Columns Can React to News, Tell Stories, Demonstrate Vision

There are pitchers who rely on one pitch as their out pitch. Power pitchers, usually, who go to the fastball or the sinker. They are a special commodity. And then there are those pitchers whose effectiveness depends on an array of offerings. They are change-up type hurlers. Curve, fastball, sinker, slider. They vary the speed and location of their pitches.

I'd like to think this is my strength as a columnist. I like to use different approaches, different styles and tones depending on the column du jour. Columns can break news, enhance coverage, or a column can lift the view and discussion to another level. I think changing pace keeps the column fresh, versatile, interesting -- hopefully.

Here are some links to some of my favored columns.

At the 2004 Summer Olympics in Greece, Baltimore Scores Big

Loyola (Md.) College lacrosse coach Diane Geppi fights 'til the end with brain cancer.

No one knows Mike Tyson like his former trainer, Teddy Atlas

Ravens are Super Bowl Champs You Love to Hate
(This column was written in Seattle. When I arrived in Ravens-crazy Baltimore to write a sports column for The Baltimore Sun, imagine how unhappy many people were about this.)


Here is the first column I wrote for The Baltimore Sun:

Leave it to Babe to start new home run
[FINAL Edition]
The Sun - Baltimore, Md.
Author:	LAURA VECSEY
Date:	Sep 4, 2002
Section:	SPORTS
Text Word Count:	935
Document Text
TALL SHIPS in the Inner Harbor and water taxis puttering toward Fells Point told me I was in the right place. Baltimore. So did the Maryland Terrapins basketball fan whose chest bore a "Fear the Turtle" T-shirt and the Harborplace maintenance worker wearing a cap emblazoned with the Colts logo. Not the Ravens. Colts. But fresh off a plane from Seattle - another harbor city that had the sense to follow Baltimore's lead and also set a gorgeous baseball theater downtown by the water - I was in search of a starting point. Where do I begin? For the past eight years, I wrote a sports column in Seattle. Seahawks fans, by the way, are still infatuated with Trent Dilfer and thank the Ravens and Brian Billick for casting off their Super Bowl QB. Oddly, Dilfer's speedy and complete recovery from a knee injury may be crucial to Mike Holmgren's job security. As for the Mariners, it's not as if a late-season swoon is unheard of. In 1997, Mike Mussina and the O's demoralized Randy Johnson and the M's not once, but twice, to win that American League Division Series, 3-1. Come to think of it, weren't the O's supposed to win the World Series that season? Whatever happened to all those guys anyway? Alomar? Anderson? Cal? Anyone? Before Seattle, I wrote sports columns and news stories in Albany, N.Y. (and Baltimore likes to think of itself as a gritty, blue-collar kind of town). But this is something new: Writing a sports column in a city where March 28, 1984, is one of the most important dates in world history; where Frank Robinson, Brooks Robinson and Boog Powell once went 1-2-3 in the AL MVP voting; where fear and loathing lurk any time there is mention of major-league baseball making the Expos the Beltway's newest attraction. Where is the best place to commence this awesome enterprise for which I have been chosen? And then it hit me. It must begin right under the statue of George Herman "Babe" Ruth, the one that stands sentry outside Oriole Park at Camden Yards. It seemed the only natural place to start this new incarnation in this great American city. So I walked to Eutaw Street, stood stone still and looked straight up into the blue skies, where the Babe's barrel-chested figure loomed. The sun was shining down on him, like the universe's biggest spotlight could not resist highlighting him to this very day, even after Roger Maris, Hank Aaron, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds had eclipsed him in the record books. But no one can diminish the Babe's place or legend as god among baseball's immortals, which might explain why the sun's glare almost looked like a halo around his bronzed head. And so I prayed. OK, I did not actually pray, but that's only because a cute couple on their honeymoon asked me to snap their photo with the Babe. Otherwise I definitely would have prayed. You see, for the past month, ever since I accepted this job, I've had this recurring dream. OK, it's more like a nightmare, but in this dream/nightmare, I am Elyse. You know Elyse, of Eddie and Elyse from the classic Baltimore movie Diner by Barry Levinson. Elyse has to pass the Colts football quiz Eddie will administer under LSAT conditions, otherwise the marriage is off. You see, in this business, you don't worry so much about getting fired or making editors unhappy - all bad things, of course. But the worst thing you can do is disappoint the readers. Making readers mad or happy is one thing; making them believe you're a knucklehead is unspeakably bad. Which is why I don't want to fail the test, like Elyse, who did not know that George Shaw was not a first-round draft pick (he was a bonus pick) but did know that Alan Ameche had the longest run from scrimmage of any Colts rookie (79-yard run, Opening Day, 1955) in his first game. Now you can understand the decision to pray to St. Babe. You may also understand my decision to follow the painted baseballs on the sidewalk that led me to the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum. It was the best place to begin this job, this journey, this high- wire act. The time line of Baltimore's sports history is rich. It's so rich, it's a little daunting - particularly for someone who might be experiencing a touch of the "Elyse" syndrome. But this is going to pass. From broadcaster Ernie Harwell, the one-time voice of the Orioles, to the late John Steadman, the esteemed historian and sports columnist, the story of Baltimore sports is well-chronicled. My job, my vision, is to be a witness and a voice for the next leg of this race. I know I don't come from this place. Nowhere on my birth certificate does it say "Baltimore" or "Maryland." But it's tough not to feel at home here. People call you "Hon." They try to lure you to live in their particular neighborhood, be it Mount Washington or Catonsville, city or county. And underneath it all, aren't we all connected in some big way? You don't think a native New Yorker like me didn't grow up fascinated with B. Robinson? Or feel as if big Boog was like one of my cut-up uncles? Broadway Joe might have predicted that Super Bowl win, but