EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
“Yes, it used to be beautiful, what with
the rackets, whoring, guns…”
-- Lou Pascal, “Atlantic City”
If you are a fan of college football, you have a little bit of Lou Pascal in you these days. Pascal, a small-time gangster played by Burt Lancaster in the sublime period piece, “Atlantic City,” remembers the city – and his life – through romanticized lenses. To him, AC was great when the gambling was illegal and corporations didn’t do the thieving. It was somehow more noble back then.
So it is with the world’s greatest sport. As ruthless businessmen and TV executives bulldoze tradition and history, those of us who remember the Old Days do so wistfully. Like Lou, we realize that the world we recall was hardly perfect, but it was certainly better and had far more character than what we see today. It was somehow more desirable for back-room deals cut by men in sherbet-colored blazers to determine our favorite schools’ futures than to have computers do it. Rivalries were born of hate and anger, not advertising. And a couple bucks slipped to a star player by a booster was a fine reward for a full day’s work.
This week’s latest conference shakeup is merely the latest bit of evidence that college football’s greatness is evaporating. If West Virginia/Louisville bolts for the Big 12, after Missouri departs for the SEC, we may witness the creation of an unholy conglomeration of up to 32 unwashed C-USA, Big East and Mountain West souls huddled together in the hope their group hug will confer BCS legitimacy. Those Leftovers had little cachet before they coagulated into a great pile of who-gives-a-damn, and they’ll remain largely undesirable after it – no matter how rich their espn contract may be.
Every time someone decries the behavior of these greedheads, he is dismissed as too old by people for whom history is what was presented on last week’s episode of Tosh.0. (Go ahead and invade Russia, folks. It just might work!) Well, here’s a news flash, kiddies: In 10-15 years college football won’t be much different than its NFL big brother, from the cynical in-game “experience” to the cheerleading media coverage designed to promote the product. Wait a second; we already have that.
Spend three hours in a big-time college football stadium, and you’ll witness a slickly-produced show that incorporates elements of the sport’s past – marching bands; cheerleaders who don’t look like, ahem, dancers and real student sections – along with plenty of professional trappings. The promotional/sponsorship presentation is growing at a scary rate. A lot of the band music has been replaced by standard-issue “motivational rock,” which attempts to create enthusiasm and remind fans that certain parts of the game are more important than others. The giant video boards attract thousands of eyes away from the field, so many spend three hours watching TV, instead of the game itself.
With each new season and hiring of yet another AD that has no experience at all in sports, the atmosphere gets closer to that of the NFL. Factor in the decaying traditions and an end to several historic rivalries – so long Texas-Texas A&M, Pitt-West Virginia and Kansas-Mizzou – and you have a more sanitized, though certainly profitable, college football product.
One problem: as the sport lurches closer to the NFL version, it loses its soul. That may be fine to the generation of kids for whom the word “classic” refers to last year’s Alabama-Auburn game, but it does nothing for those of us who remember when Autumn Saturdays featured gridiron encounters that were almost romantic. The upshot of the new conference alignments will be made-for-TV affiliations that represent nothing but the opportunity to maximize profits, or at least stay out of the deep red.
When Arkansas left the Southwest Conference, back in 1992, the Razorbacks were viewed as the worst of traitors for having upgraded their lot by joining the SEC. Decades of tradition were ruined, as the SWC splintered, and the Big 12 emerged from the pile. Today’s movement is happening so fast and furiously that it’s hard to put the black hat on any one school. So, we look at the real culprits: the TV networks. They sit behind the scenes and counsel conferences and institutions on which moves will make them most attractive to their checkbooks. The goal is a fat contract that guarantees the highest payout to league members. If that comes with the creation of a money-printing conference network, all the better.
The wheel has been set in motion, and it’s impossible to stop it. The next couple years will feature a reshuffling of schools’ home addresses and eventually produce a conglomerate of powerful players that rakes in the big bucks and attracts the top talent. Those who fail to find a properly prosperous home will exist on the margins, collecting scraps. It’s not hard to imagine members of the Mid-American or Sun Belt Conferences staging sit-ins at the site of a future BCS title game under the “Occupy the 50-yard line” banner. Fans will eventually adjust to and accept the new order and forget the Old Days.
But as the product and its presentation get closer in style to that of the NFL, college football will slowly lose its identity. Years from now, it will be practically impossible to differentiate between Saturday and Sunday, as contrived new “traditions” are seen for what they really are: marketing ploys. And mascots will be no more than corporate symbols, like the Michelin Man or Captain Morgan. Maybe then, people will pine for the 1990s, just as many fans look back wistfully at the ’60s and ‘70s.
With apologies to Lou Pascal: yes, it used to be beautiful, what with the wishbone, the hundred-dollar handshakes and January 1.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Me-O held a Peter Brady workout earlier this week: Many were invited; no one (except for a couple TV cameras) came. Hard to believe there’s no market for 37-year olds coming off major knee surgeries with massive, locker-room-threatening egos. You would have thought the Packers or Patriots would have offered him a five-year deal…The NBA and its Players Association made some real progress toward a deal Thursday, and fans celebrated by turning on the hockey game. You do have to give the parties credit for understanding that if they had trashed another couple months of play, people would have found other things to do besides watching a game between the T-wolves and Raptors – like having a cavity filled without anesthesia…In other basketball news, Allen Iverson has told the world he’s healthy and ready to accept a reserve role on a team, so long as he can have Tuesdays and Thursdays off to go to the casino and the training table is at TGIFriday’s…Top-ranked women’s tennis player Caroline Wozniacki has complained that rival Victoria Azarenka’s grunting during matches is too loud and can be a competitive advantage. Azarenka, of course, disputed that claim and said the issue was not one of trying to gain an upper hand but due to a lack of sufficient levels of fiber in her diet.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Eagles fans will no doubt be in full froth Sunday night when the Cowgirls come to town, and there may even be some snow in the stadium to fire at the Dallas players, coaches and owner False Face Jones. But no matter how loud the fans are or how much trash is talked between the players and Dallas defensive coordinator Rob Ryan, the fact remains that the Birds must prove they are legitimate playoff threats or consign themselves to two more months of criticism. The good news is that Andy Reid is 12-0 after bye weeks during his tenure in Philadelphia. The bad news is that the win over Washington two weeks in a row did not contain enough deodorant to remove the stench of the previous four straight futile weeks. The Eagles must prove they can play turnover-free football, hold tight to a lead against a good team and play some respectable defense. Philadelphia is now reasonably healthy and at close to full strength. Beat the Cowgirls, and 2011 prosperity remains a possibility. Lose, and the cries for Reid’s head will increase, and for the first time in his tenure, be legitimate.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: UConn women’s basketball coach Geno Auriemma can be a lot of things, including arrogant and hard to stomach. But he was completely correct earlier this week when he said Notre Dame’s sweetheart deal with the Big East hurt the conference badly. But don’t forget to blame the folks in Providence, who allowed ND to play football as an independent while housing the Irish’s “Olympic” sports in a safe harbor. The Big East should have gone to Notre Dame’s administration years ago and said, “Either join for everything or take a walk.” That may have pushed ND into the waiting arms of the Big Ten, but at least the Big East could have retained its dignity. As ND continues to play hoops, soccer and lacrosse in the conference, the Big East’s football profile takes a monthly hit, forcing the league to chase schools like Houston, Memphis and UCF. Golden Domers, who can hardly be considered the most reasonable people, must admit they have it pretty good. The Big East, on the other hand, looks foolish as one of its “members” benefits from scheduling security while getting a little something on the side. Hats off to Geno for pointing that out.
-EH-
Showing posts with label Allen Iverson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Allen Iverson. Show all posts
Friday, October 28, 2011
Friday, March 5, 2010
Let's Get Ready To Rumble!
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
The clock is ticking on the first round of labor negotiations between NFL owners and league’s Players Association, and they have the potential to be as acrimonious as a chance meeting between Jim Bunning and common sense. It’s now certain the 2010 season will not feature a salary cap, the only thing ever invented that keeps Green Bay on an even footing with New York. There probably won’t be a collective bargaining agreement between the two sides in the near future. And the way things are shaping up, talks are likely to be as friendly and civil as a food fight in Miss Merrie’s pre-school lunch room.
Expecting a signed, sealed deal after such a short period of bartering is borderline crazy, since there are so many big issues to deal with, and each passing day brings more certainty that the league is looking to slap the players around as if they all played for the Detroit Lions. Despite annual revenues of about $7 billion, TV contracts that would make the International Olympic Committee envious and a seemingly endless demand for apparel and other branded items, the NFL is crying poor. It wants to knock down the amount of “gross revenues” devoted to player salaries – even though the definition of what’s in that pot is already quite fluid – and it’s trying to make contracts even less secure for athletes than before. If the owners thought they could get away with it, they would try to jam baseball’s old reserve clause into the deal, the better to rob players of their rights completely. Old False Face and Little Danny would love to have year-to-year deals for their hired hands, all the while selling piles of tickets and bloated party passes to fans who have been conditioned to worship the logo, not the player.
Anybody who followed the recent releases of top-shelf running backs throughout the league understands exactly what the owners are after. Within the span of a week, LaDainian Tomlinson, Brian Westbrook and Thomas Jones were all jettisoned by their teams, even though all had time and money left on their contracts. Part of it was the nature of life for NFL running backs, who like roasting chickens, have little plastic sticks in their backs that pop up when they are fully cooked. All three are north of 30 years old and therefore practically crippled and wheelchair-bound in the eyes of league execs. Why pay them big money for their diminishing skills when younger backs can produce nearly as well (if not better) for much less whip-out?
Such is the state of the professional football contract. And such is the cause for concern among all players. The NFL wants even more control over its labor costs, which is pretty amazing considering teams can cut players with no obligation once the guaranteed part of the contract is satisfied. No other major sport operates that way. If a baseball player signs a 5-year, $45 million contract, he gets it all, so long as he doesn’t retire or celebrate the New Year by firing a gun in a crowded nightclub. He could inject himself with HGH in the batter’s box, and it wouldn’t matter. He still gets paid. The same goes for NBA and NHL players, none of whom is protected by a particularly robust union. The NBA deal, which was forged after a historic cave-in by the drunken-sailor-spending players, allows for serial hounds like Me-Mac to get eight figures, even when they haven’t won a single playoff series during their careers. NFL players, on the other hand, have little or no leverage against the most successful league on the planet.
The good news for those who support the union’s cause is that new NFLPA president DeMaurice Smith appears to have the fortitude necessary to stand up to the greed mongers who own the teams. Smith has put the chances of a work stoppage in 2011 at “14” on a scale of 1 to 10, so maybe the players will dig in and get a fair deal. Of course, that assumes they have saved enough of their million-dollar salaries to see them through six months of labor unrest. If you’ll remember, it was a spendthrift attitude that forced NBA players to capitulate during their last work stoppage. Well, that and the Great Entourage Uprising of 1999, when dozens of hangers-on and childhood pals revolted when struggling, striking NBA players had to cut back on their cell-phone service and forced them to switch to Korbel from Cristal in the clubs. The NFL has controlled its world pretty well the past several decades, and with commissioner Paul Tagliabue, a conciliatory presence, gone and wartime consigliore Roger Goodell in the top chair, a hard line could prevail again. Whatever the case, don’t expect to see your favorite pros on the field when the 2011 starts. They’ll be too busy cracking heads at the bargaining table.
And that could be uglier than any late hit, clothesline tackle or crackback block. Players had better hope they’re able to walk away from the collision with everything intact.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Stop the presses! Cowboy Quarterback revealed that he hasn’t made up his mind yet about playing in the 2010 season! When will people stop talking to the drama queen and just wait until he shows up or doesn’t show up for training camp? It’s beyond old. This has now become part of the purview of Zahi Hawass…You have to love baseball. Nearly six months after he and his Milwaukee teammates celebrated a walk-off win over the Giants with a choreographed home-plate celebration, Brewers slugger Prince Fielder was drilled by San Francisco pitcher Barry Zito in the first inning of the teams’ Cactus League game Thursday. “My fastball was running in, and it just got away from me,” Zito said. Beautiful. The best part? Fielder took the plunking in stride. Less than a month until Opening Day…Hats off to Texas A&M-Commerce football coach Guy Morriss, who praised his players’ decision to steal all of the copies of the school’s weekly newspaper from racks around campus, after the paper ran – as is standard procedure – an article detailing one of their teammates’ arrest on drug charges. Morriss said, “I’m proud of my players for doing that. This is the best team building exercise we have ever done.” The Lions were a mediocre 5-5 last year, which for Morriss represents a huge step forward. He was a combined 27-54 during seven years at Kentucky and Baylor. Maybe his “team building exercises” should focus on blocking and tackling, rather than theft. Nice example to be setting, coach. You’re a real prize…The prigs who were upset by the Canadian women’s hockey team’s celebration after it won the gold medal need to be transported back to the Victorian Era, the better to match their hidebound values with a time period more suited to their stodgy personalities. So what if some young women’s revelry included beer and cigars – after fans had left the building? So what if an 18-year old woman drank some beer, in a province where the legal age of consumption is 19? Think that’s the first time it’s happened? Worse is that the head of the Canadian Hockey Federation (or whatever it’s called) actually apologized to the cranks for the fun. Every single day in Canada includes beer and cigars, so what’s the big deal? Here’s hoping the nasty whiners all get eaten by polar bears. (Just kidding. Sort of.)
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? El Hombre has always been of the opinion that Allen Iverson’s NBA tenure has been characterized by a sad waste of his talent, which likely would have produced a championship had it been used for good, rather than his own self-aggrandizement. That said, there is no joy in the news of the past week, which included reports of Iverson’s removal from the NBA world for the rest of the season – due to the continued illness of his daughter – the divorce papers filed by his wife, Tawanna, and reports that the mercurial guard has been battling gambling and alcohol demons for quite a while. Although it was tough to watch the remarkable talent prefer scoring over team play while in his prime, these dispatches are quite disturbing. One hopes they don’t presage a post-retirement catastrophe, in which a man who once had everything is laid low by an inability to handle the end of the line. Never one for off-season conditioning, Iverson always relied on his rare skills to carry him. Now that he is older, slower and fighting injuries, he doesn’t have the history or predisposition to overcome nature’s cruelties with hard work. As a result, his last days in the NBA will be remembered for controversy (in Denver and Detroit) and atrophy (Philadelphia, Part II), rather than triumph. If this is indeed it for Iverson, let’s hope he can forge a successful second chapter and that his daughter’s good health returns.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: It’s conference championship time once again, and that means the annual diatribe against the concept in general, which renders an entire regular season of play meaningless as leagues chase two hours of TV time during a four-day single-elimination format designed to punish their best teams. What could be worse than trampling one’s peers for two months, only to go cold for a game and lose the opportunity to play in the NC2A tourney, all so the league office can bask in espn’s annual dispatch from its corner of the world? It’s awful, and it isn’t fair. But that’s the contrived nature of college basketball these days. And, coming soon to a couch near you: The new, 96-team tournament, an idea that will make New Coke and the Germans’ decision to wage WWII on two fronts look like great decisions. Thank goodness for the Ivies, who choose their champion the proper way. Then again, what do those eggheads know, anyway?
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: It makes El Hombre truly sad to report that loyal reader and bon vivant Jeff St. Amour is fighting a rival tougher than any curveball he ever faced. Jeff, a great fan of Villanova, devoted father and husband, sharp businessman and great friend, has some steep odds stacked against him. But if his resolve is anything like his engaging personality and that boyish twinkle in his eyes, he’s a good bet in this scrap. When you hit your knees, send one up to the Big Skipper for Jeff. He will certainly appreciate it. Here’s to you, Jeff. You have a lot of people pulling for you.
-EH-
The clock is ticking on the first round of labor negotiations between NFL owners and league’s Players Association, and they have the potential to be as acrimonious as a chance meeting between Jim Bunning and common sense. It’s now certain the 2010 season will not feature a salary cap, the only thing ever invented that keeps Green Bay on an even footing with New York. There probably won’t be a collective bargaining agreement between the two sides in the near future. And the way things are shaping up, talks are likely to be as friendly and civil as a food fight in Miss Merrie’s pre-school lunch room.
Expecting a signed, sealed deal after such a short period of bartering is borderline crazy, since there are so many big issues to deal with, and each passing day brings more certainty that the league is looking to slap the players around as if they all played for the Detroit Lions. Despite annual revenues of about $7 billion, TV contracts that would make the International Olympic Committee envious and a seemingly endless demand for apparel and other branded items, the NFL is crying poor. It wants to knock down the amount of “gross revenues” devoted to player salaries – even though the definition of what’s in that pot is already quite fluid – and it’s trying to make contracts even less secure for athletes than before. If the owners thought they could get away with it, they would try to jam baseball’s old reserve clause into the deal, the better to rob players of their rights completely. Old False Face and Little Danny would love to have year-to-year deals for their hired hands, all the while selling piles of tickets and bloated party passes to fans who have been conditioned to worship the logo, not the player.
Anybody who followed the recent releases of top-shelf running backs throughout the league understands exactly what the owners are after. Within the span of a week, LaDainian Tomlinson, Brian Westbrook and Thomas Jones were all jettisoned by their teams, even though all had time and money left on their contracts. Part of it was the nature of life for NFL running backs, who like roasting chickens, have little plastic sticks in their backs that pop up when they are fully cooked. All three are north of 30 years old and therefore practically crippled and wheelchair-bound in the eyes of league execs. Why pay them big money for their diminishing skills when younger backs can produce nearly as well (if not better) for much less whip-out?
