Aaron Sorkin's 'newsroom upon a hill' in new HBO series 'The Newsroom'

If you didn't know the news was a shell of its former self, well, Aaron Sorkin isn't just telling you in his new HBO series The Newsroom. He's hitting your over the head with a stack of papers, running it on a crawl and flashing it all over your television screen in the same way today's news coverage he looks down upon would probably handle a celebrity death.

The Newsroom is very well-cast. Jeff Daniels is compelling as news anchor Will McAvoy, who strives to be objective but ultimately breaks routine with an outburst that triggers attention. Executive producer Mackenzie Machale, played by Emily Mortimer, is wonderful, plucky and full of life. Mortimer and McAvoy have excellent chemistry. Senior producer Jim Harper (John Gallagher Jr.) and newly named associate producer Maggie Jordan (Alison Pill) are likeable, the initial newsroom underdogs you want to root for.

But for all the good the actors can do, The Newsroom is bogged down in its own self-worth, smothered in idealistic dialogue and predictable setups. Let's spell it out in episode one.

- New EP hired, anchor doesn't want to work with her team, breaking news happens, they conveniently prove themselves
- New EP and anchor had a past relationship (surprise!) that carries baggage they must work through
- Anchor 'imagined' new EP in audience when having diatribe but shocker it actually was her! And in case you didn't catch on it's made astoundingly clear.

Sorkin's 'newsroom' is one where the news cycle is dictated by the color of AP alerts. It operates in a fictional reality where an entire hour-long newscast goes over seamlessly with no rundown. A phoner is cued up 30 seconds before air and runs without technical glitch.

Yes, this is television. It's not always realistic. No one believes counterterrorism agencies really run in the same manner as CTU did in 24 - at least I hope not.

That was fine - the willing suspension of disbelief worked because of the show's tone. 24 was always pure entertainment, a thrill ride which made no bones about its existence outside of actual reality. Whereas 24 was centered around fictional terror plots, The Newsroom focuses on fictional coverage of a pulled from the headlines story, the BP spill in the Gulf. That makes the liberties taken with being realistic harder to swallow.

Sorkin's newsroom is his version of a 'city upon the hill,' a newsroom more virtuous and grounded in the truth than all others. The excellent actors are given dialogue that's so coated in Sorkin's predisposed agenda that they can't help but sound like a class president reading a speech of promises to the high school auditorium.

The Newsroom is not a bad show. The 73 minutes start off with a bang, fall into boredom, then crescendo again into a fast-paced product. But even its funny moments are spoiled by a lack of overtness, the need to spell out just what is meant.

As the "perfect" live newscast is going off, the older news director Charlie Skinner emerges and tells a young lady to get on her Twitter and describe how wonderful it all is from his long-winded speech.

That's a funny bit. You could see that happening in a newsroom - I got a laugh out of it. Until the woman responds woodenly "I can only use 140 characters." Way not to spell that one out.

And that is perhaps the greatest flaw of The Newsroom. It is just too full of itself. The show treats its viewers like they are the idiots who don't know that the news is "so bad."

While entertaining at times, it comes across as the professor who does not describe history but instead stands upon a pulpit and preaches the way it should have been.

Even worse, The Newsroom becomes just what Skinner does not want his newscast within the show to be - an agenda.

Special Father's Day for Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Rick Hendrick

A father who lost his son on his way to the track and son who lost his father on it both tasted victory Sunday on Father's Day.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. was on the phone with his boss Rick Hendrick before he stepped out of his car in Victory Lane. It was Earnhardt Jr.'s first time there in 143 races and four years.

Earnhardt Jr. was born into a racing family, now in its fourth generation. It began in Kannapolis, North Carolina with Ralph Earnhardt and now stretches all the way to Jeffrey Earnhardt, who has made two NASCAR Nationwide starts in 2012.

Dale Jr.'s whole life has been racing, growing up watching his dad win races and championships. Jr. grew up with his father on the track and also lost him there. It was as he pushed his Dale Earnhardt Incorporated teammate Michael Waltrip to the 1998 Daytona 500 win that his father's car crashed into the Turn 4 wall.

Earnhardt Sr. was pronounced dead that day, at a hospital outside the mecca of motorsports.

Rick Hendrick created his racing family. Hendrick built his first car as a tween, became a team owner in 1984 and has since won numerous championships. His son Ricky followed in his father's racing footsteps, first as a driver then as an owner.

But like Dale Jr.'s dad, Hendrick's son was lost in the pursuit of his passion. Ricky Hendrick died in a plane crash on his way to Martinsville Speedway in 2004.

Nine people associated with Hendrick Motorsports died in that crash, including Rick Hendrick's twin nieces.

"Everybody on that plane was special. And there'll always be a hole in your heart for all of them," Hendrick told USA Today in 2005.

Dale Jr. and Rick Hendrick are two men whose lives are each entrenched in the rubber of the racetrack and the family bonds created through them. Each suffered great loss associated with what they love.

Sunday a black Chevy was back in victory lane. It was driven by Junior on a day reserved for fathers. You can't help but remember Dale Sr.'s black No. 3.

Earnhardt Jr. and Hendrick aren't bonded by blood but Junior delivered Hendrick a  Father's Day gift - and you can only imagine, somewhere up above, the father and son they lost were casting down smiles. 

Craig Sager interviews Kendrick Perkins Jr. who likes pie

Craig Sager is well-known for his ghastly fashion statements on TNT's NBA broadcasts. He has interviewed some of basketball's best but it was an interview he did with a young tyke Saturday night that was television gold.

Following the Thunder's game four victory over the Spurs, Sager caught up with Kendrick Perkins Jr., the son of Thunder center Kendrick Perkins.

He asked him thought-provoking questions such as "why are you dressed like Russell Westbrook?" but struggled to get much of a response - until it came to a question about, you surely didn't guess it, marshmallows. 

Get that boy some pie! (not Sir Charles though - he's on Weight Watchers, remember?)

Johan Santana's no-hitter erases glaring zero in Mets' history

Baseball is a game of numbers, made up of many minute statistics. Its greats and milestones are defined more than any other by mythical numbers (some of which have since been tarred).

755, 62, 2632, 56 - if you’re a big baseball fan, there’s no need to match those numbers to name or feat.

For the Mets, a lengthy streak lingered in their 51-year history.

8,019 – that’s the number of games, now well known, the Metropolitans had gone without a no-hitter.

30 franchises had pitched a no-hitter in their history in that time, the Mets and Padres the lone two left out of that club.

Four Cy Young awards were given to two Mets pitchers, Tom Seaver three times and Doc Gooden once.

Four Mets pitchers finished the season with the lowest ERA in baseball seven times (Seaver again did it three times).

Seaver, Gooden and David Cone combined for nine strikeout titles.

Five different managers earned the Mets six playoff berths. Four won pennants. Two won World Series championships. 

Mets pitchers threw a total of 35 one-hitters.

None threw a no-hitter.

Friday night, a zero in the hit column erased that zero in the record book, accompanied by a new set of numbers.

134 pitches by two-time Cy Young winner Johan Santana, 19 more than manager Terry Collins said was his limit.

Two defining plays - a Carlos Beltran liner that was called foul though it left a mark on the chalk down the third base line and an incredible catch by a Queens native, Mike Baxter.

27,069 fans who witnessed history.

One no-hitter.

It’s not a World Series. It doesn’t rectify the chokes or disappointment Mets fans have suffered over the past decade.

But for one night it brought life never before seen to Citi Field, celebration on the mound, and euphoria in the stands.

You can’t measure that in a number - only in feeling.