ANN KILLION HAS COVERED nine Olympics, five World Cups and more than a dozen Super Bowls. Along the way she became one of the pre-eminent voices in the national sports scene, while thoughtfully studying the evolution of women’s athletics.

So when softball superstar and Olympic gold medal winner Jennie Finch wanted to write her first book, it made sense to make a pitch to the award-winning sports writer and Marin native.

“The publishing company found her, and when they told me Ann had covered the Pac-10 and the Olympics — and I found out she was a mother of a young female athlete in high school — it was too good to be true,” said Finch, whose book “Throw Like a Girl: How to Dream Big & Believe in Yourself” had long been a dream of hers. The 31-year-old pitcher recalls her own childhood when there was virtually no information available to young women aspiring to be athletes.

“Who she is in her profession and all she has done “… it was a tremendous honor for me to work with her. It really came together magically,” Finch said. “She’s a true game-changer and a pioneer in the sports world and all that she’s done and accomplished. It was truly a perfect fit all the way around. “… I couldn’t have dreamt for it to have been any better, or be written by anyone else.”

The book is more self-help than memoir, written as a “motivational and practical guide to health, fitness and sports for girls and young women,” said Killion, adding it’s not solely for softball players. In fact, much of the book, about 90 percent said Killion, relates to any young athlete — girl or boy.

As a mother of two, Killion knows the importance of youth sports. Her daughter Kaitlin Gillespie, 16, plays for the Tam High girls varsity soccer team and even helped proofread a few chapters. Her husband, Matt Gillespie — also a Mill Valley lifer — coaches the Red-tailed Hawks JV girls basketball team and the freshmen football team. Their son Connor, 20, graduated from Tam in 2009 and lives in Colorado where he is an avid snowboarder.

“(Jennie) had a real specific vision. It’s more like an inspirational book trying to say ‘what are the lessons that you learn in sports and how do they apply to the rest of your life,’” said Killion, a Tam and UCLA graduate with a master’s in journalism from Columbia.

“There’s not a lot of literature out there for girls interested in sports. There’s a lot for boys and there’s a lot of easy-reader books about athletes, and biographies and autobiographies that are aimed for even the adult population,” she said. “But there’s not anything that really pops to what girls might be interested in, and you can’t treat girls and boys the same — at any regard — but in sports as well. They come to it from different places and different things push their buttons.”

Killion described her first book project as an intense experience, but “Throw Like a Girl” was exactly the type of opportunity she envisioned conquering when she made the choice to leave the San Jose Mercury News — a Bay Area News Group paper — in 2009.

“I’d been trying to figure out an exit strategy for a while. The job had changed,” said Killion of her decision. “It’s fun, I’ve been able to be involved in stuff like this (book), be involved in different ventures, and “… who knows where things will take me. It’s exciting to kind of be able to direct your own path and utilize new media and be proactive on your own account.”

A contributing writer for Sports Illustrated and CSNBayArea.com, Killion has also become a familiar voice — and face — for the Bay Area audience. She’s a weekly guest on the nightly television sports talk show Chronicle Live and can be heard often on KNBR radio.

This summer a freelance assignment for Stanford Magazine offered her a behind-scenes-look into Giants outgoing managing general partner Bill Neukom. It was the type of takeout piece a feature writer could sink one’s teeth into. It also hearkened back to a time when long and thoughtful contemplation of a story or subject was seen as an asset, not an expense.

“I enjoyed getting to know him through the course of that story and I’m kind of disappointed about what happened to him,” Killion said. “I think, obviously, every indicator would tell you the Giants were on the right track under his stewardship. He’s a very smart man and it’s never a good thing to get rid of smart people. I do think he affected a lot of important change throughout the organization.”

Her two decades as a scribe provided a great seat to a legion of historical moments, like the 1999 Women’s World Cup — which she said “really felt like a historical moment in the evolution of women’s sports” — Lance Armstrong winning the Tour de France, a jaunt to Edmonton with Kristi Yamaguchi and San Francisco’s first World Series title.

But it seems a move toward fiction may be on Killion’s horizon.

“The fun part of writing this book was I got to be a 6-foot-2, gorgeous blond for a while, it was great,” joked the diminutive Killion of co-authoring the book with the tall Finch. “I would like to write fiction at some point. The world keeps changing so fast, it’s hard to know where we might be. But it’s nice to have the flexibility to try different things.”

