JohnFMurray.com

The following year Dr. Murray returned the invitation – teasing Geller that he needed to improve his tennis game – and Geller made a guest appearance at Dr. Murray’s sport psychology workshop. He gave a one hour inspirational speech to the attendees, performed some of his feats and then concluded with the highlight, bending the metal T-2000 tennis racket made famous by Jimmy Connors. You can read the BBC story here.

Geller came through again this year. During one of Dr. Murray’s meetings with tennis pro Vince Spadea, Uri and his family met Dr. Murray and Spadea in Wimbledon Village, provided some interesting words of wisdom, and then showed Vince what put Geller on center stage in the USA national media many many years ago. He bent a metal fork for Vince by rubbing it gently, and then almost perfectly replicated a drawing of a small house that Vince had drawn totally outside of his view. Geller had accomplished the same feat with Dr. Murray and others at the workshop.

Why the interest in Geller? As Dr. Murray explains, “no matter what anybody says about Uri, he has treated me as a friend several times in England, he has a wonderful family, and he’s a lot of fun. I think he likes the fact that I am a performance psychologist and he is distantly related to Sigmond Freud. How he bends spoons or replicates drawings I have no clue. All I know is that he is a fun, interesting and informative fellow who has the ability to inspire. There is not too much wrong with that.”

“Every one of those who are criticizing this franchise wish they were boring enough to hold a victory parade on Sunday,” former City Councilman Chip Haass said.

Indeed, where love is lost on Madison Avenue, it flows through San Antonio like the city’s celebrated river.

“We are respected,” Spurs owner Peter Holt told ESPN last week. “We are respected by the people we want to be respected by.”

The evidence was on display again in the television ratings for Game 3. Against an underwhelming 7.8 Nielsen number nationwide, San Antonio drew an eye-popping 43.3 local rating — well above the 32.9 posted by Cleveland, playing in its inaugural NBA Finals and bidding for its first professional crown of any kind since 1964.

Those figures also illustrated the gap between San Antonio’s passion for the Spurs and that of the rest of the country.

The franchise is the most successful in the league over the past nine seasons, a track record that has prompted a debate as to whether the staggered-year championship runs constitute a dynasty. As of Friday evening, just more than 60 percent of respondents to an ESPN.com poll agreed it did.

Former Spurs great Sean Elliott said the same accomplishment would have had greater resonance had the San Antonio players been wearing the jerseys of the storied New York Knicks or Los Angeles Lakers. Then, he said, there would be no dynasty debate.

This year’s Finals, though popular among the younger demographic favored by advertisers, was the least-watched of any in the league’s history. The Spurs’ fundamentally sound, defense-oriented style, while paying off on the scoreboard, had a tough time sparking the interest of a national audience looking for rim-rattling electricity.

“You know what the Spurs are? They’re Pete Sampras,” said Seattle SuperSonics supporter Kevin Walters, a pharmaceutical executive. The retired tennis star, known for his reticent personality, “would win and win and win, and then one day Sampras isn’t in a tournament and everyone asks, ‘Where’s Pete? Oh, he retired?’ No one noticed.”

Walters, a former South Texas resident who now lives in Gig Harbor, Wash., added: “My son is 14. You talk about Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili and Tim Duncan to him, and he shrugs his shoulders. It’s (an ESPN) SportsCenter-highlight kind of deal, and the Spurs aren’t that.”

The peripheral impact plays out in more than viewer apathy. The taciturn Duncan, arguably the finest player of his generation, ranks only 15th in jersey sales among NBA players. At No. 1? The Lakers’ Kobe Bryant, who has hogged headlines during his career for explosive scoring on the court and notorious troubles off it.

One national columnist, Mike Freeman of CBS Sportsline.com, saw the dismissal of the Spurs as disturbing.

“You constantly scream about wanting to root for a true team, a selfless team, a team with players who do not chest bump or commit grand larceny,” he wrote this month of uninterested NBA fans. “You go into apoplectic shock crowing about how the media focuses on the negative. You whine and lament the absence of good guys in sports.

“Then come the San Antonio Spurs and you phonies yawn.”

As a result, noted sports psychologist John Murray said it’s no surprise that San Antonio fans, resurrecting a familiar Alamo theme, would take on an us-against-them mentality.

“I think San Antonians have every right to close ranks and say, ‘To heck with you, we’re going to keep winning,’” Murray said from Palm Beach, Fla. “San Antonio is just not going to inspire any great media attention, I think. It’s not that it’s not a great community, but for some reason it hasn’t gathered a whole lot of attention for what it’s accomplished.”

But, he added, “It may be that the Miamis, New Yorks and L.A.’s are jealous of what San Antonio has.”

Not long after the Spurs’ win at Cleveland late Thursday, one reporter in the post-game news conference brought up the lone negative in the team’s recent success: It hasn’t captured back-to-back titles.

