Prince James

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

To the young and largely uninitiated, or the people who believe that objectivity is “hate,” this El Hombre masterpiece is an anti-LeBron James screed. Those who think cheerleading is journalism and encouragement is analysis can’t stand reading the truth about their heroes. That’s why teams are devoting so many resources to their web sites – the better to provide positive propaganda to the willing masses – and content providers like SBNation are taking off. They feed the demand for fans’ “voices” to be heard.

So, after a big swig of “Haterade,” it’s time to get rolling on James and his Heat, who are on the precipice of a second-place NBA finish that won’t lead to another celebration like the ridiculous spectacle we endured (and espn gleefully broadcast) last summer. It’s entirely possible Miami could win games six and seven and capture the championship. Until the Mavericks took game two, the Heat was 8-0 in front of its front-running fans and should be favored in both remaining games. All is not lost, by any stretch.

The bigger issue is whether James can lay claim to the best player on the planet any longer. (Since the NBA is all about its personalities, team glory is secondary.) His performance in the Finals has proven that he absolutely cannot. On the biggest stage of his career, far bigger than his championship round appearance with Cleveland back in ’07, James has been anything but the best. His play has been so far from the top strata that it is left to his network cheerleaders to dredge the boxscore for positives, the better to avoid having to confront the truth: James isn’t made for the Alpha role.

James has managed a mere 11 points during the five fourth quarters of the series, and Thursday night’s two points came on a meaningless layup with less than a minute left. Compounding his weak offensive efforts in the final 12 minutes of Finals’ games has been shoddy defensive work, as evidenced by the eight points his man – 6-foot, 2-inch (maybe) Jason Terry – has scored in the fourth quarters of each of the last two games. James finished Game Five with 17 points, 10 rebounds and 10 assists, a very Scottie Pippen-like performance, which is fitting, since the former Michael Jordan lieutenant has said James is better than Pippen’s meal ticket. (It could be time to check whether that Central Arkansas degree he received is worth anything.) Heat coach Erik Spoelstra said afterward James “impacted the game.” That’s nice.

But it isn’t what the best player does. He doesn’t “impact” the game with a strong stat line in a loss. The best dominates. He wills a team to victory. He takes over. He doesn’t defer, clank jumpers or get toasted by a man six inches shorter than him during money time. He doesn’t tweet “Now or never” before the game and then choose “never” during it. James has done that throughout the Finals, and though espn and other NBA propagandists are hoping he rises to greatness in the last two games, it won’t matter. He isn’t the best. And he never will be.

You can’t deny his physical tools. He’s 6-8, 270, for crying out loud. He’d be big for a tight end. Or a defensive end. James can move like someone a foot smaller, is strong enough to overpower just about anybody in the league and has the ability to translate those generic physical tools into basketball production. When people talk about him as the best player in the game, they do so in terms of his skills.

The problem is that being the best requires more than just physical excellence. You must have the ability to dominate and the mentality to do so at the most crucial moments. From the moment James decided to join Dwyane Wade and the Heat, it has been obvious he is not made to handle the toughest assignments. There is nothing wrong with that – unless you want to lay claim to topping the list. Then it becomes a problem.

Everybody knows the story of how Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. He responded by working harder and improving his game but also by conjuring a string of perceived slights and grudges that served him throughout his career. He fueled his competitive fire with anything he could find or manufacture. It didn’t matter how real it was; to Jordan, it was enough to make him want to rip out opponents’ organs and stomp them. The bigger the game, the bigger the challenge. And Jordan responded.

James, on the other hand, was anointed king practically from the moment he picked up a ball. It wasn’t necessary for him to create hurdles to clear, because he had no real competition. He was “King James” before he entered the NBA, despite winning nothing but a high school state championship. Even with the Cavaliers, he had little to overcome, because his hometown fans and media were so enthralled with his presence that they couldn’t bring themselves to criticize. His decision to play in Miami allowed him to join Wade, a proven winner, and avoid the hard work of lifting a team on his own. Since there cannot be two leaders on a team, James has slid comfortably into the number-two chair. His play during the finals, particularly during the fourth quarter, proves he belongs there.

James will get a ring. Maybe he’ll win two or three. But right now, he’s not the best player on his team, much less in the NBA. Until he proves he can consistently shine in big situations, James will be known for his substantial physical abilities alone. That’s not bad at all.

