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Motte met his future wife, Caitlin, during the summer of 2008 when he saved nine games and struck out 110 hitters in 67 innings as a Memphis Redbird. They chose to make their home in Memphis, a decision made easier by the proximity to St. Louis, where Motte will soon be playing his fourth season. This winter, Motte has trained with coach Daron Schoenrock’s Memphis Tigers (two members of the team played at St. Benedict at Auburndale, where Caitlin teaches). He heads to Jupiter, Florida, for spring training later this month and will go with fond memories of an unlikely championship.

The Cardinals trailed the Atlanta Braves by 10 1/2 games for the National League’s final playoff spot in late August. They trailed Philadelphia, two games to one, in a best-of-five division series, and then lost their first game to Milwaukee in the National League Championship Series. Then, of course, they fell behind Texas, three games to two, in the Fall Classic. St. Louis was down to its final strike in Game 6 . . . twice.

“We were down so big,” Motte reflects. “We decided that we were going to play the game hard, give it everything we have. If we won the ball game that day, that’s good. But if we lost, it wasn’t going to be for lack of effort. I still get chills talking about it. While you’re doing it, you don’t really think about it. You’re just out there playing the game. If one out of a hundred things didn’t go the right way, from August 25th on, we’re not sitting here talking about us winning the World Series. There was a game in September when Adron Chambers was called up [from Memphis] and he had a big triple. Little things like that.”

Motte, 29, has a special appreciation for the comeback nature of last year’s Cardinals, as he gave up what could well have been a Series-winning home run to the Texas Rangers’ Josh Hamilton in the 10th inning of Game 6. “I had someone ask me what I would have done if Lance Berkman hadn’t tied the game again [in the bottom of the 10th],” says Motte. “Well, I would have packed my stuff up and gone home. What would you want me to do? Go jump off the arch?”

Wound rather tight, Motte found himself oddly calm when he took the mound in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 7, three outs away from every baseball player’s dream. “There was adrenaline, and I was excited,” he says. “But I wasn’t going to try and do more than I was capable of doing. I couldn’t get a double play with nobody on. I just wanted to make every pitch count. That was our attitude as a team. ”

The Cardinals, of course, have managed to make as much news during the offseason as they did in winning the World Series. Hall of Fame-bound manager Tony LaRussa announced his retirement three days after the Series victory (his third as a manager, second in St. Louis). Hall of Fame-bound first baseman Albert Pujols defected to the Los Angeles Angels (where he’ll earn $240 million over the next decade). And new manager Mike Matheny learned last month that venerable pitching coach Dave Duncan is stepping down to help his wife in her battle with cancer. Derek Lilliquist takes over as the Cardinals’ new pitching coach.

“With Albert, it’s just part of the game,” says Motte. “He got a good deal. You can’t say he’s not worth that money. But we’ve got some good additions, and Berkman’s back. [Rafael] Furcal is back. With Tony being gone . . . he’d been doing it 33 years. If you’re going to go out, go out on top like he did.

“[Mike Matheny] is a great dude. He knows the game of baseball; he’s qualified for the job. Lilliquist has been around Duncan, so I think the philosophy is going to be about the same. He’s not gonna come in and tell us to stand on our head and pitch. We throw when we’re asked to throw. I pitched in the third inning once last year, and I pitched in the 12th.”

Pujols’ departure will leave a void not only on the field, but in a clubhouse, one that developed the character of a championship team before any champagne was sprayed last fall. “We’ve got a good group of guys back,” says Motte. “The people we had last year — off the field — were special. We have Berkman back, Matt Holliday, Adam Wainwright, Chris Carpenter, Yadi. Everyone got really close; you got a chance to see the way things should be. The front office gets those kind of guys, good players but also good people. I think we’ll be just fine in the clubhouse.”

Last month, the Cardinals and Motte agreed on a one-year contract that will pay the pitcher $1.95 million in 2012, more than quadrupling his salary from the championship season. Despite a championship ring, a raise, and the seismic turnover in personnel, Jason Motte approaches the upcoming season precisely as baseball players are trained: a new start. “Our goal is the same,” he says. “To win the World Series. When we step out to play the Miami Marlins on Opening Day [April 4], everybody starts at zero. Last year was great, but once the season starts, it’s all about getting better.”

Photograph by Allison Rhoades

I love dissecting Super Bowl angles as the first Sunday in February approaches. Here are a few to enhance your viewing pleasure when the Patriots and Giants get it on.

(A note before we begin. I find it tiring when I read Super Bowl stories in which Roman numerals are in every third line. Quick: Who was the hero of Super Bowl XXIII? If I asked you who was the hero after the 1988 season, you’re much more likely to remember Joe Montana’s game-winning drive. When I make a reference to a specific Super Bowl, it will be the season for which that Super Bowl determined the champion. Green Bay beat Kansas City in the first Super Bowl after the 1966 season. Super Bowl XLVI will decide the champion for the 2011 season. And so on.)

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• Not only will this Sunday’s game be a rematch of the epic Super Bowl four years ago (where are you, David Tyree?), but it will be only the third time franchises with at least five Super Bowl appearances have met. Dallas beat Pittsburgh in 1995 and Green Bay beat the Steelers last year. The Patriots’ seven Super Bowl appearances are now third among NFL teams, behind only the Cowboys and Steelers (eight each).

• Over the course of the first 13 Super Bowls, six of the games featured a pair of starting quarterbacks bound for the Hall of Fame (Dawson/Starr, Staubach/Griese, Griese/Tarkenton, Bradshaw/Tarkenton, and Bradshaw/Staubach twice). Over the last 32 Super Bowls, only four can claim such a match-up (Montana/Marino, Montana/Elway, and Aikman/Kelly twice). This will change, of course, as players not yet eligible for the Hall are enshrined (two examples: Elway/Favre in 1997 and Peyton Manning/Brees in 2009).

Tom Brady has been a first-ballot Hall of Famer for a few years now. And if Eli Manning wins a second Lombardi Trophy, he’ll have Canton in his sights. (The only quarterback to win two Super Bowls and not gain Hall induction when eligible is the Raiders’ Jim Plunkett.) Making things extra juicy, this is only the third quarterback rematch in Super Bowl history (Terry Bradshaw beat Roger Staubach twice and Troy Aikman did the same to Jim Kelly). But it’s the first rematch between quarterbacks who have each been named Super Bowl MVP. (Bradshaw earned the honor in 1978 when he beat Staubach — MVP in ’71 — in their rematch.)

• Brady will join John Elway as the only quarterbacks to start five Super Bowls. And should he win, he’ll be just the third to earn four rings (after Bradshaw and Montana). So he’s in the conversation about “greatest quarterback of all time.” For all his championships, Bradshaw doesn’t earn much love in this debate, having won his titles for teams remembered largely for the defense they played.

