-do-this shot that lives on forever. But you've got to play this one like the rest of us would play a ball stuck behind a tree: You've got to take your medicine. Just punch out to the fairway and get yourself back in play.

Staying in the woods gets you nowhere.

Sure, there'll be the requisite high-profile interview and an open press conference in which you'll have to face all comers with honesty and contrition.

There should also be a closed-door "town-hall" session with the young people whom you've supported, inspired and now very much let down through the Tiger Woods Foundation. Frankly, what you say to them is vastly more important than what you say to us.

But before doing all that, before all the apologies and explanations, go bowling. Hold your head up humbly and start living your very different life again.

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Photo courtesy Boston Herald

They're almost gone, those insipid, demeaning Native American caricatures permeating sports.

In 2005, the NCAA told 18 colleges (two others were later added) they might be prevented from wearing their colors and displaying their logo at NCAA championship events if they did not eliminate offending logos and mascots. (Unfortunately, pro sports commissioners have not shown the guts to demand that owners such as Dan Snyder of the Washington Redskins or Paul Dolan of the Cleveland Indians shed franchise nicknames stuck in another era.)

One tribe is actually fighting to save its portrayal as the mascot of the University of North Dakota. The New York Times recently chronicled the efforts of members of a Sioux tribe in the state which sued to prevent UND from dropping the name.

Why? Because it made them feel proud.

"I am full blood and I grew up on this reservation," one 57-year-old Sioux was quoted as saying.  "I have to tell you: I am very, very honored that they would use the name."

On Wednesday, a North Dakota district-court judge heard both sides in the dispute and said he would rule before Christmas.

Any merits or unique passions the Sioux might offer in their argument still do not justify the Neanderthal use of Native American names or likenesses as sports nicknames or mascots — use that "celebrates" entire nations with tired stereotypes. That won't change even if the Sioux gain a victory their case.

The Fighting Sioux of UND may be portrayed in a manner the suing Sioux deem to be uplifting. But every time I see a tomahawk chop or hear a stadium roar in a faux-Indian chant or see someone ride out on the field dressed in an Native American-inspired outfit while donning "war paint," my stomach turns a bit.

For all the progress we've made in this nation, such trivial displays once again remind me that perhaps we haven't come very far at all.

I attended a school that years ago called itself the Indians. Yes, everyone associated with Stanford at that time was "proud" of the mascot and imagery. But saner minds prevailed long ago and now we're a color: the Cardinal. Not the bird, for those who didn't know (and may have wondered now that a Cardinal, Toby Gerhart, is a Heisman finalist), but the color. (Our mascot is a tree, not a crayon.)

But we're just as proud, and we cheer just as loudly, as previous generations did for the Indians.

The world did not stop spinning on its axis when the school changed its nickname. Nor will it when some of the universities and franchises which so staunchly hold on to their "tradition" abandon the insulting imagery.

Right now, we're raising another generation that believes it's OK to use a tomahawk chop as a rallying gesture, instead of teaching them of the truly proud people who were here before any of us and who deserve to be better remembered and celebrated.

Photo courtesy University of North Dakota

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Just because I can hit a golf ball, baseball or tennis ball doesn't mean I should raise your kids.

Of course, I'm paraphrasing Charles Barkley. He tried to tell us 16 years ago, in an infamous Nike commercial, that athletes should not be viewed as role models.

I'm paid to wreak havoc on the baseball field, the tennis court, the golf course ...

But did we listen? Of course not. In fact, many of you blasted Barkley. Filled with righteous indignation, you charged: How dare he?! Athletes are role models, and they should act in a way that sets examples for our kids.

So can we drop that silly notion now? Can we squash it once and forever, as if it were a roach scurrying across the floor?

Just within the last 12 months, myriad iconic athletes exhibited the kind of human failings some people still think only you and I are supposed to show. Among the most noted:

... Alex Rodriquez admitted, after being exposed by a reporter, that he yielded to temptation and took steroids.

... Andre Agassi confessed in his aptly named autobiography "Open" that he used crystal meth in an effort to deal with the pain and turmoil in his career and marriage.

.. And Tiger's "transgressions" are now known to the world.

Each revelation produced waves of anger and sadness. Anger that we'd been "duped" again by someone we'd placed on a pedestal because of their athletic gifts; sadness because they "let us down" and did not live up to the standards we set for them. "But he had such a perfect image," a radio host said to me today during an on-air discussion about Tiger.

Sure, each of them worked as hard to craft a spit-shined image as they did to hone their gifts. And each surely profited handsomely from that image.

But that pedestal thing? Our fault.

A-Rod remains the best baseball player alive; Agassi one of the greatest (and yes, most beloved) tennis players ever; and Tiger is still the world's best golfer, maybe the best ever.

Role model? Please.

Both my kids have athletes they admire and root for. My son has enough jerseys to open a sporting goods franchise.

But they are very clear: None of those men are their father or mother.

None of them are their uncles and aunts and cousins.

None of them are the numerous men and women in our town whom they know as hard-working and loving and, yes, human.

I am not a role model. I am not paid to be a role model.

Thank goodness.

Are we all clear now?

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Blame Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco. Their performances last season as rookie QBs - leading Atlanta and Baltimore to surprising berths in the playoffs (the Ravens even reached the AFC championship game) - seemingly made plenty of otherwise intelligent football people forget just about everything they knew about young quarterbacks.

Particularly that they should be nurtured and seasoned, marinated even, before being thrown into the den of hungry wolves. The traditional recipe for quarterback success: at least a year beneath a headset on the sideline, combined with steady work in the classroom and on the practice field and spiced with a dose of mentoring, preferably from a veteran who does not feel threatened by the young buck's presence.