Spurs head coach Gregg Popovich, when asked about it, leaned toward the microphone and, using colorful language, indicated he didn’t care.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said.

After a heartbeat, he added, “I apologize.”

San Antonio fans didn’t need it. They know exactly how he feels.

Author Pete Williams

Steve Bergman ushered in a delegation of about 50 people into CommunityAmerica Ballpark on Saturday night, including his son’s team of 10-year-olds.

They sought autographs, handshakes and smiles from the stars participating in the second annual Willie Wilson T-Bones Classic Legends Game. Even if Generation Y didn’t recognize Generation EX.

“Those guys are my heroes, but when you tell the kids about them, they don’t even know these guys too much,” Bergman, 42, said of the younger generation.

“But it’s a big thrill for the parents to see their kids meet the idols they had. That’s something we never had the opportunity to do, and when your kids can do it, it’s probably more special.”

While baby boomers may drive Beamers and Benzes, deep inside, they still pine for the classic Cadillacs and Thunderbirds with bright fins. They may have iPods, but they fill them with the beat of Elvis and tones of the Temptin’ Temptations from old 33 LPs.

And sports fans who grew up in the 1950s, 1960s and early 1970s cling to their memories of the soundtrack of summer — a baseball game late at night on a crackling radio or on a fuzzy black-and-white television that showed a Willie Mays basket catch or a Henry Aaron home run.

That’s why thousands crowded into CommunityAmerica Ballpark for the chance to interact with former Royals heroes Wilson, John Mayberry, Frank White and Amos Otis, among others — as well as baseball icons such as Hall of Fame shortstop Ozzie Smith and outfielder Tommy Davis, the National League batting champion in 1962 and 1963.

“Bringing back these greats of the game … is meaningful to people,” said Pete Williams, author of Card Sharks, a definitive work on the baseball card phenomenon. “It gives them a connection they had with the game that perhaps they don’t feel anymore.”

The granddaddy of all the old-timers games is played in New York, where 54,497 crammed into Yankee Stadium earlier this month for a tradition that began with Lou Gehrig’s immortal farewell speech.

But even a few weeks ago in Tampa Bay, which has absolutely no baseball tradition, the Devil Rays were smart enough to hold a Turn Back the Clock promotion for an interleague game against the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Transplanted Dodgers fans and those who remember visiting Dodgertown, the club’s longtime spring training home in Vero Beach, Fla., got to see idols such as Duke Snider, Johnny Podres and Carl Erskine. The crowd of 24,068 nearly doubled the Devil Rays’ average attendance and was the second-largest of the season to that point, trailing only opening day.

Davis, a native of Brooklyn who spent the first eight seasons of his 18-year career with his beloved Dodgers (and part of his last with the Royals), offered an easy explanation for the baby boomers’ connection to the game.

“Think of all the names you had in those times,” Davis said, rattling off the names of contemporaries Mays, Bob Gibson, Sandy Koufax, Willie McCovey and Maury Wills. “It was great baseball. Baseball was more of the thing at that time for the kids. There wasn’t as much soccer and other things kids got involved in. Baseball was big in the 1960s.

“Don’t forget, the people who are over 30, 40 and 50 are the ones who are spending the money, and those are the people who remember those guys. That’s why our names will always be out there. The kids nowadays spend their money on computers and computer games.”

Why can’t the boomers let go? Why do those fans of the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s keep worshipping the heroes of yesterday instead of embracing the stars of today and tomorrow?

“The further away we get from something nowadays, the more value it has to us as a way of capturing something about that past that was magical, maybe even more in a nostalgia sense, than it really was at the time,” said John F. Murray, a Florida-based sports psychologist.

“People look back on the simplicity of the 1950s and 1960s and say that’s when things were solid.

“It’s a fascinating thing to hold on to that youth, to think that our Mickey Mantles will never get old or never are going to die. That hero who was on the cereal box became almost a life of its own, whereas today, you have Barry Bonds, who not many people respect.”

So the baby boomers, with more disposable income than their fathers and grandfathers, perpetuate their memories though the $2 billion-a-year sports memorabilia business, buying autographs, signed pictures, baseballs, jerseys and other collectibles.

And the former players, who missed out on the $1 million contracts, much less the $100 million deals, discovered a new livelihood in their post-playing days.

“When I interviewed Mickey Mantle in 1991, he said, ‘The reason I’m so popular right now is people who watched me play are now in power, and guys 45 to 55 have the money and prestige,’ ” Williams said. “We map that out 16 years later, and a guy who is 50 years old missed Mickey Mantle for the most part. Who’s the next generation? That guy might have watched the Bob Gibson generation and Aaron and Mays in the 1960s.

“For a lot of these players, they enjoy coming back into the limelight, and let’s face it, it can be profitable. For a lot of these guys who are probably comfortable, but not ridiculously rich, it’s a nice source of income, whether it’s an autograph show, a fantasy camp or a combination of things, it can make for a nice retirement income.”

