I grew up rooting for the Seahawks. I'm from Seattle. It happens. But over the years I've had a harder time justifying my enthusiasm for any NFL team. As Jerry Seinfeld put it "you're just cheering for a jersey". It's sad but true. The players change almost faster than the coaches. Blame free agency. Blame greed. Blame apathy. I just don't care anymore.

Now Terrell Owens is a Dallas Cowboy. Does anyone care? Maybe, but in the big scheme of things it doesn't matter. There is no integrity in the NFL. Team doesn't mean anything. Loyalty? Don't go there. Dallas signing the most despised player in the NFL––the same player that desecrated their "star" is just another brick in the wall between fans and commerce. And commerce is winning.

If you like to watch America's Funniest Car Crashes, then you'll probably enjoy the rap on www.terrellowens.com where he taunts the Eagles and praises his new contract. I wanted to transcribe the lyrics but my ears wouldn't stop bleeding.

A moment of silence please. Rod Smart, the back-up tailback for the Carolina Panthers was cut today. The only memorable player from the tragically lame XFL, Rod wore the now infamous "He Hate Me" jersey. Rod deserves his props. He played 1-AA ball in college as a 5' 11", 200-pound running back. He was cut by the Canadian Football League and parlayed his fifteen minutes of fame in the XFL to a job returning punts for the Panthers where he, among other things, returned a ball 100-yards for a TD against New Orleans and made it to the Superbowl. He'll never make it to Canton, Ohio, but he'll live on forever as an orange question in Trivial Pursuit.

The perfect Father's Day giftI play pick-up basketball a few times a week. I’ve been doing so for five years now. And after all my work, all my practicing, a broken finger, and a torn calf, I’m proud to say that I’m almost average. For a half-Chinese kid with no skills, no handles, no game, this is like climbing the Matterhorn without ropes.

Why is this a big deal? Maybe it’s my height. Or lack thereof. I was the tallest kid in my class until the 5th grade when I stopped growing. We moved from Ashland, Oregon to Port Orchard, Washington and I swear the Seattle rain had something to do with my shortened growing season. I was barely 5’5" in high school. But by wishing really hard I somehow made it to 6’ in college. A little late for hitting the hardwood. (I’m actually 5’11" and 3/4", but who’s counting).

When I moved to Hawaii, I started playing ball with friends. Which was a new experience, because a) I didn’t know how to play, and b) at 6’ I was the tallest guy on the court. I played center if you can believe it. White-Chocolate Thunder, plugging up the lane––oh yeah, that was me.

But the miracle of basketball is that, unlike golf, you can get better with practice. I’m living proof. I’m not the last guy you’d want on your team. Maybe next to last, but I can live with that. I have a couple crossovers. I can drain the three. And when I go up with my left, and it goes in, I've learned to act like I’m not surprised.

I can hardly believe it. The Seahawks are this (holding fingers together) close to making the Superbowl. THE SEAHAWKS! The last time they got this close I was a junior at South Kitsap High School.

I remember that magical ’83 season. When Chuck Knox called a triple-pass against Denver. When Largent delivered "The Hit" against Mike Harden. Kurt Warner’s breakout year. The Great Kenny Easley. And Dave Krieg. (You're still the man Dave.)

That was a great season.

Here’s hoping Sunday replaces that memory with a new one.

I’m not a hedonist. I don’t really even care for action movies. But I absolutely love watching The Ultimate Fighter (TUF) on Spike TV. To me, it’s the penultimate reality show. While contestants on shows like Fear Factor and Survivor compete to see who can drink the most pig’s blood, or stand on a fence post the longest, TUF simply puts their contestants in a ring. The winner is the one still standing at the end of the show. It’s pure. And I love it.

It’s a pity that it basically gets an editorial head butt from newscasts like CNN who make it out to be nothing but thuggish confrontation by testosterone-fueled muscle-freaks without even touching upon the real sport of it all. The amazing combinations of fighting techniques. The incredible amount of strategy involved, in addition to the conditioning.

Granted, I’m a bit biased. My dad taught judo, so from an early age, I grew up on a steady diet of watching grown men being flipped to the ground and forced to tap out––in our family room no less. Some kids grew up in homes stricken with violent outbreaks, where fights were common. I did too. Ours just happened on Tuesdays.