If ever the opportunity presented itself, I would gather a full head of steam, set my sights on Roger Goodell, lay him out so hard his mother would feel it, and then—while hovering over him—I would bust out into the Icky Shuffle.

It went something like this:

Reporter: So, Joakim, what do think about blah, blah, blah, question, question, question?
Jo Noah: AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
(brief pause)
Jo Noah: We goin’ back to Boston!!!

And that was it.

Or, well, that’s where I turned it off. It sounded like it was over. Also, I was back home and wanted to go inside to see some highlights.

In any case, I like to think that’s all that needed to be said.

Hold up a second. Lemme rewind…

Of the very few things I like about soccer, would you care to know about one of those things?

No?

I don’t blame you. I probably wouldn’t, either.

Anyway, y’know what I like about soccer?

When you get penalized and an official issues you one of those yellow or red cards, they don’t simply pull the card out of their pocket, blow the whistle, and leave it at that.

Incorrect.

No, what these dudes do is run up to the player who committed the infraction, get all up in their faces, and with the most serious, stonefaced expression they can deliver, they refuse to make eye contact with the player. And that’s despite being close enough to the player to smell the pregame meal he ate.

But wait.

They’re not done asserting their unquestioned authority yet.

They finish it off by raising the card as though it’s some sacred sword they’re about to use to summon The Power Of Greyskull.

It’s full of pagentry, symbolism, and outright bombast.

It’d only be better if the offending player, who’s already losing his mind at the call against him, of course, was allowed to sock the official in the face.

That’s what’d happen in the NBA.

Okay, sorry. That was a cheap shot based on stereotypes conjured up from a collection images from past violent outbursts in the NBA.

Ahem.

That’s what’d happen in the D-Le…

Oh, nevermind.

Or… it did.

Or… it still does.

Or… honestly, I don’t care.

And I love baseball.

Anyway, the way people are reacting to all of this stuff, especially after A-Rod’s latest comments, I think we really have only two options from here on out:

1.) Execute any baseball player who admits to have taken steroids or peformance-enhancing drugs, or is caught having taken them.

And I mean any baseball player: Major League, minor league, Japanese League, college, high school, little league, sandlot pickup ball, tee-ball, etc.

Let’s do it in front of an audience while we’re at it. Sell tickets, the whole nine yards. Heck, why don’t we even preserve the old Yankee Stadium — for symbolic, historic purposes, of course — to serve as baseball’s designated death chamber?

It’ll be an event you can bring the kids to! Put it on TV, fill the press boxes with reporters, sell peanuts, and everything! But maybe Mike Lupica, Jay Mariotti, and Skip Bayless shouldn’t be allowed in the press box during the event — they should be special guests of honor with seats on the field as the execution takes place!

Then, after much pomp and circumstance, including the singing of the National Anthem, a speech from Bud Selig decrying performance enhancers, and an extended video montage of Hank Aaron highlights, the guilty steroid user is ushered to the pitcher’s mound, where a firing squad executes him, much to the delight of the exuberant audience and a press box granted special permission to cheer.

And then, after the body of the steroid transgressor falls dead on the mound, a steady stream of well-respected and highly-revered baseball Hall Of Famers, headlined by Cal Ripken, Jr., of course, are ushered to the mound to ceremonially spit on the carcass and/or kick it if they so chose.

Who’d juice then?

2.) All baseball players everywhere should be required to use steroids and other performance-enhancing drugs.

This would be done under doctors’ supervision, of course. And additionally, players would be encouraged to develop their own side program of steroid injections, PED cocktails, and anything else they can get their hands on.

Look, if you’re gonna juice, you may as well go all out.

To keep things fair, everyone must take them. If players forget to take them? Suspensions and fines. If players flat-out refuse to take them? Well, they don’t have to play pro ball. It’s their choice.

Just let everyone juice up as much as they can, work out as often as the juice would allow, and see how entertaining the game becomes. And you know with no regulation — and encouragement, even — the PEDs would become even more potent than they are now.

Imagine, if you will, pitchers clocking 110 mph on the radar gun, batters regularly clearing 600-feet on their home runs, and base stealers swiping bags at speeds today’s mere mortals couldn’t fathom.

It would be a spectacle unlike anything anyone’s ever seen before.

If everyone’s on steroids, and known to be on steroids, there is no steroids problem.