Johnny Unitas was always the first, the greatest. It says so at the museum at Babe's old Baltimore house, the place where it all started, first for him, now perfect for me. Seahawks fans, by the way, are still infatuated with Trent Dilfer and thank the Ravens and Brian Billick for casting off their Super Bowl QB. Oddly, Dilfer's speedy and complete recovery from a knee injury may be crucial to Mike Holmgren's job security. You know Elyse, of Eddie and Elyse from the classic Baltimore movie Diner by Barry Levinson. Which is why I don't want to fail the test, like Elyse, who did not know that George Shaw was not a first-round draft pick (he was a bonus pick) but did know that Alan Ameche had the longest run from scrimmage of any Colts rookie (79-yard run, Opening Day, 1955) in his first game. ***************************************************************************** COLUMN ON STEROIDS: What will a congressional hearing accomplish when players see no evil in steroid use? [FINAL Edition] The Sun - Baltimore, Md. Author: LAURA VECSEY Date: Mar 8, 2005 Section: SPORTS Text Word Count: 741 Document Text IT GIVES ME great pleasure to announce this will be the last column I write about steroids and baseball. Unless, of course, the grandstanding congressmen who want to squeeze every last drop of scandal out of the downsized Jason Giambi, among others, succeed in holding their scheduled "hearing" March 17 on Capitol Hill. Then this will be the second-to-last column I write about steroids and baseball. Maybe Rep. Tom Davis is getting a kickback from Jose Canseco's publisher. Nothing like a tell-all book from a disgraced slugger to drive the agenda of our nation's leaders. No one except Canseco (with a book to sell) wants a congressional hearing, especially Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro, Mark McGwire, Frank Thomas, commissioner Bud Selig, Padres general manager Kevin Towers and former Athletics general manager Sandy Alderson. They've mostly said they'll respectfully decline. Yet Rep. Davis told CBS that the House Government Reform Committee is prepared to subpoena players and officials. Earth to Washington: Can't we move on? What, exactly, is the point of this hearing? If, under oath, players other than the ones who admitted steroid use before the BALCO grand jury (Barry Bonds, Giambi, Gary Sheffield) are forced to say they, too, juiced up, where does it stop? The guess here is that the only thing left to establish would be a list of every player who ever took steroids. If the point is to demonstrate steroid use was as widespread as has been reported, if the point is to demonstrate that owners and officials were complicit in players' steroid use, why would those who were "invited" to testify stop at merely indicting themselves? This is not a necessary exercise. Not now, anyway. In these confessional days of the Post-Steroid Era, I'll admit there were times in the past that I took slightly sadistic pleasure in watching and/or reading about baseball officials being grilled by grandstanding members of Congress. Squirming dogs under the bright lights of C-SPAN: what a beautiful comeuppance. This includes a relentlessly pointed attack last year by Sen. John McCain on the players association's Donald Fehr. The union boss was called to Washington and told, basically, to come up with a drug- testing policy that included "real teeth." Otherwise, Congress would take care of the problem. These dog and pony hearings weren't scripted for Comedy Central by Dave Chapelle, but don't think it didn't cross my mind. But baseball is different this year from ever before. Even taking into consideration how late and how lax the drug-testing policy is that owners and players have now implemented, it's still better than the lawless, insidious, clandestine, cheatin' Steroid Era that just preceded us. So, is there really a need to waste one more breath, let alone taxpayer dollars, on the sordid little details of needles and creams? Not when the specter of steroid use by major league baseball players is apparently already being curtailed. More than 5 percent of the players tested positive in 2003, a threshold that triggered mandatory testing in 2004. Last week, Selig said the percentage of players who tested positive in 2004 was down to 1 to 2 percent. That's an improvement from the moment in January 2004 when President Bush used the State of the Union address to embarrass baseball and other pro athletes. If players weren't afraid of public reaction to steroid use, or at least concerned about how admitting use would affect guaranteed contracts or endorsement deals, then why have so many players lied about using steroids? That was then, before baseball finally stopped the bleeding. If Bonds can suddenly shift from a strategy of deny, deny, deny into a posture that, curiously, attempts to rationalize players' history of steroid use, that means he's trying to come clean, so to speak. "You're talking about something that wasn't even illegal at the time," Bonds told The Oakland Tribune and ESPN. "All this stuff about supplements, protein shakes, whatever. Man, it's not like this is the Olympics. ... We're entertainers. If I can't go out there and somebody pays $60 for a ticket, and I'm not in the lineup, who's getting cheated? Not me. So we all make mistakes. ... We need to forget about the past and let us play the game. We're entertainers. Let us entertain." Bonds wasn't invited to Washington, but he made his point. It smacked of a jailhouse confession. This is as much testimony from a star witness as this baseball fan needs. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction or distribution is prohibited without permission. Abstract (Document Summary) What, exactly, is the point of this hearing? If, under oath, players other than the ones who admitted steroid use before the BALCO grand jury (Barry Bonds, [Jason Giambi], Gary Sheffield) are forced to say they, too, juiced up, where does it stop? The guess here is that the only thing left to establish would be a list of every player who ever took steroids. If the point is to demonstrate steroid use was as widespread as has been reported, if the point is to demonstrate that owners and officials were complicit in players' steroid use, why would those who were "invited" to testify stop at merely indicting themselves? If Bonds can suddenly shift from a strategy of deny, deny, deny into a posture that, curiously, attempts to rationalize players' history of steroid use, that means he's trying to come clean, so to speak.