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You all know the fat man. He sits in his igloo all year until his day arrives to bring life to young children all around the nation. The miracle of Santa Claus touches us all -- at least those of us who celebrate the religion that seemingly has nothing to do with the holiday anymore.

What is it about Christmas that makes kids eyes light up? Is it purely because they get to cash in after a long year of being bound to the pointless, cruel wishes of their insufferable parents? Or is there something more? Something magic?

Remember back when you were a kid? Watching sports without the burdens of steroid allegations, dog combat, shooting incidents, or wave after wave of Peyton Manning commercials? Remember when sport itself was magical?

I don't mean to be "that guy" harping on sports these days, but it's hard to ignore the individual and collective travesties that have reshaped how we view sports. Even the smallest of things, such as endzone celebrations and 10-15 hockey hits with malicious intent are expected to happen every year.

It's the nature of professional sports these days.

So, I have an idea. Let's take a page from the magic man himself. The King of the North Pole and giver of gifts to all. Mr. Cringle himself.

I propose this simple solution for all major sports. It's so brainlessly easy and it keeps each and every athlete in check without favoring one over another. A list -- the list. The "naughty and nice" list.

By enacting one of these lists every season in professional sports, you can penalize players for any number of reasons ranging from legal trouble, to drug violations, to berating fans. It's a fail-safe.

Here's how it would work. Let's say we're talking about the NFL (not that there's any shady characters wearing football cleats...). What would happen is Roger Goodell would start his list in the preseason. He would keep the list going all the way up until the bye-weeks are over. At that point, it's punishing time! Suspend players for as little as one game or for as many as all postseason games. This way, you are penalizing players for games that are crucial to their team's success. In this case, for example, Rodney Harrison's suspension would not have kicked in until just recently and the Patriots would be fighting a much tougher battle.

Hold on, haters, I know this thing isn't happening in any sport. In baseball the players' association has the owner's balls in a vice grip and the NFL players' association isn't about to budge, so I know that this thing won't happen.

But that doesn't mean it wouldn't work. Think about Santa and the children. Children love Santa, right? I mean, he's jolly old Saint Nick...

Wrong.

Children fear Santa Clause. He controls their lives in a way their parents never could. He's always watching. Always. He watches you when you spend time with that kid down the street who always seems to have a supply of firecrackers, he watches you when you're sleeping, he even watches you on the can. He controls their lives.

So what recourse do kids have? They play the game. They act nice. When parents discuss Santa, children try to behave better. They do their chores. Even at the zero-hour, they attempt to bribe Santa with sugary snacks. The fat man in his ivory tower sits and watches all year long. The great surveyor of everything. His eyes miss nothing. You can't escape his glare and the kids know it.

No person or entity has ever been more manipulative that the fat man. Kids even sing songs about how wonderful the big guy is.

That is what we need in professional sports. A ruler with an iron fist (cast-iron stomach not necessary) who sees everything and judges everything. Any action, no matter how minute or small it may seem carries its weight and makes its way onto the list.

The commissioner in complete control. It makes so much sense...which is why it will never happen. I know Roger Goodell would love this idea, but sadly it will never happen. It's a Christmas gift that we'll never again see. Sports - clean, fun, and magical.

Looks like the fat man wins again.

Some general observations from the world of sports as I wait for the fat man to destroy my fireplace...

I think Jessica Simpson put a hex on Terrell Owens' ankle last Saturday. Although, considering the frequency of her damaging public appearances, maybe it was Ashlee.
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The latest ESPN projections have Matt Ryan going #4 to the Atlanta Falcons. Ever considered the CFL, Matt?
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The Thrilla in Manilla is on TV as I type this. I seriously wonder how many people my age actually have an understanding of boxing and just how amazing these fights were. The video quality - horrendous. The fight - beautiful.