Such is the state of the professional football contract. And such is the cause for concern among all players. The NFL wants even more control over its labor costs, which is pretty amazing considering teams can cut players with no obligation once the guaranteed part of the contract is satisfied. No other major sport operates that way. If a baseball player signs a 5-year, $45 million contract, he gets it all, so long as he doesn’t retire or celebrate the New Year by firing a gun in a crowded nightclub. He could inject himself with HGH in the batter’s box, and it wouldn’t matter. He still gets paid. The same goes for NBA and NHL players, none of whom is protected by a particularly robust union. The NBA deal, which was forged after a historic cave-in by the drunken-sailor-spending players, allows for serial hounds like Me-Mac to get eight figures, even when they haven’t won a single playoff series during their careers. NFL players, on the other hand, have little or no leverage against the most successful league on the planet.
The good news for those who support the union’s cause is that new NFLPA president DeMaurice Smith appears to have the fortitude necessary to stand up to the greed mongers who own the teams. Smith has put the chances of a work stoppage in 2011 at “14” on a scale of 1 to 10, so maybe the players will dig in and get a fair deal. Of course, that assumes they have saved enough of their million-dollar salaries to see them through six months of labor unrest. If you’ll remember, it was a spendthrift attitude that forced NBA players to capitulate during their last work stoppage. Well, that and the Great Entourage Uprising of 1999, when dozens of hangers-on and childhood pals revolted when struggling, striking NBA players had to cut back on their cell-phone service and forced them to switch to Korbel from Cristal in the clubs. The NFL has controlled its world pretty well the past several decades, and with commissioner Paul Tagliabue, a conciliatory presence, gone and wartime consigliore Roger Goodell in the top chair, a hard line could prevail again. Whatever the case, don’t expect to see your favorite pros on the field when the 2011 starts. They’ll be too busy cracking heads at the bargaining table.
And that could be uglier than any late hit, clothesline tackle or crackback block. Players had better hope they’re able to walk away from the collision with everything intact.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Stop the presses! Cowboy Quarterback revealed that he hasn’t made up his mind yet about playing in the 2010 season! When will people stop talking to the drama queen and just wait until he shows up or doesn’t show up for training camp? It’s beyond old. This has now become part of the purview of Zahi Hawass…You have to love baseball. Nearly six months after he and his Milwaukee teammates celebrated a walk-off win over the Giants with a choreographed home-plate celebration, Brewers slugger Prince Fielder was drilled by San Francisco pitcher Barry Zito in the first inning of the teams’ Cactus League game Thursday. “My fastball was running in, and it just got away from me,” Zito said. Beautiful. The best part? Fielder took the plunking in stride. Less than a month until Opening Day…Hats off to Texas A&M-Commerce football coach Guy Morriss, who praised his players’ decision to steal all of the copies of the school’s weekly newspaper from racks around campus, after the paper ran – as is standard procedure – an article detailing one of their teammates’ arrest on drug charges. Morriss said, “I’m proud of my players for doing that. This is the best team building exercise we have ever done.” The Lions were a mediocre 5-5 last year, which for Morriss represents a huge step forward. He was a combined 27-54 during seven years at Kentucky and Baylor. Maybe his “team building exercises” should focus on blocking and tackling, rather than theft. Nice example to be setting, coach. You’re a real prize…The prigs who were upset by the Canadian women’s hockey team’s celebration after it won the gold medal need to be transported back to the Victorian Era, the better to match their hidebound values with a time period more suited to their stodgy personalities. So what if some young women’s revelry included beer and cigars – after fans had left the building? So what if an 18-year old woman drank some beer, in a province where the legal age of consumption is 19? Think that’s the first time it’s happened? Worse is that the head of the Canadian Hockey Federation (or whatever it’s called) actually apologized to the cranks for the fun. Every single day in Canada includes beer and cigars, so what’s the big deal? Here’s hoping the nasty whiners all get eaten by polar bears. (Just kidding. Sort of.)
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? El Hombre has always been of the opinion that Allen Iverson’s NBA tenure has been characterized by a sad waste of his talent, which likely would have produced a championship had it been used for good, rather than his own self-aggrandizement. That said, there is no joy in the news of the past week, which included reports of Iverson’s removal from the NBA world for the rest of the season – due to the continued illness of his daughter – the divorce papers filed by his wife, Tawanna, and reports that the mercurial guard has been battling gambling and alcohol demons for quite a while. Although it was tough to watch the remarkable talent prefer scoring over team play while in his prime, these dispatches are quite disturbing. One hopes they don’t presage a post-retirement catastrophe, in which a man who once had everything is laid low by an inability to handle the end of the line. Never one for off-season conditioning, Iverson always relied on his rare skills to carry him. Now that he is older, slower and fighting injuries, he doesn’t have the history or predisposition to overcome nature’s cruelties with hard work. As a result, his last days in the NBA will be remembered for controversy (in Denver and Detroit) and atrophy (Philadelphia, Part II), rather than triumph. If this is indeed it for Iverson, let’s hope he can forge a successful second chapter and that his daughter’s good health returns.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: It’s conference championship time once again, and that means the annual diatribe against the concept in general, which renders an entire regular season of play meaningless as leagues chase two hours of TV time during a four-day single-elimination format designed to punish their best teams. What could be worse than trampling one’s peers for two months, only to go cold for a game and lose the opportunity to play in the NC2A tourney, all so the league office can bask in espn’s annual dispatch from its corner of the world? It’s awful, and it isn’t fair. But that’s the contrived nature of college basketball these days. And, coming soon to a couch near you: The new, 96-team tournament, an idea that will make New Coke and the Germans’ decision to wage WWII on two fronts look like great decisions. Thank goodness for the Ivies, who choose their champion the proper way. Then again, what do those eggheads know, anyway?
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: It makes El Hombre truly sad to report that loyal reader and bon vivant Jeff St. Amour is fighting a rival tougher than any curveball he ever faced. Jeff, a great fan of Villanova, devoted father and husband, sharp businessman and great friend, has some steep odds stacked against him. But if his resolve is anything like his engaging personality and that boyish twinkle in his eyes, he’s a good bet in this scrap. When you hit your knees, send one up to the Big Skipper for Jeff. He will certainly appreciate it. Here’s to you, Jeff. You have a lot of people pulling for you.
-EH-
Friday, January 29, 2010
All-Star Disaster
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Back when Allen Iverson was holding the Philadelphia 76ers hostage with his unique brand of bionic wrist shooting, a clever saying circulated among the wily wags who covered the team. It went like this:
“They say there’s no ‘I’ in team, and there’s no “team” in Iverson.”
Great stuff, no? Anyway, the point was pretty clear. So long as A.I. was getting his, it didn’t matter what else was going on. The Sixers would win some with him, and in 2001, Iverson (with a bit of help from Larry Brown) lifted the team to the NBA Finals. But that was the limit for Iverson, whose selfish game never allowed the franchise to surround him with other top-flight players, because they knew they wouldn’t see the ball.
If only Iverson had used his powers for good, he could have been one of the greatest point guards ever to pull on an NBA uniform. Just imagine how others would have lined up to play with a ridiculously quick guard who could penetrate at will, was unstoppable in the open court and looked to pass first. It didn’t happen, and last year, age finally caught up with Iverson. No longer able to carry a team on his narrow shoulders, he was asked to take on secondary roles with first Denver and then Detroit. His response in both cases was an upraised middle finger, and after the season he was cast off into the discount bucket, where only Memphis – make that the Grizzlies’ nitwit owner – was interested in claiming him.
You know what happened from there. Iverson was injured during training camp, and when he got healthy, he blanched at coming off the bench. Memphis dumped him, the Sixers picked him up, and his creaky body turned him into the type of complementary player that used to surround him during his prime. In these cases, players generally drift off into obscurity, either as afterthoughts on rotten teams (like the Sixers) or as reserves on winners. They don’t, however, become All-Stars.
Usually.
It’s impossible to blame Iverson for his ascension to the starting lineup of the Eastern Conference All-Stars. He didn’t concoct a computer program to stuff the e-ballot box – as far as we know. Nor did he go door-to-door soliciting votes. He merely forced his way out of Memphis – where “God” told him to go, if you believe AI’s mid-summer revelation – resurfaced in Philadelphia, shed a few tears, kissed some hardwood and then proved that he isn’t the player he once was.
Since joining the Sixers, Iverson has scored a modest 14.9 ppg and dished out 4.4 apg. He’s playing just under 33 minutes a game (a far cry from the 40-plus he used to average) and has missed some time due to arthritis, not exactly a condition that afflicts younger men. Iverson will be 35 this June, and his days of embarrassing rivals with his signature crossover and jet streaming the opposition in the open court are certainly over. The Sixers knew that when they signed him, as did the rest of the NBA, which passed on his services during the off-season. To his credit, Iverson is coping with his creeping mortality, making concessions to his diminishing physical skills by trying to be more of a (gasp!) team player.
Kudos to him for that, but his willingness to junk the me-first approach that made him equal parts thrilling and maddening is not reason for inclusion among the game’s best. It’s especially not worthy of a spot on the starting five. Iverson achieved that status solely due to fan ignorance that spawned a tidal wave of support. Boston’s Ray Allen received flak from all corners when he called for an end – or at least an amendment – to the process of selecting All-Star participants by fan vote. Those who back the system argued that since the game is an exhibition, staged solely for the fans (and to make a fat profit) the NBA’s loyal customers should choose the participants. That makes sense until you realize that making the All-Star team is more than just an opportunity to spend 48 defense-free minutes. Many players have clauses in their contract that give them bonuses for reaching that milestone. Others are judged Hall of Fame-worthy by the number of times they are selected.
As bad as Iverson’s election was, the fact that Tracy McGrady, who has played all of six games this year and averaged 3.2 ppg, almost received enough votes to join the West’s starting lineup was an even greater travesty. Thank goodness a late surge pushed Steve Nash past McGrady. Why couldn’t Me-Mac have done like Yao Ming and removed himself from the ballot? Ming, who won’t play this season, understood that millions of Chinese fans would have pulled his lever, so he bowed out, gracefully. McGrady lacked that kind of class.
The solution should incorporate fan voting, but it should also let players, coaches and/or media have a voice, the better to eliminate future fiascos like the Iverson selection and the McGrady near-miss. That way, perhaps the game will feature the best of the best, not the products of election fraud.
There’s no ‘I’ in team, and there shouldn’t be an Iverson in the All-Star Game.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Golfers descended on Torrey Pines this week for a continuation of the “Who Gives A Crap Tour,” and no matter how much officials protest, Phil Mickelson and Scott Piercy can’t generate the same interest as Mr. Hot Sex. There’s no truth to the rumor PGA bigwigs are offering a $1 million bonus to the first rehab therapist who gives Tiger Woods a clean bill of health…Joel Branstrom, the Kansas high school hoops coach who was pranked by students who promised him Final Four tickets if he made a halfcourt shot (he made it, but they had no tickets for him) will be a guest of the NC2A at this year’s Final Four. After hearing about the organization’s generosity, Texas coach Rick Barnes asked for the same treatment – and wanted to know if he could bring his team with him…Wait a second. Cowboy Quarterback threw a stupid pass? Nooooo way! As much fun as it was to watch Brett Favre blow it in the last seconds of regulation last week against New Orleans (check out the radio call; it’s classic: http://www.nowpublic.com/sports/brett-favre-interception-radio-call-minnesota-radio-rips-favre-2563236.html ), you have to be impressed with his toughness. The Saints treated him like a piñata, and he kept coming back, albeit a little too dramatically. Now, we get to wait months to find out whether he’s returning. That ought to be a lot of fun.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It’s amusing to hear people try to figure out how much responsibility Sixers’ coach Eddie Jordan should take for the team’s awful, 15-30 record. The answer? None. When GM Ed Stefanski hired Jordan, he talked about how great it was going to be watching the Sixers run Jordan’s “Princeton Offense.” Stefanski conveniently forgot that the team had no point guard and that its highest-paid player, power forward Elton Brand, is a pick-and-pop type with few of the intuitive basketball skills needed for the scheme. Worse, by giving Andre Iguodala a huge contract and Jason Kapono nearly $13 mil for two years(!), Stefanski created one of the nastiest salary cap situations around. The Sixers may have to trade Iguodala and others for an ugly expiring contract just to get under the cap next year and avoid paying the luxury tax. And somebody wants to blame Jordan for that. Sure, the coach could have won a few more games if he had decided on a rotation earlier, but the team he has been handed is not prepared to run his offense, lacks a go-to scorer, doesn’t play very good defense and shoots poorly from outside. Brand is a shell of his former self, and the Sixers didn’t realize that a big reason he looked so good a few years back with the Clippers is that Sam Cassell was hurt, and Brand took a lot more shots than he usually did – yielding more impressive numbers. Jordan isn’t the best coach, but he has been given a nightmare of a roster. The best thing for the Sixers would be for a regime change. Sell the team, Mr. Snider, and let someone who cares about basketball take over.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The NFL has been largely bulletproof when it comes to marketing itself over the past couple decades, but the league has made a huge mistake with the Pro Bowl, no matter how much commissioner Roger Goodell tries to convince us otherwise. About 48 of the 76 players initially announced to play in the game will be suited up and ready to go Sunday night in Miami, where upper deck tickets are reportedly selling for $20 bucks below asking price. Okay, so the Pro Bowl is a joke anyway, and no one should really care – other than the players, who loved going to Hawaii – whether the market for tickets is suffering. The real travesty is that the league is forcing Pro Bowlers from the Colts and Saints to make a special trip to Miami ahead of their teams and stand on the sidelines for the first half of the game, instead of preparing for the Super Bowl, which is only the main goal of every player in the league, except for Me-O. It’s asinine to torpedo your championship game so that an exhibition can have a little more tube appeal for espn. The NFL can try to spin this any way it wants, but it loses big. Let’s hope Goodell has the brains and guts to reverse field next season.
-EH-
Back when Allen Iverson was holding the Philadelphia 76ers hostage with his unique brand of bionic wrist shooting, a clever saying circulated among the wily wags who covered the team. It went like this:
“They say there’s no ‘I’ in team, and there’s no “team” in Iverson.”
Great stuff, no? Anyway, the point was pretty clear. So long as A.I. was getting his, it didn’t matter what else was going on. The Sixers would win some with him, and in 2001, Iverson (with a bit of help from Larry Brown) lifted the team to the NBA Finals. But that was the limit for Iverson, whose selfish game never allowed the franchise to surround him with other top-flight players, because they knew they wouldn’t see the ball.
If only Iverson had used his powers for good, he could have been one of the greatest point guards ever to pull on an NBA uniform. Just imagine how others would have lined up to play with a ridiculously quick guard who could penetrate at will, was unstoppable in the open court and looked to pass first. It didn’t happen, and last year, age finally caught up with Iverson. No longer able to carry a team on his narrow shoulders, he was asked to take on secondary roles with first Denver and then Detroit. His response in both cases was an upraised middle finger, and after the season he was cast off into the discount bucket, where only Memphis – make that the Grizzlies’ nitwit owner – was interested in claiming him.
You know what happened from there. Iverson was injured during training camp, and when he got healthy, he blanched at coming off the bench. Memphis dumped him, the Sixers picked him up, and his creaky body turned him into the type of complementary player that used to surround him during his prime. In these cases, players generally drift off into obscurity, either as afterthoughts on rotten teams (like the Sixers) or as reserves on winners. They don’t, however, become All-Stars.
Usually.
It’s impossible to blame Iverson for his ascension to the starting lineup of the Eastern Conference All-Stars. He didn’t concoct a computer program to stuff the e-ballot box – as far as we know. Nor did he go door-to-door soliciting votes. He merely forced his way out of Memphis – where “God” told him to go, if you believe AI’s mid-summer revelation – resurfaced in Philadelphia, shed a few tears, kissed some hardwood and then proved that he isn’t the player he once was.
Since joining the Sixers, Iverson has scored a modest 14.9 ppg and dished out 4.4 apg. He’s playing just under 33 minutes a game (a far cry from the 40-plus he used to average) and has missed some time due to arthritis, not exactly a condition that afflicts younger men. Iverson will be 35 this June, and his days of embarrassing rivals with his signature crossover and jet streaming the opposition in the open court are certainly over. The Sixers knew that when they signed him, as did the rest of the NBA, which passed on his services during the off-season. To his credit, Iverson is coping with his creeping mortality, making concessions to his diminishing physical skills by trying to be more of a (gasp!) team player.
Kudos to him for that, but his willingness to junk the me-first approach that made him equal parts thrilling and maddening is not reason for inclusion among the game’s best. It’s especially not worthy of a spot on the starting five. Iverson achieved that status solely due to fan ignorance that spawned a tidal wave of support. Boston’s Ray Allen received flak from all corners when he called for an end – or at least an amendment – to the process of selecting All-Star participants by fan vote. Those who back the system argued that since the game is an exhibition, staged solely for the fans (and to make a fat profit) the NBA’s loyal customers should choose the participants. That makes sense until you realize that making the All-Star team is more than just an opportunity to spend 48 defense-free minutes. Many players have clauses in their contract that give them bonuses for reaching that milestone. Others are judged Hall of Fame-worthy by the number of times they are selected.