But it’s not best.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: Oklahoma football coach Bob Stoops says his school won’t be “claiming any championships,” now that USC’s 2004-05 national title has been stripped by the BCS, and that’s a good thing. Usually, teams have to show up at least to get championship consideration. A look at the record book reveals the Trojans administered a 55-19 beatdown to the Sooners, a decision that would render any claim hysterical…Now that he has left THE Reprobate University, Terrell Pryor can get on with his life’s goal of becoming a third-string NFL quarterback. Nice job by Sen. Coverup and his staff teaching Pryor the position. At least he learned how to sign an autograph…Now that NASCAR has decided to merge auto racing with roller derby and pro wrestling, it’s time to do the right thing and name Jerry Springer as the commissioner. That way, throwdowns in the pits will get the treatment they deserve…After winning the first two games by the narrowest of margins, the Canucks have been outscored 12-1 in the last two. Worse, still, thanks to Alex Burrows mastication of Patrice Bergeron’s hand in Game One, the NHL has mandated that chicken fingers be removed from Vancouver’s post-game food spread…Sepp Blatter was reelected head of FIFA, ensuring another term of honest, high-integrity dealings in the soccer world. Congratulations, FIFA, you have just passed cycling as the planet’s grimiest sport. Some reports had Blatter celebrating by bathing in a tub filled with money left over from the Qatar World Cup bid…Hats off to the Texas Rangers and Houston Astros for selecting outfielder Johnathan Taylor and reliever Buddy Lamothe in the recent MLB Draft. Both were paralyzed in accidents during the past few months but had demonstrated talent before their injuries. Guess things really are bigger in Texas – including the hearts.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Sixers fans had better hold off on their celebrations if the franchise is sold to a group headed by Wharton grads Joshua Harris and David Blitzer. Yes, it will be a relief to have the franchise released from the clutches of Ed Snider, whose love of hockey and relative disdain for the NBA created the illusion that the Sixers were a second priority in relation to the Flyers. But Harris and Blitzer aren’t necessarily riding to the team’s rescue. At their core, these guys specialize in acquiring distressed assets, stripping them down and flipping them for a quick profit. They will likely pay close to $40 million below market value (as established by Forbes Magazine) for the club and might be more interested in propping it up for sale than in building a champion. We’ll learn pretty quickly whether the new owners are interested in investing for a winning future or just cutting costs. The Sixers have good basketball people in place and made progress this season. Now, they have to make the moves necessary to become contenders, not just first-round playoff losers. That requires commitment from the top. It’s encouraging the Sixers will be freed from Snider’s influence, but prosperity is hardly guaranteed in the hands of Harris and Blitzer. Let’s see if they know what to do with the ball, or if they just care about the bottom line.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Bryce Harper should have a giant welt on his right biceps right now. It should include the imprint of a baseball’s seams and remind him of his arrogance every time he lifts the arm to reach for a bag of money from his closet or wrap his arm around a young lovely on the road. He should have one on his right thigh, too, one that affects him when he tries to climb into his expensive car. Harper, the high-priced rookie outfielder in the Nationals’ system, decided to admire a homer he hit Monday off of Greensboro pitcher Zachary Neal, rather than circle the bases in a timely manner. When Neal expressed his displeasure at Harper’s behavior, Harper blew a kiss at Neal. The next time up, Harper was brushed back. He should have been drilled. Harper has plenty of talent. He could well be a big leaguer by next season. (Washington GM Mike Rizzo has said he won’t bring Harper to the big club in 2011.) But his attitude on that play was decidedly little league. If you don’t know about Harper, he was the kid who left high school a year early, in order to get to professional baseball ahead of schedule. It’s his prerogative to speed up the process, but you can see his maturity doesn’t quite match his skills. Harper has time to grow up, but if he continues to act like a buffoon after a class A homer in June, he could have a rough road in the majors, where behavior like he displayed earlier this week isn’t received too well and could lead to some hurt feelings – and body parts.

-EH-

The Great Depression

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
One afternoon, a woman walked into the kitchen in the big, old home in which she grew up and found her mother standing by the stove, holding an old pot, crying.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

It seemed that during the most desperate days of the Great Depression, when the woman’s father had been without a job for years, he was walking down the street and saw in the window of the local discount store the very pot her mother was holding. It cost ten cents, and when the man reached into his pocket, he found a dime – and nothing else.

“I just knew you could use a pot like that, so I went in and bought it for you,” the father told his wife.

Having come across the pot, the woman was overcome by the memory of her deceased husband’s generosity and no doubt remembered the sacrifices the family made during a horrible era in American history, so the woman wept. For millions of Americans, The Great Depression remains a stark symbol of despair and misery. Of hopelessness. And, yes, of tragedy.

So, when Ohio State athletic director Gene Smith had the nerve to offer hard times as the reason why five Buckeye football players sold memorabilia and exchanged items for getting some free ink done, El Hombre had the same sense of fury he did after suffering through “Caddyshack II.” Smith actually said that the players’ misdeeds were grounded in the good intentions of helping their families, as if they were Depression-era kids trudging off to work in the factories in order to put food on the table for their starving parents and siblings.

Smith’s attempt to make the Buckeyes’ shenanigans seem noble was rendered even more ridiculous when former OSU players began weighing in on the matter. For instance, Antonio Pittman tweeted the following: “This osu tattoo stuff is silly. Cats been getting hookups on tatts since back in ’01.” Guess times were tough then, too.

The swag-for-ink scandal, coach Jim Tressel’s subsequent cover-up, half-assed apology and wrist-slap, two-game penalty (whatever will the Bucks do against Akron and Toledo?) and the administration’s rather cavalier attitude toward the entire situation provide a perfect microcosm into the rudderless, leaderless state of collegiate athletics. Watching Smith try to justify the players’ rule breaking with his “helping their families” rationalization was disgusting, but OSU president Gordon Gee, whose bowtie should be festooned with scarlet and gray pom-poms, was worse. His response to a question regarding whether he considered firing Tressel was one for the books. “No, are you kidding?” he said. “Let me be very clear. I’m just hoping the coach doesn’t dismiss me.”

And there it is, ladies and gentlemen, the best evidence yet that college sports has spun so far out of control that no one can possibly save it. While Gee was cracking wise with his remarks – at a time when there was no room for sarcasm – he gave a little insight into who has the power at Ohio State. When you win as many games as Tressel does, fill the stadium to bursting and make the Buckeye brand a national commodity, you do not lose your job for lying to your “superiors” or the NC2A.

Firing Tressel would be the worst thing OSU could do, because this is not a case of integrity, rather a bottom-line issue. No Buckeye fan wants to go back to the days when the only way a John Cooper-led team could beat Michigan is if the Wolverines were poisoned before kickoff. Ohio State owns the Big Ten football world, and that brings with it giant piles of cash. The payoff OSU would have received for having the guts to fire Tressel for his transgressions wouldn’t have come close to the benefit he and his high-rolling program provide to the athletic department coffers. Let’s be honest here: This is no longer about institutional credibility. It’s all about a corporate approach to sports that is utterly beholden to the almighty buck(eye).

Ohio State isn’t alone. As much of a cartoon character Gee may be and as ham-handed as the school’s handling of Tressel’s cover-up and subsequent lying might be, they aren’t much different than the ways many other big-time schools operate. As coaches bloviate about wanting to “make a difference” in the lives of players and “provide second chances” to those who run afoul of the law or NC2A regulations, this is all about winning. And presidents like Gee have sacrificed the schools’ reputations and principles in return for wins and money. Worse, they are abdicating their authority to bottom-liners like Tressel, whose futures are shaped by on-field success, rather than graduation rates and other measurements of a university’s – rather than an athletic department’s – relative health.