I'm thinking of proposing an amendment that anyone who watches "The Contender" should be forced to watch all three Ali/Frazier fights and The Rumble in the Jungle. While we're at it, can we strip the Mike Tyson era from the record books and let him fade into Bolivian?
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The Patriots not scoring in the second half doesn't bother me one bit. Tom Brady was throwing exclusively to Randy Moss in that second half, whether he had two, three, or eleven men on him. Now, New England's at the 15-0 mark with a Giants squad next week that will have most of its reserves in. This bothers me more than anything. The bench players will be hungry. Give me Eli, Plax, and Jacobs any day. That being said, the Patriots will destroy the Giants at home next week and go undefeated.
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Quote of the week...when asked why he thought Tom Brady was throwing to him a lot. Randy Moss said, ""I mean, hell, I'm Randy Moss! What do you expect?"
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Have the 2007 Pats broken the record for the number of records broken yet?
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Finally, it seems, the Bruins are human. They've suffered injury after injury and finally are seeing the impact. Nevertheless they continue to hold a very solid 40 points (18-14-4) heading into Christmas. How did they do it? I have no idea. Schaefer has been a disappointment. Kessell is streaky. Bergeron has been out. Chara's production is down. Bochenski added a lot of weight in the offseason and has been slow getting back. Murray started slow and has been hurt. You figure it out! All I know is, Claude Julien better win the Jack Adams this season. This team was predicted by just about everyone to be scouring for loose change on the ground floor of the league and now they're one of the strongest defensive units in the league.
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The Bruins have gone through five goaltenders this season and nine in the last two seasons (Thomas, Rask, Auld, Fernandez, Sigalet, MacDonald, Toivonen, Sauve, Finley). That's a lot of turnover between the pipes.
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Seriously, where DID that list of players go that CNBC erroneously reported to be the Mitchell Report?
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The battle for AFC sub-supremacy...Pittsburgh without Willie Parker would be a .500 team this season at best. They'll get bounced in the first round of the playoffs. Jacksonville lighting up Oakland for 49 is a lot like watching a home run derby. Show it to me against a quality opponent in a tough situation. Indy has been swept so far under the carpet they may never see the light of day. What happened to those defending champions anyway? 13-2 with the injuries they've suffered is no small task. Leave it to Tom Brady to make Peyton Manning's 30 touchdowns look pathetic.
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NFC team that can compete against the AFC's best...
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It seems the Sox and Yanks are taking a break from the Santana trade talks for the Christmas break. Originally, my opinion was that Minnesota would be crazy not to trade Santana, now I'm not too sure. They bolstered the offense somewhat and they still compete in the pedestrian and inconsistent AL Central. Maybe, just maybe, they can take the Central. Though losing Garza and Silva leaves two big spots to fill in that rotation.
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That last Celtics roster spot is quickly looking like the last plane ticket to Hollywood for American Idol. Anybody who's touched an NBA basketball in the last 10 years wants in.
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Leave it to a terrible Derek Anderson performance to risk Romeo Crennel's Coach of the Year chances. If Cleveland misses the playoffs, we'll miss out on one of the biggest dogs to make the playoffs in the last decade.
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That's all for now.

It was just a week ago -- seven short days -- when baseball as we knew it fell apart. George Mitchell and his merry band of henchmen, armed with nothing but a clubhouse attendant and a polite request, brought the game to its knees. 400+ pages outed 80+ players, past and present, calling them cheaters and liars.

For a generation who grew up watching home run totals skyrocket and a new individualistic approach to a nine-man game, the report came as not-quite-so-solace. We knew the truth, but at least we knew the truth. A strange day that featured the sky falling on the east coast and baseball collapsing under its own incompetence ended with a mix of hope, anger, and confusion.

Then a strange thing happened. After the dust settled and names were named, players, much to the chagrin of their attorneys, admitted it. Placed in the crosshairs unlike any time in baseball history, many players chose to open up, drop the cyborg-athlete speak, and admit their past misdeeds.

It started with home run great F.P. Santangelo (21 career home runs, for the boys and girls counting at home). Santangelo confirming part of Mitchell’s allegations, saying he had used HGH on two occasions. Made into a bit of an unlikely and unwilling hero, Santangelo’s admissions prompted others named to follow suit.

Paul Byrd, Fernando Vina, and Brian Roberts, followed with a ‘my bad’ ridden with qualifiers. It was “a one-time use” or “under doctors orders” or “officer, I only had two drinks”. But the damage was done. Baseball players for the first time were confirmed as guilty, or at least not innocent, and even the biggest names in the report refused to refuse the truth.

Except one man. After seven Cy Youngs and 46 years of life, Roger Clemens emerged from the pack with the same vehement denials typically reserved for Jose Canseco steroid probes. In a statement so robotic I think it was leaking oil, Clemens (through his agent, of course) criticized steroid use and called it a “destructive shortcut” for athletes.

Now, ten years after the twilight of his career, Clemens is under a microscope for the first time in his career. Immune from the watchful eyes that followed some of baseball’s mightiest sluggers in recent years, Clemens defied logic, age, basic physics, and retirement by continuing to pitch at a high-level over a decade after weight and injury issues led him to a plus-4 ERA in two of his final four years in Boston.

But after a strength training regimen prescribed by David Copperfield, Clemens had a resurgence. 11 seasons later, Clemens cemented himself as one best pitchers of all time.
Now, as Clemens watches the ceiling cave in and his wife struggles to reach him due to lackluster cell phone reception, Roger is the kid alone at recess refusing to play with the other kids. I don’t know much about fashion, but you can’t tell me that there’s anything trendier these days than presidential candidates, snow shovels, and admitted use of performance enhancers.

To make matters worse, his best friend just picked up a tetherball. Andy Pettitte’s half-admission of HGH use not only corroborates the legitimacy of former Yanks’ strength trainer Brian McNamee, but leaves Roger in a difficult position. Now, every ESPN analyst under the sun is calling for congress to talk to Roger. Police squads are being put on watch, FBI officials are practicing looking cool when they flip open credentials, and Robocop is getting his dome polished all in anticipation of congressional action.