As bad as Iverson’s election was, the fact that Tracy McGrady, who has played all of six games this year and averaged 3.2 ppg, almost received enough votes to join the West’s starting lineup was an even greater travesty. Thank goodness a late surge pushed Steve Nash past McGrady. Why couldn’t Me-Mac have done like Yao Ming and removed himself from the ballot? Ming, who won’t play this season, understood that millions of Chinese fans would have pulled his lever, so he bowed out, gracefully. McGrady lacked that kind of class.
The solution should incorporate fan voting, but it should also let players, coaches and/or media have a voice, the better to eliminate future fiascos like the Iverson selection and the McGrady near-miss. That way, perhaps the game will feature the best of the best, not the products of election fraud.
There’s no ‘I’ in team, and there shouldn’t be an Iverson in the All-Star Game.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Golfers descended on Torrey Pines this week for a continuation of the “Who Gives A Crap Tour,” and no matter how much officials protest, Phil Mickelson and Scott Piercy can’t generate the same interest as Mr. Hot Sex. There’s no truth to the rumor PGA bigwigs are offering a $1 million bonus to the first rehab therapist who gives Tiger Woods a clean bill of health…Joel Branstrom, the Kansas high school hoops coach who was pranked by students who promised him Final Four tickets if he made a halfcourt shot (he made it, but they had no tickets for him) will be a guest of the NC2A at this year’s Final Four. After hearing about the organization’s generosity, Texas coach Rick Barnes asked for the same treatment – and wanted to know if he could bring his team with him…Wait a second. Cowboy Quarterback threw a stupid pass? Nooooo way! As much fun as it was to watch Brett Favre blow it in the last seconds of regulation last week against New Orleans (check out the radio call; it’s classic: http://www.nowpublic.com/sports/brett-favre-interception-radio-call-minnesota-radio-rips-favre-2563236.html ), you have to be impressed with his toughness. The Saints treated him like a piñata, and he kept coming back, albeit a little too dramatically. Now, we get to wait months to find out whether he’s returning. That ought to be a lot of fun.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It’s amusing to hear people try to figure out how much responsibility Sixers’ coach Eddie Jordan should take for the team’s awful, 15-30 record. The answer? None. When GM Ed Stefanski hired Jordan, he talked about how great it was going to be watching the Sixers run Jordan’s “Princeton Offense.” Stefanski conveniently forgot that the team had no point guard and that its highest-paid player, power forward Elton Brand, is a pick-and-pop type with few of the intuitive basketball skills needed for the scheme. Worse, by giving Andre Iguodala a huge contract and Jason Kapono nearly $13 mil for two years(!), Stefanski created one of the nastiest salary cap situations around. The Sixers may have to trade Iguodala and others for an ugly expiring contract just to get under the cap next year and avoid paying the luxury tax. And somebody wants to blame Jordan for that. Sure, the coach could have won a few more games if he had decided on a rotation earlier, but the team he has been handed is not prepared to run his offense, lacks a go-to scorer, doesn’t play very good defense and shoots poorly from outside. Brand is a shell of his former self, and the Sixers didn’t realize that a big reason he looked so good a few years back with the Clippers is that Sam Cassell was hurt, and Brand took a lot more shots than he usually did – yielding more impressive numbers. Jordan isn’t the best coach, but he has been given a nightmare of a roster. The best thing for the Sixers would be for a regime change. Sell the team, Mr. Snider, and let someone who cares about basketball take over.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The NFL has been largely bulletproof when it comes to marketing itself over the past couple decades, but the league has made a huge mistake with the Pro Bowl, no matter how much commissioner Roger Goodell tries to convince us otherwise. About 48 of the 76 players initially announced to play in the game will be suited up and ready to go Sunday night in Miami, where upper deck tickets are reportedly selling for $20 bucks below asking price. Okay, so the Pro Bowl is a joke anyway, and no one should really care – other than the players, who loved going to Hawaii – whether the market for tickets is suffering. The real travesty is that the league is forcing Pro Bowlers from the Colts and Saints to make a special trip to Miami ahead of their teams and stand on the sidelines for the first half of the game, instead of preparing for the Super Bowl, which is only the main goal of every player in the league, except for Me-O. It’s asinine to torpedo your championship game so that an exhibition can have a little more tube appeal for espn. The NFL can try to spin this any way it wants, but it loses big. Let’s hope Goodell has the brains and guts to reverse field next season.
-EH-
Friday, November 13, 2009
It Ain't Hatin' If It's True
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Back in the early 1990s, a movement started among sycophantic media and fans that branded anyone with the temerity to criticize an athlete a “hater,” particularly if said performer was talented and entertaining. A cottage industry of products, publications and videos sprouted, celebrating pure ability and shucking aside inconvenient sporting tenets like team play and fundamentals. If someone could thrill, that was enough. Failure to lionize that was a sin punished by ridicule from fawning supporters, who deemed the critics unable to recognize the new way and branded them hopelessly old school and out of touch.
One of the faces among the vanguard of this new phenomenon was Allen Iverson, whom the Sixers drafted first overall in 1996. The jet-quick guard was a powerful intoxicant for the new fan order. He dazzled with his talent. He scored in bunches. He even looked the part, what with his ever-expanding canvas of body art, myriad hairstyles and ubercasual wardrobe. If there was anybody who was begging to be “hated,” it was Iverson.
There were indeed some people who couldn’t stand him for how he looked. There were plenty of people who couldn’t handle such an out-front manifestation of the hip-hop culture. To them, Iverson’s look – ball cap askew, oversized sweater/sweatshirt, baaaaaggy jeans, Tims – was an insult to society and proof that the rap culture was not only infiltrating everyday society but threatening it. Of course, we heard the same thing in the ‘70s, when Bill Walton was wearing tie-dyed shirts, growing that mangy beard of his and leaving tickets for Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir at Trailblazers games.
Those who protested Iverson’s look weren’t going to debate his basketball worth honestly. To them, he was a nightmare in high-tops and an emblem of the league’s imminent demise. They were every bit as unreasonable as the Other Side, which glorified Iverson’s talent, to whatever end he put it, and labeled anyone who dared to criticize him as a “hater.”
The short story of Iverson’s time in Philadelphia goes like this: Lots of points, lots of excitement, one thrilling playoff run, plenty of acrimony with coaches, the legendary “Practice?!” rant and a departure a year or two too late. Since that time, he has played for Denver, Detroit and (briefly) Memphis, with sketchy, unsatisfying results. Today, he sits at home, ostensibly sorting out “personal matters,” but mostly pouting over his role as a reserve on the dog-ass Grizzlies. Iverson still believes he should be a front-line NBA star. The apologists out there who care little about winning basketball agree.
Anybody who knows the game, and that includes executives from the 29 teams who wouldn’t go near Iverson, think differently. And therein lies the problem with Iverson today and throughout his career. It has always been about him and only him. Never once has he volunteered to sublimate his own numbers for the good of the franchise. Just as he thinks he has never committed a foul in his life (try to find a time when he was called for one and didn’t complain), Iverson is not about to listen to anybody who says he must adapt in order to be attractive to teams. To him, basketball is a game about scoring points, and if Iverson gets 40 minutes and 20 shots a night, he can produce big numbers. Whether that helps a team win or not has nothing to do with it. Nothing.
Back in the fall of 1997, El Hombre was at Big East basketball media day in New York. In a cramped hotel ballroom, coaches from the league’s teams sat at tables and fielded questions from the media huddled around them. The crowd near John Thompson was about three deep and eager to hear everything he said. Thompson began by giving assessments of his players and the coming season, delivering answers in his bottom-of-the-well baritone. Then the topics started to veer a little, offering El Hombre the opportunity to ask about Iverson, then a second-year Sixer, and the speculation that he would eventually become a distribute-first point guard. Thompson, who had gone out of his way to get Iverson to Georgetown, to the point of visiting him in jail while Iverson served a sentence for his part in a bowling alley riot, was one of Iverson’s staunchest defenders. His comments that day reflected two years (Iverson left after his sophomore season for the NBA) of dealing with a me-first player.
“You can’t change a zebra’s stripes,” he said.
The message was clear: Iverson is a shooter first, second and third, and those who dreamed of his becoming a lethal point man were wasting their sleep time. Since that day, Iverson has proven Thompson correct every minute he has been on the floor. And now that he is clearly no longer wanted as a first (or even second) offensive option, Iverson has taken his ball and gone home. What is so amazing about this guy is that only one team wanted him during the off-season, and that was Memphis, which needed someone to put a few posteriors in the seats. Yet Iverson is acting as if he chose the Grizz from a long list of suitors. (Actually, he said at the time that “God” chose Memphis for him.) This is a guy who has become so irrelevant and proven himself to be such a detriment to a winning team that nobody wants his talents. They know he has no commitment to winning basketball, rather only to himself. And they know after this recent tantrum that he has no desire to help a team. So, Iverson sits at home and waits to hear that he’ll get a chance to start and play 40 a night. It won’t happen.
The saddest thing about all of this is that he could be a huge piece on a title team, if only he understood what it took to win. Using him 20-25 minutes a night to penetrate and kick or blast through plodding defenders on the break would be a contender’s dream. Instead of embracing that opportunity, Iverson wants to pump up his own numbers. Worse, he still has a choir of voices behind him extolling his ball-hogging virtues. If a team wanted to build around him, he would be employed. None does. So, he’s a Grizzly, solely to sell a few tickets. What did he expect?
Sorry for hatin’, Allen, but you need to get a bit of reality in your life. If you want to play in the NBA, you had better become a team player.
If you can change your stripes.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: On the surface, LeBron James’ announcement that he is giving up his number 23 in honor of Michael Jordan seems like a magnanimous gesture, but trying to get the NBA to “retire” MJ’s number pales in comparison to Majoke League Baseball’s decision to shelve Jackie Robinson’s number 42. Jordan was great, but he didn’t break barriers. If players want to choose other numbers, fine. It shouldn’t be a league mandate…Jeez, why is Roger Goodell so mean. All Chad Ochocrazy did was mention the word “bribe,” in connection with a referee, and the NFL commissioner slapped him with a $20,000 fine. He was just having some fun, is all. Right. Shut your mouth, Chad, and write the check…How tough must the last 10 years have been for Jim Riggleman? He can’t stop telling people how happy he is to be a manager again after a decade out of the main chair, but he’s leading the Nationals. That’s barely an MLB team. Things must have been pretty tough, Jim…The NASCAR Chase for the Cup is getting wilder and wilder, thanks to Jimmie Johnson’s problems in Texas last week. Why, if things get any more exciting, the other 90% of the country might start paying attention. Might.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to let Pedro Feliz go, rather than pay him $5.5 million next season (there was a $500,000 buyout), is risky business. Although we have heard about all the candidates for third base out there, few could be considered an upgrade. Those who are may cost too much. Placido Polanco will be 34 and is coming off a shaky season. Plus, he has played two games at third since leaving Philadelphia. Chone Figgins hit five homers last year and wants about a five-year, $50 million deal. We’re not sure how old Miggy Tejada is. Adrian Beltre has injury questions and a huge price tag. Mark DeRosa is a possible solution, but he might be better as a utility bench guy. Yes, Feliz didn’t hit lefties well, but he’s a strong fielder who knocked in 82 runs from the seven spot last year. Even if the Phils bring him back at a discount, will be he be upset, and perhaps hurt the team’s chemistry? The team gets a huge benefit of the doubt for what it has done the past two years, but this was a curious start to the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: In his never-ending quest to show how ridiculous the BCS (Big College Swindle) El Hombre submits this week’s polls as exhibits S and T. One week after tearing apart the USC defense for 613 total yards in a 47-20 romp, Oregon lost to Stanford. So, the Mensa candidates who vote in the Harris and USA Today polls decided to drop the Ducks four (Harris) and six (USA) spots behind the Trojans, even though the teams have identical records and Oregon thumped ‘SC. USC’s win over Arizona State last week wasn’t even all that impressive, so it’s impossible to say the Trojans rebounded in style. It’s heinous that the world’s greatest sport is being hijacked by a “system” best suited for chimpanzee skateboard racing.
-EH-
Back in the early 1990s, a movement started among sycophantic media and fans that branded anyone with the temerity to criticize an athlete a “hater,” particularly if said performer was talented and entertaining. A cottage industry of products, publications and videos sprouted, celebrating pure ability and shucking aside inconvenient sporting tenets like team play and fundamentals. If someone could thrill, that was enough. Failure to lionize that was a sin punished by ridicule from fawning supporters, who deemed the critics unable to recognize the new way and branded them hopelessly old school and out of touch.
One of the faces among the vanguard of this new phenomenon was Allen Iverson, whom the Sixers drafted first overall in 1996. The jet-quick guard was a powerful intoxicant for the new fan order. He dazzled with his talent. He scored in bunches. He even looked the part, what with his ever-expanding canvas of body art, myriad hairstyles and ubercasual wardrobe. If there was anybody who was begging to be “hated,” it was Iverson.
There were indeed some people who couldn’t stand him for how he looked. There were plenty of people who couldn’t handle such an out-front manifestation of the hip-hop culture. To them, Iverson’s look – ball cap askew, oversized sweater/sweatshirt, baaaaaggy jeans, Tims – was an insult to society and proof that the rap culture was not only infiltrating everyday society but threatening it. Of course, we heard the same thing in the ‘70s, when Bill Walton was wearing tie-dyed shirts, growing that mangy beard of his and leaving tickets for Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir at Trailblazers games.
Those who protested Iverson’s look weren’t going to debate his basketball worth honestly. To them, he was a nightmare in high-tops and an emblem of the league’s imminent demise. They were every bit as unreasonable as the Other Side, which glorified Iverson’s talent, to whatever end he put it, and labeled anyone who dared to criticize him as a “hater.”
The short story of Iverson’s time in Philadelphia goes like this: Lots of points, lots of excitement, one thrilling playoff run, plenty of acrimony with coaches, the legendary “Practice?!” rant and a departure a year or two too late. Since that time, he has played for Denver, Detroit and (briefly) Memphis, with sketchy, unsatisfying results. Today, he sits at home, ostensibly sorting out “personal matters,” but mostly pouting over his role as a reserve on the dog-ass Grizzlies. Iverson still believes he should be a front-line NBA star. The apologists out there who care little about winning basketball agree.
Anybody who knows the game, and that includes executives from the 29 teams who wouldn’t go near Iverson, think differently. And therein lies the problem with Iverson today and throughout his career. It has always been about him and only him. Never once has he volunteered to sublimate his own numbers for the good of the franchise. Just as he thinks he has never committed a foul in his life (try to find a time when he was called for one and didn’t complain), Iverson is not about to listen to anybody who says he must adapt in order to be attractive to teams. To him, basketball is a game about scoring points, and if Iverson gets 40 minutes and 20 shots a night, he can produce big numbers. Whether that helps a team win or not has nothing to do with it. Nothing.
Back in the fall of 1997, El Hombre was at Big East basketball media day in New York. In a cramped hotel ballroom, coaches from the league’s teams sat at tables and fielded questions from the media huddled around them. The crowd near John Thompson was about three deep and eager to hear everything he said. Thompson began by giving assessments of his players and the coming season, delivering answers in his bottom-of-the-well baritone. Then the topics started to veer a little, offering El Hombre the opportunity to ask about Iverson, then a second-year Sixer, and the speculation that he would eventually become a distribute-first point guard. Thompson, who had gone out of his way to get Iverson to Georgetown, to the point of visiting him in jail while Iverson served a sentence for his part in a bowling alley riot, was one of Iverson’s staunchest defenders. His comments that day reflected two years (Iverson left after his sophomore season for the NBA) of dealing with a me-first player.
“You can’t change a zebra’s stripes,” he said.
The message was clear: Iverson is a shooter first, second and third, and those who dreamed of his becoming a lethal point man were wasting their sleep time. Since that day, Iverson has proven Thompson correct every minute he has been on the floor. And now that he is clearly no longer wanted as a first (or even second) offensive option, Iverson has taken his ball and gone home. What is so amazing about this guy is that only one team wanted him during the off-season, and that was Memphis, which needed someone to put a few posteriors in the seats. Yet Iverson is acting as if he chose the Grizz from a long list of suitors. (Actually, he said at the time that “God” chose Memphis for him.) This is a guy who has become so irrelevant and proven himself to be such a detriment to a winning team that nobody wants his talents. They know he has no commitment to winning basketball, rather only to himself. And they know after this recent tantrum that he has no desire to help a team. So, Iverson sits at home and waits to hear that he’ll get a chance to start and play 40 a night. It won’t happen.
The saddest thing about all of this is that he could be a huge piece on a title team, if only he understood what it took to win. Using him 20-25 minutes a night to penetrate and kick or blast through plodding defenders on the break would be a contender’s dream. Instead of embracing that opportunity, Iverson wants to pump up his own numbers. Worse, he still has a choir of voices behind him extolling his ball-hogging virtues. If a team wanted to build around him, he would be employed. None does. So, he’s a Grizzly, solely to sell a few tickets. What did he expect?
Sorry for hatin’, Allen, but you need to get a bit of reality in your life. If you want to play in the NBA, you had better become a team player.
