Rick Cerrone Communications has been retained by the Athletics Department at Northern Illinois University – my alma mater – to consult on the marketing of its football program for the 2011 season. It will be an exciting year for NIU, as this one has been, with the ’11 home opener vs. Army on September 3 kicking off a six-game schedule at Huskie Stadium. NIU will also play host to the University of Wisconsin at historic Soldier Field in Chicago on Saturday, September 17.

The Huskies, who completed a 10-2 regular season in winning the Mid-American Conference’s West division, are ranked 23rd in the USA Today Coaches’ Poll and 24th in the AP and Harris polls after their 71-3 win at Eastern Michigan Friday (11/26). As MAC West champions, they will take their nine-game winning streak into the MAC Championship game Friday (12/3) vs. Miami of Ohio at Detroit’s Ford Field. The game will be televised nationally by ESPN2HD at 7:00 p.m. ET.

Go Huskies!

Of all the names that Bob Sheppard ever announced during his 57 seasons at Yankee Stadium, Mickey Mantle was his favorite. So when Mr. Sheppard passed away Sunday, just a few months short of his 100^th birthday, I couldn’t help but think of a story that Mickey often told about his own arrival at Heaven’s gate.

“St. Peter is standing there, waiting for me,” The Mick would say with that big grin, “and he says, ‘Mick, you’ve done some pretty wild things in life so we can’t let you in here. But before you go, would you please sign these three-dozen balls?’”

Now I’m pretty sure Mickey never thought about what Saint Peter might say to Bob Sheppard upon his arrival, but he probably wouldn’t have hesitated. He’d just give you that devilish look and say, “Shucks, St. Peter would say, ‘come on in, Bob, but first, can you announce my name just one time?’”

And, of course, the “Voice of God” would oblige and ‘Saint Peter’ would become the favorite name Bob Sheppard ever announced. Sorry, Mick.

Even those among us who may not believe that we are each put on this earth for a purpose couldn’t argue that Bob Sheppard’s chosen role wasn’t to be a public address announcer. No, make that a public address announcer at Yankee Stadium.

The match was that good. It was perfect.

It’s what I most remember about my first visit to Yankee Stadium as an eight-year-old Cub Scout in 1963. And over the years, I came to learn that thousands of other fans had the same first memory of the Stadium.

Now when I first heard that voice, it hadn’t yet been dubbed “The Voice of God” by Reggie Jackson. Heck, Reggie was still in high school! And Yankee Stadium was still decades away from being called “a cathedral.” But, even at eight, I knew that I was listening to a level of excellence that befitted those championship teams and the majestic ballpark where they performed.

Over the next decade or so, it seemed that only Mr. Sheppard’s “clear, concise and correct” recitation of lineups, pinch-hitters and pitching changes – day in day out – was still of championship caliber.

Forty-seven years after I first heard the words “Good afternoon … ladies and gentlemen … welcome to Yankee Stadium,” I was given the ultimate honor. With the legendary voice sidelined by laryngitis, I was tabbed to fill in for Mr. Sheppard at the Stadium’s microphone. To me, it was like being told, “grab a bat and go hit for Jeter.”

With an ailing Mr. Sheppard at my side, I actually got say the words “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Yankee Stadium.” And “Here are the lineups.” I even read Mr. Sheppard’s script for a ‘Moment of Silence’ for former Yankee great Gene Woodling, who had died the day before.

It was a weak imitation, but my mentor, Mr. Sheppard, gave me warm pat on the back and the words, “A-plus, my friend, A-plus.”

I once read a tribute to Mr. Sheppard that appeared in The Sporting News. Attempting to put the significance of his contribution to Yankee Stadium in perspective, the author, Melvin Durslag, wrote that “when Bob Sheppard leaves his job as PA Announcer, he will leave a void at Yankee Stadium as big as when Mickey Mantle finally hangs up his spikes.”

You see, Durslag’s homage was written in 1965, only 15 seasons into Sheppard’s incredible 57-year run. Mr. Sheppard would outlast Mantle’s career by 40 years and the Stadium to which he gave its voice would survive only a single season after he left.

We’ll be hearing a lot in the coming days about how Mr. Sheppard never said a bad word about anyone. And that no one ever said a bad word about him.