Sure there've been exceptions. Always are in sports. But the latest ones - Ryan and Flacco - did not disprove the rule as great football minds seem to have surmised.

We've been reminded of this by this season's plethora of neophyte signal-callers who've more typically played more like runaway tots in mommy's car than savvy QBs. They know how a car operates, in theory, after watching mommy drive; but once they push the pedals, get hold of the wheel and the thing takes of, well, you've seen the video. Chaos ensues.

Painful doesn't even begin to describe what it's been like to watch some of the young guns this season. The Chicago Bears' fourth-year slinger, Jay Cutler, and  New York Jets rookie QB Mark Sanchez lead the NFL in interceptions with 18 and 16, respectively. Sanchez (above) looked like a skittish, terrified kitten on the West Side Highway in the waning minutes of his 4-INT debacle against New England on Sunday. And Cutler (below), who threw five picks against San Francisco two weeks ago, looks as if he's being punished by the football gods for his arrogant stance that got him traded from Denver.

Throw Oakland's JaMarcus Russell, now in his third season, into the ugly mix, along with his 47.7 QB rating, and here's hoping Tampa Bay rookie QB Josh Freeman (3 starts, 5 INTs) survives reasonably unscathed.

Detroit Rookie Matt Stafford, like Sanchez, shows promise (he threw 5 TDs in the Lions' wacky 38-37 win over Cleveland on Sunday) and mettle, playing through a bad shoulder. But there's be no Ryan-Flacco playoff surge. Not this season and maybe not for several more.

Perhaps the most overlooked success of the season is Miami QB Chad Henne. He played in only three games last season after being picked in the second round of the 2008 draft. Instead he watched as another Chad, Pennington, led a surprising Dolphin turnaround, into the playoffs. Henne has started seven games this season, after Pennington was knocked out for the year practically before getting his uniform dirty. He hasn't set the stat book afire but he's kept the Dolphins (5-5) steady postseason contenders.

Of course the thinking is that these young players are paid too much to sit, and that the best learning is by doing. Understood. But both the Jets and the Bears must be mindful of the psyche of their young players, both of whom have been declared the unquestioned future of their franchises.

But what of the now? Jets rookie coach Rex Ryan boldly declared at the start of the season that the Jets were going to the playoffs. (Though one asked him exactly which season he was referring to. And there's not a knowledgeable football fan alive who didn't think the Bears were a lock for the postseason when they plucked Cutler from the Broncos.)

Perhaps the Jets and Bears would not have fared better with more seasoned QBs under center but right now 2009 is a "lost" season for both teams, especially the veterans who came into the year believing better was in store.

But you've got to think many of these green QBs would have benefited from a season on the sideline, under the headset, safe from harm.

Or at least you would have had it not been for Ryan and Flacco.

Photos by Reuters and AP

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Toby Gerhart is not the best player on the best team in the country. He plays for Stanford, for goodness sakes. (Hey, it's my alma mater, so I can say that.)

And he's not a quarterback. He's a 6-foot-1 running back.

Nowhere on the Heisman Trophy does it say that the coveted, annual award goes to the best player on the best team in the country. And it certainly doesn't say it automatially goes to the best quarterback on one of the best teams.

Yet that's what the award has become, with voters seemingly unwilling to work hard enough to discern which player is truly most deserving, based on the criteria outlined by the award's caretakers. Only once in the past nine seasons has the iconic trophy gone to a player who doesn't line up under center - in 2005 when Reggie Bush copped it.

Need a refresher on the Heisman's real criteria? Here you go:

The award "annually recognizes the ouststanding college football player whose performance best exhibits the pursuit of excellence with integrity. Winners epitomize great ability combined with diligence, perseverance, and hard work."

Right now that player is Toby Gerhart.

On Saturday, the senior ran for 178 yards and three touchdowns in the Cardinal's stunning 55-21 win over No. 11 USC at the Coliseum in Los Angeles. (By now I'm sure you've heard that the double-nickels was the most points ever scored against the vaunted Trojans. Ever.)

Gerhart carried the ball 29 times, which was essentially an easy night for him.

The previous Saturday against then No. 8 Oregon he carried the ball 38 times, rushed for 224 yards and another three touhdowns.

In 10 games, Gerhart is averaging 26 carries and 140 yards. He has 19 of the Cardinal's 28 rushing TDs. He's ranked third in the nation in rushing, behind Ryan Mathews of Fresno State and Donald Bukram of UTEP. 

After back-to-back Goliath thwackings, the Cardinal stand 7-3, and 6-2 in the Pac-10, which puts them in the hunt for the Rose Bowl. Stanford has tread there only once (in 2000) since 1973.

Other viables?

Tim Tebow, of course, Until he leaves college ball (or until Florida loses), he'll be he default pick based on the best-player, best-team theory.

Alabama's Mark Ingram may be the favorite. His Tide are a solid No. 2 (at least), but statistically he trails Gerhart in rushing, averaging 10 fewer yards per game and nine fewer TDs. Should he get edge because his team is better?

Texas QB Colt McCoy? Great college player and has had solid year. But he's so last season.

Clemson RB C.J. Spiller? He's a great all-around, all-purpose player. But in the latest rankings the Tigers are lower than the Cardinal. 

Another dark horse? Maybe Boise State QB Kellen Moore. He's got 32 TDs and only three interceptions for the undefeated and No. 6-ranked Broncos. He's also the nation's leader in passing efficiency, whatever that means. Especially in the WAC.

Bottom line:

In a season with no obvious favorite, who best epitomizes the traits outlines by the Heisman braintrust? Toby Gerhart.

And oh, did I tell you that he's a double major in Mechanical Science and Engineering?

My bad. I know off-field performance isn't supposed to count. But I'm just sayin'

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