David Brooks of The New York Times and Joe Posnanski of Sports Illustrated are both good writers and astute commentators who almost never work the same topic. And they might not think that they were doing so earlier this week. But I do, and it’s my blog.

First, let’s hear from Brooks. “You could easily get the impression that American politics are trundling along as usual. But this stability is misleading. The current arrangements are stagnant but also fragile. American politics is like a boxing match atop a platform. Once you’re on the platform, everything looks normal. But when you step back, you see that the beams and pillars supporting the platform are cracking and rotting. This cracking and rotting is originally caused by a series of structural problems that transcend any economic cycle: There are structural problems in the economy as growth slows and middle-class incomes stagnate. There are structural problems in the welfare state as baby boomers spend lavishly on themselves and impose horrendous costs on future generations. There are structural problems in energy markets as the rise of China and chronic instability in the Middle East leads to volatile gas prices. There are structural problems with immigration policy and tax policy and on and on. As these problems have gone unaddressed, Americans have lost faith in the credibility of their political system, which is the one resource the entire regime is predicated upon. This loss of faith has contributed to a complex but dark national mood. The country is anxious, pessimistic, ashamed, helpless and defensive.”

Clear enough, right? Now here comes Joe Posnanski, writing a piece that is complimentary to baseball commissioner Bud Selig. Posnanski says that recently he “wrote a little something about Bud Selig and how people cannot help but underestimate him. This has to do with Bud’s almost mythical ability to look baffled. Who can forget the Bud after the All-Star Game tie? Who can forget his rambling press conference when he held up the rule book after the rain-delayed World Series game? . . . .But Bud Selig has utterly transformed baseball. I’m not saying that he has always transformed it for the better. That’s a discussion for another time. But at the end of the day, baseball has been transformed — expansion, wild cards, interleague play, increased revenue sharing, drug testing, relative labor peace, new stadiums, All-Star games that determine homefield advantage, the World Baseball Classic, on and on. Maybe baseball stumbled into some of these things. Maybe it was pulled kicking and screaming. But this stuff happened. And Bud, unquestionably, was a force behind this stuff happening. He works the back rooms. He coaxes and ponders and considers. And sometimes he boldly acts. . . . Bud Selig might be the most influential baseball commissioner ever.”

Why are these stories connected? Because Posnanski is, in a way, illustrating the point Brooks is making. Selig, who is in charge of a pretty important American institution, is giving the American people what they want: leadership. “Not always for the better,” as Posnanski acknowldeges, but that’s not the point. People are smart enough to know that things don’t always work out as planned. But they do expect problems to be addressed. They do not want endless squabbling. They absolutely do not want endless partisanship. They want, as Franklin Roosevelt recognized, action: try something, and if it doesn’t work, try something else. All across America, people make decisions. They figure stuff out and move forward. Our debt issue is a bad thing. If we face it, it’s a problem. If we don’t, it’s a crisis. We need to have the common sense of Bud Selig.

Words of wisdom show up in the oddest places. Watching the Yankee game Friday, announcer Michael Kay was talking about a conversation he had with the manager of the Red Sox, Terry Francona, whose tram has started the season a lamentable 0 and 6. According to Kay, Francona was saying that no, the team wan’t down and certainly didn’t think it’s season had been ruined, but, “you know, you have to respect the loss.”

Respect the loss. Now, there is an honorable attitude. Humble, realistic, professional, serious, modest. It’s an attitude that bespeaks a willingness to examine why a game was lost, to apportion responsibility, and to make improvements. If only business and political leaders could be as honest with themselves–and us.

In Sunday’s game between the Baltimore Ravens and the Miami Dolphins, Raven fullback Le’Ron McClain pretty clearly spit in the face of Miami linebacker Channing Crowder–an infraction of the rules, and probably a serious health code violation as well. After the game, a furious Crowder expressed his anger that none of the officials saw the infraction and called a penalty. “A guy just spit in my face! I don’t give a damn about [teammate] Karlos [Dansby] pulling somebody’s facemask. Like they didn’t see [quarterback] Chad Henne get hit twice when he slid. Yeah, a little Stevie Wonder and Anne Frank … Is that the blind girl? Helen Keller … I don’t know who the fuck Anne Frank is. I’m mad right now. I’m not as swift as I usually am.” For future reference: Anne Frank, the diarist and victim of Nazi persecution, is pictured at left; Helen Keller, the person who overcame multiple disabilities to become a great humanitarian, is at right.