If you can change your stripes.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: On the surface, LeBron James’ announcement that he is giving up his number 23 in honor of Michael Jordan seems like a magnanimous gesture, but trying to get the NBA to “retire” MJ’s number pales in comparison to Majoke League Baseball’s decision to shelve Jackie Robinson’s number 42. Jordan was great, but he didn’t break barriers. If players want to choose other numbers, fine. It shouldn’t be a league mandate…Jeez, why is Roger Goodell so mean. All Chad Ochocrazy did was mention the word “bribe,” in connection with a referee, and the NFL commissioner slapped him with a $20,000 fine. He was just having some fun, is all. Right. Shut your mouth, Chad, and write the check…How tough must the last 10 years have been for Jim Riggleman? He can’t stop telling people how happy he is to be a manager again after a decade out of the main chair, but he’s leading the Nationals. That’s barely an MLB team. Things must have been pretty tough, Jim…The NASCAR Chase for the Cup is getting wilder and wilder, thanks to Jimmie Johnson’s problems in Texas last week. Why, if things get any more exciting, the other 90% of the country might start paying attention. Might.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to let Pedro Feliz go, rather than pay him $5.5 million next season (there was a $500,000 buyout), is risky business. Although we have heard about all the candidates for third base out there, few could be considered an upgrade. Those who are may cost too much. Placido Polanco will be 34 and is coming off a shaky season. Plus, he has played two games at third since leaving Philadelphia. Chone Figgins hit five homers last year and wants about a five-year, $50 million deal. We’re not sure how old Miggy Tejada is. Adrian Beltre has injury questions and a huge price tag. Mark DeRosa is a possible solution, but he might be better as a utility bench guy. Yes, Feliz didn’t hit lefties well, but he’s a strong fielder who knocked in 82 runs from the seven spot last year. Even if the Phils bring him back at a discount, will be he be upset, and perhaps hurt the team’s chemistry? The team gets a huge benefit of the doubt for what it has done the past two years, but this was a curious start to the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: In his never-ending quest to show how ridiculous the BCS (Big College Swindle) El Hombre submits this week’s polls as exhibits S and T. One week after tearing apart the USC defense for 613 total yards in a 47-20 romp, Oregon lost to Stanford. So, the Mensa candidates who vote in the Harris and USA Today polls decided to drop the Ducks four (Harris) and six (USA) spots behind the Trojans, even though the teams have identical records and Oregon thumped ‘SC. USC’s win over Arizona State last week wasn’t even all that impressive, so it’s impossible to say the Trojans rebounded in style. It’s heinous that the world’s greatest sport is being hijacked by a “system” best suited for chimpanzee skateboard racing.
-EH-
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Another Big Win for MJ
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When the reports and accounts of Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech slipped out, it was tempting – actually, it was irresistible – to tear the guy a new one. How dare he rip the media and Jerry Krause and legends like Isiah Thomas, George Gervin and Magic Johnson? How dare he make it seem as if they and others somehow brought down his universally glorified career?
Some were mystified by his tactics. He called out the “media naysayers.” He fed Krause’s words about the value of organizations over players back to him with a side order of stick-it-up-your-ass. If you only read the accounts, and you didn’t watch the speech, you thought Jordan had completely lost it and had chosen the absolute wrong venue to settle old accounts. The least he could have done was wait to be named godfather to his sister’s child to whack everybody. Was there no honor any more?
Throughout the ensuing days, pundits, columnists, analysts and blowhards weighed in on Jordan’s comments. Most of them, it seems, didn’t watch the speech. If they had, they would have understood that each of those “shots” was taken out of context. Jordan wasn’t being petty. In addition to thanking the many people who helped him reach the heights he did, he also adhered to the theme of his own competitive fire and how many people and things – real and imagined – stoked it. Or, as he said, “put so much more wood on that fire.” It was a funny, gracious, pointed address, and the people he directed his comments toward were all like him. You think Thomas was offended that Jordan wanted to “prove to everybody I deserved to be at this level?” Hell, no.
Pat Riley didn’t care that Jordan teased him, either, because Riley has the same competitive monster inside him as Jordan does. Why do you think he’s still running a team in Miami, instead of lounging around in his Armani sweatsuit by the pool or golf course? Okay, so Bryon Russell got a little angry that Jordan called him out, saying that Russell’s comments while Jordan was training for his disastrous baseball career helped motivate him. But what do you expect when you tell the greatest player ever that you can’t wait for him to come back and play again so you can guard him? When told about Jordan’s remarks, Russell said, “I’ll play his ass right now. This is a call-out for him to come play me.”
What Russell doesn’t understand, and what the media members who sprang to his and Thomas’ and Johnson’s and their own defense is that professional athletes, especially the great ones, aren’t wired like the rest of us. What we saw during Jordan’s speech was a glimpse inside a world we don’t understand, where people compete to near-death levels to win a game and then have the ability to socialize with the players they just sweated blood to defeat. Most athletes take their jobs incredibly seriously. They have a finite time to make as much money, grab as much glory and win as many games as possible, because when it’s over, nothing can replace it. Nothing. Any former player who says competing in the business world gives him the same rush as competing on the field or court or ice is lying. Jordan’s speech was a chance for us to see how players talk to each other. Riley smiled when Jordan chided him for not allowing MJ to have lunch with Knicks players during a Chicago-New York playoff series. He smiled because he was competing against Jordan by imposing that edict. He was doing what he could in that moment.
Okay, so maybe Jordan shouldn’t have said that he didn’t invite former Bulls GM Jerry Krause to the induction ceremony. But even his criticism of Krause’s statement that organizations win titles, not players, was tempered. He recalled Krause’s competitive streak. He admitted that the organization “puts together the team.” He also said, “at the end of the day, the team has to go play.” Again, we saw the pride and drive that made him so great. It’s something few can understand, because so few get to join that fraternity and such a small number within it has the overwhelming, all-consuming desire to win that people like Jordan and Riley and Thomas have.
Even the media shouldn’t be offended. Jordan said the “naysayers” had told him and everybody else “a scoring champion can’t win an NBA title.” And, if you’ll recall at the time, there was huge backlash against Jordan by purists who viewed him only as a shot-pumping endorsement machine concerned solely with his own self-aggrandizement. “I’m not saying they were wrong,” Jordan said about the media. But their words motivated him. Funny how when the media gets called out, its members get so touchy. Whatever happened to the days of the hard-boiled, cynical newsman?
In the final analysis, Jordan’s speech was a perfect summation of his on-court persona. He asked at the beginning, “What don’t you know about me?” And he was right. We know practically every story about him. We know nearly each step along his journey. But we apparently don’t understand what made him great. We don’t get the concept of competition and motivation and how the great ones find their spark any way they can.
“You look for any kind of messages that people may say or do to get you motivated to play the game of basketball at the highest level,” Jordan said.
That says it all. Jordan’s speech wasn’t a giant raised middle finger to the people he mentioned. (Okay, maybe it was a little to Krause.) Instead, it was a look at how greatness continues to be great. If you need to take some trash talk from Bryon Russell and make it a theme for the season, you do it. If Chuck Daly beats you at golf during training camp for the ’92 Olympic Dream Team, and that helps you score 36 on the Nets the next season, so be it. This speech would have been better received had it been delivered solely to the NBA community. They would have understood. And afterward, they would have stood around and traded war stories that only they could truly appreciate.
When El Hombre was researching his book on college football rivalries, he was struck by how few of the former players had an intense dislike for those against whom they competed. Although fans and alumni were almost pathological in their hate for the Other Side, most of the players felt respect for their fellow gladiators. That doesn’t fit the idea of how we want our athletic heroes to behave, but it’s the way it is. Jordan could trade baskets and elbows with Charles Oakley for 48 minutes and then dine with him because the two men understood the nature of competition. Jordan’s speech was a window into that world, and it should be required viewing for those who want to understand professional sports better.
Okay, so maybe Jerry Krause shouldn’t watch it. But everybody else needs to hit YouTube.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Some may view the NFL’s new “Red Zone” channel on Comcast an indication that the 21st century is all about impatience and short attention spans, but El Hombre disagrees. After spending an hour hunkered down in the Red Zone last Sunday, EH declares it one of the greatest inventions of all time. Non-stop action, photo finishes and Gus Johnson’s screaming are enough to get the Big Imprimatur. Be sure to tune in…What a great speech Wednesday night by former Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell, who was recently diagnosed with untreatable cancer. Harwell’s distinctive voice carried a gracious message of thanks and love of the game. He’s a true gentleman and treasure of baseball…T.O.’s comments in the wake of the Bills’ loss to New England don’t register anywhere near some of his other outbursts during his career, but the subtle shots he took at QB Trent Edwards and kick returner Leodis McKelvin demonstrate how dangerous he is. If the Bills are struggling by week six, he could be in full team-ruining mode. Buffalo, you have been warned…Notre Dame will honor its great teams of the 1940s during Saturday’s game against Michigan State. It’s a good idea to remind fans why the Irish are such a legendary program, since Heavy C is doing a good job of shattering the myths…From the Mensa File comes this doozy from Houston: Disgruntled Texans D-back Dunta Robinson has been fined $25,000 by the team for wearing shoes with the message “Pay me, Rick” on them in last Sunday’s opener against the Jets, a reference to Houston GM Rick Smith. Robinson signed a one-year contract about 10 days ago but wants a long-term deal. What better way to open negotiations than with a public shot at the man responsible for signing you. You can catch Dunta at next week’s meeting.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Long-time source Deep Nose checked in with an interesting take on the latest Donovan McNabb injury situation. A devoted Eagles fan, to the point of some wondering whether he has a man crush on Andy Reid, Deep Nose said, “I think McNabb is a very good NFL quarterback, and the Eagles will probably be worse off when he leaves, but I’m kind of looking forward to him leaving, just to end all the drama.” That’s an interesting take, but it may just sum up the feelings of many Birds fans. McNabb has been excellent, even if he hasn’t led the team to a Super Bowl title. But his latest injury has created more uncertainty under center for the Eagles and could lead to a variety of scenarios that could be too weird for words. For instance, imagine if Jeff Garcia takes over for Kevin Kolb Sunday (provided McNabb can’t play) and then McNabb is back for the Chiefs on Sept. 26. Do the Eagles cut Kolb, their “franchise” QB of the future and keep Garcia to go with Number Five and Michael Vick? Do they jettison Garcia and hope Kolb improves? And what do they do with Vick? McNabb didn’t ask Damione Lewis to toss his 300-pound self on his rib cage, but the whole thing has created another act in a long drama. Deep Nose is right that things won’t be as wild without McNabb, but the team won’t be as good, either. Because of that, we should all learn to deal with the craziness.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Memphis’ decision to sign Allen Iverson is one of the worst in recent NBA history and shows what happens when owners make decisions, rather than basketball people. The Grizzlies need to sell tickets, and that’s why they added both Iverson and Zach Randolph, both of whom are practically registered with the Poison Control Center when it comes to exposing them to young teams. GM Chris Wallace and his staff have been bound and gagged by owner Michael Heisley, who has decided that building for the future matters little, when a few thousand tickets can be sold today. Giving Iverson the chance to jack up 25 shots a game and negatively influence the team’s youngsters with his late-night antics and carousing is like asking Kanye West to teach manners to grade-school kids. Memphis has derailed its rebuilding efforts by bringing Iverson on board, and pairing him with Randolph, another selfish player, will be disastrous. The recession is forcing people to make some desperate decisions, but this one could be one of the worst on record. Iverson is out to rehab his image by showing he can score again – at all costs. This won’t be pretty.
-EH-
When the reports and accounts of Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech slipped out, it was tempting – actually, it was irresistible – to tear the guy a new one. How dare he rip the media and Jerry Krause and legends like Isiah Thomas, George Gervin and Magic Johnson? How dare he make it seem as if they and others somehow brought down his universally glorified career?
Some were mystified by his tactics. He called out the “media naysayers.” He fed Krause’s words about the value of organizations over players back to him with a side order of stick-it-up-your-ass. If you only read the accounts, and you didn’t watch the speech, you thought Jordan had completely lost it and had chosen the absolute wrong venue to settle old accounts. The least he could have done was wait to be named godfather to his sister’s child to whack everybody. Was there no honor any more?
Throughout the ensuing days, pundits, columnists, analysts and blowhards weighed in on Jordan’s comments. Most of them, it seems, didn’t watch the speech. If they had, they would have understood that each of those “shots” was taken out of context. Jordan wasn’t being petty. In addition to thanking the many people who helped him reach the heights he did, he also adhered to the theme of his own competitive fire and how many people and things – real and imagined – stoked it. Or, as he said, “put so much more wood on that fire.” It was a funny, gracious, pointed address, and the people he directed his comments toward were all like him. You think Thomas was offended that Jordan wanted to “prove to everybody I deserved to be at this level?” Hell, no.
Pat Riley didn’t care that Jordan teased him, either, because Riley has the same competitive monster inside him as Jordan does. Why do you think he’s still running a team in Miami, instead of lounging around in his Armani sweatsuit by the pool or golf course? Okay, so Bryon Russell got a little angry that Jordan called him out, saying that Russell’s comments while Jordan was training for his disastrous baseball career helped motivate him. But what do you expect when you tell the greatest player ever that you can’t wait for him to come back and play again so you can guard him? When told about Jordan’s remarks, Russell said, “I’ll play his ass right now. This is a call-out for him to come play me.”
What Russell doesn’t understand, and what the media members who sprang to his and Thomas’ and Johnson’s and their own defense is that professional athletes, especially the great ones, aren’t wired like the rest of us. What we saw during Jordan’s speech was a glimpse inside a world we don’t understand, where people compete to near-death levels to win a game and then have the ability to socialize with the players they just sweated blood to defeat. Most athletes take their jobs incredibly seriously. They have a finite time to make as much money, grab as much glory and win as many games as possible, because when it’s over, nothing can replace it. Nothing. Any former player who says competing in the business world gives him the same rush as competing on the field or court or ice is lying. Jordan’s speech was a chance for us to see how players talk to each other. Riley smiled when Jordan chided him for not allowing MJ to have lunch with Knicks players during a Chicago-New York playoff series. He smiled because he was competing against Jordan by imposing that edict. He was doing what he could in that moment.
Okay, so maybe Jordan shouldn’t have said that he didn’t invite former Bulls GM Jerry Krause to the induction ceremony. But even his criticism of Krause’s statement that organizations win titles, not players, was tempered. He recalled Krause’s competitive streak. He admitted that the organization “puts together the team.” He also said, “at the end of the day, the team has to go play.” Again, we saw the pride and drive that made him so great. It’s something few can understand, because so few get to join that fraternity and such a small number within it has the overwhelming, all-consuming desire to win that people like Jordan and Riley and Thomas have.
Even the media shouldn’t be offended. Jordan said the “naysayers” had told him and everybody else “a scoring champion can’t win an NBA title.” And, if you’ll recall at the time, there was huge backlash against Jordan by purists who viewed him only as a shot-pumping endorsement machine concerned solely with his own self-aggrandizement. “I’m not saying they were wrong,” Jordan said about the media. But their words motivated him. Funny how when the media gets called out, its members get so touchy. Whatever happened to the days of the hard-boiled, cynical newsman?
In the final analysis, Jordan’s speech was a perfect summation of his on-court persona. He asked at the beginning, “What don’t you know about me?” And he was right. We know practically every story about him. We know nearly each step along his journey. But we apparently don’t understand what made him great. We don’t get the concept of competition and motivation and how the great ones find their spark any way they can.
“You look for any kind of messages that people may say or do to get you motivated to play the game of basketball at the highest level,” Jordan said.
That says it all. Jordan’s speech wasn’t a giant raised middle finger to the people he mentioned. (Okay, maybe it was a little to Krause.) Instead, it was a look at how greatness continues to be great. If you need to take some trash talk from Bryon Russell and make it a theme for the season, you do it. If Chuck Daly beats you at golf during training camp for the ’92 Olympic Dream Team, and that helps you score 36 on the Nets the next season, so be it. This speech would have been better received had it been delivered solely to the NBA community. They would have understood. And afterward, they would have stood around and traded war stories that only they could truly appreciate.
When El Hombre was researching his book on college football rivalries, he was struck by how few of the former players had an intense dislike for those against whom they competed. Although fans and alumni were almost pathological in their hate for the Other Side, most of the players felt respect for their fellow gladiators. That doesn’t fit the idea of how we want our athletic heroes to behave, but it’s the way it is. Jordan could trade baskets and elbows with Charles Oakley for 48 minutes and then dine with him because the two men understood the nature of competition. Jordan’s speech was a window into that world, and it should be required viewing for those who want to understand professional sports better.
