David Beckham finally accomplished something other than over-exposure on an American soccer field. The only man who can actually “bend it like Beckham” did it in a game that’s purpose is hard to fathom.

I truly don’t understand why they were playing.

I consider myself the average-American soccer fan. Therefore, I obviously don’t know all that much about the sport. The World Cup is fun to watch every four years, foreign soccer fans are 10 percent passionate and 90 percent crazy, Brandi Chastain took her shirt off after scoring a goal, and David Beckham is trying to create buzz about a sport which, in America, most little kids play and most adults don’t follow.

So when I received a text message from my one soccer friend seconds after Beckham bended it to the back corner of the net on Wednesday, I assumed it was in front of a sold-out crowd at the Home Depot Center for an important MLS game.

It wasn’t.

Actually, the stadium wasn’t close to capacity, and it was for a SuperLiga match. What a SuperLiga match actually is I don’t know, but I do know no other sport in this country would have other matches during the season.

I don’t think Bill Belichick would let Tom Brady play in a seven-on-seven tourney during the Patriots’ bye week, and I don’t think A-Rod would take a few days away from the Yankees because his 40-and-younger team was a game away from the Westside Rec. League finals.

America doesn’t need David Beckham to create buzz for soccer. The small town I live in has thousands of kids playing every weekend.

America needs a league they can latch onto and call their own. I don’t care if David Beckham bends it 400 times to the back corner of the net on a free-kick during those “other” games. I want to see him score the game-winner for the L.A. Galaxy during the championship match on network television. I want to see other great soccer stars play for the Major League of Soccer, not tear it up during spring training-esque contests.

Maybe then the next time I scream, “Gooooooaaaaalllll,” it’ll actually mean something.

Reading the two stories about Tony C. in HOFMAG.com brought back many fond memories of my youth – and some not so fond.

Like most Red Sox fans of my generation, August 18, 1967 was a Friday night 40 years ago that I’ll never forget. I was a 17 year-old athlete getting ready for my senior year. Football double-sessions were imminent, but I was still living high off a very successful junior-year of high school baseball…and dreaming of someday playing for the Red Sox. Why not? If my favorite player, Tony Conigliaro, could make it at 19 years old, maybe my day wasn’t too far away either. Tony C. did that for athletes my age. He gave us hope.

The day started out great. California Governor Ronald Regan called for the withdrawal of troops from South Vietnam (unfortunately, on the deaf ears of President Johnson), and one of my favorite models, Veruschka, was on the cover of Life magazine. Like every other summer day, I’m sure I played sandlot baseball in the morning and basketball in the afternoon. My summer evenings were reserved for working at my father’s drive-in theater.

That Friday night was no different – a normal night at the drive-in packed with cars, as I worked in my corner of the snack-bar as the grill and pizza-man. My younger brother worked in the other corner making fries and clam cakes (a New England treat), and my mother worked the counter serving drinks and making popcorn. Dad was usually upfront at the ticket office. I don’t remember what the movie was that weekend. It might have been The Graduate - maybe Bonnie and Clyde or Cool Hand Luke. Or, it could have been one of my all-time favorites, The Dirty Dozen. In any case, it didn’t matter, as I was locked into the radio in my little corner. It was the magical year of 1967 and our loveable losers (Red Sox) were unimaginably making a run at the AL Pennant.

Unfortunately, the baseball season theoretically ended for me that night. Despite the Sox going on to win the pennant and playing one of the greatest World Series ever versus Gibson’s Cardinals, I couldn’t totally enjoy it after the beaning of Tony C. that memorable summer evening. Even the sound of the ball hitting Tony’s head on the radio was horrific – and the image of that black-eye photo of him will always be with me. My all-time favorite baseball player almost being killed by a pitched ball was unfathomable.

During the years, as I’ve thought back to those early Tony C-days, I remember him bringing a smile to my face while the world seemed to be going crazy. It was the early 1960s, and I was just a teenager – with turmoil all-around us. Remember, Tony C broke into the big leagues in the spring of 1964. He was at the Sox spring training camp in Scottsdale, Arizona only four months after President Kennedy was assassinated. If the killing of JFK wasn’t enough, the Vietnam conflict was becoming a nightly horror show on television. Tony’s emergence helped me forget about serious matters…even if only briefly.

Later that decade, Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were killed – and the conflict in Southeast Asia not only grew, but hit home with the loss of a high school friend. To make matters worse, my best friend (and later best-man at my wedding) was shipped-off to Vietnam. He, too, was seriously injured, but, thank God, survived.