Anybody who read last week’s Sports Illustrated article about its survey (in conjunction with CBS News) of the criminal pasts of players on last season’s pre-season top-25 football teams learned a valuable lesson about what matters on campus these days. When asked about whether it might make sense to run background checks on prospects, coaches responded that if they did it, rivals would use that against them on the recruiting trail. At no time did a president stomp his feet and declare that there must be an end to a culture that is running amok. As long as presidents are rubber-stamping the creation of phony-baloney majors in which to stash players ill-equipped for real academic work, giving coaches free rein over the players they court and allowing a wild-west atmosphere to prevail with cash and prizes available to the best of the best, college athletics will continue to drown in its own filth.

Ohio State’s handling of the Tressel incident has been comical and outrageous, but it can’t be considered surprising. Until a courageous group of presidents stands tall and refuses to allow its institutions to be sullied any further, this kind of behavior will continue – and even intensify. It sure is fun to experience the spectacle of college athletics, but it’s becoming more and more a guilty pleasure. If people like Tressel, Gee and Smith had a quarter of the character found in the man who spent his last dime on a pot for his wife, college sports would be a better place.

Sadly, that isn’t the case.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NC2A men’s basketball tournament welfare program continues through Sunday, as large conferences hold their post-season affairs in attempts to help members get extra wins to gain admittance to the round of 68. Sorry, mid-majors, but there’s no room for the inn for you, now that Colorado picked up a quarterfinal victory, Washington beat Washington State…Now that the Heat have beaten the Lakers, all is right in Miami, and plans can continue apace for the championship parade. The smartest thing Erik Spoelstra did was let Dwyane Wade take the big shots down the stretch vs. L.A. As much as LeBron James is heralded as the league’s best player, he isn’t the game’s best clutch player – not even close. There’s a reason why he chose to team with Wade and Chris Bosh, and it’s because James isn’t the kind of player capable of carrying a team to a title. He’s a good – very good – second banana to Wade, and the Heat will be better off if Wade handles the heavy lifting at the end of games from here on out…Eldrick Woods may become a championship golfer again, but he isn’t close to that level right now. No longer in a cocoon protected by PGA sycophants, fawning sponsors and fearful rivals, Woods must rely on what he has inside. As he has proven over the past 18 months, that isn’t a lot…Shame on the NHL for not suspending Bruins defenseman Zdeno Chara for his hit on Montreal’s Max Pacioretty earlier this week. Pacioretty had already played the puck, and Chara used his elbow to slam Pacioretty into the bench divider along the boards. It was a cheap shot, and by not penalizing Chara, the league showed that it has a long way to go before people will think it cares about cleaning up its goon-like play. While other pro sports leagues are at least trying to cut down on hits that lead to concussions, the NHL continues to foster an anything-goes culture.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It is now official: the Phillies need a second baseman. Whether Chase Utley has patellar tendinitis or degenerative cartilage under the kneecap, he can’t play baseball. And he probably won’t be able to play for the rest of the season. In fact, given the severity of the injury and the possible treatments beyond replacement of the kneecap, his career could be in jeopardy. If the Phillies are serious about winning the World Series, they have to make a dramatic move, because Wilson Valdez won’t cut it for 162 games. It would hurt to take on Michael Young’s salary, but it may be the only reasonable solution. Though 34 and expensive, Young is versatile, durable and productive. He’ll hit about 20 homers and knock in 80 runs. That’s not too shabby, especially for a team with questions about what it will get from the corner outfield positions. Joe Blanton has pitched well this spring, but he is a luxury on a staff with four “aces.” Trading him for Young would boost the payroll, but it may be the only way to make sure the Phils can achieve their goals. Put it this way: Do you think the team would be happier paying $8 million more than it wants to reach the Series or spending $160 million on a first-round playoff exit? Thought so.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Today could be the day it all comes crashing down, or perhaps the NFL and its players will agree to another extension and week of posturing. Remember that even though the players are making millions, they remain a labor force going up against an ownership group unwilling to provide a truthful accounting of its expenses. It’s tough to feel the same sympathy for Ray Lewis as it is for a factory worker trying to support his family, but as long as the owners continue to hold back on the facts of their business, it’s impossible to believe they’re not trying to cheat the players. The owners are furious they conceded too much in the last CBA, and they don’t want to lose this time. Fair enough, but at least be truthful about it, rather than trying to convince fans that you – the same people who force season ticket holders to buy exhibition games at full freight – have their best interests in mind. It’s a 50-50 bet that an agreement will be reached in the next couple weeks, but don’t lose sight of the parties’ goals. Yes, the players want as much money as possible, but they also want good healthcare after they retire and deal with dilapidated bodies and softening minds. The owners want money, too, and they try to convince us they’re struggling, even as their franchise values soar to nine figures and TV networks stampede to their offices with gigantic checks. Both sides are trying to win the P.R. fight for fans’ hearts and minds in this negotiation. Be careful to whom you pledge your troth.

-EH-

Ready For Some (Playoff) Football

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Earlier this week, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell sent out an intimate e-mail to about 5 million of the league’s customers declaring that labor peace will be achieved, and America’s number one sporting religion will not miss a minute of revenue gathering. On the confidence scale, it was akin to Justin Bieber’s saying he was ready to whip up on Randy Couture. Unless Goodell and his robber baron bosses can get players to accept a longer season, less money and a continued capricious approach to discipline – “The NFL: We care! (About offensive players.) – we’re looking at a work stoppage that could threaten the scintillating mini-camp, OTA and exhibition game portions of the program.

The biggest sham in the whole labor mess is the league’s insistence on an 18-game season. Or at least the P.R. run-up to it. After trying to convince us throughout the last several months that the players’ welfares were truly at the heart of league policy, Goodell and the billionaires want to add two games to the schedule, thereby expediting the future need for joint replacements and adding dozens more opportunities for players to endure the kind of dementia-inducing hits that already have 45-year old former warriors stumbling around like Lindsay Lohan on a bender.

Give Goodell and his propaganda ministers credit for concocting a scheme that has softened up fans in advance of the 18-game season. By fining (defensive) players for helmet-on-helmet hits and inventing terms like “defenseless receiver,” they have made it appear as if safety is the league’s top priority. This from a group of people who denied for years that blows to the head had dangerous short and long-term effects.

