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Dear People of St. Louis:

I want you to be good sports. Yes, you lost an NFL franchise, but that's just the way it is in America. Owners own teams so that they might move them to another municipality with better luxury boxes. Get over it.

Even New York, premier city of the world, has lost teams. So did glitzy, glamorous LA. Chicago? Hey, it was St. Louis that took the football Cardinals from Chicago before Phoenix took the Cardinals from St. Louis so that St. Louis could take the Rams from Los Angeles. And so on.

Much as we talk about certain financial institutions that may be too big to fail, you can be absolutely certain that the one organization in the whole wide world that truly fits that definition is FIFA, the grubby behemoth that runs soccer. Too many international sports associations are rife with corruption, but the graft exposed at FIFA beggars the imagination.

We start 2016 with a command: that the subject of Pete Rose and the Hall of Fame is over, finis, kaput forever and ever. As sure as we will no longer discuss whether Lindsey Graham or George Pataki can be president. The new commissioner has been even more adamant in dismissing Rose's pleadings, so it doesn't matter how passionately you feel — it is a dead issue. There.

Until Dec. 12, the Golden State Warriors were undefeated, 24-0. They're the popular NBA defending champs, who play a fun style, led by an absolutely beguiling star, Stephen Curry. It's hard enough to draw attention away from the NFL, but the Warriors caught the public fancy, going for the record of most consecutive wins ever in major league sports.

Then a mediocre Milwaukee team clobbered them, and back everybody's attention went to Tom Brady, the Carolina Panthers and the point spreads of the week.

I love corny sports terminology. My favorite newspaper word is "tilt," meaning game. Have you ever, even once in your life, heard anybody speak the word "tilt" when they mean game? No, you haven't.

The best term in broadcast is "shaken up." The quarterback could have his throwing arm ripped from his body, and the announcer would say he is "shaken up." Have you ever, even once in your life, heard anybody use the expression "shaken up," when they mean hurt real bad? No, you haven't.

Click the audio to find out Frank Deford's favorite sports word.

The spectacular global terrorism that's been so prominent lately can best be dated from 1972, when 11 Israeli Olympians were murdered at the Munich Games. That seminal atrocity has taken on even more horror, too, now that we've learned that some of the victims suffered mutilation and torture before they died.

We may take some solace, though, that, after 43 years, the construction of a monument to the Israelis has finally begun and will be unveiled next October. Pointedly and poignantly, it stands barely more than a hundred yards from where the Israelis were first taken hostage.

Sports gets bigger all the time, everywhere. But even with a superabundance of sport, that's not enough to satisfy our appetites, and so now we have to have make-believe sport, too. Who would've ever thought we would bet real money on our sports fantasies?

Maybe H.L. Mencken was right when he said: "I hate all sports as rabidly as a person who likes sports hates common sense." And Mencken didn't even know about Ultimate Fighting or the halfpipe of snowboarding.

When the Royals won the World Series, I, like most everyone else, was so happy for the good people of Kansas City, because I kept being reminded that the Royals hadn't won since 1985. Poor, poor little KC. Then it occurred to me: so what? That's exactly how long it should be, because there are 30 major league franchises, so for any team to win once every 30 years is just par for the course.

It's accepted that the president of the University of Missouri stepped down in a racial dispute only when the football team threatened not to play a game. The players showed us again — surprise, surprise — how powerful is football, and let's throw in basketball, too, throughout our bastions of higher education.

U.S. leagues love playing games abroad. At first it was more just to show off our indigenous sports and hope the simpleminded foreigners would see what they were missing and start playing the red, white and blue games themselves.

The defending champion New England Patriots are undefeated, on that rare road to repeat, but, of course, except for the denizens of the northeast corner of our nation, the Pats are mostly unloved. It's not the sort of antipathy directed toward the Yankees. That's always been the anti-plutocrat sensation. Rather, there is about the Patriots the sense that they're rather untrustworthy, if not downright nasty — not America's Team, but more America's Gang.

Or, perhaps more accurately, the Belichick Gang.

I have an idea to help the Republicans solve their presidential nominating dilemma: Let's have a fantasy primary campaign. The Fox network can run it, and the voters will choose which candidates they think will win the various primaries.

After all, fantasy is in, fantasy is fantastic. In sports, fantasy is giving reality a run for its money. Why should sports have all the fun?

One of the great misunderstandings about college sports, which the big-time schools love to slyly imply, is that other sports on campus must be forever grateful that football and basketball pay for their right to exist.

Moreover, there is the concomitant threat that if ever colleges had to actually pay salaries to their football and basketball players, well, then, the athletic departments would be forced to drop those other "beggar sports" that don't bring in revenue.

This is, of course, utter nonsense.

Pitching a baseball overhand — which has always been a rather contorted, unnatural action — is now leading to an epidemic of injuries. Incredibly, it is estimated that one-fourth of all major league pitchers have had what's called Tommy John surgery, which involves the elbow's ulnar collateral ligament.

It was 75 years ago this week — Oct. 5, 1940 — when the movie Knute Rockne, All-American was released and first we heard, "Rock, some day when the team's up against it, breaks are beating the boys, ask them to go in there with all they've got, win just one for the Gipper."