Thankfully, football historians don’t call upon career stats when debating the greatest signal-callers. (Vinny Testaverde passed for more yardage and touchdowns than did Montana.) Before we narrow the debate of greatest QB to Montana and Brady, though, I’d ask you to remember some great football was played before the first Super Bowl. And two legends deserve a mention here. Johnny Unitas won four championships for his Baltimore Colts and Otto Graham won an astounding seven titles for the Cleveland Browns in the Forties and Fifties (the first four in the All-America Football Conference, an early competitor to the NFL). If you asked me to rank these titans, I’d go with (1) Unitas, (2) Montana, (3) Brady, (4) Graham.

• The Giants are the third team to finish the regular season 9-7 and reach the Super Bowl (after the 1979 Rams and 2008 Cardinals). But they’re the first to do so having been 7-7 at one point. Which means New York has essentially won five straight elimination games on its way to Indianapolis.

• This factoid may interest only me, but worth sharing. The AFC is 4-10 in Super Bowls played under a roof. Two of those four wins, though, belong to New England (2001 and 2003).

• He’s as crusty as they come, and dresses like a 7th-grader, but Bill Belichick has established credentials almost beyond compare in the Super Bowl era. Should he win a fourth Lombardi Trophy, he’ll stand alongside Pittsburgh’s Chuck Noll as the only two coaches to do so. But Noll accumulated his rings over the course of merely six seasons, loaded with Hall of Famers — Bradshaw, Harris, Greene, Stallworth, Lambert, Ham, Blount, Swann, Webster — who played for all four teams. That dynasty essentially repeated three times, with a short interruption.

If Belichick wins Sunday, his four championships will have come over 11 seasons, with Brady the only linchpin throughout. An entire NFL roster will have been turned over (around a brilliant quarterback) under the same coach, with championship results. And were it not for that helmet-catch by Tyree four years ago, Belichick might have a fifth ring and an undefeated season on his resume. He stands to join a category of one.

• The pick: For me it comes down to the weapons at the disposal of the star quarterbacks. I’m convinced New England’s record-setting tight end, Rob Gronkowski, will be a shadow of himself as he nurses a severely damaged ankle. Wes Welker and Aaron Hernandez are valuable targets for Brady, but they’ll be easier marks for the Giant defense with Gronkowski diminished.

In addition to having the superior defense (end Jason Pierre-Paul is my dark horse for MVP), the Giants’ offensive weapons are healthy and peaking. Running backs Ahmad Bradshaw and Brandon Jacobs. Wideouts Victor Cruz, Hakeem Nicks, and Mario Manningham. Eli Manning likes this stage. With that many weapons, you can’t bet against him. GIANTS 34, PATRIOTS 20

AFC: Baltimore at New England

• In watching Tom Brady shred Denver’s defense last Saturday night (six touchdown passes), you got the impression that the future Hall of Famer was making a point. His 5,235 passing yards this season surpassed the record Dan Marino set 27 years ago, but was merely second in the NFL this season to the Saints’ Drew Brees. Brady tossed 39 touchdown passes in 2011, the second-most in his 12-year career, but all we read about before Saturday was the new Tim Tebow world in which we all now live. If New England wins Sunday, Brady will become only the second quarterback (after John Elway) to start five Super Bowls. He has the chance to become the third quarterback (after Terry Bradshaw and Joe Montana) to win four Super Bowls. And as for Tebow, it turns out legend trumps cult in January.

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• You have to wonder if the bust Bill Belichick eventually gets at the Pro Football Hall of Fame will include a hood. I’ll never get used to seeing a leader of grown men do his thing in the same outfit you might find on a bench-dweller in Boston Common. It’s always been about results, though, with the Patriot coach. Like Brady, Belichick will join an exclusive club with a win over Baltimore. Only Don Shula (with the Baltimore Colts and Miami) and Tom Landry (with Dallas) have coached in five Super Bowls. And only Pittsburgh’s Chuck Noll has won four. To date, Belichick is 3-1 on Super Sunday.

• The AFC title will be decided between the league’s second-ranked offense (New England averaged 467.1 yards per game) and third-ranked defense (Baltimore allowed 288.9 yards per game). Despite making the playoffs in five of the last six seasons, the Ravens will be appearing in only their third AFC championship game (they won after the 2000 season and lost after the 2008 campaign). Even with Ray Rice taking a starring role (he finished second in the NFL with 1,364 rushing yards), Baltimore is headlined by two future Hall of Famers on the defensive side: linebacker Ray Lewis and safety Ed Reed. Which makes the cat-and-mouse with Brady all the more intriguing.

• The pick: Again, Brady seems like he’s out to make a point. New England 27, Baltimore 13.

NFC: New York Giants at San Francisco

• I’m guilty of painting Giant quarterback Eli Manning as Peyton’s little brother, with every connotation the word “little” might conjure. And I’ve been wrong for some time. Four years after leading a four-game postseason charge to a championship (upsetting the undefeated Patriots in Super Bowl XLII), Manning passed for 4,933 yards this season and set a record for fourth-quarter touchdown passes with 15. New York snuck into the playoffs by winning their last two regular-season games to finish 9-7. But with Manning at the helm, the Giants piled up points against both Atlanta and mighty Green Bay. (Remember when it was impossible for a visiting team to win at Lambeau Field in January?) Like his brother, Eli Manning is a winner. Bet against him at your peril.

• We tend to see championships taken by teams that get hot at the right time on the scoreboard. A basketball team finds its range from long distance or a baseball team starts spraying line drives in the late innings. Well, the Giant defense is getting hot at the right time. The franchise that gave us Sam Huff and Lawrence Taylor finished 27th in the NFL in defense this season. But with defensive end Osi Umenyiora healthy again and joining Jason Pierre-Paul (16.5 sacks) on the Giant pass rush, New York has begun playing the brand of football its fans know and love. A hot defense should be feared.

• I watched Alex Smith lead his Utah Utes to a win over Southern Miss in the 2003 Liberty Bowl. He looked like a good system quarterback (his coach at the time was Urban Meyer), but nothing like a top NFL draft pick (as he became in 2005) or a successor to Joe Montana and Steve Young in the lineage of San Francisco Super Bowl signal-callers. With a win Sunday, Smith would finally silence skeptics who have followed his seven-year career as though he were a death-row inmate awaiting that final meal order. Like the other Harbaugh-coached team still alive, the 49ers reached a conference championship by playing stellar defense (fourth in the league) in the Year of the Quarterback. Add the guts they showed offensively in winning that shootout with New Orleans and you have the makings of something super.

• The pick: I’d like to see the 49ers become the 11th different NFC team to reach the Super Bowl over the last 11 years. But they’re playing Eli Manning with high stakes. New York 24, San Francisco 13.

Over the last several years, I probably ran into Gene Bartow a dozen times, usually in a basketball arena. Every time I got the chance, I’d shake his hand and introduce myself. (He’s Gene Bartow, I thought, and surely has no room in his mental Rolodex for weekly sports columnists.) Every time I shook his hand, though, Bartow would smile at me and offer an enthusiastic, “Good to see you again!” As though we were old college buddies.