Okay, so maybe Jerry Krause shouldn’t watch it. But everybody else needs to hit YouTube.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Some may view the NFL’s new “Red Zone” channel on Comcast an indication that the 21st century is all about impatience and short attention spans, but El Hombre disagrees. After spending an hour hunkered down in the Red Zone last Sunday, EH declares it one of the greatest inventions of all time. Non-stop action, photo finishes and Gus Johnson’s screaming are enough to get the Big Imprimatur. Be sure to tune in…What a great speech Wednesday night by former Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell, who was recently diagnosed with untreatable cancer. Harwell’s distinctive voice carried a gracious message of thanks and love of the game. He’s a true gentleman and treasure of baseball…T.O.’s comments in the wake of the Bills’ loss to New England don’t register anywhere near some of his other outbursts during his career, but the subtle shots he took at QB Trent Edwards and kick returner Leodis McKelvin demonstrate how dangerous he is. If the Bills are struggling by week six, he could be in full team-ruining mode. Buffalo, you have been warned…Notre Dame will honor its great teams of the 1940s during Saturday’s game against Michigan State. It’s a good idea to remind fans why the Irish are such a legendary program, since Heavy C is doing a good job of shattering the myths…From the Mensa File comes this doozy from Houston: Disgruntled Texans D-back Dunta Robinson has been fined $25,000 by the team for wearing shoes with the message “Pay me, Rick” on them in last Sunday’s opener against the Jets, a reference to Houston GM Rick Smith. Robinson signed a one-year contract about 10 days ago but wants a long-term deal. What better way to open negotiations than with a public shot at the man responsible for signing you. You can catch Dunta at next week’s meeting.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Long-time source Deep Nose checked in with an interesting take on the latest Donovan McNabb injury situation. A devoted Eagles fan, to the point of some wondering whether he has a man crush on Andy Reid, Deep Nose said, “I think McNabb is a very good NFL quarterback, and the Eagles will probably be worse off when he leaves, but I’m kind of looking forward to him leaving, just to end all the drama.” That’s an interesting take, but it may just sum up the feelings of many Birds fans. McNabb has been excellent, even if he hasn’t led the team to a Super Bowl title. But his latest injury has created more uncertainty under center for the Eagles and could lead to a variety of scenarios that could be too weird for words. For instance, imagine if Jeff Garcia takes over for Kevin Kolb Sunday (provided McNabb can’t play) and then McNabb is back for the Chiefs on Sept. 26. Do the Eagles cut Kolb, their “franchise” QB of the future and keep Garcia to go with Number Five and Michael Vick? Do they jettison Garcia and hope Kolb improves? And what do they do with Vick? McNabb didn’t ask Damione Lewis to toss his 300-pound self on his rib cage, but the whole thing has created another act in a long drama. Deep Nose is right that things won’t be as wild without McNabb, but the team won’t be as good, either. Because of that, we should all learn to deal with the craziness.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Memphis’ decision to sign Allen Iverson is one of the worst in recent NBA history and shows what happens when owners make decisions, rather than basketball people. The Grizzlies need to sell tickets, and that’s why they added both Iverson and Zach Randolph, both of whom are practically registered with the Poison Control Center when it comes to exposing them to young teams. GM Chris Wallace and his staff have been bound and gagged by owner Michael Heisley, who has decided that building for the future matters little, when a few thousand tickets can be sold today. Giving Iverson the chance to jack up 25 shots a game and negatively influence the team’s youngsters with his late-night antics and carousing is like asking Kanye West to teach manners to grade-school kids. Memphis has derailed its rebuilding efforts by bringing Iverson on board, and pairing him with Randolph, another selfish player, will be disastrous. The recession is forcing people to make some desperate decisions, but this one could be one of the worst on record. Iverson is out to rehab his image by showing he can score again – at all costs. This won’t be pretty.
-EH-
Thursday, May 21, 2009
A Second Chance
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
As dawn broke on that summer morning in Joliet, IL, large doors ground open, and a solitary figure stood, waiting to greet the outside world for the first time in three years. He wore a black suit, black hat, dark glasses and a broken Timex watch. In his pocket were $23.07 and a pair of prophylactics, one unused and one, ahem, “soiled.”
It was Independence Day for “Joliet Jake” Blues, and he was concluding his service of the state, having served 60 percent of his five-year sentence for knocking off a liquor store to pay his band’s sizeable room service tab at a previous Kiwanis Club gig. He was a free man, having survived Wednesday night’s “wicked pepper steak” and other assorted indignities. It was a new beginning.
Early Wednesday morning, another solitary figure emerged from incarceration looking for a fresh start. Unlike Jake, he wasn’t going to be picked up by his brother in an old Mount Prospect City police car and ferried to the St. Helen of the Blessed Shroud Orphanage to see the Penguin. He was headed home, for two more months of confinement and a $10/hour job working construction. Then the real work would begin. For Michael Vick, re-entering society was going to be a little tougher than it was for Joliet Jake. A lot tougher. No matter how much he lost and how much he paid for his dog-fighting crimes, Vick was still on the wrong side of the ledger sheet for many people, some of whom offered him no hope of ever climbing back to even, much less moving into the black again.
When Vick left Leavenworth Federal Prison, he did so a broken man. He had lost his job, his money, his reputation, his celebrity and most of the people who had surrounded him when he was flying high. His crimes were heinous, to be sure. His betrayals were many. And his fall was a high-speed plummet the likes of which few professional athletes have experienced. Vick had gone from the face of the world’s most popular sports league to a pariah. He deserved to be cut down in a very public manner. He deserved jail time and the shame that comes with it. He deserved the substantial financial hit he took.
And now he deserves a second chance.
Throughout the entire dog-fighting mess, El Hombre was squarely on the other side of the Vick camp. He believed none of the lies, tolerated none of the arguments made about the “cultural” nature of the crime and refused to consider the apologists who tried to make a man with a nine-figure football contract out to be a tragic figure. Vick got what he deserved, no question about it.
Now, he should get what every American is promised – the opportunity to rebuild his life after paying his penalty. When Vick emerges from home confinement in mid-July, he will do so as a relatively free man. He’ll still have some probationary requirements, and he won’t ever be allowed to own a dog again, but Vick will be able to seek employment, spend time with friends and family, travel (with limits, at first) and try to fashion a new world.
If an NFL team will have him, he should be allowed to play. He should serve a suspension this season, as final penance for his sins against the league, and he must show legitimate (and El Hombre means legitimate) remorse for what he did. But if all of that is satisfied, Vick should be fair game for whoever wants to sign him. That’s his right.
A lot of people disagree. They believe his punishment should have no end, that Vick ought to serve out an indefinite sentence, complete with periodic parades through jeering mobs, the better to humiliate him and prevent him from regaining any dignity. Again, what he did was awful. It was cruel and ghastly. But he has served his sentence, and it’s time to forgive.
You remember forgiveness, don’t you? It’s the bedrock of many religious faiths and a prime characteristic of American society. You can’t scream for infinite punishment and then hide behind a set of beliefs that preaches turning the other cheek. If Vick is indeed remorseful – and he’s going to need a little more than a cursory “I’m sorry” to NFL commissioner Roger Goodell – he deserves some absolution. We won’t forget his prior transgressions, but we need to give him a chance at re-entry to society. For all of those people out there who feel the NFL would be sending a poor message to children if Vick were allowed to play football, consider what a great example we would be setting by giving him another shot at getting it right.
The good news is that this is almost a win-win situation. If Vick does return to the NFL, he will likely do it at an entry-level spot, because what team would risk investing their future on someone with as much baggage as Vick? He is one dumb interview response away from a public relations nightmare. After two years out from the NFL, there’s a big question about whether he can even play the game at a high level anymore. So, should Seattle or St. Louis or Team X decide to sign Vick, it’s unlikely he’ll be brought in as a starter. He’ll have to work his way back to a regular position, as it should be. It’s not like someone is going to bestow another nine-figure contract on him. And if he messes up, he’ll be gone in 60 seconds.
Now, this welcome back to the high-profile, big-money life of professional football comes with a caveat: Vick has to prove he’s sorry, and that won’t come from just one face-to-face meeting with Goodell or the intercessions of Tony Dungy, Jesse Jackson or Dr. Phil. Vick needs to live right and to prove he understands the severity of his betrayal of the league, Falcons’ owner Arthur Blank and the millions of fans who helped get rich and famous. That may require half the ’09 season. It could take the whole year. That’s up to Goodell and the people who will investigate Vick in the coming weeks and months. But it has to happen.
And after that appropriate period, Vick should have another chance at football. He’ll have to prove himself on the field all over again, and he’ll have to live with his transgressions and the impact they had not only on his victims but also on those who adored him. He’ll never be the same person. He probably won’t be the same player. But if he has true remorse for his crimes, he should get the same forgiveness and second chance accorded so many others. If he blows that opportunity, then at least we as a society will know we did what was right.
Think about it; Vick did the wrong thing. Should we do the same?
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: After 149 at-bats, Big Papi finally hit a home run, proving that long droughts truly come to an end. Next up: A-Rod tells the truth…The prevailing wisdom is now that the Clippers have won the Draft Lottery, Oklahoma forward Blake Griffin’s basketball career is headed for trouble. That’s not fair to the Clips. After all, it’s not like they blew their last top pick on Michael Olowokandi or anything. What’s that? Oh, never mind…It’s nice to see that some college conferences are tightening up in these tough economic times, but their members’ budgets remain bloated and embarrassing at a time when institutions are cutting course offerings, laying off faculty and staff and trimming student services. Oh, yeah, they’re also throwing millions at the athletic departments. It’s time for football and men’s basketball to cut the fat for real, the better to reflect the tough times and show they are part of the community, not an outside entity…Less than two months after being hired at Kentucky, Johnny Cal has completed the best recruiting class in the country. If Jodie Meeks returns for his senior season, the Wildcats could have a team capable of taking out the Kings in a best-of-seven. Say what you want about him, but Cal can bring in the talent…R.I.P. Wayman Tisdale. The former Oklahoma star and 13-year NBA vet was a tremendous basketball player, a fine jazz musician and a solid citizen. It was just a few months ago that we heard he was faring well in his fight against cancer, so his death came as a surprise. His is a big loss.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? As the NBA playoffs continue, and Denver makes its bid for the franchise’s first berth in the NBA Finals, it becomes more and more clear that the Nuggets’ swapping of Allen Iverson for Chauncey Billups is one of the most one-sided deals in recent league history. Billups has brought stability, leadership and timely production to Denver, while amplifying what Iverson’s critics (including your humble narrator) have been saying for years. There is no doubting A.I.’s considerable talent, but his has always been a me-first game. And it’s amazing people are just coming to understand this. Is the NBA so adept at creating and promoting its stars that reasonable people look past the glaring inadequacies in their games? It must be, because Iverson was heralded for years as one of the NBA’s best, all the while preventing the Sixers from achieving great things with his selfish play. Yes, 2001 was terrific, but how much of that was Iverson and how much of that was Larry Brown and his ability to build and coach a support system around the guard? You’ll notice that once Brown left, the Sixers floundered. Now, with no contract and a stated unwillingness to sublimate his need to dominate the ball, Iverson faces an uncertain future. No team will throw money at him, because none can afford to have him ruin whatever chemistry it might have. It’s entirely possible that unless Iverson has a remarkable attitude change in the coming months that he will be without an employer come October. That may seem unfathomable to some, but it’s a reflection of an aging scorer’s dwindling physical skills, coupled with an approach to the game that has little to do with team success. It’s sad, but it’s true.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The Nuggets are a great feel-good story, and Chauncey Billups homecoming is heartwarming, but the team still needs to learn how to win. Tuesday’s loss to the Lakers demonstrated that Denver isn’t quite at a championship level yet. It missed free throws, didn’t work hard enough rebounding the ball and made some dumb mistakes down the stretch. Championship teams take games. They don’t try to play well and wait for a gift. Denver learned that in the first game and had better apply its lessons quickly – like tonight. It’s the same thing that is happening to Chicago in the NHL Western finals series. The young Blackhawks have accomplished a lot, but the Red Wings are stone killers. It’s still possible to shock the world, but for the most part, professional sports rely on veteran leadership and the ability to make big plays late in games. The Nuggets had better remember and apply that.
-EH-
As dawn broke on that summer morning in Joliet, IL, large doors ground open, and a solitary figure stood, waiting to greet the outside world for the first time in three years. He wore a black suit, black hat, dark glasses and a broken Timex watch. In his pocket were $23.07 and a pair of prophylactics, one unused and one, ahem, “soiled.”
It was Independence Day for “Joliet Jake” Blues, and he was concluding his service of the state, having served 60 percent of his five-year sentence for knocking off a liquor store to pay his band’s sizeable room service tab at a previous Kiwanis Club gig. He was a free man, having survived Wednesday night’s “wicked pepper steak” and other assorted indignities. It was a new beginning.
Early Wednesday morning, another solitary figure emerged from incarceration looking for a fresh start. Unlike Jake, he wasn’t going to be picked up by his brother in an old Mount Prospect City police car and ferried to the St. Helen of the Blessed Shroud Orphanage to see the Penguin. He was headed home, for two more months of confinement and a $10/hour job working construction. Then the real work would begin. For Michael Vick, re-entering society was going to be a little tougher than it was for Joliet Jake. A lot tougher. No matter how much he lost and how much he paid for his dog-fighting crimes, Vick was still on the wrong side of the ledger sheet for many people, some of whom offered him no hope of ever climbing back to even, much less moving into the black again.
When Vick left Leavenworth Federal Prison, he did so a broken man. He had lost his job, his money, his reputation, his celebrity and most of the people who had surrounded him when he was flying high. His crimes were heinous, to be sure. His betrayals were many. And his fall was a high-speed plummet the likes of which few professional athletes have experienced. Vick had gone from the face of the world’s most popular sports league to a pariah. He deserved to be cut down in a very public manner. He deserved jail time and the shame that comes with it. He deserved the substantial financial hit he took.
And now he deserves a second chance.
Throughout the entire dog-fighting mess, El Hombre was squarely on the other side of the Vick camp. He believed none of the lies, tolerated none of the arguments made about the “cultural” nature of the crime and refused to consider the apologists who tried to make a man with a nine-figure football contract out to be a tragic figure. Vick got what he deserved, no question about it.
Now, he should get what every American is promised – the opportunity to rebuild his life after paying his penalty. When Vick emerges from home confinement in mid-July, he will do so as a relatively free man. He’ll still have some probationary requirements, and he won’t ever be allowed to own a dog again, but Vick will be able to seek employment, spend time with friends and family, travel (with limits, at first) and try to fashion a new world.
If an NFL team will have him, he should be allowed to play. He should serve a suspension this season, as final penance for his sins against the league, and he must show legitimate (and El Hombre means legitimate) remorse for what he did. But if all of that is satisfied, Vick should be fair game for whoever wants to sign him. That’s his right.
A lot of people disagree. They believe his punishment should have no end, that Vick ought to serve out an indefinite sentence, complete with periodic parades through jeering mobs, the better to humiliate him and prevent him from regaining any dignity. Again, what he did was awful. It was cruel and ghastly. But he has served his sentence, and it’s time to forgive.
You remember forgiveness, don’t you? It’s the bedrock of many religious faiths and a prime characteristic of American society. You can’t scream for infinite punishment and then hide behind a set of beliefs that preaches turning the other cheek. If Vick is indeed remorseful – and he’s going to need a little more than a cursory “I’m sorry” to NFL commissioner Roger Goodell – he deserves some absolution. We won’t forget his prior transgressions, but we need to give him a chance at re-entry to society. For all of those people out there who feel the NFL would be sending a poor message to children if Vick were allowed to play football, consider what a great example we would be setting by giving him another shot at getting it right.
The good news is that this is almost a win-win situation. If Vick does return to the NFL, he will likely do it at an entry-level spot, because what team would risk investing their future on someone with as much baggage as Vick? He is one dumb interview response away from a public relations nightmare. After two years out from the NFL, there’s a big question about whether he can even play the game at a high level anymore. So, should Seattle or St. Louis or Team X decide to sign Vick, it’s unlikely he’ll be brought in as a starter. He’ll have to work his way back to a regular position, as it should be. It’s not like someone is going to bestow another nine-figure contract on him. And if he messes up, he’ll be gone in 60 seconds.
Now, this welcome back to the high-profile, big-money life of professional football comes with a caveat: Vick has to prove he’s sorry, and that won’t come from just one face-to-face meeting with Goodell or the intercessions of Tony Dungy, Jesse Jackson or Dr. Phil. Vick needs to live right and to prove he understands the severity of his betrayal of the league, Falcons’ owner Arthur Blank and the millions of fans who helped get rich and famous. That may require half the ’09 season. It could take the whole year. That’s up to Goodell and the people who will investigate Vick in the coming weeks and months. But it has to happen.
And after that appropriate period, Vick should have another chance at football. He’ll have to prove himself on the field all over again, and he’ll have to live with his transgressions and the impact they had not only on his victims but also on those who adored him. He’ll never be the same person. He probably won’t be the same player. But if he has true remorse for his crimes, he should get the same forgiveness and second chance accorded so many others. If he blows that opportunity, then at least we as a society will know we did what was right.
Think about it; Vick did the wrong thing. Should we do the same?