The NFL Network, which Cablevision does not allow me to see, recently rated the top 100 players in NFL history. I’m not going to repeat the entire list–you can click here if you wish to see it–but here are my observations on the selections:

I would not have listed Jerry Rice as Number One. He’s a great player, very easily a top 10 player, but I don’t think I would put any receiver in the top spot. Jim Brown (Number 2), who was one of the architects of the league during its turning point era, or Lawrence Taylor (Number 3), a sport-changing player, or the great Johnny Unitas (No. 6), the Father of Modern Quarterbacking, would have been my choice.

Walter Payton (Number 5) was a great player, but he played on a lot of bad teams.

Jack Lambert at 29? Okay, but why so far behind Dick Butkus (Number 10, and no championships or Super Bowls) and Ray Lewis (Number 18, and one)?

Delighted to see Jim Parker (32), Raymond Berry (36), Gino Marchetti (39), John Mackey (42) and Lenny Moore (94) on the list, although it seems a disservice to rank the elegant Moore that low. I like him better than Tony Dorsett, but then Dorsett isn’t ranked much higher. And where the heck is Art Donovan?

I’m happy to see Brett Favre at 20. I still find him enormously entertaining.

Dan Marino (25) can play quarterback on my team anytime, but with only one Super Bowl appearance (a convincing loss), does he deserve to stand so far ahead of Roger Staubach (46), Terry Bradshaw (50), and Bart Starr (51).

Down 5-1, the Rangers looking capable and confident, C.J. Wilson pitching the game of his life, the Yankees strike. Gardner beats out a slow roller with a head-first slide. Jeter doubles, scoring Gardner. Score is 5-2. Rangers change pitchers. Swisher walks. Teixiera walks. Rangers change pitchers. On the first pitch, Rodriguez smashes a grounder to left. Two runs score. Yanks trail, 5-4. Rangers change pitchers. On the first, Cano lines a single to center. Teixiera scores, tying the game. Rangers change pitchers. Thames hits broken bat single (above), and the Yanks take the lead. Seven up, seven reach base. Rangers get the leadoff hitter on in the eighth, but Wood picks him off, and in the ninth, but the great Rivera takes care of business

We went to see the film Secretariat yesterday. It was a fairly standard sports story, full of the usual sports story pleasures–a plucky lead character, colorful supporting characters, beautiful pictures of competition. Diane Lane and James Cromwell had some swell scenes involving business dealings. The big let down for me came when they showed Secretariat winning the Belmont Stakes. For some bizarre reason, director Randall Wallace chose to play “Oh Happy Day,” the joyful, uplifting soul spiritual by the Edwin Hawkins Singers, over Secretariat’s triumphant sprint to the finish line. It’s a great song, but it totally diminished the moment in the film, at least in the mind of someone who remembers watching the race on television. Never before or since have I heard a crowd cheer so unreservedly as the crowd at Belmont did that day. They knew they were seeing something that hadn’t been done in 25 years, that five times in the previous decade horses had won the first two legs only to falter in the Belmont, and that they were witnessing Secretariat seize a place in history with an almost mythic display of power. The ever-increasing crescendo of noise was the perfect accompaniment to Secretariat’s unparalleled accomplishment, far better than any song, and I’m sorry Randall Wallace didn’t have the wit to realize it.