It is against that backdrop of hypocrisy that the NFL playoffs begin. Enjoy them, folks, because it could be many months before the big fellas start destroying their bodies for our enjoyment again. Of course, unless you live in New England, it’s going to be hard to derive too much pleasure from the proceedings, since the Patriots are so much better than everybody else that the tournament seems as pertinent as a public service announcement from the cast of “Jerseylicious.”

El Hombre isn’t so addled (yet) that he doesn’t remember the early February day in 2008, when the undefeated Pats lost to New York in the Super Bowl, delighting Mercury Morris and proving that nothing is guaranteed in the NFL. But this New England outfit seems different – and better equipped to go the distance – than did its predecessor. Tom Brady’s rock-star look notwithstanding, this is about the biggest blue-collar collection of successful players in recent memory. When your offensive skill package includes a Gronkowski, a Chadron State product, a double-hyphenated running back and a “star” receiver whose career average per catch is 10.7 yards, and you still lead the league in points scored, you have something special. And you want to talk about a “no-name” defense? Try these on for size: Banta-Cain, Ninkovich, Chung and Mayo. That sounds like one of those law firms you see advertised on local cable stations.

It all begins with Captain Hoodie, who espouses the philosophy that you don’t get the best 53 players; you get the right 53 players. For him, winning football is not the province of superstars but of players who want to sacrifice their egos for the system. That’s why he had no problem jettisoning overcooked wideout Randy Moss, once he went into full tantrum mode. It’s about production, not endorsements, and these Pats have a roster full of bottom-line players who appear invincible right now.

Of course, it’s rather easy to extol the proletarian virtues of a team when its QB is the best around. Brady is enjoying his second-best season (the remarkable ’07 campaign is out of reach), completing 65.9% of his passes and tossing 36 TD strikes against a mere four picks. He has maximized his production despite a stable of receivers that includes no big-play threat and precious little proven depth. That Brady is playing at such a high level is a testament to his powers, as well as the Patriots’ ability to outscheme and outexecute opponents. You may have more star power, but their team is superior to your big names.

That’s not to say the Pats are bulletproof. Baltimore smacked them around in Foxboro last year. The Steelers have shown plenty so far. And even Rex Ryan’s bunch is dangerous, provided it doesn’t fold up again in New England when the Pats start firing live ammunition, or if the coach gets distracted by a pair of sexy cheerleader feet.

Over in the NFC, the Falcons would like you to believe they are Super Bowl timber. They’re not. Roddy White is having a great year, but teams with just one receiver have problems against good post-season defenses. The scariest teams in that conference appear to be the two wild cards entries, New Orleans and Green Bay. The Saints beat Atlanta on the road a couple weeks ago and still have Drew Brees under center, last time El Hombre checked. The Packers, meanwhile, get plenty of attention for their great passing game, but it’s the Green Bay defense – ranked fifth in the NFL – that is the team’s biggest asset, particularly on the road. Don’t be surprised if one (or even both) of them is in the NFC title game.

That’s a few weeks off. Right now, fans need to get ready for the Wild Card round and perhaps the last time early January football will be of the playoff variety. If commissioner Goodwill and his owners get their wishes, this time of year will still be regular season, contusions and concussions be damned. Stay tuned for the next e-mail.

Here are this week’s playoff picks. Get ready to cash in, baby! New Orleans minus-10.5 over Seattle; Indianapolis minus-2.5 over the Jets; Baltimore minus-3 over Kansas City; Green Bay plus-2.5 against the Eagles.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: So, LeBron James has dubbed Miami the “Heatles,” has he? Clever, but James forgets one thing: People actually cheered when the Beatles came to town. He and his made-for-championship cronies don’t engender similar affection…Don’t know about you, but El Hombre has been riveted to the post-Jan. 1 bowl action. You just can’t beat a Middle Tennessee-Miami (OH) matchup. And that Kentucky-Pittsburgh clash promises to be a real humdinger. Looking for a culprit? Consider espn, which continues to manipulate everything it can about sports to suit its programming needs…Kudos to caring Penn State coach Joe Paterno, who denied quarterback Robert Bolden’s request for transfer. It isn’t enough that schools can terminate players’ scholarships after each season or run them off when their performance doesn’t match expectation. Now, Paterno wants to restrain an unhappy player from finding a better situation. Let your people go, Joe…Rafael Palmeiro is upset that he received only 11% of the vote in the recent Hall of Fame balloting and still blames someone else for his positive steroid test. Tough darts. Let’s hope voters continue to punish the juicers by denying them entrance to the Hall. If that means fewer members, so be it…Stay tuned to this space for periodic updates on the shocking scandal that has rocked the cricket world. Three Pakistani players have been accused of bowling “no-balls” at prearranged times during a test match with England and face lifetime bans. Speaking of no balls, how about that “performance” by Miami in the Sun Bowl. The Hurricane players dressed like they were ready for a forced march to Murmansk and played like they couldn’t wait to get back to Coral Gables. New coach Al Golden has plenty of work to do.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Many media members and plenty of fans are devoting substantial energy to the Packers’ passing attack when assessing Sunday’s Green Bay-Philadelphia wild-card playoff game. While Aaron Rodgers and his crew of sticky-handed receivers are extremely dangerous, the real challenge for the Eagles comes from the Packer defense, which ranks fifth in the NFL and is no doubt frothing at the opportunity to see whether Michael Vick will continue his regression to the run-around QB he was in Atlanta. In a way, you can’t blame Vick’s move backward. He’s learning a brand new way to play the position, so it’s natural that he uses his instincts as a default reaction to new and more dangerous schemes from rival defenses. Plus, since he’s behind such a shaky offensive line, it’s hard to hang in and progress to the third read when marauding blitzers are charging toward him. If the Eagles want to have a chance Sunday, they had better keep Vick clean. Otherwise, he’ll be running around and likely commit backbreaking turnovers that will contribute to an early post-season exit.