Both are true as I have never met a more sincerely pious man. In fact, I never heard Mr. Sheppard say a bad word. Period.

His son, Paul, told me recently that he once – and only once – heard his father use the word ‘darn.’ It happened many years ago, Paul recalled, when his father was changing a tire and the jack snapped. And I don’t know if I was more surprised that Mr. Sheppard said ‘darn’ or that such a distinguished gentleman had actually changed a tire.

So what did God say today when St. Peter introduced him to Bob Sheppard?

Probably “come on in, Bob. And thanks for making me sound so good.”

Rick Cerrone has joined the Diamond Sports Careers team as an advisor on public relations and media strategy. He will be working on developing the PR plan for the July 2010 Diamond Sports Big Apple Career Week – an industry first – offering students a unique opportunity to participate in a week-long series of seminars at major New-York-area sports facilities and venues, and hear from sports-industry executives and tomorrow’s leaders. For more information, visit www.NYSportsCareers.com

Diamond Sports offers career development services for students and professionals interested in pursuing a career in sports. Developed for aspiring students, career changers and athletes, Diamond Sports programs and services include career and education planning and assessment tools, sports career seminars and workshops and one-on-one career coaching.

Diamond Sports programs and services are produced in partnership with industry leaders and are offered at their state-of-the-art sports-career training facility in Rye Brook, New York, as well as at major sports venues, colleges and universities and online via webinars and subscription services.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell may have been more eloquent in the meticulously-crafted letter that informed Ben Roethlisberger of his four-to-six-game suspension, but it was Pittsburgh entrepreneur Ty Ballou who said it best.

“Enough is enough,” Ballou told The New York Times when his company, Pittsburgh-based PLB Sports, Inc., terminated its five-year business relationship with the Steelers’ quarterback – more than a week before Goodell dropped the hammer, by the way.

Okay, so pulling the plug on “Big Ben Beef Jerky” is not exactly like Proctor & Gamble, Gatorade and AT&T dumping Tiger Woods, but the message is the same. And that may be the legacy – that teachable moment as some like to say today – of the whole pathetic Roethlisberger saga – enough is enough.

Coming on the heels of what seems like a weekly – sometimes daily – roll call of despicable behavior by athletes across all sports, we may have finally reached a point where boorish behavior just isn’t tolerated. And that’s a good thing.

No longer do leagues – or fans for that matter – appear to be turning blind eyes to behavior that, unless it crossed from contemptible to criminal, did not merit more than just a slap on the wrist. Think about it, Roethlisberger has yet to be charged with a crime but has presented a pattern of behavior reprehensible enough to be sat down for at least a quarter of the season.

And what will it say about the fallen Steelers’ QB if, after his comprehensive behavior evaluation, he doesn’t have his suspension cut from six to four games?

It seems we’re finally reaching the end of our tolerance for irresponsible behavior by what is really a relatively small number of professional athletes.

Ninety-five per cent of pro athletes are respected teammates, neighbors, husbands, fathers or friends. Many are all of the above. Believe me, for every pro athlete that does something criminal or even just plain stupid, there are dozens of Derek Jeters and David Wrights and Jeff Francoeurs and Eli Mannings and, well, that list is just too long to mention.

And all those good people that mostly make up pro sports would probably agree with Ty Ballou. Enough is enough.

Tiger Woods is finished.

Not finished playing golf. And not even finished as an effective worldwide brand.

But Tiger Woods is finished talking about his “disgusting behavior.” His words, not mine.

Soon the world’s greatest golfer will head to the relatively secure confines of the August National Golf Club where he will settle into his once familiar routine.

On Monday, he’ll sit down for his mandatory media availability where there will no doubt be questions about the status of his marriage and the addiction everyone assumes he has. Not every lie Woods faces is on the fairway. Some are in the rough and the media conference will be no different.

And he’ll be far more comfortable than we’ve seen him and he’ll handle them all, most with “that’s between Elin and me” and “that’s not something I’m prepared to talk about.”

He will be well prepared, far more so than he was when he released that ill-advised statement on his website and when he participated in that disastrous televised staff meeting.

His two interviews – with ESPN and the Golf Channel – showed he’s more accepting of the scrutiny for which he – and only he – is responsible. Maybe it dawned on him that, if you coat yourself with honey, you can’t blame the bees for being attracted.