Just about every major-league baseball team conducts a fantasy camp in January and February, and they cost from $2,900 to $4,495 for weekend warriors to cavort on a big-league field and receive five days of instruction from former players.

The Royals will embark on their fifth fantasy camp Feb. 4-8, and unlike some teams who import former players from different teams, the Royals employ 18 former Kansas City players — and three trainers — for 72 campers each year in Arizona.

“It was one of the highlights of my life,” said Pete Zevenbergen, 61, of Kansas City, Kan., who attended the Royals’ fantasy camp in 2006.

“It was a wonderful experience. Not the ball playing so much, but being around and listening to the stories, not just about who they played with, but players they played against.”

Zevenbergen hoped to renew acquaintances Saturday night with Mayberry, who was his favorite coach at the fantasy camp.

“I said John Mayberry, ‘If there is a worthy successor to Buck O’Neil, and I don’t know that there is, Mayberry is the kind of guy,’ ” Zevenbergen said.

The players of yesterday don’t let go easily, either.

Davis said he plays in at least two celebrity golf tournaments a week, mostly in California, and appears at one or two card or memorabilia shows per month.

It’s not always about the money, but the memories.

“Guys come up to me and ask me about things that I forgot about,” Davis said.

“They’ll say, ‘Do you remember you stole third base against so and so and ended up winning the game?’ I don’t remember that, but they do.”

During last year’s Willie Wilson event, Otis ran into a man who as a youngster was stranded after a Royals game during the Kansas City flood of 1977.

“There were about 10 young people who couldn’t get home, so they stayed at my house,” Otis recalled.

“I called their parents and took them home the next day. One of the guys showed up here last year. I hadn’t seen him in all those years. He wanted to remind me how I helped change his life that night. That’s one of my favorites.”

Mitch Adelstein, president of Mounted Memories, a sports-memorabilia company in Sunrise, Fla., that arranges shows, said the former players like to hear fans talk about the good old days.

“The players from that era are more approachable than the players are today,” Adelstein said. “A lot of the guys who played ball in the 1950s and 1960s had to have offseason jobs.

“The current players demand not only more for their autographs, but it’s reaching a point, they don’t want to do a memorabilia show, because in their minds, the time is too valuable. They’re making such enormous money that to ask a player to get on a plane and travel across the country, and make X number of dollars, that for you or me sounds like a fortune, they’d rather have that five hours to themselves.”

The baby boomers’ love affair with sports is not limited to baseball.

Two years ago, when Jack Nicklaus made his last U.S. tournament appearance at the Bayer Advantage Champions Tour event at Nicklaus Golf Club at LionsGate in Overland Park, fans flocked to watch him play, even hanging from tree limbs and peering from rooftops for a glimpse at the golfing legend, then 65 years old.

No doubt many baby boomers warm more to memories of Arnold Palmer hitching up his pants before making a shot than watching Tiger Woods pump his fists after sinking a putt.

Most prefer the sight of Johnny Unitas, in his high-topped shoes, calling his own plays over Peyton Manning’s line-of-scrimmage histrionics.

Just last weekend, Richard “The King” Petty drew a huge response when he drove the pace car at the Pepsi 400 in Daytona Beach, Fla.

Two days before the race, 22 of the 24 living Daytona 500 champions gathered in the same room in kicking off NASCAR’s promotion of next year’s 50th running of the Great American Race.

But when it comes to baby boomers, baseball and pro football provide the most special memories.

“Baseball is built on history and historical numbers,” Adelstein said. “That’s why the steroids thing is such a big issue. Football players wear helmets, while baseball players you know by number and face. Major-league baseball teams played 154, now 162 games, and football only 16. The person on the couch has a much closer relationship with a baseball player than any other sport.”

Perhaps no organization has closer ties with former players than the Old Timers Baseball Association of Chicago, which has quarterly meetings and dinners that honor former Cubs and White Sox players.

“We tell them, €˜I remember you,’ said Mark Braun, 54, the organization’s executive director. Its hero worship. Now theyre on a level that you can get to them and say, ‘I was there, and I remember what you did.

Its a wonderful experience revisited, and you can go back and say, Thank you.

Three years ago on the European Tour, Thomas Bjorn walked off the course in the middle of his round saying he was fighting demons in his head.

“I just saw trouble everywhere, Bjorn said shortly afterward. The fairway looked tiny. The green seemed to be the size of the hole. There was nothing but fear.

Although Bjorns travails caused chatter around professional golf, the news was greeted more quietly in the locker rooms on the PGA Tour. It might be because the tale was familiar. “All of us go through it, Bob Tway, the 1986 P.G.A. champion, said in an interview two weeks ago at the Memorial Tournament. “There are tons of stories like that.

