John Blanchette

Israel Alvarez is 13 years old and an eighth-grader at Sacajawea, and like a lot of young teens a big part of his life is sports – football, wrestling, soccer. And boxing. He’s been at it for seven years, and at the end of the month he’s off to Independence, Mo., for the National Silver Gloves, the third time he’s qualified for that tournament. He’s not just an enthusiastic advocate for the sport – citing lessons he’s learned about humility, sportsmanship and confidence – but a salesman.

Every time Andre Ward says, “In my day,” he catches himself and laughs, because he’s still a world champion and in some eyes the second-best boxer in the world, which makes it still very much his day. But back in his day.

I don’t know if Richard Sherman has any more credibility with his boasts than the Sherminator had with his. I just know… It’s all box office.

It’s not quite up there with the religion of football or the national pastime of baseball, but one of America’s favorite sports has always been teasing philosophy majors. “What do you plan to do with that degree?” we ask. “Sell philosophy door to door?”

The “For Sale” sign has been covered with a “Sold!” at Spokane Shock HQ in the Valley, and now the worry beads are out at the Church of Indoor Football. The new CEO is an out-of-towner. The other owners, purportedly including representation from Spokane, are going all Garbo on us already. The lease was rejiggered to make the 2015 season an option for the buying group rather than an ironclad commitment. Not only is the fan base afeard of the team being trucked down the road, but dubious of other changes that might be in store – and if the new guys will invest in winning.

Nicholas Jefferson was eight years old when he first walked through the doors of the Al Davies Boys and Girls Club, home of the Tacoma Boxing Club, just as Olympic and world champions – Leo Randolph, Sugar Ray Seales and Johnny Bumphus, to drop a few names – had as kids before him. It’s an old story. Boy laces on gloves, boy falls in love.

SEATTLE – Two hours before kickoff the goalposts at CenturyLink Field were swaying like aspens. Sodden 12th Man civilians were writing off high-priced REI raingear as a blown investment. And the New Orleans Saints’ careful preparations for their rematch with the Seattle Seahawks were already being unraveled by an imprudent strategy: There was Jimmy Graham, premier tight end, still in shorts and a sweat top, woofing at Seahawks linebacker Bruce Irvin and gesturing madly, looking far too hot and bothered for someone who had yet to yoke himself into his shoulder pads and take a hit.

SEATTLE – Marshawn Lynch’s local TV and radio spots for Beacon Plumbing aren’t just legendary, they’re good advice, too. “Stop freakin’,” he counsels.

After practice on the eve of Washington State’s Spokane Arena rumble with Colorado, the Cougars’ Brett Boese took a basketball a few rows up into the seats and began lofting one-bounce alley-oop setups in the direction of teammate Que Johnson. When about the 12th try had failed due to false start, whiff or brick, Boese cracked to no one in particular, “Can I get somebody who can dunk out here?”

The end-of-the-bench Olympics has been a McCarthey Athletic Center tradition since the doors opened. When the home team’s average margin of victory any given season can be 25 points, whether the scout teamers and walk-ons crack the scoring column when the bonfire is down to embers might be the only drama game night can offer. Well, no more victory cigars.

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. – Perhaps with the next Pac-12 TV check, Washington State can hire someone to be in charge of bowl game clock management. Apparently $2.2 million isn’t enough to get that job done.

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. – Perhaps with the next Pac-12 TV check, Washington State can hire someone to be in charge of bowl game clock management.

ALBUQUERQUE – It’s bowl season, which means a bunch of September opponents are playing each other in December, leading up to a handful of games in January that America actually cares about.

In what bowl game did the Washington State Cougars wear the swirl pants? What strategic surprise did Alabama pull on the Cougs to start the 1931 Rose Bowl?

In these dicey times, everyone’s supposed to have a Plan B. A career alternative. A financial fallback. Some folks find a backup romance to be necessary, too, though that’s the case during the good times, too.

He has two national championship rings, his alma mater in Cheney is in the hunt again for another rock of its own and his current team – on an ahead-of-schedule rebuild – is prepping for a date at the Gildan New Mexico Bowl against Washington State. How much more distinction Jim McElwain will squeeze out of his football life remains to be seen. But he could win a Super Bowl and this might endure as everyone’s favorite part:

Silk longjohns. Extra socks. Parkas rated to minus-45 and flasks filled with 100 proof. All the usual methods were trotted out and any number of new ones devised to deal with Wind Chill Madness at Eastern Washington’s Roos Field on a Saturday so cold that even the red turf was turning blue.

Dependency hasn’t just been the name of the game in Whitman County athletics. It’s how the game has survived. Bigger farms, retreating towns and shrinking enrollments turned longtime rivals into new-age partners. Hyphens became equipment as necessary as helmets and gloves. Old nicknames were shelved. Old grudges, too. Well, most of the time.