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: After 149 at-bats, Big Papi finally hit a home run, proving that long droughts truly come to an end. Next up: A-Rod tells the truth…The prevailing wisdom is now that the Clippers have won the Draft Lottery, Oklahoma forward Blake Griffin’s basketball career is headed for trouble. That’s not fair to the Clips. After all, it’s not like they blew their last top pick on Michael Olowokandi or anything. What’s that? Oh, never mind…It’s nice to see that some college conferences are tightening up in these tough economic times, but their members’ budgets remain bloated and embarrassing at a time when institutions are cutting course offerings, laying off faculty and staff and trimming student services. Oh, yeah, they’re also throwing millions at the athletic departments. It’s time for football and men’s basketball to cut the fat for real, the better to reflect the tough times and show they are part of the community, not an outside entity…Less than two months after being hired at Kentucky, Johnny Cal has completed the best recruiting class in the country. If Jodie Meeks returns for his senior season, the Wildcats could have a team capable of taking out the Kings in a best-of-seven. Say what you want about him, but Cal can bring in the talent…R.I.P. Wayman Tisdale. The former Oklahoma star and 13-year NBA vet was a tremendous basketball player, a fine jazz musician and a solid citizen. It was just a few months ago that we heard he was faring well in his fight against cancer, so his death came as a surprise. His is a big loss.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? As the NBA playoffs continue, and Denver makes its bid for the franchise’s first berth in the NBA Finals, it becomes more and more clear that the Nuggets’ swapping of Allen Iverson for Chauncey Billups is one of the most one-sided deals in recent league history. Billups has brought stability, leadership and timely production to Denver, while amplifying what Iverson’s critics (including your humble narrator) have been saying for years. There is no doubting A.I.’s considerable talent, but his has always been a me-first game. And it’s amazing people are just coming to understand this. Is the NBA so adept at creating and promoting its stars that reasonable people look past the glaring inadequacies in their games? It must be, because Iverson was heralded for years as one of the NBA’s best, all the while preventing the Sixers from achieving great things with his selfish play. Yes, 2001 was terrific, but how much of that was Iverson and how much of that was Larry Brown and his ability to build and coach a support system around the guard? You’ll notice that once Brown left, the Sixers floundered. Now, with no contract and a stated unwillingness to sublimate his need to dominate the ball, Iverson faces an uncertain future. No team will throw money at him, because none can afford to have him ruin whatever chemistry it might have. It’s entirely possible that unless Iverson has a remarkable attitude change in the coming months that he will be without an employer come October. That may seem unfathomable to some, but it’s a reflection of an aging scorer’s dwindling physical skills, coupled with an approach to the game that has little to do with team success. It’s sad, but it’s true.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The Nuggets are a great feel-good story, and Chauncey Billups homecoming is heartwarming, but the team still needs to learn how to win. Tuesday’s loss to the Lakers demonstrated that Denver isn’t quite at a championship level yet. It missed free throws, didn’t work hard enough rebounding the ball and made some dumb mistakes down the stretch. Championship teams take games. They don’t try to play well and wait for a gift. Denver learned that in the first game and had better apply its lessons quickly – like tonight. It’s the same thing that is happening to Chicago in the NHL Western finals series. The young Blackhawks have accomplished a lot, but the Red Wings are stone killers. It’s still possible to shock the world, but for the most part, professional sports rely on veteran leadership and the ability to make big plays late in games. The Nuggets had better remember and apply that.
-EH-
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Days of Reckoning
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
This has not been a good week to be a me-first, overpaid, team-dividing professional athlete. First, Allen Iverson’s “back” flared up, forcing him to the sidelines for at least two weeks, and probably the rest of the year. Then, Dallas Cowboys owner False Face decided it was time to get rid of the NFL’s biggest distraction, Me-O. Fans of drama were overwrought, but those of us who despise sports’ culture of selfishness rejoiced like the producers of Slumdog Millionaire on Oscar night.
Owens’ dismissal and Iverson’s “injury” hardly stemmed the tide of egocentricity. After all, Stephon Marbury has found work with the Celtics, Manny Ramirez just signed with the Dodgers (more on that later) and Chad Johnson remains unfulfilled. As long as there are non-stop highlights on the big screen and a parade of sycophantic “journalists” glorifying the minute accomplishments of top athletes – “LeBron dribbled through his legs!! – there will be self-centered athletes. The Pistons’ and Cowboys’ moves show us that everybody has their limit.
The Iverson case is less notable than L’affair Owens, since his transfer to Antoine Cadillac’s town was affected solely because of his expiring contract. GM Joe Dumars traded Chauncey Billups and his three-year deal to Denver for Iverson’s $21 million albatross, simply to clear room for future activity. As part of the trade, deliriously grateful Nuggets coach George Karl promised to wash and wax Dumars’ car every Saturday this summer. Still, there were some deluded souls who believed Iverson could help the Pistons win. Let’s hope those folks are not allowed to operate heavy machinery. A singular talent who could have led his team to a championship had he played to win, rather than to self-aggrandize, Iverson is all about himself. Always has been. The popular line among wags during Iverson’s time in Philadelphia was, “There’s no ‘I’ in team and no ‘team’ in Iverson.” Perhaps former Georgetown coach John Thompson put it best when asked during a mid-1990s Big East basketball media day about Iverson’s ability to become a point guard. In that unmistakable baritone, Thompson said, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Even he knew what the guy was about.
After a couple months of the charade, the Pistons found out what it was like to play without Iverson, and they liked it. Now that his “injury” has gotten worse, Detroit can make a charge at the fourth spot in the Eastern Conference hierarchy. The Pistons are 3-0 without Iverson and are back to playing the winning ball they did before he arrived. Danger lurks, of course, because there is always the chance Iverson will heal and demand 40 minutes and 25 shots again. If that happens, abandon all hope. The next chapter of this story should be interesting, since the market for aging, six-foot, ball-hogging two guards might not be so robust during the off-season, especially since half the league will be looking for a government bailout in a few months.
While Iverson braces for an off-season storm, the best part of the Me-O saga is yet to come. He has already provided some insight into his shattered emotions through his mouthpiece, Stephen Naismith. According to Naismith, Me-O feels “betrayed.” Thinks False Face lied to him. And this is just the beginning. There have been no teary-eyed press conferences or carefully-scripted “sit-downs” between Me-O and his apologists. You know the ones. There’s more softballs tossed than at an old King and His Court exhibition. And there’s always a moment when (insert aggrieved athlete’s name here) sits motionless with a single tear running down his cheek, a la the crestfallen Native American from the 1970s “Keep America Beautiful” commercial. One can only imagine the fusillade of emotional artillery Me-O will unload on the general public, in a bid to reinforce his assertion that he is the victim.
Close on the heels of that performance will come the reports from Valley Ranch about the two factions of Cowboy players, those who side with Me-O and those who are celebrating his release as if the government just announced that overpriced cars, jewelry and homes were tax-deductible. As that tempest swirls, False Face will give his side, complete with analysis of just how hard the whole process was and how the team has to “move on.” Chances are, he’ll throw a couple players under the bus, and he might even impugn his own son, team GM Stephen, who most likely was the impetus behind the move. The resulting stew will be so spicy that Rachael Ray would mud-wrestle Martha Stewart on pay-per-view for the rights to the recipe. El Hombre has said it before, and he’ll say it again: False Face may want to win, but he also loves attention and doesn’t care whether it’s of a positive or negative nature.
All of that doesn’t even begin to consider the hours and pages of speculation about the team’s next move and how the Me-O dismissal will affect the team’s performance, not to mention the handicapping of the Me-O sweepstakes, in which executives vie to prove who is more stupid by trying to sign a fading wideout who has poisoned three different franchises. The overwhelming early-line favorite: Al Davis and the Raiders. Duh.
Wow. That sure is a lot to anticipate. Stay tuned for all the action. And if you happen to be a selfish star with a somewhat vulnerable contract position, beware. You could be next, God willing.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: While the Cavs are celebrating their status as the first NBA team to clinch a playoff spot, the Clippers are hosting “Anybody With A Pulse” night at Staples Center. Anyone actually alive who wants to come and see the team play can do so for free. The team will also throw in a beverage, a frankfurter and the number of a psychiatrist…The NHL trading deadline came and went Wednesday, with the only notable trade involving Olli Jokinen. What, wasn’t Ogie Oglethorpe available?...The NC2A basketball tournament approaches, and that means plenty of high comedy at espn, as smug, corporate Billy Packer clone Jay Bilas jousts with Mr. Bracketology, Joe Lunardi. There’s even a new drinking game surrounding their segments. Every time Bilas is condescending, take a sip. Every time Lunardi looks like he wants to remove Bilas’ liver with a penknife, chug a beer. Chances are, you’ll be smashed in three minutes…The boating accident off the Florida Gulf Coast that claimed two NFL players and a former South Florida team member was truly a tragedy. While we celebrate the survival of one member of the boating party, we must remember the unbelievable power of the sea and the need to respect it. A 20-foot boat was not made to survive six-foot swells 50 miles from shore. Let their loss be a lesson for the rest of us about safety on the water.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The gnashing of teeth over the Eagles’ decision to kick Brian Dawkins to the curb proves that the team’s fans have no idea what they really want. On the one hand, they decry any move not designed to win a Super Bowl. On the other, they become irate when the team makes personnel decisions that will provide long-run help for the team. Granted, the decision on Dawkins couldn’t just be about his value as a safety – which is diminishing, thanks to awful coverage ability. He’s a great leader and a true fan favorite. Re-signing him would have been a tremendous P.R. move and would have engendered significant good will. The fans love Dawkins, and for some, it’s impossible to imagine him in an opponent’s uniform. But from a football standpoint, letting him go to Denver made sense. Yes, he made the Pro Bowl, but he’s not someone you can use in passing situations without manipulating the defense to hide him. That’s hardly the best way to get to – or win – the Super Bowl. This is not a congratulatory letter to the Eagles for the move. It would have been nice for them to use some of their abundant cap space to reward Dawkins for meritorious service. But Eagles fans need to be honest with themselves and ask whether they’re looking for a team that wins or a team that does “the right thing,” because good corporate citizenship doesn’t usually produce a trophy.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: How about that Scott Boras? Lucifer’s chief negotiator took one on the chops this week when the Dodgers ended their bidding against themselves and convinced Manny Ramirez to accept $45 million over two years. Boras, who had promised his client something on the order of four years and $130 million, didn’t quite get his price. Now, it would have been better had the Dodgers played some real hardball with the traveling-secretary-hitting bully and his cloven-hoofed rep by lowering their offer every week a deal wasn’t consummated, but the contract as written does favor L.A. Since Ramirez can void the deal after a year, in order to chase another giant offer (as if), he’ll have to hustle and behave himself, as he did during his truncated tenure with the Dodgers last year. Since he doesn’t have the security of a long-term deal, Ramirez can’t dog it, treat team employees poorly and basically act like himself. If he does, he’ll either have to take a paltry $20 million next year – some of it deferred – or go back into a market that doesn’t promise to be much more robust, especially for what will be a 37-year old slugger with a history of malingering. Congratulations to the Dodgers for beating Boras and putting Ramirez in a situation where he has to be a professional – at least if he has any long-term goals.
-EH-
This has not been a good week to be a me-first, overpaid, team-dividing professional athlete. First, Allen Iverson’s “back” flared up, forcing him to the sidelines for at least two weeks, and probably the rest of the year. Then, Dallas Cowboys owner False Face decided it was time to get rid of the NFL’s biggest distraction, Me-O. Fans of drama were overwrought, but those of us who despise sports’ culture of selfishness rejoiced like the producers of Slumdog Millionaire on Oscar night.
Owens’ dismissal and Iverson’s “injury” hardly stemmed the tide of egocentricity. After all, Stephon Marbury has found work with the Celtics, Manny Ramirez just signed with the Dodgers (more on that later) and Chad Johnson remains unfulfilled. As long as there are non-stop highlights on the big screen and a parade of sycophantic “journalists” glorifying the minute accomplishments of top athletes – “LeBron dribbled through his legs!! – there will be self-centered athletes. The Pistons’ and Cowboys’ moves show us that everybody has their limit.
The Iverson case is less notable than L’affair Owens, since his transfer to Antoine Cadillac’s town was affected solely because of his expiring contract. GM Joe Dumars traded Chauncey Billups and his three-year deal to Denver for Iverson’s $21 million albatross, simply to clear room for future activity. As part of the trade, deliriously grateful Nuggets coach George Karl promised to wash and wax Dumars’ car every Saturday this summer. Still, there were some deluded souls who believed Iverson could help the Pistons win. Let’s hope those folks are not allowed to operate heavy machinery. A singular talent who could have led his team to a championship had he played to win, rather than to self-aggrandize, Iverson is all about himself. Always has been. The popular line among wags during Iverson’s time in Philadelphia was, “There’s no ‘I’ in team and no ‘team’ in Iverson.” Perhaps former Georgetown coach John Thompson put it best when asked during a mid-1990s Big East basketball media day about Iverson’s ability to become a point guard. In that unmistakable baritone, Thompson said, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Even he knew what the guy was about.
After a couple months of the charade, the Pistons found out what it was like to play without Iverson, and they liked it. Now that his “injury” has gotten worse, Detroit can make a charge at the fourth spot in the Eastern Conference hierarchy. The Pistons are 3-0 without Iverson and are back to playing the winning ball they did before he arrived. Danger lurks, of course, because there is always the chance Iverson will heal and demand 40 minutes and 25 shots again. If that happens, abandon all hope. The next chapter of this story should be interesting, since the market for aging, six-foot, ball-hogging two guards might not be so robust during the off-season, especially since half the league will be looking for a government bailout in a few months.
While Iverson braces for an off-season storm, the best part of the Me-O saga is yet to come. He has already provided some insight into his shattered emotions through his mouthpiece, Stephen Naismith. According to Naismith, Me-O feels “betrayed.” Thinks False Face lied to him. And this is just the beginning. There have been no teary-eyed press conferences or carefully-scripted “sit-downs” between Me-O and his apologists. You know the ones. There’s more softballs tossed than at an old King and His Court exhibition. And there’s always a moment when (insert aggrieved athlete’s name here) sits motionless with a single tear running down his cheek, a la the crestfallen Native American from the 1970s “Keep America Beautiful” commercial. One can only imagine the fusillade of emotional artillery Me-O will unload on the general public, in a bid to reinforce his assertion that he is the victim.
Close on the heels of that performance will come the reports from Valley Ranch about the two factions of Cowboy players, those who side with Me-O and those who are celebrating his release as if the government just announced that overpriced cars, jewelry and homes were tax-deductible. As that tempest swirls, False Face will give his side, complete with analysis of just how hard the whole process was and how the team has to “move on.” Chances are, he’ll throw a couple players under the bus, and he might even impugn his own son, team GM Stephen, who most likely was the impetus behind the move. The resulting stew will be so spicy that Rachael Ray would mud-wrestle Martha Stewart on pay-per-view for the rights to the recipe. El Hombre has said it before, and he’ll say it again: False Face may want to win, but he also loves attention and doesn’t care whether it’s of a positive or negative nature.
All of that doesn’t even begin to consider the hours and pages of speculation about the team’s next move and how the Me-O dismissal will affect the team’s performance, not to mention the handicapping of the Me-O sweepstakes, in which executives vie to prove who is more stupid by trying to sign a fading wideout who has poisoned three different franchises. The overwhelming early-line favorite: Al Davis and the Raiders. Duh.
Wow. That sure is a lot to anticipate. Stay tuned for all the action. And if you happen to be a selfish star with a somewhat vulnerable contract position, beware. You could be next, God willing.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: While the Cavs are celebrating their status as the first NBA team to clinch a playoff spot, the Clippers are hosting “Anybody With A Pulse” night at Staples Center. Anyone actually alive who wants to come and see the team play can do so for free. The team will also throw in a beverage, a frankfurter and the number of a psychiatrist…The NHL trading deadline came and went Wednesday, with the only notable trade involving Olli Jokinen. What, wasn’t Ogie Oglethorpe available?...The NC2A basketball tournament approaches, and that means plenty of high comedy at espn, as smug, corporate Billy Packer clone Jay Bilas jousts with Mr. Bracketology, Joe Lunardi. There’s even a new drinking game surrounding their segments. Every time Bilas is condescending, take a sip. Every time Lunardi looks like he wants to remove Bilas’ liver with a penknife, chug a beer. Chances are, you’ll be smashed in three minutes…The boating accident off the Florida Gulf Coast that claimed two NFL players and a former South Florida team member was truly a tragedy. While we celebrate the survival of one member of the boating party, we must remember the unbelievable power of the sea and the need to respect it. A 20-foot boat was not made to survive six-foot swells 50 miles from shore. Let their loss be a lesson for the rest of us about safety on the water.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The gnashing of teeth over the Eagles’ decision to kick Brian Dawkins to the curb proves that the team’s fans have no idea what they really want. On the one hand, they decry any move not designed to win a Super Bowl. On the other, they become irate when the team makes personnel decisions that will provide long-run help for the team. Granted, the decision on Dawkins couldn’t just be about his value as a safety – which is diminishing, thanks to awful coverage ability. He’s a great leader and a true fan favorite. Re-signing him would have been a tremendous P.R. move and would have engendered significant good will. The fans love Dawkins, and for some, it’s impossible to imagine him in an opponent’s uniform. But from a football standpoint, letting him go to Denver made sense. Yes, he made the Pro Bowl, but he’s not someone you can use in passing situations without manipulating the defense to hide him. That’s hardly the best way to get to – or win – the Super Bowl. This is not a congratulatory letter to the Eagles for the move. It would have been nice for them to use some of their abundant cap space to reward Dawkins for meritorious service. But Eagles fans need to be honest with themselves and ask whether they’re looking for a team that wins or a team that does “the right thing,” because good corporate citizenship doesn’t usually produce a trophy.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: How about that Scott Boras? Lucifer’s chief negotiator took one on the chops this week when the Dodgers ended their bidding against themselves and convinced Manny Ramirez to accept $45 million over two years. Boras, who had promised his client something on the order of four years and $130 million, didn’t quite get his price. Now, it would have been better had the Dodgers played some real hardball with the traveling-secretary-hitting bully and his cloven-hoofed rep by lowering their offer every week a deal wasn’t consummated, but the contract as written does favor L.A. Since Ramirez can void the deal after a year, in order to chase another giant offer (as if), he’ll have to hustle and behave himself, as he did during his truncated tenure with the Dodgers last year. Since he doesn’t have the security of a long-term deal, Ramirez can’t dog it, treat team employees poorly and basically act like himself. If he does, he’ll either have to take a paltry $20 million next year – some of it deferred – or go back into a market that doesn’t promise to be much more robust, especially for what will be a 37-year old slugger with a history of malingering. Congratulations to the Dodgers for beating Boras and putting Ramirez in a situation where he has to be a professional – at least if he has any long-term goals.