I have another solution and it’s so brainlessly easy it will never happen. It doesn’t matter who Roger Clemens talks to but what he says. And this time his agent can’t speak for him.
For as long as our generation has been blinded by 450 foot blasts and “mediocre” 30 home run seasons, we’ve been stupefied by athlete-speak. The brainless post-game submissions of millionaires saying nothing while putting on the illusion of saying something. Bill Belichick’s Patriots are holy savior of this phenomenon, but it’s been in existence for years and Roger may just be the best in baseball at it.

After signing with Toronto, Clemens never batted an eye at his Boston past. Instead, his eyes glazed over with visions of dollar signs dancing through his head (agents don’t deal in sugar plums).

But for the first time, it seems, we will get a candid Roger, instead of a canned-Roger. After agreeing to an interview on 60 Minutes (yes, the same 60 Minutes where A-Rod expressed his heartbreak over Scott Boras).

If there’s one thing sports does NOT need right now, it’s more canned speech. Roger has used it his entire career, but whether innocent, guilty, or semi-guilty-but-repentant, the last thing the baseball public needs are more lies.

The truth needs to come out, however sordid, seamy, or seemingly suspect.

We need to know.

Roger will be trying to save face more than anything else in this interview, but for once, let’s all collectively root beyond party lines. Beyond uniforms, logos, and regional definitions.

Let's root for the truth. Let's root for baseball.

Well, the match-up of the season has come and passed and after a disappointing 87-85 loss to the Pistons, Celts fans are left to ponder what we learned in the loss. The easy answer? Nothing we didn’t already know.

Watching Chauncey Billups and Rajon Rondo trade blows like Rocky and Apollo in the first quarter was pure fun. Chauncey hits a jumper, Rondo slashes in the lane for two, Chauncey answers back, Rondo answers back - one of the more enjoyable sights of the season so far. But that same match-up turned Boston fans into a quivering mess in the second half. Why? Chauncey was done with the cat and mouse game. When push came to shove, Chauncey Billups became Chauncey Billups while the young nucleus of Celtics defenders crumbled around him. Rondo couldn’t stay out of foul trouble and his five fouls loomed over him in the second half. Rondo let Billups run free and he burned the Celts en route to 28 points. Rondo didn’t even touch the floor in the game’s final minutes as Doc opted to go with Eddie House and Tony Allen, which only delayed the inevitable.

An embarrassing foul committed by Tony Allen with .1 seconds left was the lasting image of the night. Billups, the marionette, pulled the wool over our eyes and cut the puppet strings. It all seemed like an act and it felt like we’d been had. We’d been tricked into thinking that a 6-foot-1, 67 pound kid could guard one of the game’s savviest, multi-talented threats. Maybe we should have known all along.

Of course, the backlash resulted in a sportsradio frenzy. Everyone from Abington to Yarmouth (we don’t have any Z’s?) called to knock the Celtics off their pedestal. Chants for a veteran point guard could be heard all over the Bay State. If only we had Reggie Miller... Is John Stockton available?

The answer doesn’t lie in knee-jerk reactions. Last week, Rajon Rondo was one of the league most promising young point guards, entering only his second season in the NBA. This week, he can’t hold his mud. 7-of-10 shooting and 7 assists aren’t enough to warrant a premiere time against a tough opponent.

Let’s not be so brash. Rondo has been everything the Celtics have asked for and more. Yes, he still has some filling out to do, but Rondo’s inadequacies against the NBA’s best point guard aren’t to blame for the Celtics loss.

The boys in green shot 4 of 14 from long range, an area that Detroit buried the Celtics in last night. To make matters worse, the Celtics hit a mere 61% of their free throws, missing out on crucial opportunities to point a couple of points on the board. The Pistons excelled in both areas, firing up the jets in the second half to leave the Celtics in the dust.

Sure, you can find blame to place in this game. If you believe Kendrick Perkins, even the team wasn’t exempt from pointing fingers. The scene in the locker room was described as dismal, almost like a funeral. An overreaction? Maybe, but I’ll take a team that plays every game like it’s their last any day of the week. There have been games this year where a surly Kevin Garnett talks to the media after the game, disappointed at what his team could not accomplish in a win. Maybe some of the Belichick stuff is getting around.

The bottom line is last night we witnessed a revival of an old feud. Billups semi-hip check non-call was no Bill Laimbeer fist fight with the hick from French Lick, but it’s the most that basketball fans in Beantown have had to get excited about in 15 years. The Nets/Celtics “rivalry” of 2001 and 2002 was the equivalent of a Pawtucket Red Sox playoff series, it didn’t matter who won, the winners were still losers. Now, five years later, the Eastern Conference is no joke and neither is the renewed rivalry.

Chauncey’s grin was the lasting image of round one. It seems destined for these two teams to meet down the road and if they do expect a series that would do Bird and company proud.

As for what the Celtics learned? They learned they’re still learning. And the Pistons learned that the east just got a lot tougher.