Here’s the ceremony:

Blah, blah, blah.

Now we can stop hearing the whining from Peter Gammons and all the other East Coasters about how Rice should be in the Hall Of Fame, which during any other year would be the best thing about a Rice-related HOF induction.

But what really gets me excited is that, thanks to Rickey Henderson’s induction, this year will probably include the most entertaining Hall Of Fame induction speech ever.

It’ll surely be the first induction ceremony I make it through watching.

That’s because, well — y’know how people make fun of athletes talking in third person?

That’s based on Rickey Henderson.

Well, if it’s not, it should be. Furthermore, if it’s not, he sure took it to the next level. And then some.

Skip Yogi Berra — Rickey Henderson had the best quotes in baseball history.

Click here for some random dude’s list of the top 25 Rickey Henderson moments/quotes/urban legends. Here are a few — okay, a bunch — of my favorites from it as well:

• In the early 1980s, the Oakland A’s accounting department was freaking out. The books were off $1 million. After an investigation, it was determined Rickey was the reason why. The GM asked him about a $1 million bonus he had received and Rickey said instead of cashing it, he framed it and hung it on a wall at his house.
• This one happened in Seattle. Rickey struck out and as the next batter was walking past him, he heard Henderson say, “Don’t worry, Rickey, you’re still the best.”
• Moments after breaking Lou Brock’s stolen base record, Henderson told the crowd – with Brock mere feet next to him – “Lou Brock was a great base stealer, but today, I am the greatest of all-time.”
• A reporter asked Henderson if Ken Caminiti’s estimate that 50 percent of Major League players were taking steroids was accurate. His response was, “Well, Rickey’s not one of them, so that’s 49 percent right there.”
• Henderson broke Ty Cobb’s career record for runs scored with a home run. After taking his usual 45 seconds or so around the bases, Rickey slid into home plate.
• Rickey was asked if he had the Garth Brooks album with Friends in Low Places and Henderson said, “Rickey doesn’t have albums. Rickey has CDs.”
• In June 1999, when Henderson was playing with the Mets, he saw reporters running around the clubhouse before a game. He asked a teammate what was going on and he was told that Tom Robson, the team’s hitting coach, had just been fired. Henderson said, “Who’s he?”
• Before every game he played, Henderson stood completely naked in front of a full length locker room mirror and said, “Ricky’s the best,” for several minutes.

One thing I also enjoyed about Rickey Henderson, aside from his skills, was that he was that he threw with his left hand and hit from the right side of the plate. There are a lot of guys who throw righty but bat lefty, but Henderson was unique, even in that regard.

Speaking of his uniqueness, here’s another good anecdote about Henderson from ESPN’s Jayson Stark on the 1993 World Series:

It was the off day before the start of the ’93 World Series. I thought a great angle would be a comparison of the two leadoff hitters. Lenny Dykstra had had a fabulous season and had scored 143 runs, the most by any leadoff man since, who else, Henderson.

So I approached Henderson on the field and started to explain the story. He said, “Who’s Lenny Dykstra?”

I laughed. Then I said, “He’s the other leadoff hitter.”

Henderson said, “There ain’t no other leadoff hitter but me.”

I tried to keep going with my angle. He didn’t see it.

“What’s Lenny Dykstra ever done?” he asked.

I started to give the stats. Henderson cut me off.

“Man, why you trying to compare some other guy with Rickey? There’s only one Rickey.”

And that was that. There was, in fact, only one Rickey. And that will never change. Ever.

Man, I can’t wait.

When’s the induction ceremony?

Hmmm.

Sounds like how I lost my last job.

I just wish the talking heads at ESPN who’ve been critical of BC firing Jagodzinski had my back when my boss preemptively went out and lined up a replacement for me after simply pursuing another job I had no guarantees of landing.

In a basketball game?

He’s a nice player and all, but I didn’t know he had a 50-point game in him.

I only saw the beginning of that game, before Roy apparently exploded. I was watching while LaMarcus Aldridge was the one setting the tone (he scored 10 of his 16 points in the first quarter).

What I saw was a series of offensive moves in the low post — hook shots and turnarounds — and a few mid-range jumpers from Aldridge that, as seeing Aldridge play well usually does, annoyed and/or angered me.

At this point, though, I’m more angry out of habit than out of principle.