On the eve of the United States Open at Oakmont Country Club, considered by many the most difficult course to be host to golf’s national championship, players talked about the mental stresses of a game in which physical execution is a fraction of the chore and every swing is dependent on the individual golfer. “It would be nice, when things are going bad, to raise your hand and say, ‘I’m tired,’ and bring someone else in like they do in other sports,” Tway said. “But we can’t call a timeout and bring another set of five guys in.”

Instead, much of that stress and strain remains internalized, some players said, partly because of their personalities. They describe themselves, and many of their competitors, as introverts.

“I’d say we’re all a little shy,” said Ted Purdy, the winner of the 2005 Byron Nelson Championship. “Even Tiger’s introverted. He’s to himself. With every golfer, there is a lot going on in their brains, but you just can’t see it. Inside, we’re churning and burning.”

Compared with athletes in more reactive sports like football or tennis, golfers deal with pressure in a much different way, said Dr. John F. Murray, a sports-performance psychologist based in Palm Beach, Fla. A football player can run or force a tackle. A tennis player can react to the ball flying across the net. A golfer, though, spends the majority of a five-hour round walking and waiting.

“Hitting a golf ball is less than one percent of the time in a round,” Murray said in a telephone interview. “Because of that, so much of their time is getting ready for a shot, and there are more mental factors that can distract you or also help you and be a positive. There is more potential for being stressed, but also for being prepared.”

At its most stressful, “the pressure is often more painful than somebody punching you in the face,” he said. Unable to run around a field or court, “these golfers are stewing in their juices,” he said.

“They have nowhere to go but think about what might happen, he added. And you cant punch the wall because youre out there on the course.

After walking off the course in Dublin, Bjorn was back competing days later, finishing tied for 16th at the Scottish Open. The next year, he won a European Tour event and carded seven top-10 finishes, including at the 2005 P.G.A. Championship. At the P.G.A., he reflected on why he walked off the K Club on the European Tour. I got out there on a very, very difficult golf course and it just got away from me, he said. I didnt believe in anything. I didnt have a shot that I could go to when I was under pressure, and it just ran away from me.

“I remember a couple of times in my career where I say: ˜This is it. Im going to take a break away from the game and get myself ready to play again. Ive been very successful doing that.

Bjorn is not the only player who has strained for clues to grapple with the pressure. At the Memorial Tournament, Sean O’Hair explained how he went to the self-help section of a bookstore the night before the 2005 John Deere Classic. His confidence was shot, he said.

“I went to get a psychology book to kind of get my head straight,” he said.

After browsing through titles, he ended up in the sports section. like: ‘You know what? Let’s get a Nicklaus book, he said. Its got pictures.

O’Hair ended up winning the tournament, but he has not won since. “I think self-doubt, positive self-talk, all those things we try and work on, it’s not so much we forget how to do stuff, he said. Its just about believing in ourselves.

Even Tiger Woods, who has won 12 major titles, at times making it look effortless, recognizes the sports mental strain.

“If you look at reactionary sports, they really don’t lose it as fast as someone in this sport,” he said. “It’s very rare that you see somebody like Steve Sax or Chuck Knoblauch get the throwing yips. But in our sport, you see quite a few guys get the yips, not only in the golf swing but a ton of guys with putting and chipping.

Through the years, some players have returned to their past form easier than others. David Duval, a former No. 1 player in the world and the 2001 British Open champion, has not won a tournament since.

Also in 2001 — coincidentally on the same course where Bjorn walked away — Henrik Stenson withdrew after nine holes at the European Open and spent months piecing together a game with a coach and a sports psychologist. (Stenson won the Accenture Match Play Championship in February.)

Ian Baker-Finch, who won the 1991 British Open, had such a loss of confidence in the years that followed that it drove him into broadcasting.

“Thomas Bjorn has made a very nice comeback,said Justin Leonard, the 1997 British Open champion. “He’s playing as good or better than he was at his best. With Finchy, its unfortunate that he couldnt get it back. Hes still a wonderful golfer, but getting it out here inside the ropes, hes kind of seen too many bad things to recover from.

“Sure, I’ll talk,” the Wharton County Junior College bull rider said. “If you get me three Vicodin.”

Minutes earlier, in his second bull ride at the College National Finals Rodeo, Duncan was tossed from an angry Seminole Wind, hitting the ground in a matter of seconds. If it would’ve stopped there, Duncan might’ve walked away clean and healthy. If it would’ve stopped there, Duncan might’ve been able to speak without slurring, blink withot wincing.

As it was, Seminole Wind was not a breeze. After bucking Duncan, the bull continued to charge, using his horns to vault him into the air without remorse. Then came the pummeling. Then came the trampling. Duncan was run into the fence and walked away looking as if he went four rounds with Mike Tyson instead of four seconds with Seminole Wind.

The crazy thing is, Duncan blames himself.

“If I was riding him like I was supposed to, I probably wouldn’t have gotten hit,” he said. “You know from your first start that anybody can get hurt — you ain’t gonna be a bull rider and not get injured. It goes along with the sport.”