It’s likely opportunities will continue to knock on Killion’s Mill Valley door. Said Finch, “It was an honor to work with her, and I would be extremely honored to have the chance to do it again.”

Contact Theo Fightmaster via email at tfightmaster@marinij.com

BOOK BEAT

Mill Valley’s Ann Killion is a contributing writer for Sports Illustrated and Comcast SportsNet Bay Area.

• First book: “Throw Like a Girl: How to Dream Big & Believe in Yourself” by Jennie Finch with Ann Killion ($14.95, Triumph Books, 256 pages), a motivational and practical guide to health, fitness and sports for girls and young women athletes of any sport.
• Where: Amazon.com, barnes andnoble.com, jenniefinch.com and local bookstores.

http://www.marinij.com/prepcentral/ci_19025773?IADID=Search-www.marinij.com-www.marinij.com

When Beane told the Contra Costa Times “I was wondering who was going to be the first guy to think I produced, wrote or directed this movie. Now I have my answer. (Howe’s) comments are completely misguided,” he:

a) sounded suspiciously like a guy who didn’t mind in the least that Howe was portrayed as such a jack-wagon.

And he b) missed the point.  When you’ve been played by Brad Pitt – when most of the American public is going to believe that dazzling cinematic version of both you and of 2002 green-and-gold events – then you’ve won.  You can afford to be gracious.

Howe has talked to several Bay Area media outlets and is understandably troubled by how Moneyball’s script and Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s performance portray him.

In the movie, he’s a churlish, oafish villain.  In real life, Howe was amiable and gracious, well-liked by most of his players and others in and out of baseball.

We all understand that the movie is pretend, that it’s a Hollywood version of a pseudo-baseball story and an entertaining one at that. The movie needed a villain and created one out of Howe.

But understanding that logic as an onlooker and seeing oneself portrayed as the anti-Christ on the screen are two different things and Howe’s horrified reaction – he’s called it “character assassination” – is probably how any sane person would react.

Howe allowed his name to be used, so he probably doesn’t have much for a complaint, legal or otherwise. Paul DePodesta is the only real-life person who opted out of letting his name be used, saying, “once I read the script and realized it was a piece of fiction, I saw no reason for my name to be attached to it.”

See, that Jonah Hill character was pretty darn smart.

There are plenty of factual errors throughout the movie and Howe’s character is not exempted. Howe was not angling for a contract extension that season. He – not Beane- was the one who had to release Mike Magnante. But the biggest problem with the Howe portrayal is not in the factual minutiae but with the general portrayal of Howe.

The audience walks away thinking, “what a jerk.” That’s exactly the one word that those of us who know Howe and worked with him would never, ever use to describe him.

In the “Moneyball” book, Howe is mostly portrayed as a boob, a clueless old-school baseball guy who didn’t have any understanding of Beane’s brilliance and whose authority was completely overshadowed by Beane. And there’s some truth to the details.

But the bigger reality was that Howe had been around for years – Beane inherited him from Sandy Alderson – and had helped the A’s grow from irrelevance to importance. Yes, he had Beane’s players – but all field managers have their general manager’s players. Howe’s job was to get those players to perform and – for several years – he did just that.

One plot line surrounding Howe did seem to be accurate. As the A’s put together their 20-game winning streak and turned their season around, the national media lauded Howe for his calm demeanor and his competence in getting his team to jell.  As the Beane character heard those comments, he seethed.  It is true that Howe received credit for his ability with that team – as he should have. It’s true, also and always, that Beane received much more of the credit.

Nine years later, Beane is getting virtually 100 percent of the credit. Howe is a footnote to the A’s success and now a deranged, angry one at that.

Beane has both the credit and Pitt – who will possibly win awards for his portrayal of Beane.  It doesn’t get much better for a guy whose team hasn’t made the playoffs in five seasons.

So graciousness – perhaps even a disingenuous overture and apology – would have been the kinder response.  That’s probably what Pitt’s character would have done. But that’s Hollywood.

A Giant Leap

He shepherded Microsoft through its stormiest period and helped bring a World Series title to San Francisco. In both cases, says Bill Neukom, it was all about the team.

BY ANN KILLION

So it was nice to be back. I’ve been to Phoenix for other reasons – namely football – during my spring training absence. But I’m always surprised at how much the area changes with every visit: more than any other American city. Sprawl and grid and identical strip malls as far as the eye can see. The area is still beautiful at dusk, brick-red rocks against purple sky, and early in the mornin. But, in between, it’s a grating symbol of thoughtless development, water waste and mind-numbing monotony.