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We knew Coach Bartow was sick since his cancer diagnosis in 2009. But just like Larry Finch’s passing nine months ago — another Memphis icon that fought illness longer than he should have had to — Bartow’s death on January 3rd is painful. Not so much because we lost a Collegiate Basketball Hall of Famer (Bartow was inducted in 2009), but because we lost a rare member of the Humanity Hall of Fame.

I’m too young to have covered Bartow’s Tiger teams in the early Seventies. And I didn’t know him as well as he’d lead me to believe. But I’ve lived in Memphis 20 years and have heard and researched my share of stories, and I’ve yet to hear a single, solitary negative comment about Gene Bartow. Perhaps the greatest achievement of a man’s life is to be loved by others as much as the love he’s able to share. If possible, Bartow had a surplus of love from not one, but two communities (also Birmingham) he impacted with his talents as a basketball coach and his supreme skills at the game of life.

Let’s not forget Bartow was a coach of the highest standard. The season before his arrival in Memphis, the Tigers went 6-20 under Moe Iba. In Bartow’s first season (1970-71), with a pair of hometown sophomores (Finch and Ronnie Robinson) suiting up for the varsity, the Tigers went 18-8 and beat 13th-ranked Louisville at the Mid-South Coliseum. They won 21 games the next season then, of course, played what remains the most epic season in Tiger hoops history. Despite starting the 1972-73 season 2-3, the Tigers reached the NCAA tournament (with a record of 21-5) and gave mighty UCLA all it could handle (at least for a half) in the championship game. Two years later, Bartow was the chosen successor to John Wooden. Not a bad line for your resume.

Sports are about time and place. The confluence of Gene Bartow and Larry Finch in the early 1970s in Memphis, Tennessee, provided this city with a pair of lead actors — one black, one white — for a story it desperately needed told. The argument could be made that this was (and remains) the most significant development in the history of Memphis sports. Bartow and Finch didn’t just give a community — reeling from the horror of Martin Luther King’s murder — something to cheer. They gave Memphis an interracial marriage in which class, dignity, and kindness were the foundation.

I’ll miss introducing myself to Gene Bartow.

• When the Baseball Hall of Fame announces the results of the writers’ vote Monday afternoon, we’ll likely see Barry Larkin — the 12-time All-Star shortstop who led Cincinnati to the 1990 world championship — join the late Ron Santo (elected by the veterans committee last month) as the only 2012 inductees. But if I had a ballot, there are three more players who would have my support:

JEFF BAGWELL — Despite hitting 449 home runs, scoring and driving in more than 1,500 runs, and earning Rookie of the Year and MVP honors, Bagwell only received 42 percent of the vote last year, his first on the ballot (75 percent is needed for election). He’s clearly been lumped into the steroid crowd despite never being implicated for using performance enhancers. Based on evidence to date, Bagwell’s a Hall of Famer.

LEE SMITH — He saved at least 30 games 12 times (and led the National League with 29 in 1983). He retired in 1997 as the career saves leader with 478. He represented four different teams in the All-Star Game. If Rich Gossage is a Hall of Famer, so is Lee Smith.

JACK MORRIS — I’ve gone back and forth on Morris. He won 15 games 12 times but won 20 only three seasons. His strikeout total (2,478) falls short of the magical 3,000 for starting pitchers. His career ERA is 3.90. But here’s the clincher: Morris pitched in the rotation for world champion teams in Detroit (1984), Minnesota (1991), and Toronto (1992). He pitched and won one of the most famous games in World Series history (1991, Game 7). Morris was a gamer, and a Hall of Famer.

This year, of course, is mere prelude to the 2013 Hall of Fame vote, when the Larry, Moe, and Curly of the Steroid Era (Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and Sammy Sosa) will appear on the ballot for the first time. Let the debates begin.

5) Redbirds 5, Oklahoma City 2 (July 1) — For the 12 years I’ve enjoyed as a father, AutoZone Park has been my family’s playground. Each of my daughters pranced along the leftfield bluff in diapers, each ran the bases on Sunday afternoons (following the directions of Rockey and the RedHots), and each have now played catch with me on the field to make Father’s Day unforgettable. But this midsummer Friday night was the first time I accompanied just my younger daughter, Elena. (Her sister had friendly obligations that kept her away.) It happened to be Baseball Card Night, which made me feel 8 years old (Elena’s actual age). Sitting at a table in the new rightfield patio section in the 6th inning, Elena pointed out that if the Redbirds could get one more player on base, a grand slam would be possible. The home team accommodated her wish and, yes, reserve catcher Steven Hill drilled a base-clearing homer over the leftfield wall, onto that bluff where Elena has so often pranced. Priceless.

4) Tigers 2, UTEP 1 (November 6) — I stood in line with my family at the Mike Rose Soccer Complex for the Conference USA women’s soccer championship about ten feet behind Mike Rose. Knew it would be a memorable afternoon. (The same two schools, of course, played in the C-USA men’s basketball championship last March.) Entering the game with a record of 20-0-1, the Tigers weren’t able to score until the 59th minute, when sophomore Christabel Oduro drilled a shot from the left side of the penalty area into the upper-right corner of the Miner goal. UTEP answered, though, with 15 minutes left in regulation, forcing two periods of sudden-death overtime. In the third minute of the second OT, freshman Kaitlyn Atkins took a pass in front of the goal from Oduro — C-USA’s Offensive Player of the Year — and buried a title-winning shot. The win gave Memphis five consecutive C-USA tournament championships, the stuff of dynasties.

3) Tigers 97, Belmont 81 (November 15) — Opening Day (the game tipped off at 11 a.m.) is always special for Memphis Tiger basketball. It’s the renewal of the longest running family favorite in town. And this year brought the challenge of a Belmont team that won 30 games last season. No gimme. But this game was more about presentation to me. The Tigers took the court at FedExForum wearing uniforms that matched those of the 1972-73 team that took on mighty UCLA for the national championship. Better yet, the intro video produced by Running Pony Productions had as many black-and-white shots — Larry Finch, Keith Lee, Lorenzen Wright — as it did color. If sports are about connecting with your fellow fan — and across generations — this game, as presented, was pure sentiment at the volume of a Tiger’s roar. Wesley Witherspoon and Joe Jackson combined to hit 14 of their 15 shots. The outcome was never in doubt.

2) Grizzlies 104, Spurs 86 (April 25) — This was the night Memphis became a favorite in the NBA playoffs. The Grizzlies shocked top-seeded San Antonio in Game 1 of their Western Conference matchup. And they edged the Spurs in Game 3 at FedExForum to take a 2-1 lead in the best-of-seven series. But this night (Game 4) was an ass-kicking. And by the time the final buzzer sounded, everyone leaving FedExForum — their ears ringing from the volume — knew Memphis would soon reach the second round for the first time in franchise history. The Grizzlies were actually down at halftime, 50-48. But the score was pure set-up. With Tony Allen running, O.J. Mayo gunning, and Darrell Arthur making the Spurs look their age (Arthur scored 14 points on 7-of-10 shooting in 17 minutes), the Grizzlies outscored Tim Duncan and friends, 30-15, in the third quarter. The final 12 minutes were a cruise for a team that saw nine players score at least 8 points, but none more than 15. In my mind, the perfect capsule for the greatest season in Grizzlies history.