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AND ANOTHER THING: By waiting until Jan. 5 to make Rich Rodriguez’s dismissal official, Michigan head coach David Brandon added extra pressure to his search for a new head football coach. Worse, if he truly believed Rodriguez could have saved his job with a strong bowl showing against the SEC West’s fifth-place team, Wolverine fans shouldn’t have too much faith in his ability to choose the right man to replace Rodriguez. It was obvious to everybody that Rodriguez had to leave, and U-M’s ugly losses to Wisconsin and Ohio State proved that. If Brandon needed to see the Wolverines stumble around in the second half against Mississippi State(!) in order to decide Rodriguez’s fate, he wasn’t paying much attention the rest of the season. Let’s hope he was merely trying to save the $1.5 mil that came off Rodriguez’s buyout after Jan. 1 and that he has been compiling candidates all along and working back channels to make the right hire. And don’t think it has to be someone who is necessarily a “Michigan Man.” For instance, even though Northwestern coach Pat Fitzgerald has denied interest, he is definitely considering the spot but keeping it very quiet, due to his current post as a Big Ten head coach.

-EH-

October Is Beautiful -- Or Awful

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

For nearly four decades after Michigan hired a former Ohio State assistant and handed him its cherished football program, the month of October meant the beginning of Big Ten play in earnest and the inexorable march toward the annual season-ending collision with the Buckeyes. Leaves changed. Temperatures dropped. And the colorful spectacle that is Big Ten football proceeded on schedule, with the Wolverines tearing through the opposition on the way to that November showdown. There were disappointments along the way, but the triumphs far outpaced the losses.

That changed in 2008, when Rich Rodriguez took over for Lloyd Carr, the last of the dynastic line that began with Bo Schembechler and also included Grand Marnier Moeller. October, once a wonderful month of conquest, became a time of failure and a symbol of the program’s fading glory. Instead of setting up the OSU clash, the Wolverines fell into the abyss, posting a 1-8 record in October play, eliminating themselves from conference play and rendering college football’s greatest rivalry meaningless before the Great Pumpkin rose from the most sincere patch around.

The first two years of Rodriguez’s tenure have been loaded with enough sins to require a standing reservation for him at the college football confessional. He has refused at times to honor Michigan’s traditions, tried to excuse his team’s shortcomings with barbs directed at the previous administration, lost to Toledo, junked Michigan’s long-standing offensive and defensive schemes and their variations, dragged the school through the ugly buyout imbroglio with West Virginia, his former employer, caused several players to leave the program, brought unwanted publicity to Michigan with his role in shady business dealings and directed a spectacularly inept 2009 season that included a 1-7 conference record and a last-place Big Ten finish. Oh, and don’t forget the NC2A investigation that hangs over the program like a chemical cloud. Michigan doesn’t do probation – at least not in football.

Last Saturday, the first of football’s magical month, Michigan overcame a statistical nightmare against Indiana to subdue the Hoosiers, 42-35, and push its record to a pristine 5-0. Some might say a last-minute win over IU is no reason for celebration, and they would be right, if the triumph didn’t spike the anticipation levels for Saturday’s mid-season family feud with Sparty to levels generally reserved for balmy March weather forecasts.

The win even gave Rodriguez a brief respite from the personal mayhem that has surrounded him over the past nine months. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy during early-week press conferences. His critics have silenced themselves, and attention on the program has focused on magical quarterback Denard Robinson, who has made opposing defenders appear sloth-like and turned otherwise respected defensive coordinators into Barney Fifes with his Hermes-like speed and Mk 13-style arm. A victory over Michigan State Saturday at a packed Big House that has ticket scalpers drooling would remove Rodriguez further from speculation about his future and make those appalled by pending probationary penalties a little less sick. They say winning is a deodorant, and should Michigan get past MSU and Iowa in the next two weeks (both games are at home), they will have generated enough of the stuff to make the primate house smell like the Tri-Delt drawing room.

It’s a wonderful situation, and it comes with enough potential trouble to make even the most optimistic Wolverine fan pause. Let’s face it, Michigan’s first five opponents haven’t exactly been world-beaters. Most of them haven’t been anybody-beaters. In the opener, the Wolverines dumped a disinterested Connecticut team that holds as its signature win so far a triumph over SEC doormat Vanderbilt. Beating Notre Dame used to mean something, but watching the Irish get stomped by Stanford ended that myth. A near miss against I-AA Massachusetts had U-M fans chugging Maalox like frat boys turned loose on an open bar. Stomping Bowling Green was almost embarrassing, and the triumph over Indiana came despite surrendering 568 total yards and a time-of-possession deficit that was a mind-boggling 41:47-18:13.

Michigan’s defense is awful. It’s 102nd overall (out of 120) and dead last against the pass. The offense, while dynamic and highly dangerous, depends almost exclusively on Robinson, who has accounted for 67.7% of the Wolverines’ production. If you don’t think MSU, Iowa and the rest of the Big Ten powers remaining on the U-M schedule won’t be able to concoct strategies to limit Robinson, you’re a bit naïve.

Saturday’s game represents a fabulous opportunity for Rodriguez, who can secure further his hold on the head-coaching job and accumulate more political capital to spend should the NC2A’s verdict be particularly embarrassing for a program that prides itself on never having been punished. It also begins the heart of Big Ten play and a three-game stretch (Sparty, Herky, Penn State) that will likely define the team’s season. Should Michigan go 2-1 and get bowl eligible before Halloween, the drumbeat for Jim Harbaugh will quiet somewhat – but not go away completely. But 1-2 or 0-3 will bring up the same Rodriguez criticisms and give the Harbaugh crowd further ammunition. Richie Rod may be smiling now, but he has some deep, dark waters to navigate in the coming weeks.

The leaves are changing. Big Ten football has begun in earnest. It’s a beautiful time.