The crowds this year were insane. It might be because the Giants won the World Series, it might be because of spring break, it might be because of harsh winters in the Midwest.    Whatever the reason – it was wall-to-wall people last weekend. And the crowds in Scottsdale at night were the same – highly inebriated, sunburned and loud. I saw one barefoot 40ish woman stumble out of the Pink Pony, punch her male companion in the face several times, scream at him and then run away down an alley.  She wasn’t the only one who was overserved – people kept wanting to buy Ray Ratto drinks and take his picture!  Scottsdale is one big, loud – often sloppy – party – you can see why the teams want their players to report at 7:30 or 8 a.m. most mornings.  They need incentive to get to bed early.

The baseball part was enjoyable.  The A’s are making news. Billy Beane has rebuilt them, and the talent will put manager Bob Geren to the test. Beane has also gone to lengths to make sure the A’s stay healthy. And Hideki Matsui’s presence brings a bigtime star quality.

Over at the Giants, things are relatively peaceful for a reigning World Champion.  I enjoyed my conversations with Madison Bumgarner, Miguel Tejada, Aubrey Huff and others. Brian Wilson was advertised as not being able to answer a question seriously, but I found him insightful. And Tim Lincecum looked to be in Cy Young form.

It was a quick trip. The next time I see the local teams will be back in the Bay Area, for the real thing.

Meanwhile, we’re left with the Trent Baalke hire. Which is so much more of the same for the 49ers that it’s ridiculous.

A week ago, Jed stood in front of the Bay Area media and made it clear that he would hire a general manager. He said he would conduct a search. He implied that he was looking for expertise.

It was a fun game of charades.

Within 24 hours word had leaked that he would hire his in-house candidate Baalke. A man who is getting his job the way everyone with the 49ers gets his job: by being in the building when someone was fired.

Baalke may be a fine talent evaluator – though we have no way of knowing since the 2010 draft evaluation was certainly largely in place before Scot McCloughan left. But he works for Jed and Paraag Marathe. He has been in the 49ers organization for seven dysfunctional years – arriving in Mike Nolan’s first year. He wanted the job – who doesn’t want to be one of 32 general managers in the NFL? So he wasn’t about to tell Jed, “Hey, you’re doing it wrong.”

Jed, in the announcement of Baalke’s hiring, said “In recent months I’ve been very impressed with his knowledge and leadership.”  But how much do you trust Jed to do the evaluating?  How much does he know about effective NFL knowledge and leadership. Baalke isn’t exactly like John McVay coming in.

This is the problem with the 49ers. They think they’re doing it right. Jed is convinced the only – the only - issue with the team was coaching. Everything else inside is hunky-dory.  Except that it’s not.

“They have the worst structure in football, or at least very close to it, with a couple of young guys that believe they have all the answers,” said one longtime NFL insider.

Now, if Harbaugh is The Answer, the Baalke hire won’t matter. Cocksure Harbaugh is not about to take orders from Baalke. He has his own contacts and sources in the NFL and will make his only decisions. He’ll likely look at Baalke as an executive assistant. And if Harbaugh turns out to be a very good NFL coach, everything will be great.

And while I believe Harbaugh has a better chance than most college coaches to be a very good NFL coach (extensive NFL pedigree, inside knowledge and contacts; coming from a program where he can’t just load up on blue-chippers at every position but is forced to more carefully evaluate and select talent), that’s no sure thing.

On the face of it, the 49ers are just repeating their past: Falling in love with a untested candidate as head coach and handing him control of the organization, bypassing Super Bowl winners who are available, while staffing the front office with yes-men who won’t challenge the inept 49ers culture.

Harbaugh better be in the bag. And he better turn out to be The Answer.  It’s the 49ers only hope.

Gosh, no hint of corruption there. Not at all.

Don’t get me wrong. My feelings about what happened Thursday morning when the 2018 and 2022 World Cup bid winners were announced have nothing to do with the U.S. getting screwed. I was lukewarm on the American bid at best. I think our country is too spread out. I think not having San Francisco and Chicago involved was absurd. I think Nashville and Atlanta don’t say World Cup soccer. I think the prevailing argument – “Hey, people went to bars this summer to watch games,” – seemed a little weak.