-EH-
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Four Horsemen of Greed
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Outlined against a greenbacked November sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore they are known as famine, pestilence, destruction and death. They are only aliases. Their real names are Greed, Avarice, Gluttony and Self-Indulgence. (With apologies to Grantland Rice)
The news came down earlier this week and was supposed to be a reason for great joy among college football fans. espn now owned the rights to the Bowl Championship Series, that rotten, flaking rash on the visage of America’s Greatest Sport. Locked it up through 2014. And not just the broadcast rights, either. Nope, the four-letter folks from Bristol will also market the games, assuring proper synergy for the products and guaranteeing a constant stream of BCS propaganda designed to benumb fans and drive heretic ideas of a playoff from their soft minds.
Since the Disney/espn/ABC “family” of networks fairly dominates the college football TV landscape, we can look forward to a barrage of rationalizations for why a contrived, jury-rigged system is preferable to deciding a championship on the field. We can also count on continued use of ridiculously themed weeks of action, such as “High-Colonic Saturday” and “The Final Verdict.” Can’t wait for the cross-promotional possibilities, like “Desperate Housewives Meet The Ol’ Ball Coach.” Worse, we won’t hear a legitimate dissenting opinion about the BCS from anyone with true authority at the four-letter compound, for fear of turning people off from their own programming. If there are four undefeated teams from big-time conferences in a couple years, and only two of them can play in the BCS “title game,” the other two might as well be from the Sun Belt Conference, even if they’re USC and Alabama.
So, we’re stuck with this mess for the next six years. If college football wants to be a joke for the money, that’s how it’s going to roll. But let’s hope this puts an end to the asinine arguments that the BCS system exists to protect the student-athlete. It’s all about the cabbage. This week’s series in USA Today clearly demonstrates how little the academic institutions that comprise the NC2A’s gridiron-industrial complex care about the young men who toil for the greater glory of State or Tech. In an effort to give the illusion that players are being educated, schools funnel them into phony-baloney programs that wouldn’t tax The Three Stooges’ brainpower. Wednesday, USA Today provided several examples of players who were discouraged from pursuing majors that might interfere with their responsibilities on the football field.
Kansas State defensive lineman Steven Cline arrived in Manhattan with a dream of becoming a veterinarian. But when he struggled in biology, the Wildcats’ academic counselor encouraged him to drop down a few cranial notches to “social sciences,” a rag-tag collection of courses that produces a degree in Nothing Much. Today, Cline is working construction so he can raise enough money to go back to school to pursue veterinary medicine. Instead of making full use of his free ride, he came away with a degree that gave him few legitimate skills in a Speedo-tight job market. Sure, he could have fought harder for his dream, but when advisors at the school are directing kids toward courses of study designed to clear their schedules for more football, it’s an indication just how little schools care about them.
It’s all a by-product of the NC2A’s response to the furor that arose over SAT/ACT scores’ determining eligibility for prospective players. Since the test scores were judged to be biased or poor indicators of future performance, the focus shifted to classwork as the main criteria for athletic eligibility. Do well enough in high school, and you can play right away – even if the prospect’s curriculum in no way prepared him for college work. At the same time, the NC2A decided athletes should be making sufficient progress toward degrees, a noble pursuit. There was a catch: since many of them entered school unprepared to do college work, especially with a year-round gridiron commitment, there was no way they could be expected to thrive in traditional major programs. So, schools began to channel players onto the soft track. They enroll in “social sciences,” as Cline and many of his teammates did. They are shunted into “general studies,” a nebulous collection of courses designed to accumulate credits but not develop skills. There are other favorites throughout the country, like Criminology and Kinesiology, which can be a legitimate pursuit but is often a fancy word for Phys. Ed. Twenty-seven of the returning players at Florida this year listed social and behavioral science as their course of study, while athletic coaching education is big at West Virginia (16 returnees).
The good news is that these players accumulate sufficient credits to satisfy the NC2A requirements and keep their schools on the right side of the ledger. The bad news is that it’s tough to translate many of the majors – provided the players graduate – into something that might entice an employer. So, when the final gun sounds, if the NFL doesn’t beckon, and it rarely does, players have spent four years on campus playing football and getting through classwork that has little pertinence in the real world. That’s the real crime, not an extra game or two in the playoffs.
It’s funny, but few people spoke out (former Michigan coach Lloyd Carr was one of the dissenters), when the NC2A allowed schools to add a 12th game to their schedules. And where is the outrage at Washington State or Cincinnati, who will play a 13th game (and in Cincy’s case, a bowl) because late-season trips to Hawaii are exempt from the dozen-a-year limit? There is none. Coaches say the trip to the islands is a “reward” for the players. It really is a recruiting tool that allows pitchmen to sell prospects on a paradise vacation if they choose Fort Knox U. And it’s a drain on players, who wear down as the season goes on and don’t see any of the money that flows in from extra games. And don’t try that old saw about how they get “a free education.” We’ve seen exactly what kind of training they get.
The BCS lives on, thanks to espn, the Pac-10 and Big 10’s Paleolithic love of the Rose Bowl and a governing body that dares not flex its muscles to create a playoff (which it has in every other football division), lest it watch its biggest schools break off and form their own confederation. Try to enjoy it but remember to keep the Compazine handy when the school presidents and ADs start to talk about how the bowl system works best for the “student-athlete.”
You’re going to need it to keep from vomiting.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: What a shock that Nuggets coach George Karl has no remorse about the trade that sent Allen Iverson to Detroit. He spoke of the difficulties running an offense with a shoot-first (and second and third) “point” guard and didn’t seem to miss the 15-20 bad possessions a game during Iverson’s tenure. Since A.I.’s departure, the Nugs have won seven of eight, and Karl is beaming. Go figure…Wednesday, top Princeton chess players traveled to New Jersey State Prison to play against inmates in one of the most intimidating home-court advantages in the country. All went well until someone noticed that Black-Eyed Johnny’s rook was really a shank…Former Argentine soccer legend and serial bad boy Diego Maradona made his debut as coach of his country’s national team Wednesday, leading his side to a 1-0 win over Scotland in Glasgow. Maradona is making his players adhere to a strict training regimen that includes no more than a pack of cigarettes, two grams of loco powder and 18 beers a day…Hats off to golfer J.P. Hayes, who disqualified himself from the PGA Qualifying Tournament when he realized he had played a round with a ball not sanctioned for competition. In a world where steroid use is covered up, videotaping of opponents’ signals is greeted with a slap on the wrist, and athletes and owners are ever-greedier, it’s nice to see some integrity. There ought to be a statue of the guy somewhere.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Okay, so Donovan McNabb didn’t know there could be only one overtime period in an NFL game. That’s pretty silly. But Philadelphia fans – and columnists/analysts/blowhards – are missing the point about the Eagles QB: he has been rotten of late. You may want to make OT-gate a metaphor for his time in town, but that is simple and off base. On average, McNabb is more cerebral and thoughtful than most athletes who come through here, so his lack of knowledge about overtime is an isolated incident and not proof he should be dispatched to the CFL. More damning is his poor play in the last four games. He has been inaccurate and even tentative, not wanting to run and unable to get the ball to receivers in a timely fashion. He is Exhibit A on a team that lacks playmakers and is not constructed nor coached properly in an NFL that no longer is dazzled by the West Coast offense. McNabb will likely be elsewhere next season, but plenty of his current mates had better be wearing different uniforms, too. This isn’t a good football team right now, and substantive changes have to be made. If that means getting rid of McNabb, so be it. But judge him on his play, not one dumb mistake.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Michigan fans are advised to avert their eyes Saturday when the Wolverines travel to Columbus for what promises to be a hideous beat-down. Say what you want about playing a spoiler’s role or “making its season” with a win over the Horrible People, but there is no chance of that happening. None. Michigan is an awful team with no quarterback and a defense that has rarely played to its potential. Worse (if that’s possible), first-year coach Rich Rodriguez has angered alumni with his unwillingness to embrace the tradition of a program that drips with the stuff. There are some pretty interesting whisperings out there, beginning with the rumor that Rodriguez may end up at Clemson next year, because of his ties to the school and the mutual loathing between him and U-M. A more likely scenario involves the firing of defensive coordinator Scott Shafer and a circle-the-wagons approach to next season. Stay tuned – just not to Saturday’s game, unless you are a fan of carnage.
* * *
ONE FOR THE ROAD: Q: How can you tell an Ohio State fan has a girlfriend? A: There’s tobacco juice on both the driver and passenger’s doors of the pickup.
-EH-
Outlined against a greenbacked November sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore they are known as famine, pestilence, destruction and death. They are only aliases. Their real names are Greed, Avarice, Gluttony and Self-Indulgence. (With apologies to Grantland Rice)
The news came down earlier this week and was supposed to be a reason for great joy among college football fans. espn now owned the rights to the Bowl Championship Series, that rotten, flaking rash on the visage of America’s Greatest Sport. Locked it up through 2014. And not just the broadcast rights, either. Nope, the four-letter folks from Bristol will also market the games, assuring proper synergy for the products and guaranteeing a constant stream of BCS propaganda designed to benumb fans and drive heretic ideas of a playoff from their soft minds.
Since the Disney/espn/ABC “family” of networks fairly dominates the college football TV landscape, we can look forward to a barrage of rationalizations for why a contrived, jury-rigged system is preferable to deciding a championship on the field. We can also count on continued use of ridiculously themed weeks of action, such as “High-Colonic Saturday” and “The Final Verdict.” Can’t wait for the cross-promotional possibilities, like “Desperate Housewives Meet The Ol’ Ball Coach.” Worse, we won’t hear a legitimate dissenting opinion about the BCS from anyone with true authority at the four-letter compound, for fear of turning people off from their own programming. If there are four undefeated teams from big-time conferences in a couple years, and only two of them can play in the BCS “title game,” the other two might as well be from the Sun Belt Conference, even if they’re USC and Alabama.
So, we’re stuck with this mess for the next six years. If college football wants to be a joke for the money, that’s how it’s going to roll. But let’s hope this puts an end to the asinine arguments that the BCS system exists to protect the student-athlete. It’s all about the cabbage. This week’s series in USA Today clearly demonstrates how little the academic institutions that comprise the NC2A’s gridiron-industrial complex care about the young men who toil for the greater glory of State or Tech. In an effort to give the illusion that players are being educated, schools funnel them into phony-baloney programs that wouldn’t tax The Three Stooges’ brainpower. Wednesday, USA Today provided several examples of players who were discouraged from pursuing majors that might interfere with their responsibilities on the football field.
Kansas State defensive lineman Steven Cline arrived in Manhattan with a dream of becoming a veterinarian. But when he struggled in biology, the Wildcats’ academic counselor encouraged him to drop down a few cranial notches to “social sciences,” a rag-tag collection of courses that produces a degree in Nothing Much. Today, Cline is working construction so he can raise enough money to go back to school to pursue veterinary medicine. Instead of making full use of his free ride, he came away with a degree that gave him few legitimate skills in a Speedo-tight job market. Sure, he could have fought harder for his dream, but when advisors at the school are directing kids toward courses of study designed to clear their schedules for more football, it’s an indication just how little schools care about them.
It’s all a by-product of the NC2A’s response to the furor that arose over SAT/ACT scores’ determining eligibility for prospective players. Since the test scores were judged to be biased or poor indicators of future performance, the focus shifted to classwork as the main criteria for athletic eligibility. Do well enough in high school, and you can play right away – even if the prospect’s curriculum in no way prepared him for college work. At the same time, the NC2A decided athletes should be making sufficient progress toward degrees, a noble pursuit. There was a catch: since many of them entered school unprepared to do college work, especially with a year-round gridiron commitment, there was no way they could be expected to thrive in traditional major programs. So, schools began to channel players onto the soft track. They enroll in “social sciences,” as Cline and many of his teammates did. They are shunted into “general studies,” a nebulous collection of courses designed to accumulate credits but not develop skills. There are other favorites throughout the country, like Criminology and Kinesiology, which can be a legitimate pursuit but is often a fancy word for Phys. Ed. Twenty-seven of the returning players at Florida this year listed social and behavioral science as their course of study, while athletic coaching education is big at West Virginia (16 returnees).
The good news is that these players accumulate sufficient credits to satisfy the NC2A requirements and keep their schools on the right side of the ledger. The bad news is that it’s tough to translate many of the majors – provided the players graduate – into something that might entice an employer. So, when the final gun sounds, if the NFL doesn’t beckon, and it rarely does, players have spent four years on campus playing football and getting through classwork that has little pertinence in the real world. That’s the real crime, not an extra game or two in the playoffs.
It’s funny, but few people spoke out (former Michigan coach Lloyd Carr was one of the dissenters), when the NC2A allowed schools to add a 12th game to their schedules. And where is the outrage at Washington State or Cincinnati, who will play a 13th game (and in Cincy’s case, a bowl) because late-season trips to Hawaii are exempt from the dozen-a-year limit? There is none. Coaches say the trip to the islands is a “reward” for the players. It really is a recruiting tool that allows pitchmen to sell prospects on a paradise vacation if they choose Fort Knox U. And it’s a drain on players, who wear down as the season goes on and don’t see any of the money that flows in from extra games. And don’t try that old saw about how they get “a free education.” We’ve seen exactly what kind of training they get.
The BCS lives on, thanks to espn, the Pac-10 and Big 10’s Paleolithic love of the Rose Bowl and a governing body that dares not flex its muscles to create a playoff (which it has in every other football division), lest it watch its biggest schools break off and form their own confederation. Try to enjoy it but remember to keep the Compazine handy when the school presidents and ADs start to talk about how the bowl system works best for the “student-athlete.”
You’re going to need it to keep from vomiting.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: What a shock that Nuggets coach George Karl has no remorse about the trade that sent Allen Iverson to Detroit. He spoke of the difficulties running an offense with a shoot-first (and second and third) “point” guard and didn’t seem to miss the 15-20 bad possessions a game during Iverson’s tenure. Since A.I.’s departure, the Nugs have won seven of eight, and Karl is beaming. Go figure…Wednesday, top Princeton chess players traveled to New Jersey State Prison to play against inmates in one of the most intimidating home-court advantages in the country. All went well until someone noticed that Black-Eyed Johnny’s rook was really a shank…Former Argentine soccer legend and serial bad boy Diego Maradona made his debut as coach of his country’s national team Wednesday, leading his side to a 1-0 win over Scotland in Glasgow. Maradona is making his players adhere to a strict training regimen that includes no more than a pack of cigarettes, two grams of loco powder and 18 beers a day…Hats off to golfer J.P. Hayes, who disqualified himself from the PGA Qualifying Tournament when he realized he had played a round with a ball not sanctioned for competition. In a world where steroid use is covered up, videotaping of opponents’ signals is greeted with a slap on the wrist, and athletes and owners are ever-greedier, it’s nice to see some integrity. There ought to be a statue of the guy somewhere.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Okay, so Donovan McNabb didn’t know there could be only one overtime period in an NFL game. That’s pretty silly. But Philadelphia fans – and columnists/analysts/blowhards – are missing the point about the Eagles QB: he has been rotten of late. You may want to make OT-gate a metaphor for his time in town, but that is simple and off base. On average, McNabb is more cerebral and thoughtful than most athletes who come through here, so his lack of knowledge about overtime is an isolated incident and not proof he should be dispatched to the CFL. More damning is his poor play in the last four games. He has been inaccurate and even tentative, not wanting to run and unable to get the ball to receivers in a timely fashion. He is Exhibit A on a team that lacks playmakers and is not constructed nor coached properly in an NFL that no longer is dazzled by the West Coast offense. McNabb will likely be elsewhere next season, but plenty of his current mates had better be wearing different uniforms, too. This isn’t a good football team right now, and substantive changes have to be made. If that means getting rid of McNabb, so be it. But judge him on his play, not one dumb mistake.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Michigan fans are advised to avert their eyes Saturday when the Wolverines travel to Columbus for what promises to be a hideous beat-down. Say what you want about playing a spoiler’s role or “making its season” with a win over the Horrible People, but there is no chance of that happening. None. Michigan is an awful team with no quarterback and a defense that has rarely played to its potential. Worse (if that’s possible), first-year coach Rich Rodriguez has angered alumni with his unwillingness to embrace the tradition of a program that drips with the stuff. There are some pretty interesting whisperings out there, beginning with the rumor that Rodriguez may end up at Clemson next year, because of his ties to the school and the mutual loathing between him and U-M. A more likely scenario involves the firing of defensive coordinator Scott Shafer and a circle-the-wagons approach to next season. Stay tuned – just not to Saturday’s game, unless you are a fan of carnage.
* * *
ONE FOR THE ROAD: Q: How can you tell an Ohio State fan has a girlfriend? A: There’s tobacco juice on both the driver and passenger’s doors of the pickup.
-EH-
Friday, November 7, 2008
The NBA: The Unexplainable Happens Here
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
No one who follows the NBA would have been surprised to learn that the Celtics’ championship ring ceremony included a special, clandestine presentation to former Boston forward Kevin McHale, without whom the ’08 NBA championship never would have been won. By gift-wrapping one of the league’s top five players – Kevin Garnett – for his old pal, Celts’ GM Danny Ainge, McHale gave a team that was without leadership or focus a laser-like intensity and the ability to climb from the league’s abyss to its top floor. The amazing thing is that Ainge actually had to convince Garnett to leave. He never wanted to move on from Minnesota, further proof of McHale’s burning desire to help his former team. A couple more deals like this, and we might have to change his first name to Elgin.