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1) Thunder 133, Grizzlies 123 (May 9) — Commentary during games is frequent on press row, reporters verbalizing the rough draft of their take on things. Head-shaking laughter is less common. What I’ll remember most about the sixth triple-overtime game in NBA playoff history is how little the result seemed to matter by the time the game ended well after midnight. Fans left disappointed, sure, but they left exhausted. The exhaustion had little to do with the game’s leap past midnight and everything to do with emotional exertion. Leading the series two games to one, the Griz stormed out to a 12-point lead in the first quarter. But Oklahoma City’s two young stars, Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook, did what rising stars do (the pair combined for 75 points). Marc Gasol played 57 minutes (scoring 26 points and grabbing 21 rebounds). Zach Randolph played 56 minutes (34 and 16). The wrong team won, but this was an instant classic.

Happy New Year to all. Here’s to cheers and laughter in 2012.

My annual countdown of the 10 most memorable sporting events I attended this year:

10) Tigers 67, Southern Miss 61 (February 12) — It’s always been fun watching Memphis butt heads with Southern Miss, but it’s gotten better since coach Larry Eustachy arrived in Hattiesburg in 2004. If Eustachy wears a sport coat to the bench, it’s off before the opening tip. His tie is loosened before halftime, his hair dripping with sweat whether or not the score is tight. Eustachy makes things easy for the courtside hecklers at FedExForum. On this night, the Golden Eagles were anything but easy, taking a six-point lead at the half behind the trio of Gary Flowers, D.J. Newbill, and Maurice Bolden. Southern Miss extended the lead to 10 early in the second half before the Tigers clawed their way back. Memphis didn’t gain the lead for good until the last four minutes when a pair of freshmen — Tarik Black and Chris Crawford — hit four straight free throws. The win was the second of three the U of M enjoyed over Eustachy’s crew, including the quarterfinals of the C-USA tournament.

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9) UAB 41, Memphis 35 (November 12) — Emphasis on memorable here, not enjoyable. The Tigers scored five touchdowns and more points than in any other game under coach Larry Porter. Jerrell Rhodes and Billy Foster combined to rush for 182 yards in a virtually empty Liberty Bowl. The Tigers led by 11 at halftime and 18 after the third quarter. Then it all collapsed. Memphis quarterback Taylor Reed couldn’t complete a pass, killing the clock and buying the Blazers time for a comeback. The Tiger defense made UAB signal-caller Jonathan Perry look like this year’s Cam Newton. One of the weakest offenses in the entire country — the visitors this time — scored 24 points over the game’s final 15 minutes. Shortly after the game, another reporter looked at me and said, “I thought Larry would get three years.” Not after this game.

8) Tigers 4, Tulsa 0 (October 9) — I have two soccer-playing daughters who essentially direct weekend activity in the fall. The U of M women’s soccer program has gained some spotlight in my family just as it’s gained in national prominence. On a brilliant Sunday afternoon at the Mike Rose Soccer Complex, we saw Tiger freshman Natalia Gomez-Junco score the first hat trick (three goals) for the U of M in four years. And she did so on her 19th birthday. The win improved the Tigers’ record to 13-0-1. And decreased once more the likelihood of seeing two Murtaugh girls anywhere near a football stadium.

7) Grizzlies 89, Mavericks 70 (January 15) — Hindsight is heavy. Memphis was three games under .500 entering this game, one that saw Dallas All-Star Dirk Nowitzki return to the floor after missing two weeks with a knee injury. The Grizzlies raced out to a 31-19 lead after the first quarter and were never really challenged. Nowitzki had as many fouls as he did field goals (2), thanks largely to Zach Randolph’s relentless pressure. Having played only 14 minutes, Nowitzki was ejected in the third quarter after protesting one of those foul calls. Randolph was the star this night, with 23 points and 20 rebounds. One of three times (in four games) Memphis beat the eventual NBA champs last season.

6) White Station Middle vs. Cordova Middle (October 15) — Honest and full disclosure: My older daughter played in this girls’ soccer city championship. My rooting interest gave this contest weight before foot met ball. But it happened to be among the most tightly fought contests I saw all year, so it makes this list. Having tied (0-0) less than two weeks earlier, the Spartans and Cougars were scoreless at halftime, the bleachers at Cordova High School close to full, a youth-league football game being played in the adjacent stadium. White Station took the lead nine minutes into the second half on a laser strike from atop the penalty area. But the defending champs evened things six minutes later. The game extended to overtime, and White Station took the lead in the first 10-minute session (many parents and friends thinking the game was over at the end of the period). Cordova managed to bounce a loose ball over the Spartan goalie midway through the second OT period, forcing the game to decisive penalty kicks. A cruel way to decide a World Cup (ask Hope Solo), and purely painful for 12- and 13-year-old girls. The Cougars made one more PK than did the Spartans.

Check back next week for the Top 5.

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You know the names being tossed about: Pittsburgh Steelers assistant Randy Fichtner. Louisiana Tech coach Sonny Dykes. You can cross New Orleans Saints assistant Curtis Johnson off the list (he’s taking the job at Tulane). And it appears Arkansas State coach Hugh Freeze will take the challenge of winning games at Ole Miss. (And if he doesn’t leave Jonesboro for Oxford, he’s not leaving for Memphis.) Fichtner would be a safe hire, a former member of the family. Not unlike bringing Larry Porter back in some respects. You’d like to think Fichtner’s success with a model NFL franchise would translate to a Conference USA cellar dweller.

But does Randy Fichtner excite you? Does his name have you wondering when and how you’ll get to the Liberty Bowl for the opening game of the 2012 season? Will he have lines snaking outside the Hardaway Hall of Fame, football fans buying Tiger season tickets as stocking-stuffers this holiday season?

I’ve got some free advice for Eastman & Beaudine, the search firm leading this chase (and I’m charging from this point on): Call Bill Cowher. Yeah, the guy with the Hollywood jaw and a Super Bowl ring seen these days in the CBS studio, picking apart Sunday highlights. Lunacy, you say? Bill Cowher to the University of Memphis? Kinda like asking Jerry West to leave Los Angeles and rescue the Memphis Grizzlies. Cowher has long been a college coach in NFL clothing. Who knows?

Let’s say Cowher answers the call from E & B and says nothing more than “no.” National headlines would have to report: “Cowher Contacted About Vacant Memphis Job.” And just like that, the conversation about Memphis football changes. Then you call Jeff Fisher.

Is this over-reaching? Maybe (probably). But why has this latest coaching transition at the U of M been reduced to finding the best available NFL assistant or second-tier head coach? Why can’t the Tiger program start by aiming high ... at least to establish a new baseline? Why does Memphis have to play the bookworm scanning only the girls with no chance at a prom date? That cheerleader at the top of the pyramid, with the freckles and knee-weakening dimples? Ask her!

