Ah... the sweet feeling of love.

Seeing as how this coming Saturday will be Valentine’s Day, I started thinking about things that I love. I could try to write down a list of all the things I love, starting first and foremost with my family and my sweet girlfriend, but I have neither the time nor your patience. So I decided to list just a few…

I love the way Alexander Ovechkin celebrates when he scores a goal.

I love the way Liverpool fans in England sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” as loud as they can when their team walks out onto the field before matches.

I love the low tunnel in Blacksburg, Virginia, the one that the Virginia Tech football team comes out of before games.

I was fortunate enough growing up to get the chance to see Michael Jordan play in Chicago, and I loved it when, after reading the visiting team’s starting line-up in the most dull of voices, the announcer screamed as the lights went out, “AAAAAAAAAAND NOW!! The starting line-up for YOUR CHICAGO BULLS!!”

I love the fact that goalies always lead their teams out onto the ice.

And I love the way hockey players protect them.

I love fight songs in college.

I love curtain calls in baseball.

I love that ESPN uses Erin Andrews as a sideline reporter as often as they do.

I love the fact that Ahmard Hall of the Tennessee Titans, who served four years as a U.S. Marine in Kosovo and Afghanistan, runs out of the tunnel before every home game holding an American flag over his head.

I love the zone that Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon gets in, to the point that it looks like he’ll go chew off the catcher’s facemask if he doesn’t give him the signal for fastball.

I love flyovers, and the way they simultaneously bring both goose bumps and tears.

I love how Ronnie Lott had his fractured pinky cut off as a senior at Southern California, just so he wouldn’t have to sit on the bench the rest of the season with a pinky brace.

I love watching the Kentucky Derby every year, and my favorite part is when the announcer screams, “And down the stretch they come!”

I loved the fact that when Barry Bonds became a free agent, not one team wanted to sign him.

I love how fired up Tim Tebow gets.

I love how Rocky Marciano never stayed down.

I love the look on pro hockey players’ faces when they’re about to hoist the Stanley Cup. It’s the same look most of them had as 5-year-olds.

I love how the music swells in the movie “Rudy” when he finally gets a chance to run out onto the field.

I love watching Tiger Woods on a Sunday afternoon in Augusta line up for a putt on the 18th, and how everyone just knows he’s going to make it.

I love the mutual hatred between Michigan and Ohio State, and how their hatred in this world is rivaled only by perhaps Jews and Nazis.

I love that the Klitschko brothers will never fight each other.

I love how quiet Lucas Oil Stadium gets in Indianapolis when Peyton Manning has the ball, and how the decibel level instantly goes from 0 to 140 when he connects with Reggie Wayne for a touchdown pass.

I love the match race scene in the movie “Seabiscuit,” and how when our hero turns it on coming out of the final turn, you can hear the announcer scream, “HEEEEEEERE COMES SEABISCUIT!!”

I still love the great call by Al Michaels, “Do you believe in miracles?! YES!!”

I love and miss boxer Arturo “Thunder” Gatti, and how he walked slowly to the ring serenaded by AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck,” and how every fan in the arena smiled knowing they were really about to get their money’s worth.

And I also love the white strip on my cat’s nose, and how it peeks thru the blinds of the back door every time I pull into the driveway.

That’s love.

It's like Arnold Schwarzenegger wearing a padded muscle-shirt.

There are some things in this world I will just never understand. Like math. I'll never get it. It must be a case of me not activating the right side of my brain. Or the left side. Hell, I don't know which side it is. Would you like to know another thing I will never understand?

Cheating.

It just doesn't make sense to me. Maybe I like the idea of falling asleep with a clear conscious too much. But I really think I would rather lose at something than the alternative of cheating to win. Am I alone in this?

Last night, "Sugar" Shane Mosley challenged for Antonio Margarito's welterweight title. And it was a thrilling fight. Mosley, with his new trainer Naazim Richardson, put together a perfect gameplan to disrupt the potential destruction of the "Tijuana Tornado." Mosley used ring smarts and accurate flurries to dumbfound Margarito. Then, in the ninth round, Mosley floored Margarito. The fight was stopped shortly thereafter by referee Raul Caiz. It was a tremendous performance by a 37-year-old aging legend who, by many believers, is well past his prime. But it was vintage Mosley: quick feet, surprising power, accurate punching, technical boxing. Mosley had big leads on all three judges' scorecards at the time of the fight being stopped. But perhaps the biggest storyline of the night happened before the fight ever started...