After a middling October in which key players struggled and the team gave away a first-place finish in the standings, I didn’t have a great feeling about the Yankees’ chances this October. Now, after a three-game sweep of a very good Twins team–one which was accomplished without much from Alex Rodriguez and only a very so-so start from C.C. Sabathia–the team looks like the scary Yanks of yesterday: powerful, resilient, and imperturbable. In Game One, the Yanks outlasted the estimable Francisco Liriano and won late. In Game Two, old reliable Andy Pettitte shook off a couple of poor September outings to handcuff Minnesota until Lance Berkman, who hadn’t produced much of anything since coming over in mid-season, chose this moment to hit a homer and double and bring the Yanks back from behind. Game Three followed a different script, as Phil Hughes, maturing into the formidable starter he had so long been projected to be, stymied the Twins, while the offense nicked the Twins pitcher until Marcus Thames blasted a two-run homer to end things early. In all three games the Yanks got big contributions from Curtis Granderson, who seemed lost most of the year, and the expected closings from Mariano Rivera, who this year went through his customary wobbly period unusually and frighteningly late in the season. Suddenly the team looks strong and deep, while neither Texas nor Tampa seems ready to seize their series. Well, one or the other will win, and will get to face the Yanks for the American League flag starting Friday.

George Blanda began playing pro football before I was born and concluded his career when I was 23, far too young and immature to understand him as anything but an anachronistic and vaguely humorous figure. Now I am trying to continue a career at an age far beyond that which Blanda had attained when he retired, and I admire and applaud his amazing longevity.

Drafted by the Bears as a quarterback in 1949, Blanda spent a decade doing little but placekicking for the Bears. When the AFL formed, he signed with the Houston Oilers, and led that team to the league’s first two titles. Let go by the Oilers in 1966–they thought he was too old–he signed with the Oakland Raiders and played with them for nine more years.

Blanda retired when he was 48. At the time, he was the NFL’s career scoring leader. No player has ever played longer. In one game, he threw seven touchdown passes, a feat only four other professional quarterbacks have equaled. In another game, he kicked a 55-yard field goal. He was voted the A.F.L player of the year in 1961. He threw 42 interceptions in 1962, a record. He was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1981.

In 1970, when he was 43, Blanda had an amazing five-game stretch in which he saved the game for the Raiders. On Sunday, Oct. 25, 1970, Blanda stepped in for the Raiders’ injured starting quarterback, Daryle Lamonica, and threw for three touchdowns in the fourth quarter to beat Pittsburgh. The next Sunday, against the Kansas City Chiefs, he kicked a 48-yard field goal with eight seconds left in the game, salvaging a tie. The next week, facing the Browns, Blanda entered the game with a little more than four minutes to play and the Raiders down by a touchdown. He threw a touchdown pass, kicked the extra point, and when the team got the ball back, drove the team and then kicked a 52-yard field goal that won the game with three seconds on the clock. The next Sunday, he beat Denver with a late touchdown pass; the Sunday after that, he beat San Diego with a last-minute field goal. “I really believe that George Blanda is the greatest clutch player I have ever seen in the history of pro football,” said Raiders coach Al Davis. The Raiders went all the way to the AFC title game that year.

Blanda died yesterday at 83. The thing young people don’t know about longevity is that you need more than willingness; you also need will, as well as desire; aptitude; talent; skill; determination, and most of all resilience. You don’t save the team for five straight weeks when you’re 43 if you get ground down after throwing 42 interceptions when you’re 35. Life is long; there are days of triumph and days of defeat.

Way to be a man, George.

I finally cashed in the fabulous Father’s Day gift I received in June, as Ginny and Molly and Cara took me to see the Yankees beat the Toronto Blue Jays, 7 to 5, on a picture-perfect end-of-summer afternoon in the Bronx. We sat in Section 306 in the Terrace, which put us in a prime position to get study the dorsal side of the right field foul pole. The new Yankee Stadium, with its fine wide concourses and clean bathrooms and multiple line-reducing concessions, is a fine improvement over the old, and the new Metro North stop made commuting a breeze. As for the game, diffident starting pitching by Javier Vasquez nullified early hitting by Derek Jeter (Below left) and Robinson Cano, but five innings of fine bullpen work stemmed the Jay attack, leaving the door open for Marcus Thames (below, right)to become the hero by slugging a two-run homer in the seventh, his 11th of the season. The great Mariano Rivera notched his 29th save (top), and once again, the crowd sang “New York, New York” as they walked out into the sunset. It was the eighth win in a row for the Yankees, who now hold a to-game lead on the Tampa Rays for the lead in the AL East, and for the best record in baseball.