• I hope Alabama beats LSU by a field goal in the BCS Championship Game and Oklahoma State puts up 50 and beats Stanford by halftime in the Fiesta Bowl. College football’s silly season is upon us, and the NCAA powers-that-be — those in charge of the BCS “series” and the 30 other bowl games — have exactly what they deserve. I firmly believe the two best teams will be playing each other for the crystal football, but the belief stands on a hypothetical: that Alabama would whip Oklahoma State. Which means, after all is said and done, college football’s national champion will be crowned on a hypothetical.

• I’m not sure LSU would beat the Indianapolis Colts. (In an informal survey among media types at Saturday’s U of M basketball game, opinions were 50-50.) But I am sure that the LSU secondary — led by Tyrann Mathieu and Maurice Claiborne — is better than many in the NFL. I watched the Dallas-Arizona game Sunday, and would be comfortable replacing the Cowboys’ cornerbacks (Mike Jenkins and Terence Newman) with the LSU pair ... right now. The only way any team beats this LSU force is by running the ball, which is precisely why Trent Richardson and Alabama (and not Oklahoma State) should get one final chance.

In this week for giving thanks, I’ll help set the table with a few appetizers from the world of sports. In no particular order, I’m grateful for:

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• 63 minutes of NBA playoff basketball on a Monday night in May ... in Memphis.

• Joe Jackson at the free-throw line with the game in the balance.

• Stan Musial’s 91st birthday (look it up).

• Christabel Oduro with a soccer ball at her feet.

• David Freese with two outs and two strikes.

• Someone beating the Heat.

• That someone being the Dallas Mavericks.

• NFL labor peacemakers. Fall Sundays without football? May as well make it a 6-day week.

• The gritty Gasol brother.

• Albert Pujols channeling the Babe for one World Series game.

• Twilight at AutoZone Park.

• The theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey at FedExForum. And this season’s Tiger intro video.

• Charlie Lea’s infectious love of baseball.

• Larry Finch at full strength on a court beyond the clouds.

• Living in SEC country and hearing discussion of BCS “scenarios.”

• Adonis Thomas as an extra.

• Lance Berkman with two outs and two strikes.

• Wolo and Stats.

• Bob Forsch throwing out the first pitch before Game 7 of the World Series.

• Bob Costas conducting the interview. Anyone, anywhere.

• Dirk Nowitzki to his left, with an injured finger.

• Roger Federer looking human.

• Tiger Woods reminding us that Jack Nicklaus was superhuman.

• Adron Chambers reaching the bluff at AutoZone Park.

• Adron Chambers reaching the Cardinals’ active roster for Game 7 of the World Series.

• The Lady Tiger soccer team cheering the fans after another victory.

• Chris Herrington breaking down the Grizzlies.

• Shane Battier’s timely return.

• Shane Battier from downtown for a playoff winner ... just the second biggest event of his day.

• Josh Pastner’s insistence that “winning is hard.” Ask Larry Porter.

• Jim Harbaugh’s handshakes.

• Hardwood Classics on NBA-TV. Especially any game featuring Rick Barry.

• Rick Barry from the free-throw line.

• The new Tiger sports Hall of Fame. (Wish that Lorenzen Wright jersey were of the Grizzlies variety.)

• The St. Louis Cardinals going with their gut (instead of a track record) and hiring Mike Matheny.

• The new skate park. Wonderful to see skaters actually doing their thing, and not on a video screen.

• Tiger football fans in the stands at the Liberty Bowl. This kind of loyalty knows no bounds. Hang in there.

• The Pastner/Calipari contrast.

• Televisions on the tables at Dan McGuinness Pub. Death to conversation, maybe. But great with a pint of Guinness at game time.

• Soccer-playing daughters. Thought I knew what rooting interest was before.

• Softball-playing daughters. Thought I loved baseball when I played.

• Penny Hardaway, Elliot Perry, and giving back.

• Every last one of my readers. I appreciate the loyalty. Happy Thanksgiving.

• Bill Day cartoon

And now there’s the Sandusky Affair. Former Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky is charged with 40 counts of sexual abuse involving boys, charges that cover a 15-year period (1994-2009) in which higher ups — most notably iconic Nittany Lion football coach Joe Paterno — apparently looked the other way as a monster stalked his prey. This story should stagger us for years to come. (As my colleague Jackson Baker points out, we must allow the legal system to do its thing. But there’s a lot of smoke with 40 charges.)

As heartbreaking and tragic as Magic’s announcement felt in 1991, we knew the athlete himself was the primary victim of his own decisions and behavior. As horrific as the murders of Nicole Simpson and Ronald Goldman were, there were "only" two victims. Now with the truth emerging about Sandusky and his predatory ways, the victims under this latest headline could be counted in the dozens, if not hundreds. (When a grand jury report mentions eight victims, you can rest assured the number is a fraction of the total.)

With due respect to the athletic achievements of Magic and O.J., they are not in the category of Joe Paterno. In digesting Paterno’s firing last Wednesday after 46 years as the head coach at Penn State, I could come up with only two other college coaches (both basketball) I consider of similar renown when we measure their achievements in the arena and in the larger, more important, picture we know as life: UCLA’s John Wooden and North Carolina’s Dean Smith. Forget Paterno’s 409 wins and two national championships. This is a man whose program graduated as many as 89 percent of its players. (In baseball terms, this is a big-league player hitting .450.) A Penn State library was built with funds raised entirely by Paterno and his wife. Joe Paterno is, by most every measure, a decent man. An exceptional man, even.

But Joe Paterno had at least one blind spot, at least one breakdown in judgment. Who knows when Paterno first got wind that his longtime assistant may have been acting inappropriately with children? Perhaps it was 1999, when Sandusky retired at the still-young coaching age of 55. Perhaps it was in 2002 when, according to the grand jury, a graduate-assistant approached him having seen Sandusky raping a child inside Penn State’s football facility. Whenever Paterno became aware, he should have called the police. Had that call been made, we wouldn’t have a story of such magnitude today (and the Sandusky victim count would be much smaller).

With the demise of a man who belonged on a college sports Mount Rushmore, I see three lessons we should carry into a future made less certain by the reminder that there are, indeed, monsters among us:

• There are authority figures ... and there’s the police. The grad student who witnessed a crime (on a horrific scale) reported what he’d seen to a man (Paterno) he considered an authority. Paterno then reported what he’d heard to another authority (a Penn State vice president). And so the word traveled and, presumably, was minimized with each telling. Forget good-Samaritan laws that obligate us to report crimes we witness. Let’s remember the moral obligation we have, particularly to victimized children. Predators rely on silence and fear ... and a blind eye from authority.

• Exclusive power is dangerous. Paterno achieved a status in and around Penn State that, frankly, isn’t natural. It’s the stuff we read and hear about when tyrants are taken down overseas. (To be sure, Paterno’s elevated stature was gained through benevolent actions.) In the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “The rule of the boss is the negation of democracy.” When looking back on Paterno’s fall, we’ll see that the rule of the boss was, in this case, the negation of justice. However much power a person is seen to hold, there must be someone brave enough to tell him (or her) when a decision is wrong. “Coach, you really need to go to the police with this.”