That willingness to sacrifice his body sets Duncan and his fellow bull riders apart from other high-level athletes. Duncan considers what is essentially an extreme sport to be an acceptable risk. He looks at other extreme athletes and doesn’t see a correlation.

What’s a broken rib or two when you have to put ribs on the table?

“I think skydivers are crazy, but it’s something they’ve done all their lives,” Duncan said. “I just grew up around it, so it’s just second nature to me. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid. That’s why everybody don’t do it, I guess.”

Palm Beach, Fla. sports psychologist John F. Murray said that the risk-taking identity of bull riders is just that — an identity. A city kid would probably scoff at the idea of jumping on top of a 2,000-pound animal. Likewise, Duncan says he could never sit at a desk.

“(For them) it’s a totally acceptable undertaking,” Murray said. “I don’t see it as that outrageous that if you’re brought up in a setting like that, it’s something they want to do. Environment dictates what a kid’s going to grow up to admire.”

And Duncan sure grew up admiring the rodeo. A broken pelvis when he was 18 set him back a bit but, of course, he was quickly right back on the bull.

Compared to that, Monday’s injuries were but a scratch to Duncan.

“I put a lot of faith in God … but you can’t rely on God 100 percent,” he said. “Injuries do happen in bull riding, and everything happens for a reason. There’s a whole lot worse that could happen. You ain’t gotta brush fake teeth, anyhow.”

But a set of dentures might make one thing Duncan said a bit tougher.

He doesn’t mince his words when asked what he would tell Easy Street if he got the chance.

“I’d tell him payback’s a mother,” Duncan said. “I’d eat him at McDonald’s next week.”

The mayor is a problem golfer. Someone had to say it. Might as well be me — or maybe even an expert on such matters. We’ll see if we can locate one a bit later. Ravenstahl managed to keep his love of the links hidden during his first months in office. But that was during the fall and winter, where the word “handicap” to local duffers usually means a course covered with snow.

The first sign that perhaps Ravenstahl, 27, takes the sport a bit too seriously surfaced in May, with reports that he had crashed an Oakmont Country Club event to meet Tiger Woods.

A situational sand trap arose for the mayor when country club officials told him that the American Express-sponsored soiree with Woods was private. Ravenstahl got out of it by showing up anyway.

He missed par on good manners that day. But the incident was nothing compared to the mayor’s recent common sense double-bogey.

The mayor skipped a June 28 City Council hearing on the promotion of three police officers linked to allegations of domestic violence or disturbances.

The outrage expressed by many women’s groups at the time was further fueled last week, when the Tribune-Review reported that Ravenstahl missed the hearing to play in a charity golf tournament in which the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center paid $27,000 for the mayor and two UPMC executives to participate.

That would be the same UPMC that until recently employed David White, the mayor’s new $88,000-a-year director of public affairs and frequent — you saw this coming, didn’t you? — golf partner.

I related the above circumstances Tuesday to John F. Murray, a nationally renowned sports and clinical psychologist based in Palm Beach, Fla. I sought Murray’s opinion on whether the mayor’s golf habit has spiraled out of control.

“People can get so enamored by a sport that they might not always think clearly as to what their responsibilities are,” he said. “In this particular case, as you presented it, there appears to be a minor– if not a major — obsession.”

Murray believes he can help Ravenstahl tame that obsession, and he offered the mayor several free counseling sessions over the phone.

“He’s apparently dealing with insecurities about his game,” Murray said. “The mental skills lessons I teach can help him focus better and play more efficiently.”

Might those lessons apply to other aspects of life?

“I get that question a lot from parents who hire me to work with their top junior athletes,” Murray said. “The lessons learned in golf psychology can increase confidence. They can teach people to set their goals properly, to be resilient, to maintain passion but control emotion. The principles definitely are applicable to other areas.”

Lest he continue to let what should be a harmless preoccupation interfere with what should be his primary occupation, Ravenstahl might want to give this guy a call.

Eric Heyl is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review staff writer.

Although the defensive end’s death had occurred four days earlier — the body of Hill, who drowned following a Jet Ski accident, was discovered May 28 — it wasn’t until they saw him in a casket that it hit home.

“When you’re talking about life, a lot of times you feel like you’re at the pinnacle, you’re a professional athlete and it’s like you’re almost invincible,” said linebacker-turned-strength coach Don Davis. “It kind of brings vincibility, if that’s a word, back into life.”

Professional athletes carry a patina of invincibility. They’re young, wealthy, and in good physical condition. They are led to believe that they are different and special. Only through tragedies such as Hill’s are they jolted into the realization that they’re vulnerable and perishable, just like the rest of us.

It’s not a callous disregard for life or their own well-being that fuels the myth of invincibility. The very nature of their work conditions them to believe they can overcome pain, fear, and danger at will.