But the U.S. bid would be vastly preferable to what FIFA just did. Does anyone think Russia will pull this off without incredible corruption? Does anyone want to go to Qatar in the summer? The old men on the FIFA selection committee won’t have to worry about it – they’ll likely all be dead by that point.

In picking Russia and Qatar, FIFA put up a giant middle finger to soccer fans and let them know it’s not about the game at all but about how much money FIFA can pocket.  It will not be about the experience. Or even about bringing soccer to soccer- mad countries. Or about trying to help an impoverished country rise up.

Awarding the 2010 games to South Africa made sense because soccer is on the rise in Africa and the area could use the influx of dollars, infrastructure and aid. Though there were thousands of unsold seats and the fan experience drew mixed reviews, it wasn’t a terrible risk.

Awarding the 2014 games to Brazil made sense because Brazil is the first nation of soccer. And even though the news coming out of Rio is scaring the bejeezus out of fans as the war between the government and drug lords escalates in an attempt to make the country safe for the World Cup, Brazil at least makes sense from a soccer perspective.

Russia? Over England, Spain/Portugal or Belgium/Netherlands? Absurd. All those other bids were in soccer mad countries with ready stadiums, trains, infrastructure and what would promise to be a delightful, easy fan experience. Russia, a country run on corruption, doesn’t have that infrastructure. There are already skyrocketing concerns about the 2014 Winter Olympics awarded to Sochi. Now Russia – a country that has qualified for the World Cup twice and never made it out of the first round, making it even less of a soccer nation than our own – will host the world’s greatest sporting event. (NOTE: Alert reader points out that USSR made several World Cups, but as we know in the sports world USSR does not = Russia).

And Qatar. Show of hands: who wants to go to that tiny country in the Middle East where it is 118 degrees in the summer, and where the team has never qualified for the World Cup? It especially sounds fun for us working women who will be expected (though not required) to cover our heads and wear long pants.

For a time, FIFA’s bid award process seemed to make sense.  A newcomer, then back to Western Europe. Another newcomer, then back to Europe – where they know how to do World Cups and the fan experience is tremendous. Starting with South Africa this year, greedy, corrupt FIFA is intent on taking chances all over the globe for years and years.

By the time they’re done in 2022, I doubt we’ll still be calling it the World’s Greatest Sporting Event.  And that’s a shame.

Either way, I’ll be thinking about my dad and the Giants and the relationship between the two. And how much my father would love this team.

My dad loved baseball, and he loved the Giants. It was a steady, unfluctuating love. He grew up in a place without baseball (Minnesota), moved to San Francisco long before there was a baseball team. He got his fixes where he could. He saw games at Seals Stadium, seeing Joe Dimaggio hit there. And he waited for a baseball team to come to him.

His team arrived in 1958. He stood on Market Street to watch the players ride through a ticker tape parade, with my older brother perched on his shoulders. It was the start of a relationship that would last 42 years.

By the time I came along, he had created a household in which we knew, without question, that Willie Mays was the greatest player ever and it was a privilege for all of us to watch him.  My father was a lapsed Catholic – baseball became his religion and he believed in Saint Mays.

He loved athletic excellence, like Mays and McCovey. But he also liked characters. I remember watching the 1997 Brian Johnson game against the Dodgers with him – he loved Rod Beck and that swinging arm.  He loved the unsung hero like Johnson who came through with the big hit. Before that, in the late ’80s, he liked Candy Maldanado and Mitch. What he really liked were homegrown talents that San Francisco could claim as their own. When Will Clark came along, he was, well, thrilled.

Which means he would love this team. He would love the vibe and the characters and he would think that Buster Posey was only the greatest young player he’d ever seen. He would have extolled the virtues of Saint Buster to his grandkids.  He would have been thrilled.

Well maybe he is thrilled. And has a great view of the action.

I suffer from Bonds Fatigue Syndrome.  I wonder if there’s a cure?

I’d already filed a column for SI.com on Barry Bonds throwing out the first pitch in Game 3, and how – more than anything – it just provided a contrast between this 2010 team and those dour, mostly humorless Bonds-centric teams of the early 2000s.  That was the focus of my column, not unbridled outrage that Bonds had sullied the Giants feel-good NLCS home moment.

But talking to my Philly friends, I got a reminder of how the rest of the world views our little Bonds bubble. They were repulsed by the adulation Bonds received from the crowd and slightly disgusted that the Giants chose to honor Bonds who has a trial date in March for perjury. They think everyone in black and orange is still clearly in denial about the cloud Bonds cast over the game.