• Sports are a privilege, and supplementary. Penn State did the right thing in firing both Paterno and president Graham Spanier. The student rally in support of Paterno last Wednesday night was unsettling. (As was the football game played Saturday. Should have been cancelled.) We too often describe our favorite athletes and coaches as heroes. They're not. The young men who came forward to finally bring Jerry Sandusky to justice ... they are heroes.

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With the NBA’s players and owners refusing to share each other’s toys, it’s time sports fans in this part of the world get acquainted with an alternative winter game. Yes, I speak of hockey, the fourth “major” team sport in North America. Whether or not you’ve been to a RiverKings game at the DeSoto Civic Center (or better, a Predators game in Nashville), it’s not too late to call yourself a hockey fan. Here are the 10 things you must know to leave the hardwood for a frozen pond.

• In historical terms, Wayne Gretzky is to the NHL what Wilt Chamberlain was to the NBA. And John Stockton. And Magic Johnson.

A hockey player gets credit for a point by scoring a goal or picking up an assist on a goal. The Great One retired after the 1998-99 season with more assists (1,963) than any other player’s total points (Mark Messier is second on the points chart with 1,887). Gretzky also scored 93 more goals than number-two on the goals chart (Gordie Howe had 801). His individual numbers are so staggering that it seems merely incidental that Gretzky won the Stanley Cup four times as an Edmonton Oiler. Bar none, Gretzky was the most dominant player in any team sport in North American history.

• The Stanley Cup is the greatest trophy in team sports.

Triple the size of the Lombardi Trophy. With the names of every member on a championship club. And you can drink out of it, for Pete’s sake. Think about it: the NHL playoffs are referred to by the trophy awarded after the last game. (Among my life goals is to touch the Stanley Cup someday. Just touch it.)

• The Original Six.

For 40 years (1927-67), the NHL was a winter-long battle royal between half a dozen franchises: Montreal, Toronto, Detroit, Chicago, Boston, and the New York Rangers. To the league’s credit, these teams are still grouped as one in the consciousness of serious fans, despite being scattered over six divisions in a 30-team league. Better yet, the Stanley Cup has been won by an Original Six club three of the last four years.

• OTL = one point

The NHL did away with ties after an entire season was lost to labor strife (2004-05). An attempt (some say misguided) to further engage a thinning fan base. If a game is tied at the end of regulation (three 20-minute periods), five minutes of overtime are played (with four skaters per team instead of five). If tied after overtime, the game is decided by a shootout (hockey’s equivalent to soccer’s penalty kicks). The winning team, as always, gets two points in the standings, while the loser still gets a single point. So the third number you see in a team’s record (say a club is 14-10-5) is its number of overtime losses. Which means, of course, that club actually has a losing record (14-15). Don’t ignore that third number in measuring your team’s progress.

• Sidney Crosby and Alexander Ovechkin

The NHL has only two certifiable superstars, the most dramatic difference between hockey’s premier league and the star-driven NBA. Unlike the NBA, the presence of a superstar doesn’t guarantee a championship. Over their six seasons in the league, Crosby’s Pittsburgh Penguins have one championship, and Ovechkin’s Washington Capitals haven’t even reached the Stanley Cup finals.

• Icing has nothing to do with birthday cake.

When a player clears the puck from the defensive side of the red line (at center ice), he’s guilty of icing. A face-off ensues in that player’s defensive zone. The next time you get infuriated by a basketball player not running back on defense, consider: There’s no such thing as cherry-picking in hockey.

• Canada’s Game

While only seven of the 30 NHL franchises play in Canadian cities, the sport remains a way of life north of the border (as opposed to merely a nice distraction in too many American NHL venues). If you’re able to catch a game via cable or satellite, pick one played in Montreal, Toronto, Vancouver, or even Winnipeg. The atmosphere will be that of an NBA playoff game ... in January. No Canadian team has won the Stanley Cup since the Montreal Canadiens — this sport’s New York Yankees — won their 23rd in 1993.

• Hockey makes great movies.

Check out Paul Newman in Slap Shot (1977) or Kurt Russell in Miracle (2004). Better than any basketball movie you’ve ever seen. (Okay, Hoosiers was great.)

• Go to the rink.

With the size of its court and its players all but naked to the camera (no hats, no helmets), the NBA is made for television. Not so hockey. The puck is small, the ice surface is large, and the players are hard to distinguish if you don’t know their uniform numbers. But get to an arena. The flow of 10 skaters across a white sheet — chasing that tiny rubber disk — is hypnotic. And the sounds of hockey — puck to stick, stick to ice, player to boards — positively stir adrenaline.

• Hockey has what you like ... you just don’t know it.

Every NHL game has padded players drilling other padded players (like football). Every NHL game has deft passing between players in transition from defense to offense (like basketball). And every NHL game has athletes loaded with hand/eye coordination maneuvering a long stick toward a relatively tiny object (like baseball). Catch a game soon. The NBA is giving you plenty of time to learn to love it.

Next came the Milwaukee Brewers, a team that finished six games ahead of the Cardinals in their own division. Then finally the World Series. Down to their last strike — in two different innings — the Cardinals prevailed in Game 6, and then won their 11th world championship Friday night in the first Game 7 the Fall Classic had seen in nine years. Wild. Cards. Indeed.

When Allen Craig caught the final out to clinch the championship, there were no fewer than seven former Memphis Redbirds on the field at Busch Stadium. And mark this down: St. Louis doesn’t win this championship without the contribution of players who just two seasons ago helped Memphis to its second Pacific Coast League crown.

Craig was the Cardinals’ minor-league player of the year in 2009 for the Redbirds when he hit .322 with 26 homers and 83 RBIs. Playing a reserve role for the Cardinals, Craig delivered the game-winning pinch hit in Game 1 of the Series, then homered in the next three Cardinal wins (Games 3, 6, and 7). Matt Holliday will be pressed for playing time in 2012.

The remarkable, all-but-impossible comeback victory in Game 6 doesn’t happen without key hits from Dan Descalso and Jon Jay, teammates of Craig at Third and Union two summers ago.

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Then there’s David Freese. In 2008, Freese hit 26 home runs and drove in 91 for Memphis, his first season in the Cardinal system after being acquired in a trade that sent St. Louis icon Jim Edmonds to San Diego. After injuries sapped most of his 2009 campaign, Freese delivered home runs that won a pair of PCL playoff games for Memphis, both by the score of 1-0. Now two years later, he has cemented his name alongside those of Dizzy Dean, Enos Slaughter, Bob Gibson, and Willie McGee, Cardinal heroes who delivered world championships to Freese’s hometown. A home run to win Game 6 two innings after delivering a two-out, two-run, game-tying triple in the 9th inning? An over-the-top Hollywood script comes to life. Freese-framed for posterity.