And it can turn ugly pretty darn fast.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: Looks like the MLB umpires are in high form already, and the post-season is only two days old. The missed third-strike call Thursday night in the Minnesota-New York game was borderline criminal, as was the blown check-swing call before Michael Young’s three-run bomb for Texas against Tampa Bay. Replay can only cover up so much incompetence…Conspiracy theorists don’t have to stretch too far to concoct a scenario in which the NFL and espn orchestrated the Randy Moss-to-Minnesota trade. Think about it: the Vikes play the Jets Monday night on espn, Cowboy Quarterback’s team has been floundering and incapable of providing sufficient drama, and Moss has been out of the spotlight in New England. It’s a perfect storm. Don’t laugh; when there are billions of dollars involved, anything is possible…For both you NHL fans out there, here’s a fearless prediction for this season: Saskatoon over Vladivostok in seven. Okay, Detroit over Pittsburgh in six…North Carolina football coach Butch Davis is trying to make us believe he had no idea former assistant John Blake had close ties to player agent Gary Wichard. If he didn’t, shame on him for not vetting his staff better. If he did, double shame for employing somebody capable of damaging him, his program and the school...Let’s hope LeBron James isn’t too worried about Dwyane Wade’s hamstring pull. It’s never easy for a sidekick to see his mentor in a compromised position, so the Heat had better make sure James is properly comforted and assured that he’ll still be able to ride Wade to that NBA title he covets. And playing the race card to defend himself against those who criticized his self-serving “Decision” and desire to gain marketing millions by winning a title on a team filled with stars further amplifies James’ inability to lead. There are a lot of downsides to James’ signing with Miami, but the biggest is that we now have to root for Kobe Bryant, the only man on the planet capable of bringing down the Heat.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Imagine that you are Roy Oswalt or Cole Hamels, the other two-thirds of the Phillies’ celebrated pitching troika, and you are charged over the next three days with finishing off the “happy-to-be-here” Reds. Exactly what do you do to follow what Roy Halladay accomplished Wednesday night? Go ahead, Roy II. Toss a two-hit shutout. Hey, Cole, how about going the route in a taut, 2-1 series-clinching victory? Next to Halladay, both performances would look like CZ beside the Hope Diamond. Had Halladay not walked Jay Bruce in the fifth inning, he would have had his second perfecto of the year and a spot among the sport’s immortals. Halladay’s performance was so impressive because of its stage, the circumstances and the lethal efficiency with which he dispatched the Reds. If Halladay plans on following that effort up with an October of similar dominance, the Phillies may be invincible, particularly if Oswalt and Hamels back him up with solid – if not legendary – outings of their own. In the short period since Halladay’s no-no, he has been called this generation’s Sandy Koufax and compared to Don Larsen, who tossed a World Series perfect game in ’56. The Phillies couldn’t care less about how the rest of the baseball world sees him. They’ll just call him “Ace.”

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: Even though most people need no further proof that Brent Musburger is a chowderhead, he continues to provide evidence. His latest submission came Tuesday, when he told a group of students at the University of Montana that he thought professional athletes should be able to use anabolic steroids to improve their performance, provided they were under doctors’ supervision. “I’ve had somebody say that, you know, steroids should be banned because they’re not healthy for you,” Dr. Musburger said. “Let’s go find out. What do the doctors actually think about anabolic steroids and the use by athletes? Don’t have a preconceived notion that this is right or this is wrong.” Preconceived notion? About the only physician we could find who supports the use of steroids by athletes is Dr. Anthony Galea, and he’s not exactly in the best position right now, thanks to a federal investigation. Fortunately for us, Dr. Gary Wardler, who works with the World Anti-Doping Agency, was consulted and firmly refuted Musburger’s misguided comments. “He’s categorically wrong, and if he’d like to spend a day in my office, I can show him voluminous literature going back decades about the adverse effects of steroids,” he said. “They have a legitimate role in medicine that’s clearly defined, but if it’s abused, it can have serious consequences.” Musburger may have fooled espn enough to stay on the air with his irritating style and continuous blather, but when it comes to medicine, he had better shut up. What an idiot.

-EH-

Braving the Elements

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Packer Rick is in heaven these days, and not just because his beloved Green Bay club is on the rise or his mighty fifth-grade lacrosse club overwhelmed all comers during the recent season.

From his command center in the nearly-legendary Pack Den, Packer Rick keeps a watchful eye on the sports world’s traditions. The Den’s walls are covered – and El Hombre means covered – with framed photographs of history’s heroes, athletic, military and political. He even has a still of Erwin Rommel, Germany’s “Desert Fox.” “He hated Hitler,” Packer Rick says, justifying the famous tank commander’s presence with the other luminaries. Of course, he also has a photo of Gen. George Patton – “He stares at Rommel, on the opposite wall, of course” – and won’t hesitate to recount the line attributed to “Old Blood and Guts” in his marvelous biopic: “Rommel, you magnificent bastard! I read your book!”

At any given time, Packer Rick could be screening some old AFL footage or a 1970s NFL playoff game. He might be holding forth on the virtues of high school football’s inherent value for building character and lifelong bonds between comrades and combatants. And, if it’s mid-December, he’s likely to be nailing up another butt of the family Christmas tree on the eave overhanging his bar. He’s up to about 17 now, and seeing them lined up is a quite a sight.

Earlier this week, Packer Rick received an unexpected gift from the NFL owners when they announced the 2014 Super Bowl would be held in the swamps of Jersey. For someone who still turns on the TV every Sunday rooting for a snowstorm or rain deluge and thinks domes are the devil’s work, a championship game played in arctic conditions with swirling snow and ice-encrusted spectators would be a gift from the football gods. Or from Vince Lombardi. He can only imagine what NFL Films would be able to do with such a canvas. Forget the game action; Packer Rick wants shots of behemoth linemen exhaling steam and icicles clinging to the goalposts.

But what excites Packer Rick even more is that the announcement paves the way for future cold-weather Super Bowls, including one in Green Bay. “It lets me put my “50th year anniversary of the Ice Bowl” 2017 Super Bowl at 1265 Lombardi Avenue petition into action,” he says, laughing. Don’t bet against him. He’ll have 10,000 signatures before you can say, “Run to Daylight.”

There has been much sturm und drang about the league’s decision to bestow its Big Game upon the New York metropolitan area. Players say how much they hate toiling in cold weather, as if anybody but Canadians embraces it. We hear horror stories about what would happen if it snowed (people would wear boots), although the biggest snowfall in NYC history on the date of this year’s Super Bowl was three inches. And we hear how horrible it will be for fans traveling to the big game who will have to endure cold temperatures as they take part in the festivities. It may not be the beach, but if you can’t find something to do in Manhattan, regardless of the weather, you are about as much fun as a Congressional hearing.