Margarito had to have his hands rewrapped prior to the fight because his original wraps were deemed unacceptable by fight officials. His wraps were said to have a "plaster-like substance" on them. What? Margarito? Using plaster of paris on his hand wraps? I just do not understand this! This is like Dolly Parton wearing a Wonderbra. Or finding out Usain Bolt has rocket packs in his shoes. Or that Tiger Woods has started using a flag-finding golf ball. The point is, What's the point? Why cheat when you have a natural advantage anyway? Margarito already has sledgehammers for hands. We've seen it in the past. He's the only man to defeat Kermit Cintron (which he did, twice, both by knockout) and the previously undefeated Puerto Rican superstar Miguel Cotto.

So hearing all this, do all of Margarito's past wins now need to be put under a microscope? Do the sanctioning bodies of boxing need to question their title fights in which Margarito prevailed victorious?

I hate it for Mosley. He has thrust himself to the top of the welterweight division for the first time since 2001. And he did so in a thrilling fashion. He also did so fairly. Congratulations to "Sugar" Shane Mosley.

I'm not upset about all this because I picked Margarito to win. I really thought he would. But I also thought he would do so fairly. I now hope this doesn't give boxing a similar black eye to the one that Barry Bonds' alleged steroid use gave to baseball.

Boxing doesn't need this. Nobody does.

Who likes cheaters anyway?

For Love or Money?

I remember my first day in high school. I was nervous. And not just nervous about the new building or the frightening height of the upperclassmen. I was nervous because I had to follow my sister there. You see, my sister was really popular in school. So much so that it was the year after she graduated that I was referred to (for the first time) by my first name instead of "her younger brother." I remember the guidance counselors in my school telling me what my sister's GPA was when she graduated, and asking if mine would be that high. My sister was also a cheerleader, and I can admit it was frustrating knowing I would never have as many girls show interest in me as guys showed interest in her. So what is a younger brother to do? I did pretty much anything I could to get attention. Having a popular sibling is tough. But I'll tell you what I didn't do...

I didn't stab her in the back for personal gain.

Not like Jay McGwire did.

Mark McGwire has been under tremendous scrutiny since his retirement from Major League Baseball about whether or not he took performance-enhancing drugs. It's been a sore topic, especially since the wave of major leaguers that have admitted their own steroid use. McGwire has been eligible for induction into the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame for a few years now. And because of his alleged steroid use, incorporated with his vehement denials, McGwire has barely been able to wiggle the needle of interest among voters. A lot of it has to do with the fact that McGwire is seen as a catalyst for the "steroid era" in baseball. Another big part is the simple fact that McGwire won't just come out and admit that he did. Because let's be honest with one another. We know that McGwire took steroids.

We know that Pete Rose gambled on baseball.

We know Roger Clemens took steroids.

We really know Barry Bonds took steroids.

We also know that Andy Pettitte did.

And of those five players, who has the highest public approval rating right now? Andy Pettitte. And why?

He admitted it. And then he apologized for it. Remember we do live in a forgiving society.

So Jay McGwire, in all his wisdom, has taken it upon himself to tell the truth for his brother in his new book proposal, titled "The McGwire Family Secret: The Truth about Steroids, a Slugger and Ultimate Redemption."

This absolutely disgusts me.

I don't care that Jay and Mark don't talk anymore. Mark's a man! He can live in denial all he wants! But the best part of all this is the reasoning of Jay McGwire. He says, "My bringing the truth to the surface about Mark is out of love. I want Mark to live in truth to see the light, to come to repentance so he can live in freedom -- which is the only way to live." I feel gross for saying this, but that almost makes me laugh. He's saying this out of love?! Hardly. How about money? Oh, now we're talking. How about jealousy? Mark was a media darling throughout his career. Remember 1998? McGwire and Sammy Sosa had households tuned in every single night to see if one or both of them would slam another one. That must be humiliating for the no-name brother of a sports superstar.

Jay McGwire can call it love all he wants. We all know the truth. We know the truth about Mark. And now we know the truth about Jay. It isn't love. It's the sad cry of a jealous little boy.