“They may have a feeling of being Superman,” said John F. Murray, a Palm Beach, Fla.-based sports psychologist who has worked with several NFL teams. “They think they’re indestructible. The active seeking of danger is part of contact sports. That’s going to be part of their inherent drive, to seek things that are exciting, and part of that comes with risk.”

Macho mentality

The 6-foot-6-inch, 300-pound Hill probably didn’t have risk-seeking on his mind when he hopped on his Jet Ski on Memorial Day evening to take a spin on Lake Pontchartrain, but, knowingly or not, he and his acquaintance, Ashley Blazio, who survived the accident, took a risk when they elected not to wear life jackets. In Hill’s case, it might have cost him his life.

There are different types of life jackets, including one called a type-1 that is designed to turn you upright if you lose consciousness in the water. The most common model is known as a type-3.

In Louisiana, Jet Ski operators are required by law to wear a personal flotation device (PFD). The law has been in effect since 1991, according to Lt. Col. Jeff Mayne, assistant chief of enforcement for the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. If a Jet Ski operator is not wearing a life jacket, he or she is ordered back to shore. Mayne said that in the last year, just 20 citations have been issued for Jet Ski operators not wearing personal flotation devices.

“We take wearing a PFD pretty seriously,” said Mayne. “We enforce those safety practices as much as we can. Wearing a PFD on a Jet Ski, we have a pretty high compliance rate. That is not something you usually run into, is someone not wearing a PFD.”

Hill is not alone. There are other examples of athletes not taking precautions.

St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a car accident April 29 of this year. Hancock, a onetime Red Sox pitcher, had a blood-alcohol level of 0.157, nearly twice the legal limit in Missouri (0.08), and was talking on his cellphone when he slammed his SUV into a tow truck. He also was speeding.

Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet when his motorcycle collided with a car last June. The helmetless QB suffered a concussion, lost several teeth, and broke bones in his jaw and face. Helmets are optional for adults over 21 in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and Roethlisberger’s accident has sparked a debate over whether they should be made mandatory again.

In May 2005, Cleveland Browns tight end Kellen Winslow was popping wheelies on his motorcycle in a parking lot when he flipped over the handle bars and tore his right ACL, putting him out for the season.

A motorcycle mishap cost Jay Williams his NBA career. The former Duke basketball star, who was selected second overall in the 2002 draft by the Chicago Bulls, lost control and crashed into a pole in June 2003, fracturing his pelvis, tearing knee ligaments, and suffering nerve damage in his left leg. After three years, Williams returned to the NBA with the New Jersey Nets for the 2006-07 season but played in only five games before being cut.

“Part of the bravado of professional athletes is to do things without worrying about your physical health,” said Murray. “I think part of the rush and machismo of the professional athlete is to not take as many precautions as somebody else might take.”

Playing by different rules

Patriots cornerback Ellis Hobbs acknowledged there are some athletes who feel they’re above the rules.

“I think society puts us on a pedestal and pats us on the back and kind of blows our head up and lets us know that it is OK to bend the rules and break the rules because we are who we are,” said Hobbs. “You have to kind of be self-conscious and realize, ‘I am still a person and I still have to respect the rules and regulations of life.’ ”

Hobbs said Hill’s death was a wake-up call for many in the New England locker room.

“You’ve got to question, ‘Do I really need to be doing these things? What are the risks?’ ” said Hobbs. “There’s no reason you can’t have fun and enjoy yourself, but do it the right way. If you’re on the water, put on a vest or something like that. If you do ride motorcycles, put a helmet on. Be safe.

“You can enjoy all those things, but do it in a cautious way understanding that you’re not invincible.”

However, Murray maintained that pushing the limits is part of being a professional athlete.

Peter Roby, director of the Center for the Study of Sport in Society at Northeastern University, doesn’t think athletes are any more likely to engage in risky behavior than other active people in their age group. He said the actions of Hill, who was 24, are more likely linked to his age than his status as an NFL player.

“Most people that age feel invincible,” said Roby. “All you need to do is pick up the papers and see that guys who are not pro athletes and are the same age fall victim to stuff like this on a daily basis.

“It’s not just the culture of sport that might make them feel this sense of invincibility, although I think that certainly contributes, but I think it’s more the feeling of being 23 or 24 years old and thinking you have another 60 years to live and being willing to take risks.”

Our culture of athlete idolatry blinds us just as much as those we worship, said Roby. We want to believe as much as they do that our sports heroes are invincible or infallible — that they are as good at life as they are their games.

“We’ve made the false assumption that because they’re so good at what they do athletically they must have themselves together in every other way,” said Roby. “Just because somebody can throw a football or run the 100-yard dash in less than 10 seconds, that doesn’t mean they’re totally equipped socially to make all the right decisions. They might be less equipped because they’ve been coddled because of their athleticism, as opposed to people challenging them when they’ve acted inappropriately.