Football is the ultimate tough-guy game (although if hockey players keep losing multiple teeth and returning to action 10 minutes later, we may have to re-think that), so anyone who complains about playing in 30-degree temperatures must be a baseball player – or a wide re-diva. There have been scores of important games played during the NFL’s history in less than ideal conditions. Packer Rick’s beloved Ice Bowl is the most famous, but from the New York Giants’ 1934 NFL championship win over the Bears on the Polo Grounds’ frozen turf (Giants’ coach Steve Owen outfitted his charges in sneakers at halftime, and they pulled away after intermission) through the Steelers’ snow-speckled triumph over the Ravens in the ’09 AFC title game, the elements have played a big role in professional football. Staging a Super Bowl in a climate that could be less than ideal returns the sport to its roots and creates a great stage.

Ask anybody who played pickup football on a snow-covered field how much fun that can be. Ask anybody who has watched a snowy game on television if they enjoyed the experience, and the nearly-unanimous answer will be “Yes!” As for those fans who will have to brave the elements to watch the league’s best battle, remember this old Siberian adage: “There is no such thing as weather too cold, just inadequate clothing.” In other words, bundle up. Then bundle up some more. You’ll be fine.

Finally, a bit of advice for those who think cold weather will inhibit the ability to have fun in New York. Last Super Bowl weekend, El Hombre and La Mujer bivouacked at the Waldorf-Astoria. We visited the Museum of Modern Art, caught a play on Broadway, had some dynamite Mexican food, attended Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and had a great brunch with family from the 44th floor of an apartment building with a spectacular view. Aside from the $55 glass of whisky a flighty Scotsman made EH finance, the weekend was perfect. By the way, the temperature that weekend hovered in the 20s, with a brutal wind-chill. We hardly remember the climate, just the fun.

So, hats off to the NFL for putting the Super Bowl in New York/Jersey. Let it be a gateway to other cold-weather hosts. And should the game be played in conditions better suited for ice fishing, remember another old Russian proverb: “If it’s cold in February, summer will be pleasant.”

And should you see Packer Rick, sign his petition. We have to get the ’17 game at Lambeau.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: Michigan has penalized itself for exceeding the number of practice and workout hours allowed by the NC2A. In addition to some future limits on field time and the firing of an employee involved in the scandal, the school has also forced all coaches and administrators to watch every minute of game action from the past two seasons, when coach Rich Ro-riguez’s (no D) teams went a combined 8-16. Talk about your draconian punishments…Good news for Sammy Sosa: The Congressional committee investigating baseball’s steroids addiction won’t investigate him. Seems it was too hard to find an interpreter to work with Sosa, who vacillates between speaking English just fine during clubhouse interviews and being unable to say a word while under oath…Speaking of illegal performance-enhancing drugs, El Hombre is certain that it’s just a coincidence that Dr. Anthony Galea, whom Eldrick Woods sought out for treatment, also worked with A-Fraud and other known juicers. Woods just went to Galea for therapeutic reasons. Right. And soccer star Cristiano Ronaldo is dating Kim Kardashian for her mind…In other soccer news, England’s Trade Union Council has requested that employers allow workers to watch games involving the national team during the upcoming World Cup. Benefits include a happier workforce and limited “sick-outs” on game days. Companies who participate are being encouraged to create “hooligan zones,” where drunken workers can destroy property and beat the tar out of other ethnic groups…It’s early. It probably won’t happen. But wouldn’t it be magical if the Celtics joined the Broons in a double Beantown choke?

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? So, here are the Flyers, the scrappiest team in all of sports, getting ready to tangle with the mighty Blackhawks. Chicago piled up more points during the regular season. It has a deeper defense and more scorers. It plays in the stronger Western Conference. Everything points to a Blackhawks series victory – except history. While it has been 35 years since the Flyers hoisted the Cup, Chicago is in the midst of a 49-year drought. Further, by overcoming a 3-0 deficit against the Broons and smashing Montreal, a now-healthy Flyers team has gained tremendous confidence and has proven it can win anywhere. Yes, the Blackhawks have been dynamite on the road, and that Dustin Byfuglien character is a beast. If Philadelphia continues to play rugged hockey and doesn’t take a bunch of stupid penalties, and if goalie Michael Leighton keeps the magic dust on his shoulders, the Flyers can win. In fact, the Flyers will win. In six. Batten down the hatches. This will be a wild celebration.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: Some time in the next few weeks, LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and Joe Johnson will sit down to discuss their respective free agent futures. Consider it the professional basketball equivalent of the Potsdam conference, which led to the redesign of Europe’s borders after WWII. Or, if you wish, you can liken it to the final scene of “Mobsters,” when Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky and the boys divide up the country into crime fiefdoms. The four ballers – and anybody else they decide worthy of inclusion – will basically do the same thing with the NBA. They’ll discuss the pros and cons of various franchises, figure who should play where and try to maximize their earning potential. When the owners do this, it’s “collusion.” When star players get together to cut such deals, it’s “business.” If the meeting yields the outcome El Hombre thinks it will, the league will be officially at the mercy of its players, who will have established a new competitive balance based on their own whims and personal interests. This is an unprecedented move in professional sports history, and it demonstrates exactly why the product we are watching – and in many instances paying dearly to see – lacks the same allure and competitive drama as its predecessors did. If players are getting together with the idea of dispersing themselves or, in some cases, banding together, then pro basketball has no chance of establishing future rivalries with real teeth. Instead, it will have the feel of a cartel, in which the participants work together for greater financial aid for the whole. The superstar sit-down is a compelling concept, but it is bad for basketball. For the NBA’s sake, let’s hope the outcome doesn’t produce a disaster.

-EH-

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-

NBA Action is Fantastic

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Back in the ‘90s when Tom Odjakjian was playing roundball matchmaker while with espn, he laid out for El Hombre the perfect recipe for a successful conference hierarchy – at least from the TV perspective:

Take three or four top-shelf teams, a couple hopefuls with the potential to pull upsets now and then and a bunch of catfish living at the bottom of the sea, incapable of doing anything but pumping up the big boys’ records. Mix together for maximum drama and excitement.

In other words, screw parity. That socialist concept may be nice for the NFL and Sweden, but real interest gets generated when there are some true heavyweights roaming the land, stumbling into each other every now and then and staging some memorable battles, preferably near the end of the season.