After Monday’s media obligation is out of the way, Woods will head to the first tee for a practice round with Fred Couples and later will join the other Masters champions at the annual Champions dinner. That’s the best thing he can do, be more a part of the club.

You need look no further than Alex Rodriguez, who, after being humbled by the admission of PED use and a season-threatening injury, embraced his teammates and ended up a champion.

Not that such a transformation won’t be a tricky proposition. Tiger Woods is a competitor and he doesn’t have teammates. He only has other competitors and the way he has carried himself among them in the past has played a part in his success.

But he has to be more approachable as well as more open and accessible with the media, at least the golf media.
Simply put, people in and out of golf need to see him as a person now, not a brand.

John Wooden, the legendary coach and teacher, often pointed out that there are two things none of us can change – the past and the future. The only thing we can affect, he said, is the present.

Tiger Woods cannot change the mistakes he’s made. But that’s in the past. It’s over. No matter how long the dozen or more new “brands” he has created – the Rachel Uchitel brand, the Joclyn James brand, the Jamie Jungers brand and on and on – try to prolong the fallout.

The only way Tiger Woods can impact his future is by how he conducts himself each day.

And it’s tee time.

What a difference 36 years makes.

Almost four decades ago, I stood amongst the rubble of the original Yankee Stadium – as a 19-year-old college sophomore – in giddy anticipation of the remodeled ballpark that was to open on the same site in 1976 after two years of demolition and reconstruction.

Last week I stood in the same spot and surveyed an almost identical scene – the original Yankee Stadium gutted right down to its foundation. It was like I had stepped into a time machine and set the dial on March 9, 1974. Only the 15 or so additional rows of concrete atop what remained of the upper deck – a major feature of the ’74-75 renovation – altered the setting.

But this time there was no looking forward to a “new” Yankee Stadium that would rise from the rubble in front of me.

And that’s okay.

While it was sad – heartbreaking – to say a final goodbye to an old friend, the truth is that the real Yankee Stadium had already been destroyed by the ill-conceived remodeling of the seventies. That structure may have been better than its contemporaries in Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Philadelphia and Montreal, but it wasn’t really Yankee Stadium. It wasn’t even close.

Nothing – absolutely nothing – inside the renovated Yankee Stadium was remotely similar to the original. I often got a laugh when fans, even broadcasters, would point to the new roof atop the expanded upper deck in right field and say, “that’s where Mickey Mantle once hit a ball.” No, it wasn’t.

And we were supposed to be thrilled when all of the original Stadium’s steel columns were removed during the renovation to give every seat an unobstructed view of the field. But, with the removal of the columns, came the removal of the original roof and the famed copper frieze and the flags of every Major-League team – always in the order of the day’s standings.

As the original Yankee Stadium comes down, the new version across the street has already played host to its inaugural season – and a World Championship – and it is magnificent. It isn’t perfect, but nothing is. The new Monument Park needs to be more visible to spectators, but the remodeled Stadium had the same complaint when it opened in ’76. In fact, the Monument Park we came to love wasn’t open to the public during the refurbished Stadium’s first decade.

But what Yankee fan with memories of the original Stadium didn’t well up last season at the site of the team pennants – in order of the standings – once again flying above the frieze atop the upper deck? It was something we hadn’t seen for 36 years!

Soon the site of the original Stadium will be a spectacular city park and home to at least three youth baseball fields. No high-rise apartments on this hallowed ground. No parking garages. Just ball fields. Not a single ballpark in the country has ever left behind such a fitting footprint.

And as I paid my last respects to the old Yankee Stadium, I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of kids playing on a brand new state-of-the-art soccer field – built atop a new parking garage. Funny, I never saw that many people enjoying the decayed Macombs Dam Park where the new Stadium now sits.

I had no idea during my visit to the construction site in 1974 that Yankee Stadium would be my office for 11 years and that the two original wooden seats I had secured would someday be on display in the new Yankee Stadium’s museum.

They are in a good place.

Farewell, old friend.

We all make choices in life. Some work out. Some don’t.

And some of the choices we make work out in some ways but not in others.

Take actor Sandra Bullock and director Kathryn Bigelow and their recent choices in film projects.