“To that point, there might be some athletes that think, ‘As big as I am and as fit as I am, there is nothing I can’t do.’ Well, you’re still human. Whether it’s stepping in front of a bullet or driving a car 120 miles per hour, there is only so much the flesh can take.”

Although the defensive end’s death had occurred four days earlier — the body of Hill, who drowned following a Jet Ski accident, was discovered May 28 — it wasn’t until they saw him in a casket that it hit home.

“When you’re talking about life, a lot of times you feel like you’re at the pinnacle, you’re a professional athlete and it’s like you’re almost invincible,” said linebacker-turned-strength coach Don Davis. “It kind of brings vincibility, if that’s a word, back into life.”

Professional athletes carry a patina of invincibility. They’re young, wealthy, and in good physical condition. They are led to believe that they are different and special. Only through tragedies such as Hill’s are they jolted into the realization that they’re vulnerable and perishable, just like the rest of us.

It’s not a callous disregard for life or their own well-being that fuels the myth of invincibility. The very nature of their work conditions them to believe they can overcome pain, fear, and danger at will.

“They may have a feeling of being Superman,” said David Murray, a Palm Beach, Fla.-based sports psychologist who has worked with several NFL teams. “They think they’re indestructible. The active seeking of danger is part of contact sports. That’s going to be part of their inherent drive, to seek things that are exciting, and part of that comes with risk.”

Macho mentality

The 6-foot-6-inch, 300-pound Hill probably didn’t have risk-seeking on his mind when he hopped on his Jet Ski on Memorial Day evening to take a spin on Lake Pontchartrain, but, knowingly or not, he and his acquaintance, Ashley Blazio, who survived the accident, took a risk when they elected not to wear life jackets. In Hill’s case, it might have cost him his life.

There are different types of life jackets, including one called a type-1 that is designed to turn you upright if you lose consciousness in the water. The most common model is known as a type-3.

In Louisiana, Jet Ski operators are required by law to wear a personal flotation device (PFD). The law has been in effect since 1991, according to Lt. Col. Jeff Mayne, assistant chief of enforcement for the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. If a Jet Ski operator is not wearing a life jacket, he or she is ordered back to shore. Mayne said that in the last year, just 20 citations have been issued for Jet Ski operators not wearing personal flotation devices.

“We take wearing a PFD pretty seriously,” said Mayne. “We enforce those safety practices as much as we can. Wearing a PFD on a Jet Ski, we have a pretty high compliance rate. That is not something you usually run into, is someone not wearing a PFD.”

Hill is not alone. There are other examples of athletes not taking precautions.

St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a car accident April 29 of this year. Hancock, a onetime Red Sox pitcher, had a blood-alcohol level of 0.157, nearly twice the legal limit in Missouri (0.08), and was talking on his cellphone when he slammed his SUV into a tow truck. He also was speeding.

Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet when his motorcycle collided with a car last June. The helmetless QB suffered a concussion, lost several teeth, and broke bones in his jaw and face. Helmets are optional for adults over 21 in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and Roethlisberger’s accident has sparked a debate over whether they should be made mandatory again.

In May 2005, Cleveland Browns tight end Kellen Winslow was popping wheelies on his motorcycle in a parking lot when he flipped over the handle bars and tore his right ACL, putting him out for the season.

A motorcycle mishap cost Jay Williams his NBA career. The former Duke basketball star, who was selected second overall in the 2002 draft by the Chicago Bulls, lost control and crashed into a pole in June 2003, fracturing his pelvis, tearing knee ligaments, and suffering nerve damage in his left leg. After three years, Williams returned to the NBA with the New Jersey Nets for the 2006-07 season but played in only five games before being cut.

“Part of the bravado of professional athletes is to do things without worrying about your physical health,” said Murray. “I think part of the rush and machismo of the professional athlete is to not take as many precautions as somebody else might take.”

Playing by different rules

Patriots cornerback Ellis Hobbs acknowledged there are some athletes who feel they’re above the rules.

“I think society puts us on a pedestal and pats us on the back and kind of blows our head up and lets us know that it is OK to bend the rules and break the rules because we are who we are,” said Hobbs. “You have to kind of be self-conscious and realize, ‘I am still a person and I still have to respect the rules and regulations of life.’ ”

Hobbs said Hill’s death was a wake-up call for many in the New England locker room.

“You’ve got to question, ‘Do I really need to be doing these things? What are the risks?’ ” said Hobbs. “There’s no reason you can’t have fun and enjoy yourself, but do it the right way. If you’re on the water, put on a vest or something like that. If you do ride motorcycles, put a helmet on. Be safe.

“You can enjoy all those things, but do it in a cautious way understanding that you’re not invincible.”

However, Murray maintained that pushing the limits is part of being a professional athlete.

Peter Roby, director of the Center for the Study of Sport in Society at Northeastern University, doesn’t think athletes are any more likely to engage in risky behavior than other active people in their age group. He said the actions of Hill, who was 24, are more likely linked to his age than his status as an NFL player.