I’m no fan of Bonds or the never-ending adulation of him by the Giants front office.  I do think it’s weird that the Giants would bring Bonds back in the midst of this cool run, that is so anti-Bonds at its very soul. Fun, team-oriented, footloose.  Again, for narrative purposes, I appreciate the ability to compare and contrast. But why bring up a reminder of how long it’s taken to recover from the team’s debilitating Bonds addiction?

Sure, I know that Bonds has become a scapegoat for an entire era, and that’s not particularly fair. But, fair or not, he is a symbol of that era. The biggest symbol. While shunning him would be hypocritical, embracing him is unnecessary. Just as ill-advised as the Cardinals’ embrace of Mark McGwire.

But I guess I’m just used to it.   I know that when Bonds shows up in San Francisco the crowd will chant his name. I know that the Giants will act like he invented baseball every time he’s around. I can’t get outraged about it.

But the rest of the world thinks the Giants and their fans are crazy, sheep, in denial. Pick your pejorative.

Bonds Fatigue Syndrome. Is there a cure? It actually might be this 2010 Giants team.

Last week, he didn’t shake the hand of Atlanta coach Mike Smith after the game. Singletary conceded that it was “poor sportsmanship” on his part. That’s troubling on a fundamental level.

Singletary is all about leadership, values, motivation. All those things that go into sportsmanship. Without that, what does he have? A yellow Hall of Fame jacket, but in terms of coaching credentials, not too much.

Other coaches skip the handshake on rare occasions. Bill Belichick comes to mind. But Belichick is a brilliant coach. His calling card isn’t leadership, its Xs and Os. Pretty much no one would want him to come talk to room of boy scouts. But everyone would like him diagramming plays late in a tense game.

Singletary, as we are learning, is not a brilliant coach. He’s not even a very good coach at this point. He may be at some point – though that is becoming increasingly doubtful with every week. Singletary’s strength is his leadership.  But he keeps poking holes in his leadership credentials. Being a leader is more than just spouting inspirational words in a deep voice. It has to do with walking the talk.  Being a good sport. Handling adversity.

So far this season, Singletary has been coming up short on that.

On another, somewhat embarrassing note, some media members received a DVD in the mail this week.  It’s title?

“Get Coached by Mike Singletary: Inspiration, Motivation, Action.”

On the back of the case, we are told – in oddly religious and military terms –  that “Life is a game you want to win. Get Coached –  no longer just for the chosen few.”  Mike is going to teach us about “Success – How badly do you want it?” Mike will deliver his “arsenal of powerful messages.”  Among the topics covered: Leadership, Foundation of Integrity, Relationships, Loyalty (perhaps Jimmy Raye would like to take a look at those last two sections).  Not sure if the postgame handshake blowoff or the media interview meltdown are covered.

Perhaps the distributor should have waited to release the DVD until the 49ers had actually won a football game they want to win.

My first takeaway  will, of course, be Tim Lincecum’s look. He was locked into the kind of zone that only elite athletes at the top of their craft can penetrate.  Overmatching professional baseball players, who were  whiffing away at his stuff like minor leaguers. It was something to witness.

But my other takeaway moment is the postgame press conference. Buster Posey and Lincecum sat side-by-side at a table. Two All-American kids – one cut from an old-school cloth with his short hair and Captain America looks, the other a scruffy new generation skater dude. The fresh faces of the Giants. On a truly historic night.

It’s hard not to view what’s happening now at the ballpark through the prism of the past. Maybe it’s a function of working in the area where I grew up, watching the local teams evolve and shift through different eras. Nothing happens just in the moment. The last era was fascinating and frustrating, a daily lesson in ego and hubris and denial. It was historic. We were told that on a daily basis, with tickers and banners all over the ballpark and regular, exhaustive celebrations. But it was a forced, manufactured form of history, that didn’t have a lot to do with the intrigue and beauty of baseball.

What Lincecum and Posey accomplished together was a game for the ages, the best pitching performance in the 127-year history of the franchise and one of the best ever in postseason play. Real, heat of October, history.  Two kids collaborating on on  of the most aesthetically pleasing creations in sports – a dominating pitching performance.

The dark cloud that hung around the Giants for years has dissipated. Cleared away by two young fresh faces. The Giants are pretty lucky to have them.