Ms. Bullock turned in perhaps the worst performance of her career in what was arguably the worst movie of 2009 and on Sunday night she accepted her first Oscar – for another role, of course.

Her performance as Leigh Anne Tuohy in The Blind Side earned her an Academy Award for best actress. Her decision to accept the role of Mary Horowitz in the embarrassingly awful All About Steve earned her a “Razzie” award for “Worst Actress of the Year,” an honor she graciously accepted – in person – the night before the Oscars.

Ms. Bigelow’s choice of projects – The Hurt Locker – was one of 2009’s biggest box office flops while her ex-husband, James Cameron, produced and directed the highest-grossing film of all-time in Avatar.

But, at Sunday’s Academy Awards, it was Ms. Bigelow’s low-budget film that led the night with six Oscars and became the lowest-grossing film in history – with less than $15-million in ticket sales – to win best picture. And Cameron’s ex became the first woman to win best director and the first woman to guide the best-picture winner.

Now there were no doubt many people in Ms. Bigelow and Ms. Bullock’s circle of friends and advisors who weighed in on the pair’s respective choices of film projects. Some surely advised the popular actor against getting involved with All About Steve. Others probably thought the light romantic comedy was the perfect vehicle for her, a safer choice than The Blind Side’s Tuohy.

And directing a movie with no stars that takes places in an unpopular war? Come on. But, ultimately, it wasn’t the friends and advisors choices to make. We each have to make our own choices in life, suffer the consequences or reap the rewards.

Sandra Bullock and Kathryn Bigelow made their choices. That’s why they stood alone at the podium on Sunday, each clutching an Oscar.

The next time Derek Jeter discusses his contract will be at Yankee Stadium – around Christmas, I’m guessing. This time Jeter will be surrounded by GM Brian Cashman and other beaming Yankee executives and members of the Steinbrenner family. His parents, who are as much responsible for Jeter being where he is as anyone else, will be there, too.

Charles and Dorothy Jeter will also be beaming, not because their son just signed a rich new contract, but because he will now be assured of one day carrying the title of “the greatest living Yankee.”

That’s really what the Yankees will being paying for. And the numbers will be staggering.

Forget the numbers and comparables you’ll be reading so much about in the coming months. Rollins makes this. Reyes makes that. Forget about OBP and OPS. Throw them all away because, quite simply, no one can really be compared to Jeter. Based on comparables, the Yankees will be chastised by some for overpaying him. And they’ll be happy to have done it.

Three years at $90-million? Four years at $100-million? Take your pick. For Jeter, either would be a bargain.

A stake in the team when he retires? Wouldn’t shock me.

And it will be done without acrimony. Jeter’s representative, Casey Close, won’t have to point out to the Yankees that his client never caused the organization any embarrassment or even a moment’s concern. The know it.

Perhaps I’m biased when it comes to Derek Jeter. As the Yankees’ Director of Media Relations during his first 11 years in the league. I can’t think of a single thing

Jeter ever did – on or off the field – that caused me to say, “oh boy, that was the wrong thing to do or say.”

Ever see Jeter on the big screen in a Baseball Blooper? Ever see him caught by the tabloids in a compromising situation?

What I did see in Jeter – every day for 11 years – was someone who always did more than what was expected of him. If he was going to meet a young boy or girl – whether it was a sponsor’s kid or someone with a life-threatening illness – he never had to be reminded about it or counseled on just what to do or say. Believe me, there aren’t many players you can say that about.

Every kid he met, it seemed, got a cap and a bat from him. Every kid.

And I don’t mean a new cap or a bat right out of the box, fetched for him by a clubhouse attendant. I mean the cap he was wearing and the bat he had just used.

Derek Jeter is a walking symbol of everything the Yankees profess to be. He is baseball royalty and the Yankees know it.

The great Yogi Berra will turn 85 in May. Whitey Ford hit 80 last October. The day will someday come when the torch must be passed to a new generation of Yankee greats. And when it is, Jeter – “the greatest living Yankee” – will be the last man introduced at every Old Timers’ Day.

Joe DiMaggio demanded such recognition from the Yankees. Derek Jeter won’t even have to ask.

Tiger Woods is going to be just fine, thank you.