So, for those of us who lived through the turbulent 60s as teenagers, we were fortunate to have fun diversions – like The Beatles…and Tony C.

Anyone who has ever suffered a severely sprained ankle knows that it can take weeks or even months to heal. For David Beckham and the MLS, the timing couldn’t be worse. Understand that the Beckham signing was a gamble from the outset. Amid the hype it was going to be interesting to see if the American sporting public would respond to Beckham’s game.

Soccer is a game of subtleties. Beckham’s game accentuates the subtleties. Don’t get me wrong - Beckham is a superstar. But, he’s not a LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, Kevin Garnett-type of superstar. He’s more Jason Kidd. The first three can stir a nation, the latter can’t.

What Beckham did have going for him was that America bought into the hype. When he landed in July, America was focused on his arrival like no British import since the Beatles in 1964. Yet, while the Beatles delivered, Beckham’s ankle has limited him to a couple of token appearances in eight games. Worse, think about how the sporting spotlight has shifted since Beckham’s arrival. Craig Biggio notched his 3,000th hit, Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken entered the Hall of Fame, Tom Glavine won #300, Alex Rodriguez smashed his 500th career home run, Bonds broke Aaron’s record, Tiger won another major, the Yankees have made up 10 games on the Red Sox, NFL exhibition season is underway, and college football starts in two weeks.

While Beckham’s fame will endure, the MLS has had its 15 minutes in the spotlight. There is still room for professional soccer in this country, and the sport will succeed. However, the booster rocket that was going to launch the sport to unprecedented heights has fizzled. Funny thing about luck.

Beckham could have been the right guy in the right place. Now, in all probability, we’ll never really know.

The heist is over. Finally. At least the feat is. Now, we await the fallout.

Barry Bonds stole the most hallowed milestone in sports. He fraudulently gained the title of all-time MLB home run king. Step aside Hank Aaron, your 33-year-old title now belongs to one of the most despicable athletes in sports history.

We all know the story. We all know the names of many steroid-generation baseball characters who have made Aaron, Ruth, Mays, Robinson, McCovey and Williams more revered than ever. Bonds and his BALCO-buddies have made us even more respectful of the accomplishments of these great players.

If Barry Bonds has done nothing, he has at least brought me back to many fond memories. Aaron’s historic #715. Maris’ dramatic #61. Ted Williams’ #521 in his last at-bat. The home run ball I caught from the bat of Harmon Killebrew, while on his way to the then-magic 500 home run plateau. Unfortunately, it’s a high price to pay to bring back memorable times-past.

So, what now Mr. Selig? Since it was you and the MLB players’ union that greedily turned your collective backs on the early days of steroid use to “save baseball” and drive up player salaries, what will you now do to “save face” for baseball? And, lest we forget, it was Selig, et al, who knowingly allowed millions of baseball fans to get caught-up in the hysteria of 1998 when those other two frauds, McGwire and Sosa, put on their “Roid Show” while the Maris family politely looked on. MLB knew then…like it knows now.

Mr. Selig - baseball fans everywhere await some type of comment or decision. Better yet, baseball’s legitimate 500-plus home run club waits.

There they sat - left to right - the smiling all-star trio of Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen at the recent Celtics press conference. Their smiles as wide as the distance between Boston’s North Shore and Cape Cod. Not since the Bird glory-days have the Celtics been relevant. Now, with Garnett officially in the fold, Celtics Pride is once again alive and well. The NBA’s most storied franchise is back.

Those smiles went far beyond New England sports fanatics. From Boston’s new Garden, you could see the smile on Commissioner David Stern’s face. At least for a short time stories about the NBA will actually be about its players and teams - and not the shame of its referee scandal. Plus, what’s better for the NBA than to see articles about the Celtics and Knicks on websites and newspapers across the country. Nothing is more important to the NBA than successful teams in the Northeast. With all due respect to the great Spurs’ team, along with Phoenix and the rest of the Western Conference, the NBA needs New York and Boston teams to be competitive.

Whether you’re a Celtics fan or hater, having the Celtics competing for their seventeenth NBA Championship is good for the league. Back in the 1980s, Bird and Magic saved the NBA with their great Celtics-Lakers battles. Now, with the immensely talented and intense Kevin Garnett in Boston, the NBA can now look forward to its Eastern Conference playoff battles in the spring of 2008. And with Garnett playing in the east, watch him become an even greater superstar.

Western Conference fans can boast about their teams, but two of the last four champions have come from the Eastern Conference - and now there’s one more eastern team that will join the potential championship mix.

So keep smiling Mr. Stern, as NBA television ratings and retail sales will jump next season with the return of the Boston Celtics to your league.