It shouldn’t be forgotten that these Cardinals won the World Series without a single pitch being thrown all season from their injured ace, Adam Wainwright (yet another former Redbird). That just doesn’t happen. The void was filled this month, of course, by Wainwright’s predecessor at the top of the Cardinal rotation, Chris Carpenter. If his efforts in the decisive game against Philadelphia (3-hit shutout) weren’t enough to someday retire his number 29, the six innings he threw on short rest in Game 7 of the Series Friday night surely were.

Even with Sunday’s parade down Market Street in St. Louis being organized, speculation will begin about Albert Pujols’ free agency, and whether or not the greatest of these world champions will be in uniform next spring to defend his title. Considering the way his 11th season as a Cardinal finished, Pujols would have to see dollar signs in his cereal bowl to leave. But that’s for another day, behind a closed door in a meeting room, far from the dream state created by a team that would not die for each other or its legion of fans.

Memphis fans should embrace the familiarity with the 2011 Cardinals. As wild as the ride became over the last two months, the trip for many of these world champions started a season or two earlier, with a solitary cardinal on their jerseys.

For the first time in eight years, the World Series comes down to a best-of-three. A few thoughts and observations on the Cardinals-Rangers battle:

• If there’s been a better defensive play by a pitcher in World Series play than the diving catch-and-putout by Cardinal ace Chris Carpenter in the first inning of Game 1, it happened before 1979, when I started paying attention. Not known for his athleticism, Carpenter made a dive — to catch an errant throw from Cardinal first-baseman Albert Pujols — that would impress Ozzie Smith, then narrowly avoided catastrophe when Texan runner Elvis Andrus brought his foot (and 200 pounds) down inches away from Carpenter’s pitching hand, curled near his body atop the first-base bag.

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• Ron Washington

• “Courage” is an overused word when describing the feats of pro athletes, but Ranger second-baseman Ian Kinsler displayed a surplus in the ninth inning of Game 2. With his team down a run, three outs from a two-game deficit, and in clear view of Cardinal catcher Yadier Molina (a right-handed batter was at the plate), Kinsler took off for second base. Remember, Kinsler had been gunned down by Molina in Game 1. This time, Kinsler beat Molina’s throw by the length of his ring finger. Two batters later, he scored the tying-run on a sacrifice fly. Somewhere, Whitey Herzog — the maestro of “small ball” — had to be smiling, even if it hurt.

• After two days of reading and hearing his leadership called into question, Albert Pujols put St. Louis on his back in Game 3, becoming only the third player to hit three home runs in a World Series game (and only the second to deliver five hits). You have to wonder if Pujols was fueled by the national criticism over his leaving the Cardinal clubhouse before speaking with the media after Game 2. Unlikely. He was brought back to earth by Ranger hurler Derek Holland in Game 4. The word “Pujolsian” will soon make its way into the baseball lexicon, much as “Ruthian” did in the 1920s. When it does, Saturday’s game in Texas will be the point of reference.

• Baseball remains the most unpredictable game on the planet. A day after the Cardinals knock the ball around like the 1927 Yankees, a pitcher who sported an 8.59 ERA in the ALCS shuts them down, giving up only two hits (to the same batter) over 8 1/3 innings. Holland’s outing must have Texas manager Ron Washington regretting the decision to send Matt Harrison to the hill for Game 3. If the Series goes the distance, Harrison would be on schedule to pitch Game 7 Thursday night, unless Washington chooses to send Holland to the mound on short rest. The nightmare scenario for St. Louis is a rainout that postpones a Game 7 to Friday, in which case Holland could return on full rest.

• Among the recent Memphis Redbirds to play a part in the Series — Allen Craig, David Freese, Jon Jay — the best story may be Lance Lynn. The 24-year-old righty started 12 games for Memphis this season, going 7-3 before earning his first promotion to the big club. Having recovered from an oblique injury, Lynn narrowly made the Cardinals’ postseason roster. But in Game 3 Saturday night, with the game taking on the look of slow-pitch softball, Lynn managed to get seven outs while giving up only one run. If the Series goes to a decisive seventh game, Cardinal manager Tony LaRussa should consider starting Lynn over the struggling Kyle Lohse. It’s just a matter of time before Lynn is starting in the St. Louis rotation. Why not now?

• Watching Ron Washington’s exuberance in the dugout when the Rangers rally is infectious. He manages the game the way I would, the way my baseball-loving friends would, the way, yes, a child would. With joy. He won’t win as many games as Tony LaRussa or as many championships as Joe Torre, but no manager, I’m convinced, will have more fun on baseball’s biggest stage than Ron Washington. He’s healthy for a game that needs an infusion of emotion now and then.

• Dirk Nowitzki of the NBA champion Dallas Mavericks threw out the first pitch before Game 3 in Arlington. In case you were wondering, the last time the same metropolitan area could claim both the NBA and World Series champion was 2002, when the Los Angeles Lakers won their third straight crown and the Anaheim Angels won their first Fall Classic.

I’ve enjoyed baseball’s postseason, as I have for more than 30 years now. Detroit’s upset of the Yankees (any Yankee defeat in October is an upset), the Rangers’ sustained offensive outburst, and the St. Louis Cardinals reaching the World Series without a solitary pitch being thrown by their ace, Adam Wainwright. (This doesn’t happen, folks.) But I haven’t been able to enjoy most of the games like I would if my two daughters (ages 12 and 9) were able to see the final out with me. With games often ending past 11 p.m., I’ve begun a custom of leaving notes with results under my daughters’ cereal bowls for the following morning. The custom will continue when the World Series opens Wednesday night. The greatest sporting event on the planet reduced to a milk-stained note from Dad.

The last time natural shadows could have been seen during the World Series was Game 6 between the St. Louis Cardinals and Minnesota Twins in 1987, a contest that started at 4 p.m., but under the roof of the abominable Metrodome. That cruel coincidence gave birth to an era of baseball’s signature event being decided long after the boys and girls who make it popular are put to bed. The solution is National Baseball Day.

Americans love sports. And we love holidays. How is it that no holiday — one where schools and government offices close — has been created to honor recreation, the nurturing of our bodies that today especially should be among our highest priorities? Furthermore, how is it that American workers haven’t found an excuse to break from the office between Labor Day and Thanksgiving? National Baseball Day is the answer.

The new holiday would fall on a Wednesday, coinciding with Game 1 of the World Series. Government offices closed, schools closed. The New York Stock Exchange, especially, could use another day off. The baseball game would begin at 3:00 Eastern, allowing every child from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine, to watch every last pitch before bedtime if he or she so chooses.

And choice is an important part of National Baseball Day. There are Americans who’d rather schedule a colonoscopy than endure nine innings of baseball. For this holiday, instead of a doctor’s appointment, schedule a picnic at a nearby park with your family, or a visit to a museum (if open) that you’ve been meaning to make. Go see a movie you otherwise wouldn’t, or start a book — that thick one — you’ve been meaning to read. However you choose to invest the leisure time, just remember it was baseball that got you there.