Ainge couldn’t convince his pal to make any other one-sided deals during the off-season (“Hey, Kevin, how about trading Al Jefferson back to us for Brian Scalabrine and Gabe Pruitt?”), so the Celtics defend their title with the same three-man nucleus that hoisted the club’s 17th banner. It’s not exactly ground chuck. Garnett remains the league’s premier interior defender, and Paul Pierce discovered that mixing hard work and tenacity with outstanding talent could produce pretty amazing results. The transformation that took place last year remains in tact, although it will be hard to forget that performance in the Finals when he behaved as if his knee had been chain-sawed, only to bound back onto the floor three minutes later like a springbok pronking for potential mates.
The Celtics will be big time contenders again, as will the Lakers. As for everybody else, it’s tough to tell. A.I. in Detroit could be more catastrophic than Ford’s recent performance. In Houston, the collective toll of injuries and/or suspensions for Yao, Me-Mac and Con Artest could be too much to allow for a launch. LeBron James is always a threat to carry Sideshow Bob and Friends to the Finals, where he’ll be shackled by a savvy defensive strategy. And let’s place some bets on whether Dallas or Phoenix will fall faster in the West.
The NBA season is upon us, and it’s time to celebrate. Or at least enjoy the highlights until the playoffs begin.
The Elder Statesman: Has Joe Dumars lost his mind? One of the NBA’s all-time straight shooters and team-first guys dished off a reliable, championship point guard (Chauncey Billups) for one of the biggest me-first guys in the NBA. If you want irrefutable evidence that the league is absolutely crazy, then examine this trade. Allen Iverson will absolutely help the Pistons score more, but that’s about it. Why do NBA GMs constantly believe that a new environment will change a player’s approach to the game? Former Georgetown coach John Thompson told El Hombre a long time ago about Iverson, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Ah, but there is an expiration date on the troubles. A.I.’s contract is up after this season, giving the Stones considerable cap flexibility (they could be as much as $19 mil under this summer). Coupled with the loss of the remaining two full seasons on Billups’ deal, Detroit could be rolling in dough come July 2010, when LBJ and Friends hit free agency. So, maybe Dumars isn’t so dumb after all.
The Big Disappointment: This year’s spin on the ridiculous decision by Phoenix to ruin their franchise by adding an overweight, uninspired, overrated, washed-up lane-clogger is that it takes some time to integrate a post player into an up-tempo attack. Riiiight. Shaq will be stealing $20 mil for each of the next two seasons. Meanwhile, the aging Suns will stagger around, trying to be the NBA’s version of Young@Heart. Instead, they’ll replicate Crash and lose their one-time Western pre-eminence. Phoenix fans will be advised to avert their eyes, or they’ll be tempted to make a citizen’s arrest of Shaq for larceny.
THE KNICKS! In Sensaround!: As disasters go, the 2007-08 New York Knicks season ranks well below the Hindenburg crash and Eddie Murphy’s singing career. But that doesn’t mean the team’s slide from proud contender to punch line wasn’t spectacularly catastrophic. The good news is that despite the subtraction of Isiah Thomas from the equation, the sequel ought to be just as a hair-raising. For Knicks fans, that is. The rest of us will stock up on popcorn and Junior Mints and enjoy the mayhem. It starts with the team’s hard-line approach to Stephon Marbury, whom they’ll pay ($21 mil) but won’t play. Then there is the motley collection overpriced hound dogs that comprises the bulk of the roster. Can you imagine the response when GM Donnie Walsh calls another team and inquires about interest in a trade for Eddy Curry or Quentin Richardson? On second thought, maybe this film should be considered a comedy.
Lost Cause: Here’s a message to all (both) you Nets fans out there: You’re screwed. Horribly, crushingly, tragically screwed. That new arena you expected in Crooklyn? Forget it. The economic downturn, coupled with civic pressures that would make Al Sharpton blush, have all but killed the project. That means five more years in the swamps or as second-class tenant status at the Prudential Center in Newark. Yum! And about that team of yours. Vince Carter is finished, Yi’s so bad he should be sent back to Beijing for re-education, you drafted the wrong Lopez and you couldn’t sell the rest of the team for 10 cents on the dollar. So much for that dream of signing LeBron when he hits free agency in ’10. Nice try, though. Enjoy the Lottery for the next 10 years and try to quell those nostalgic yearnings for the Derrick Coleman Era.
Yee-HAW!: It’s early still, so plenty of NBA teams have ugly records. But just wait for it. Not only will Oklahoma City retire the award as the NBA’s worst city, zooming past Sacramento, but the Thunder will also be the worst in the West. That’s saying something with Minnesota and Memphis around. Oh, yeah, that nickname is pretty awful, too. Why not Land Rush or Joads? Uncle David Stern is going to regret this one, that’s for sure. Not only will he have to put an expansion franchise in Seattle to soothe the wounds of a 40-year league member that got hosed by a jerk owner, but he’ll soon have to deal with the very real possibility that nobody will want to play in the Dust Bowl. Hey, at least attendance is high – for now. Give this mess a couple seasons, and it will be declared a Superfund site.
The Verdict: Here’s how it shakes out: Eastern Finals – Boston over Cleveland; Western Finals – Los Angeles over Utah. NBA Finals – Los Angeles over Boston.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: So why have all these colleges fired their coaches during the middle of the season? The better to get a jump on the search for the next guy. Syracuse and now Tennessee have already employed noted coaching headhunter Chuck Neinas to find their next coaches. The goal is to save recruiting, reassure ticketholders and stabilize the program. You want a culprit? Here’s a hint, it’s green…Agent Scott Boras is seeking a six-year deal for 36-year old Manny Ramirez. At $20-25 per. If any team gives the slugging leftfielder that money, it should be investigated. Manny played nice for a couple months, but it’s just a matter of time until he acts like a jackass again (and again). As for the idea of paying a 42-year old $25 million per, that didn’t even work with BALCO Bonds, and he was nearly 75% Cyborg by then…The latest example that there is hope for the cesspool that is big-time college athletics is Florida State safety Myron Rolle, who will miss the ‘Noles’ Nov. 22 game against Maryland to take part in the interview process for a Rhodes Scholarship. Rolle carries a 3.75 average in pre-med and played the lead role in “Fiddler on the Roof” as a prep senior. The best part? It wasn’t even a tough decision. Congrats, Myron, and knock ‘em dead…Let’s all form a prayer circle for the Cowboys, whose recent free-fall has been a victory for those who can’t stand meddling owners who think accumulating “stars” is the way to assemble a winning football team. Sure, injuries have played a part, but the decision to sign Space Invaders Jones and the overpayment for receiver Roy Williams proves that Owner/GM/Dictator-for-life Jerry Jones is more enamored of big splashes than wins. Keep it up, False Face.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It may be a little overdramatic to label the Eagles’ game with New York Sunday night as make-or-break, especially since seven contests remain after that, but there is plenty at stake and not just in the NFC East standings. The city has lost its sporting edge somewhat in the wake of the Phillies’ World Series win, and that means a little of that pent-up frustration and passion have been replaced by the contentment of a championship. If the Birds lose at home to the Giants, they risk losing some of their preeminence. Over the past 15-20 years, Philadelphia became a football town, largely because fans thought the best chance for a title was a Super Bowl win. Now that the Phillies have broken the 25-year jinx, the urgency surrounding the Eagles has dissipated some. Losing the game Sunday will make winning the division title extremely difficult and relegate the Birds to the wild-card pool, from which Super Bowl success is tough to achieve. (Last year excepted, of course.) The Phillies rule the town, but the Eagles have a chance to keep their status with a victory. A loss could trigger talks of rebuilding and begin the countdown to April 6, 2009 – baseball’s opening day.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The most recent nominee for Ratfink of the Year is Arizona AD Jim Livengood, who refused to let freshman center Jeff Withey out of his scholarship, after coach Lute Olson retired abruptly last week for health reasons. Here’s another example of a school’s trying to exact some sort of revenge against a teenager, and it stinks like the bathroom in an NFL locker room after bean burritos were served at the training table. Withey came to Arizona to play for Olson, and now that the coach is no longer there, he has every right to transfer. Letters-of-intent are year-by-year, giving the school the power to get rid of anybody it wants. Meanwhile, the players are held to the whims of vengeful administrators like Livengood, who will force Withey to miss this season, rather than cut him loose. The next time you hear a school, coach or the NC2A say that it’s about the kids, reach for the Pepto. Better yet, tape the lie and use it to induce vomiting if you ever ingest poison accidentally. Shame on you, Livengood.
-EH-
No one who follows the NBA would have been surprised to learn that the Celtics’ championship ring ceremony included a special, clandestine presentation to former Boston forward Kevin McHale, without whom the ’08 NBA championship never would have been won. By gift-wrapping one of the league’s top five players – Kevin Garnett – for his old pal, Celts’ GM Danny Ainge, McHale gave a team that was without leadership or focus a laser-like intensity and the ability to climb from the league’s abyss to its top floor. The amazing thing is that Ainge actually had to convince Garnett to leave. He never wanted to move on from Minnesota, further proof of McHale’s burning desire to help his former team. A couple more deals like this, and we might have to change his first name to Elgin.
Ainge couldn’t convince his pal to make any other one-sided deals during the off-season (“Hey, Kevin, how about trading Al Jefferson back to us for Brian Scalabrine and Gabe Pruitt?”), so the Celtics defend their title with the same three-man nucleus that hoisted the club’s 17th banner. It’s not exactly ground chuck. Garnett remains the league’s premier interior defender, and Paul Pierce discovered that mixing hard work and tenacity with outstanding talent could produce pretty amazing results. The transformation that took place last year remains in tact, although it will be hard to forget that performance in the Finals when he behaved as if his knee had been chain-sawed, only to bound back onto the floor three minutes later like a springbok pronking for potential mates.
The Celtics will be big time contenders again, as will the Lakers. As for everybody else, it’s tough to tell. A.I. in Detroit could be more catastrophic than Ford’s recent performance. In Houston, the collective toll of injuries and/or suspensions for Yao, Me-Mac and Con Artest could be too much to allow for a launch. LeBron James is always a threat to carry Sideshow Bob and Friends to the Finals, where he’ll be shackled by a savvy defensive strategy. And let’s place some bets on whether Dallas or Phoenix will fall faster in the West.
The NBA season is upon us, and it’s time to celebrate. Or at least enjoy the highlights until the playoffs begin.
The Elder Statesman: Has Joe Dumars lost his mind? One of the NBA’s all-time straight shooters and team-first guys dished off a reliable, championship point guard (Chauncey Billups) for one of the biggest me-first guys in the NBA. If you want irrefutable evidence that the league is absolutely crazy, then examine this trade. Allen Iverson will absolutely help the Pistons score more, but that’s about it. Why do NBA GMs constantly believe that a new environment will change a player’s approach to the game? Former Georgetown coach John Thompson told El Hombre a long time ago about Iverson, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Ah, but there is an expiration date on the troubles. A.I.’s contract is up after this season, giving the Stones considerable cap flexibility (they could be as much as $19 mil under this summer). Coupled with the loss of the remaining two full seasons on Billups’ deal, Detroit could be rolling in dough come July 2010, when LBJ and Friends hit free agency. So, maybe Dumars isn’t so dumb after all.
The Big Disappointment: This year’s spin on the ridiculous decision by Phoenix to ruin their franchise by adding an overweight, uninspired, overrated, washed-up lane-clogger is that it takes some time to integrate a post player into an up-tempo attack. Riiiight. Shaq will be stealing $20 mil for each of the next two seasons. Meanwhile, the aging Suns will stagger around, trying to be the NBA’s version of Young@Heart. Instead, they’ll replicate Crash and lose their one-time Western pre-eminence. Phoenix fans will be advised to avert their eyes, or they’ll be tempted to make a citizen’s arrest of Shaq for larceny.
THE KNICKS! In Sensaround!: As disasters go, the 2007-08 New York Knicks season ranks well below the Hindenburg crash and Eddie Murphy’s singing career. But that doesn’t mean the team’s slide from proud contender to punch line wasn’t spectacularly catastrophic. The good news is that despite the subtraction of Isiah Thomas from the equation, the sequel ought to be just as a hair-raising. For Knicks fans, that is. The rest of us will stock up on popcorn and Junior Mints and enjoy the mayhem. It starts with the team’s hard-line approach to Stephon Marbury, whom they’ll pay ($21 mil) but won’t play. Then there is the motley collection overpriced hound dogs that comprises the bulk of the roster. Can you imagine the response when GM Donnie Walsh calls another team and inquires about interest in a trade for Eddy Curry or Quentin Richardson? On second thought, maybe this film should be considered a comedy.
Lost Cause: Here’s a message to all (both) you Nets fans out there: You’re screwed. Horribly, crushingly, tragically screwed. That new arena you expected in Crooklyn? Forget it. The economic downturn, coupled with civic pressures that would make Al Sharpton blush, have all but killed the project. That means five more years in the swamps or as second-class tenant status at the Prudential Center in Newark. Yum! And about that team of yours. Vince Carter is finished, Yi’s so bad he should be sent back to Beijing for re-education, you drafted the wrong Lopez and you couldn’t sell the rest of the team for 10 cents on the dollar. So much for that dream of signing LeBron when he hits free agency in ’10. Nice try, though. Enjoy the Lottery for the next 10 years and try to quell those nostalgic yearnings for the Derrick Coleman Era.
Yee-HAW!: It’s early still, so plenty of NBA teams have ugly records. But just wait for it. Not only will Oklahoma City retire the award as the NBA’s worst city, zooming past Sacramento, but the Thunder will also be the worst in the West. That’s saying something with Minnesota and Memphis around. Oh, yeah, that nickname is pretty awful, too. Why not Land Rush or Joads? Uncle David Stern is going to regret this one, that’s for sure. Not only will he have to put an expansion franchise in Seattle to soothe the wounds of a 40-year league member that got hosed by a jerk owner, but he’ll soon have to deal with the very real possibility that nobody will want to play in the Dust Bowl. Hey, at least attendance is high – for now. Give this mess a couple seasons, and it will be declared a Superfund site.
The Verdict: Here’s how it shakes out: Eastern Finals – Boston over Cleveland; Western Finals – Los Angeles over Utah. NBA Finals – Los Angeles over Boston.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: So why have all these colleges fired their coaches during the middle of the season? The better to get a jump on the search for the next guy. Syracuse and now Tennessee have already employed noted coaching headhunter Chuck Neinas to find their next coaches. The goal is to save recruiting, reassure ticketholders and stabilize the program. You want a culprit? Here’s a hint, it’s green…Agent Scott Boras is seeking a six-year deal for 36-year old Manny Ramirez. At $20-25 per. If any team gives the slugging leftfielder that money, it should be investigated. Manny played nice for a couple months, but it’s just a matter of time until he acts like a jackass again (and again). As for the idea of paying a 42-year old $25 million per, that didn’t even work with BALCO Bonds, and he was nearly 75% Cyborg by then…The latest example that there is hope for the cesspool that is big-time college athletics is Florida State safety Myron Rolle, who will miss the ‘Noles’ Nov. 22 game against Maryland to take part in the interview process for a Rhodes Scholarship. Rolle carries a 3.75 average in pre-med and played the lead role in “Fiddler on the Roof” as a prep senior. The best part? It wasn’t even a tough decision. Congrats, Myron, and knock ‘em dead…Let’s all form a prayer circle for the Cowboys, whose recent free-fall has been a victory for those who can’t stand meddling owners who think accumulating “stars” is the way to assemble a winning football team. Sure, injuries have played a part, but the decision to sign Space Invaders Jones and the overpayment for receiver Roy Williams proves that Owner/GM/Dictator-for-life Jerry Jones is more enamored of big splashes than wins. Keep it up, False Face.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It may be a little overdramatic to label the Eagles’ game with New York Sunday night as make-or-break, especially since seven contests remain after that, but there is plenty at stake and not just in the NFC East standings. The city has lost its sporting edge somewhat in the wake of the Phillies’ World Series win, and that means a little of that pent-up frustration and passion have been replaced by the contentment of a championship. If the Birds lose at home to the Giants, they risk losing some of their preeminence. Over the past 15-20 years, Philadelphia became a football town, largely because fans thought the best chance for a title was a Super Bowl win. Now that the Phillies have broken the 25-year jinx, the urgency surrounding the Eagles has dissipated some. Losing the game Sunday will make winning the division title extremely difficult and relegate the Birds to the wild-card pool, from which Super Bowl success is tough to achieve. (Last year excepted, of course.) The Phillies rule the town, but the Eagles have a chance to keep their status with a victory. A loss could trigger talks of rebuilding and begin the countdown to April 6, 2009 – baseball’s opening day.
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AND ANOTHER THING: The most recent nominee for Ratfink of the Year is Arizona AD Jim Livengood, who refused to let freshman center Jeff Withey out of his scholarship, after coach Lute Olson retired abruptly last week for health reasons. Here’s another example of a school’s trying to exact some sort of revenge against a teenager, and it stinks like the bathroom in an NFL locker room after bean burritos were served at the training table. Withey came to Arizona to play for Olson, and now that the coach is no longer there, he has every right to transfer. Letters-of-intent are year-by-year, giving the school the power to get rid of anybody it wants. Meanwhile, the players are held to the whims of vengeful administrators like Livengood, who will force Withey to miss this season, rather than cut him loose. The next time you hear a school, coach or the NC2A say that it’s about the kids, reach for the Pepto. Better yet, tape the lie and use it to induce vomiting if you ever ingest poison accidentally. Shame on you, Livengood.
-EH-
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