Allgemeines » lence with few words. He told me he woul

STANFORD, Calif. -- Erica McCall scored 17 points and No. 11 Stanford rebounded from a rare home loss to defeat Cal State Northridge 88-54 on Sunday.Eleven of 12 players scored and grabbed rebounds for the Cardinal (3-1), who lost to Gonzaga 68-63 on Friday, and 10 had assists. Stanford has not lost back-to-back games in November since 2006 nor consecutive home games to unranked opponents since 2001.The Cardinal are now 140-8 at Maples Pavilion since 2007-08.Stanford led 41-23 at the half, shot 55 percent in the second half and had a 52-29 rebounding advantage. McCall had 11 points.A 10-2 run gave Stanford an early 12-3 lead. It was 18-11 after one quarter and an 11-2 run in the second quarter made it 31-15.Brittany McPhee and Nadia Fingall combined for 28 points for the Cardinal.Hayley Tanabe had 16 points for the Matadors (2-2). 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Crouched behind the 10th green at Sheshan International, McDowell looked over at the powerful American and said, "Ive probably seen 18 of the best drives Ive seen all year in the last two days. Adrian Dantley Jersey . -- Former San Diego Chargers safety Paul Oliver was found dead at his Atlanta-area home Tuesday night, and a medical examiner said Wednesday that the ex-player committed suicide. Like many fans, I inherited my favorite teams from my father. I have his face, his eyes, his love of family, and his love of the Indians, Browns, Cavs and Buckeyes deep in my DNA.My love affair with my sweetest team began on a perfect Friday evening in Cleveland. I was 5 years old. Dad and I were two of the 12,084 in attendance for an Indians-Tigers game at the old and cavernous Municipal Stadium. Our seats were just behind the Indians dugout so we had a great view of one of baseballs all-time great brawls. In the eighth inning of an otherwise forgettable game, Tigers pitcher Bill Denehy decided to take back a pound of flesh for the three Tigers hitters already hit by Indians pitching. Denehy plunked Indians catcher Ray Fosse, who was having none of it. Fosse charged the mound. Denehy came flying at Fosse, spikes high, and caught him in the hand. Blood was everywhere. The benches cleared. Denehy, Fosse and Tigers left fielder Willie Horton were sent to the showers, and umpire Jim Honochick called it the bloodiest fight he had seen on a baseball field in 23 years. When the game finally resumed, Indians first baseman Chris Chambliss promptly belted a two-run homer and I was hopelessly hooked. My dad further cemented the relationship when he bought me an Indians replica batting helmet as we were leaving the stadium after the 7-0 win. That helmet left my head for church and sleep and not much else.That 1971 season the Indians lost 102 games, finishing 43 games behind the Baltimore Orioles in the old AL East. But it was in that warm June moment that I dedicated my forever fandom to the Cleveland Indians, declaring to my doting dad, Ill only play in the major leagues for the Cleveland Indians. Never happened, of course, but my lifelong love affair still continues 46 years later with the same unabashed hope and passion.Through the years, Dad and I shared the many heartbreaks, and occasional highs, of Indians baseball. We listened on the radio on Opening Day 1975 when Frank Robinson, in his first at-bat as the Indians player-manager, homered to lead the Indians to a 5-3 win over the Yankees.We watched on TV in 1981 as Len Barker threw a perfect game against the Blue Jays. I still remember our phone call during my senior year at BGSU when Sports Illustrated made Cory Snyder and Joe Carter cover boys with the banner, Indian Uprising. They would lose 101 games and finish 37 games behind the Detroit Tigers.The mid-90s saw the true Indian Uprising. By now, I was working at WBNS-TV, the CBS affiliate in Columbus, Ohio. I was lucky enough to cover the final game at Municipal Stadium and the first game at Jacobs Field. Dad was still living in Sandusky, and we would occasionally meet in Cleveland for games. The Indians were very good. Albert Belle, Manny Ramirez, Jim Thome, Sandy Alomar, Kenny Lofton and on and on -- those teams were dripping with talent.I was covering the 1995 World Series when the Indians lost in six to Atlanta. My first call after completing my late reports was to Dad. We lamented. We replayed Game 6. A 1-0 loss. David Justice homered. Tom Glavine and Mark Wohlers held the potent Tribe offense to a single hit.Two years later it was even worsee.dddddddddddd 1997. Game 7 of the World Series in Miami. The Indians led the Marlins 2-1 heading to the bottom of the ninth inning. Manager Mike Hargrove called on closer Jose Mesa to get three more outs. Thats all that stood between the Indians and their first World Series championship since my dad was 10. I had left the press box and headed to the doors just outside the Indians clubhouse to prepare for postgame interviews. Suddenly the stadium shook. The Marlins had tied the game. The clubhouse doors flew open. I watched in disbelief as carts of champagne were whisked out of the Indians clubhouse. Boxes of Indians World Series Champions shirts and hats were also carted out, headed instead to Third World countries. The Marlins scored again in the 11th to win Game 7 and the World Series. When I finally finished my postgame interviews and final report, I called Dad. It was in the early morning hours. He was still awake. Waiting for my call.Ten years later, 2007, the Indians are good again, but now Dad was fighting cancer, and for his life, in Phoenix, Arizona. The Indians led Terry Francona and the Red Sox three games to one in the ALCS. My father had loved Terrys dad Tito, who spent six of his best 15 big league seasons with the Indians in the 50s and 60s. I decided to jump on a plane and stay in Phoenix until the baseball season was over. I knew it would be my fathers last. When I arrived, my dad remarked, Too bad for Titos boy, Terry. Seems like a wonderful man, but this one is ours. I spent the next days watching the Indians lose their grip on what seemed a certain trip to the World Series. They would lose Game 5. Then Game 6 and Game 7. My last chance to watch the Indians win a World Series with my dad had slipped away. In the minutes after Game 7 ended, Dad broke the ugly silence with few words. He told me he wouldnt trade the past few days for anything. Even though our team had lost and we both knew wed never see a championship together, he somehow found the positive. He focused on the father-son time. Watching baseball together. As we first had 36 years earlier. He put sports in its proper place. He told me, Let sports enhance your life, not detract from it. They are games, meant to be fun. Dont lose sight of that. He assured me one day Ill experience a championship with my son, Corey. He told me to enjoy it as much as if it had been lived with him.When the Cavaliers finally ended Clevelands 51-year title drought in June, Corey and I were together. We were in Cleveland and we celebrated like children at recess. It took just seconds before thoughts turned to Dad.And thats where my thoughts will be Tuesday night when the Indians host Game 1 of the World Series for the first time ever. With my dad. And all of those backyard catches. And all of those games in old Municipal Stadium. And the late-night consolation phone calls. And that difficult 2007 ALCS. Ill be with Corey, just a few feet away from the Indians dugout and Terry Francona. Dad, you were right. Terry is a wonderful man. And this time hes on our side. ' ' '