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It will be a challenge to make National Baseball Day a reality, and television decision-makers will do all they can to prevent the holiday from happening. Television networks worship at the altar of prime-time ad revenue. But the allegiance can be blind. Consider the expanded demographic a national telecast — on a holiday, remember — would reach. Think there might not be a few advertisers who would reconsider a World Series spot if they knew entire families would be watching? (Have you seen any Super Bowl commercials?) The game would be talked about at least the next two days at work, and those sponsored messages would be part of the discussion.

I’ve already written Congress on this matter. Do the same, if the concept strikes your fancy. The aim is a good one: to see the final out of a World Series game live with my children. Let them eat their cereal with memories instead of notes.

I’m not going to pretend to understand the financial landscape of the NBA beyond the broadest of brush strokes. The league claims 22 of the 30 franchises lost $300 million over the 2010-11 season ... and yet franchises balance their books differently. Is the mortgage on a parking garage an asset? A liability? When and where exactly does a franchise measure profitability? When revenue exceeds expenses for a season? Or when measured against the lifetime of player contracts? Not the kind of math fans want to study.

But I can recognize a fat contract when I see one. And the NBA is overloaded with contracts far exceeding the value of the players cashing the fat checks. Let’s look at one example, a comparison of two longtime teammates.

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Kobe Bryant is one of the two most famous active basketball players on the planet. (Derrick Rose may be the reigning MVP and Dirk Nowitzki may be a reigning champion, but the league’s biggest stars remain Bryant and LeBron James.) Last season Bryant played in 82 games for a total of 2,779 minutes. He’s scheduled to earn $25,244,493 when and if the 2011-12 season. Based on last year’s mileage on the court, Bryant is to earn $9,084 per minute played.

Now, let’s look at the contract for Luke Walton, like Bryant a Los Angeles Laker (and currently an assistant coach for Josh Pastner with the Memphis Tigers). Walton played in 54 games for the Lakers last season with a total of 484 minutes on the floor. A valuable reserve for two championship teams, Walton is just that: a reserve. He’s scheduled to earn $5,680,000 for the 2011-12 season, or $11,735 per minute played last season.

Whatever accounting skills you have, however you define break-even, this is lousy math. As a player who sells tickets merely by showing up, Bryant is a rare entertainment force. The argument could be made he earns every penny of his contract. The argument could actually be made that he’s underpaid. Take Bryant off the Lakers and try selling season tickets with Pau Gasol as the face of the franchise.

But Luke Walton? (I hate to pick on the guy. Best I can tell, he’s a class act with a passion, like his father, for playing basketball the right way.) The argument could be made that Walton (1.7 points and 1.2 rebounds per game last season) is an interchangeable part. If the Lakers replaced him with another former University of Arizona player, Houston’s Chase Budinger (9.8 and 3.6), would L.A. drop precipitously in the standings? No chance. Budinger is scheduled to earn $884,000 this season.

The NBA’s greatest source of revenue is, of course its players, the stars (and supporting casts) we cheer throughout the winter. Its greatest expense is also those players, most of them with salaries that would make Bill Russell blush. Here’s hoping the league — those writing the checks and those cashing them — figure out a way to work in harmony. Those of us enduring a recession that won’t seem to end need our well-paid heroes to cheer.

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A free agent at season’s end, Pujols and his agent Dan Lozano are sure to field bids from interested teams that don’t play their home games at Busch Stadium. Having put up numbers over 11 seasons that no player in the history of the game can match, Pujols should land a new contract somewhere between $180 million and $250 million, depending on the length and average annual value of the deal. Complicating things somewhat will be the negotiations for another premium slugger, Milwaukee first baseman Prince Fielder. A leading candidate for this year’s National League MVP, Fielder is represented by agent Scott Boras, renowned for waiting as long as necessary to land the highest package for his clients. If Boras and Lozano choose to play a nine-figure game of stare-down, the Cardinals, Brewers, and any other interested franchises could be wondering where Pujols and Fielder will be playing on New Year’s Day.

What if Pujols leaves St. Louis? He’ll depart with a world-championship ring, three MVP trophies, fourth in franchise history in hits, and second (behind only Stan the Man) in home runs and RBIs. Wherever he chooses to continue his career, it’s hard to imagine the Pujols plaque in the Baseball Hall of Fame bearing anything other than a St. Louis Cardinal hat. Hard to imagine any Cardinal ever wearing the number 5 again.

That said, if Pujols leaves St. Louis before (or right after) his 32nd birthday in January, it will be the most traumatic divorce in 120 years of Cardinal history. Hall of Famer Rogers Hornsby was traded to the New York Giants after helping the Cardinals win their first World Series in 1926, but he yielded another future Hall of Famer, Frankie Frisch. Steve Carlton to the Phillies for Rick Wise is the worst trade in Cardinal history, but Carlton earned his Hall of Fame votes after the transaction. Established Cardinal greats have generally finished their careers in the shadow of the Arch: Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Ozzie Smith. If Pujols leaves, his membership jacket in the franchise’s club of legends will come in a different shade of red.

But I don’t think he’ll leave. It may be the most naïve supposition of my sportswriting career, but I believe Albert Pujols will stay in St. Louis out of sentiment. Hear me out on this.

When the Cardinals visited AutoZone Park in April 2009 for a pair of exhibition games before Opening Day, Pujols had on the shelf in his locker a framed photo of his kids. (He and his wife, Deidre, have four children.) This was a two-day stop in Memphis for the Cardinals, in transit from Florida to St. Louis. It would have been easy for Pujols to leave such a talisman in his bag, or at least in his hotel room. But there the frame was, prominently displayed, inscribed with “Number One Dad.”

Beyond his devotion as a father, Pujols has made caring for children with Down syndrome a life mission. His oldest daughter, Isabella, lives with the ailment. The Pujols Family Foundation was established in 2005 and the Albert Pujols Wellness Center for Adults with Down Syndrome opened in 2009 in Chesterfield, Missouri.

What does all this mean when it comes to perhaps the biggest free agent in baseball history? It’s a matter of family roots, not just for the pending free agent, but for the family he cherishes — along with God — above anything else in his life. (Remember, God told Reggie White to play football in Green Bay. I’m sticking with family sentiment here.) Will Albert Pujols uproot all his family has established in and around St. Louis for an extra $30 million? An extra $40 million? What’s the price on a family’s roots in a town where no one named Pujols will ever have to buy a meal?

Again, this may be hopelessly naïve. Most athletes go where the cash piles highest. Shortly before signing an extension with the Cardinals last week, Lance Berkman was beautifully honest in telling reporters “It’s always about the money.” Maybe Albert Pujols spends the second half of his career in a Cubs uniform, or out west with the Angels. If the New York Yankees decide they want Pujols in pinstripes, they’ll find a way to shop Mark Teixera.

But I’m not buying it. The Cardinals need to stretch payroll as far as they can to retain this century’s Musial. I’m convinced when Pujols makes his decision, it will be in front of a picture frame and not a calculator.