I’ve never been annoyed or angered with Aldridge for his abilities, or, well, anything really.

I’ve been annoyed and angry because I’ve kept thinking back to the 2006 NBA Draft, when Bulls GM John Paxson selected Aldridge with the No. 2 pick and traded him to Portland for No. 4 pick Tyrus Thomas and Viktor Khryapa.

Thomas is on his way to being a bust (some already call him that… I’m almost, but not quite there), Khryapa never got a shot with the Bulls and ended up getting bought out so he could go back to Russia to play, and Aldridge is looking exactly like the player the Bulls needed when they drafted-and-traded him, needed the year after, and still need now: a 6′ 11″, 245-lb. PF/C who can score down low, out to mid-range, and can rebound a little.

And I’ve been saying that since the weeks leading up to the 2006 draft!

Ugh.

I’ve been trying to keep the past in the past and forget about the second-guessing. I keep hoping that the occasional flashes of awesomeness Tyrus Thomas displays will someday (soon!) translate into some consistent play.

Maybe I’m just fooling myself with Thomas and I do have a right to be upset about the 2006 draft, regardless of how much I try to suppress that frustration.

Suppressing that frustration certainly isn’t made any easier when I read blogs and sports columns that still second-guess the move, or especially when I hear Mark Schanowski, of Comcast SportsNet Chicago, with his announcer-man voice and TV-man hair, slyly throw in comments whose tone borders on joy and sarcasm, like: “And just imagine if John Paxson had taken LaMarcus Aldridge or Brandon Roy…” during the Bulls postgame show.

Well, Mark, y’know what?

I’m starting to change my mind. The more I imagine it, the more I’m glad Paxson took Thomas.

I was never big on the Bulls taking Roy. They had guards. Still do, for that matter. But Aldridge was the frontcourt player the Bulls needed more than Thomas. Oddly, while Paxson usually played it safe, only to be chided for it, the first time he took a gamble (in the form of Thomas over Aldridge), it hasn’t panned out. And now he’s being chided for it.

But that’s okay. Let the people chide.

I say that because I have no doubt that the Bulls would’ve been a much better team during the past few years. Yes, I realize that’s typically what you want out of your team.

However, if the Bulls had made it deeper in the playoffs, or — more importantly — had played well enough to stay out of the 2008 NBA Draft Lottery, they wouldn’t have hit the jackpot and landed the chance to select Derrick Rose.

Sure, Rose is just a rookie and it’s tough to project what he may or may not do from here on out. But from everything I’ve seen out of him so far, I would rather have Derrick Rose and Tyrus Thomas’ still raw potential over LaMarcus Aldridge or Brandon Roy.

Even if Thomas never pans out, I’m comfortable with not having Aldridge if that means Derrick Rose gets to don the Bulls uniform.

I’ve been seeing your 5-Hour Energy commercial a lot lately. While I don’t partake in the consumption of energy drinks myself, I am subject to commercials for them, especially yours and the Osi Umenyiora one — afterall, I do watch a lot of sports, and you’re both athletes. So, obviously, your ads show up on ESPN and other sports channels a lot.

Anyway, I felt that I needed to address something from your commercial. You mention typical dialogue between you and one of your friends on the Cleveland Browns, “one of the guys (you’re) with a lot,” as it pertains to both his and your possession and consumption of 5-Hour Energy:

He likes it. He calls me to make sure I have two when I come in the morning, ’cause he always needs one. I say, “Well, go buy your own,” but I’m kinda like the 5-Hour designated driver.

Umm… Braylon? Can I call you Bray? How ’bout Lon? Ayl? Anyway, sorry to burst your bubble — and I realize this was just a quickly- and cheaply-made commercial — but in no way does the situation you just explained equate you to being a designated driver.

Designated drivers abstain from drinking so they’re not impaired. That way, they can drive everyone else who is impaired home.

I’m sorry to point this out, but, dude, by driving your teammate around while partaking in the 5-Hour Energy drinkfest yourself, as well as by providing the 5-Hour Energy to your teammate, you’re actually quite far — sorta more like the opposite, and then some — from being a designated driver.

In your commercial, the situation you explain makes you the equivalent of a cross between a drunk chaffeur and a drug dealer.

Anyway, next time please give more thought to your analogies.

Happy holidays,

Josh