“Most people that age feel invincible,” said Roby. “All you need to do is pick up the papers and see that guys who are not pro athletes and are the same age fall victim to stuff like this on a daily basis.

“It’s not just the culture of sport that might make them feel this sense of invincibility, although I think that certainly contributes, but I think it’s more the feeling of being 23 or 24 years old and thinking you have another 60 years to live and being willing to take risks.”

Our culture of athlete idolatry blinds us just as much as those we worship, said Roby. We want to believe as much as they do that our sports heroes are invincible or infallible — that they are as good at life as they are their games.

“We’ve made the false assumption that because they’re so good at what they do athletically they must have themselves together in every other way,” said Roby. “Just because somebody can throw a football or run the 100-yard dash in less than 10 seconds, that doesn’t mean they’re totally equipped socially to make all the right decisions. They might be less equipped because they’ve been coddled because of their athleticism, as opposed to people challenging them when they’ve acted inappropriately.

“To that point, there might be some athletes that think, ‘As big as I am and as fit as I am, there is nothing I can’t do.’ Well, you’re still human. Whether it’s stepping in front of a bullet or driving a car 120 miles per hour, there is only so much the flesh can take.”

The upset victims include a top-seeded Vanderbilt squad loaded with All-Americans and, of course, an extremely talented Florida State bunch that was led by Tony Thomas Jr., who already has hauled in two national player of the year awards.

With Texas, Arkansas and San Diego also having exited from the road to Omaha, it means quite an all-star cast has been invited to this year’s pity party.

Apparently, in this era of parity, misery doesnt love just any company.

But then, FSU head coach Mike Martin has long suggested that the any-given-day premise has carried weight in his favorite sport. It even explains his favorite refrain, Thats baseball.

But is it, really?

Prior to this NCAA tournament, it certainly hadn’t been that applicable in the post-season since the field was expanded to 64 teams in 1999. Sixty-six percent of the top-eight seeds (42 of 64) had advanced to the College World Series during the previous eight years.

So it’s probably a little early, if not difficult, to try to make sense of why only three of the selection committee’s chosen eight“ 37.5 percent “ still have a shot at reaching Omaha this season. And yet, thats where were at with only No. 2 seed Rice, No. 3 seed North Carolina and No. 5 seed Arizona State still standing among the final 16 teams.

Martin doesn’t believe weve seen the last of the upsets, either.

“I don’t think there is any question that the number of teams in college baseball that can get to Omaha are increasing, he said. Thats the great thing about baseball, its so unpredictable. Five of the top eight seeds were beaten. Anything can happen. Who would have thought the Yankees would lose four in a row to Boston three years ago? Its an unpredictable sport. The best team doesnt always win.

That parity defense may or may not get Martin off the hook with the angry message board crowd, which has spent the past several days tossing around analysis, assertions and accusations after the Seminoles stumbled down the stretch.

As the Atlantic Coast Conference regular-season champions and the No. 6 national seed, the Seminoles won just three of seven games at tournament time.

Ditto, counting the regular-season home finale against Clemson, FSU was just 3-4 in its last seven games at Dick Howser Stadium.

Did the pressure that comes with high expectations finally get to the players?

Dr. John F. Murray, a sports performance psychologist from Palm Beach, said studies at the major-league level suggest that baseball teams enjoy less of a home-field advantage during the playoffs than their counterparts in basketball and football.

“Home teams might actually have a disadvantage in crucial games because, the theory being, the pressure is greatest when your fans are expecting you to win, said Murray. (Being affected by pressure) tends to be even more pervasive in a sport like baseball where fine motor skills are important in pitching and hitting.

After two games against Mississippi State last weekend in a Tallahassee regional in which FSU batters combined for nearly twice as many strikeouts as hits and where two clutch pitchers got into inescapable jams, its easy to make the logical leap that the pressure may have gotten to the Seminoles.

“It’s a psychological thing in the sense that sometimes people become over-activated and they try to do too much, they press, they try to force things, rather than letting them happen naturally,” said Murray. “That can sometimes be influenced by home crowds or expectations or outside pressure, if you let it.”

Murray said the best athletes survive pressure situations because they remain extremely confident while still expecting to receive their opponent best shot. But he also believes a different dynamic can be at work when it comes to team sports.

“Some people will say Im nuts to say there is a team personality, but I really believe that, he said. “I like to believe that both levels are influenced, so a team has a personality, if you will, and then the individual players can have their own struggles, too.

Martin wouldn’t disagree, knowing all too well how one pitcher can befuddle an entire lineup of good hitters.

“Those are games that only the sport of baseball can create, said Martin. You dont have that in any other sport. If that pitcher happens to be keeping you off-balance, and you are hitting balls right at people, that has a way of getting in your head, so to speak.

“We hit a lot of balls hard against Mississippi State and they made some outstanding plays … Mississippi State just happened to play better than we did and got the job done.

That’s baseball.