If I had any doubts that the best golfer and most-successful individual brand in the world would at least be able to recapture the joy he gets from the game he loves, I needed only to see Mark

McGwire on ESPN Tuesday afternoon.

There he was, back in Cardinals red as the team’s batting coach, sitting under a magnificent Florida sun alongside ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian and his star pupil Albert Pujols. The trio talked hitting – and nothing but hitting – like old friends. For McGwire, interviews now are about RBIs, not PEDs, and he looked comfortable and relaxed, even relieved.

How could he not?

Five years ago next month, an expressionless McGwire sat uncomfortably before a congressional committee and – for whatever his reasons may have been – was unabl

e to come clean about his use of steroids. It would begin a personal exile from the game he loved and from public life. It seemed that the words “I’m not here to talk about the past” – and not his on-field accomplishments – would be McGwire’s legacy.

Seriously, did anyone believe he’d be able to put on his familiar No. 25 jersey with relative ease? But, when he arrived at Cardinals’ camp in Jupiter last week, there were no hordes of media awaiting him. No live shots. No press conferences. His every move in camp has not been chronicled by the media and you’d be hard pressed to find a story about him, even in the St. Louis papers.

Mark McGwire, like Tiger Woods, made his public mea culpa and, like Woods’, it was far from perfect. His emotional apologies put him back in Baseball’s good graces, but his refusal to acknowledge any performance benefit from PEDs won’t help his slim chances to someday enter the game’s Hall of Fame. His meager vote total may actually go down. And that is likely the price he will pay for his mistakes.

Woods’ apology, though it made McGwire’s look noble, will at least allow the golfer to now be able to say, “I’m not here to talk about the past.” Sure, he may still sit down with Oprah, but it’s not really necessary. His sport is waiting to welcome him back and desperately needs him to come back.

The long-term penalty for Woods’ mistakes will be the damage they have done to his image and his brand. Sponsors will be slow to come back and they may not come back at all.

But sometime soon Tiger Woods will again be walking before the galleries on some of the world’s most-beautiful real estate, clad in Woods red under a magnificent sun. Hopefully, like McGwire, he will feel reborn and even be able to talk comfortably and relaxed with the same golf writers that felt it necessary to boycott his apology.

And that will be wonderful. Just ask Mark McGwire.

When the Chicago White Sox announced that they would “unretire” Luis Aparicio’s number 11 – so that it could be worn by recently-signed Omar Vizquel – I saw it as just another example of the erosion of principles and traditions in our society.

I did, really.

They’re terrific until they don’t fit in with our immediate needs. Football’s New York Jets, for example, travel with a strict dress code – shirts and ties on flights – under GM Mike Tannenbaum’s philosophy. But when Tannenbaum was trying to persuade Brett Favre to accept a trade to the Jets, the quarterback made it clear that he flies in military fatigues.

So much for the Jets’ dress code. At least for their new quarterback.

And that’s pretty much how I saw it when the Sox’ acquiesced to Vizquel’s request for No. 11 which, by the way, he probably would not have made if his familiar No. 13 wasn’t already being worn by the manager.

But Vizquel’s request to wear No. 11 does appear to come from a sincere desire to honor Aparicio, a fellow shortstop and Venezuelan countryman who enthusiastically embraced the idea. How can I argue with that? Especially since I never supported the idea of retiring Roberto Clemente’s No. 21 throughout baseball for the simple reason that players, like Ruben Sierra and Carlos Delgado, would no longer have been able to wear the number as a tribute to their hero.

In fact, it seems to me that it may be time for club’s to simply “unretire” all of the numbers that have been pulled from circulation since the Yankees’ retired Lou Gehrig’s No. 4 more than 70 years ago. Of course, they should still display the numbers of their greatest stars on the outfield wall (like the White Sox) or on pennants (like the Cubs), but enough with retiring them.

Frankly, it’s become a problem.

The Yankees, for example, retired only four numbers in the first 30 years since Gehrig’s farewell, but have pulled 11 from circulation over the last 40. And, with Derek Jeter’s No. 2 already a lock to be retired and Joe Torre’s No. 6 a good bet to follow, there will come a point – soon – when no Yankee player will ever again be able to wear a single-digit number.

Not sure Ed Barrow really thought this retired-uniform thing through back in ’39. Might be a good time for someone to rethink it.