It isn't just because a future president of the United States was the actor who uttered it, that this became the single most famous line ever spoken in a sports movie. No, it was because of who the Gipper was playing for: Notre Dame.

You may not know that the WNBA finals begin this weekend. It's probably fair to say that if it were the NBA you would know.

More people pay attention to men's sports than women's sports, and one reason for that is inertia. Women are pretty new to big-time sports — and perhaps the media haven't caught up with them.

Also, there aren't that many women's team sports. Lots of people tune in to watch Serena Williams play tennis, and this summer, swimmer Katie Ledecky got a lot of attention — but they play individual sports.

"It's plain and simple: baseball is a radio game." So said Milo Hamilton, the longtime play-by-play man for the Houston Astros, who died the other day. And, yes, radio and baseball have so long gone together. The familiar voices in the booth — perennials, like flowers — announcers such as Hamilton and Vin Scully, who, at the age of 87, just signed on to broadcast Dodger games for another year — often have been more identified with their teams than the players who merely come and go.

As an absolutely impossible thing happened to Serena Williams on the way to becoming the absolutely guaranteed Grand Slam champion, it reminds us once again, on the field of play, there is no sure thing. But off the field, some things are, to coin a word: un-upsettable.

At the top of the un-upsettable list is that in American city after American city, either the voters or their elected tribunes will put up oodles of the citizens' hard-deducted tax money in order to fund a new stadium for the benefit of a filthy-rich team owner.

New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady’s four-game suspension over under-inflated footballs in last season’s AFC title game was overturned by a federal judge last week, letting him start the season with his team tomorrow.

While many legal experts expected the Tom Brady deflated football case to be settled in favor of the NFL, those wise lawyers neglected pertinent history. That is, that for 40 years now, most important decisions between sports organizations and their players, which have been adjudicated by some neutral outside agency, have been settled in favor of the athletes.

Players may win and lose games on the field, but in America, players win big in court — and they have, time and time again, since 1975, when the Andy Messersmith case led to the demise of the reserve clause in baseball.

On Wednesday, in honor of footballs that are inflated, we must discuss extra points. The NFL is monkeying around with the extra point again. You think it should? Do you have a better idea? Do we even need an extra point? Why do we have an extra point?

Well, the extra point is vestigial, a leftover from the good old 19th century days when football had identity problems and couldn't decide whether or not it was rugby. Or something. At that point, in fact, what was sort of the extra point counted more than the touchdown itself.

Always, the ever-tantalizing, ever-impossible discussion in every sport revolves around who's the greatest player ever. It's so difficult trying to compare champions from different eras, but it's a constant party game and especially in vogue now, as Serena Williams prepares to try to win the U.S. Open. Doing so would not only give her the first tennis Grand Slam since Steffi Graf won in 1988 but would give Williams her 22 major titles, tying Graf at the top of the tree.

In an odd way, the longer and more tangled that what has been called "deflategate" goes on, the more it becomes about the commissioner of the National Football League, Roger Goodell, than it does about Tom Brady, whom Goodell suspended for four games — deeming him guilty of having some part in deflating footballs in a playoff.

Because college football and basketball are so prominent, when the best players move up to the pros they're already well-known.

However, baseball's different.

How many of you pretty good sports fans can tell me who won the baseball College World Series just a few weeks ago? Same with the players. Even the stars drafted highest are anonymous except to the real cognoscenti. And even then, whereas invariably the can't-miss prospects in other sports don't miss, hardly ever miss, in baseball nobody ever says: Can't miss. Fact is, the ones who miss too often are the scouts.

Some people wanna ban boxing. I just wanna ban boxing movies.

You get the feeling sometimes that Hollywood still thinks Joe Louis is heavyweight champion and boxing is still top-tier popular? Yes, there's yet another boxing movie out, this one entitled Southpaw.

Oh, please, please. Making boxing movies when boxing is so passé would be like if Hollywood kept making showbiz movies about vaudeville.

Click the audio above to hear Frank Deford's take on movies about boxing.

In the famous Disney movie, a carpenter named Geppetto longed to have a son. He carved a puppet of a boy, and, wouldn't you know it, the wooden Pinocchio magically became a real child. Fantasy games are the Pinocchio of sport, for all who play them become Geppettos. Isn't it the dream of every fan to construct his or her own team, as Geppetto wanted to carve out a son?

Soccer owns sports nationalism. There are world championships and continental championships in all kinds of sports, but when it comes to countries playing against each other, soccer's tournament is more spectacular than all the others put together. Hey, win the World Cup, baby, you're ticker tape on Broadway.

Whereas numbers have never been a significant adjunct to the other performing arts, they've been stitched into the very essence of sport. Not just the score, but how fast, how far, how good. And, of course, no sport is so identified with numbers as is our American baseball.

In fact, baseball statistics have been around almost as long as baseball. But stats — which is a fairly new shortcut word, about as old as the Mets and Astros are — have proliferated recently, not only in other sports, notably basketball, but to deeper and deeper levels of baseball enlightenment.

For those of you who haven't got your baseball All-Star ballot in, don't panic, you have until Thursday. It's convenient. You can get a ballot off the Internet, and here's the good news: You can vote 35 times.

Understand what I'm saying? Each fan can cast 35 votes. Where that magic figure comes from, I don't know. Why not 3,500 apiece? Or 35,000?

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