Odjakjian has since moved on to the Big East, where he has to – among other things – figure out a way to get South Florida and DePaul’s hoop teams on TV every season, no easy task. But his idea remains vital today when it comes to fan interest. Parity may lead to the most equitable level of hope for fans and fill coffers in a similarly identical manner, but no matter how much a matchup between a pair of mediocre teams might make league officials happy, real excitement comes when showdowns between the big boys take place.

It would seem as if Odjakjian was orchestrating the NBA’s off-season moves, because the league enters a watershed season with its most impressive collection of heavy hitters in a long while. It doesn’t quite match the 1980s for star power, but the moves made over the summer have turned the top part of the league into a five-way battle royal, while at the same time pushing the league’s Dalits even further from contention. It’s amazing to look at how the upper echelon fortified itself, while perpetually awful teams cut salary (New Jersey), added incongruous parts (Memphis) or simply gave up (Milwaukee).

San Antonio conned the Bucks out of Richard Jefferson for a few postcards of the Alamo. The Celtics added Rasheed Wallace for versatility and crankiness. Cleveland decided that defending the high pick-and-roll wasn’t all that important (even though every NBA team has 439 variations of the ancient set) and brought Shaquille O’Neal aboard for interior heft and comic relief. Vince Carter is now with the Magic, playing the part of Hedo Turkoglu, without the bad hair. And Los Angeles decided the best way to defend its title was to have Ron Artest beat on Kobe Bryant in practice, rather than in games. Each of those extremely high profile moves, along with a few other, less-publicized transactions (Marquis Daniels in Boston, Antonio McDyess in San Antonio) should create a strong upper class that will allow for maximum attention and a fascinating playoff season.

With a possible work stoppage looming in ’11, serious financial problems plaguing many teams (buy one ticket, get 20 free) and a free-agent frenzy on the horizon that could completely change the league’s personality, it’s nice the NBA has a season ahead that could be truly memorable. Here are some of the more interesting storylines:

Rent-a-Net: New Jersey is running an interesting promotion: Buy four courtside seats for 10 games at the low-low price of $25,000, and you get access to the Izod Center’s club, free food and beverage and the chance to have the Net player of your choice show up at an event for an hour. What a deal. Imagine having Jason Kidd or Vince Carter or Richard Jefferson at your kid’s birthday party or enlivening a Bar Mitzvah celebration. Oh, you mean they don’t play in Jersey anymore? Somehow Devin Harris, Brook Lopez and Yi Jianlian don’t have the same cachet. How about this marketing slogan for those crazy enough to buy that package: Sucker Seats.

Dysfunctional Family: The most frustrated man in the NBA has to be Memphis GM Chris Wallace, who is credited with (blamed for?) the team’s acquisitions of Zach Randolph and Allen Iverson, even though he had nothing to do with them. Those choices were made by Grizz owner Michael Heisley, or if you believe A.I., the Lord. Heisley is so cheap he probably charges for catsup and mustard at the concession stands and thought bringing two of the league’s most selfish players to town would help sell tickets. They sure won’t help Memphis youngsters Rudy Gay, O.J. Mayo, Mike Conley and Hasheem Thabeet, unless they want to learn how to hog the ball and stay out late. Expect this team in the playoffs again around 2019.

One More Chance: Don’t be surprised if Cleveland Cavalier fans don’t learn the lyrics to the Jackson Browne classic, “Stay,” and serenade LeBron James every time he takes the floor. James can opt out of his contract after this season, and one would imagine the Knicks will go after him with the same zest Eddy Curry attacks the post-game buffet. James wants to make money, lots of it, and he has a bigger chance to do that in New York, even though the Knicks can’t offer him a contract as lucrative as Cleveland can. We’re talking endorsements. We’re talking Wall Street. We’re talking lunch boxes. To make it harder for James to leave, the Cavs spent all they could during the off-season to make their team better. Shaq’s in town. So are strong role players Anthony Parker and Jamario Moon. Cleveland re-signed Sideshow Bob. This is the team’s best chance for a title, and whether it wins one might just determine James’ address next year.

Reverse the Curse: When top overall draft pick Blake Griffin hurt his knee just before training camp – after hurting his shoulder during summer league play – everybody laughed and credited the Clipper Curse for stalling another promising career. But Griffin is stronger than some superstition, and the team has more talent than previous incarnations, which pretty much always found a way to lose. It all depends on PG Baron Davis, who is said to be svelte and in shape, a big difference from this time last year, when he hit the pasta full throttle in a reality show diet scheme. But Griffin and fellow pups Eric Gordon and Al Thornton have big upsides, and L.A. has a manageable payroll and stalwarts who are tied up for a couple more years. The Clips won all of 19 last year. Expect them to double that and then some, unless of course, you know, they’re cursed.

On the Rise: The Thunder is so young and so new to its OK City digs that it’s tempted to consider it an expansion team, rather than a franchise that has been around since the late 1960s. (How else would it have chosen a name like “Supersonics?” Love that space age wonder.) If things continue on their current path, that kind of thinking should evaporate pretty quickly. Thanks to young standouts like Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and Jeff Green, the Thunder is heading in the right direction. There’s no way Oklahoma City can make the playoffs this year, but don’t count out a run next season and count them in for sure the year after that. Then, the only problem for the team will be whether all of those players want to leave town.

Fearless Predictions: Eastern Playoff Teams: Cleveland, Boston, Orlando, Atlanta, Chicago, Washington, Miami, Detroit. Western Playoff Teams: Los Angeles Lakers, San Antonio, Utah, Portland, Denver, Dallas, New Orleans, Los Angeles Clippers.

Conference Finals: Cleveland over Boston; San Antonio over Los Angeles.

Finals: San Antonio over Cleveland.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: Washington coach Jim Zorn is just the latest victim of owner Daniel Snyder’s stupidity. El Hombre understands that the money is great, but why would anybody want to subject himself to being part of the Redskins’ circus…Shame on Magic Johnson and (and to a lesser extent) Larry Bird. Instead of putting together what would have been a great book about their rivalry, which had so many rich components, they chose to rip on Isiah Thomas. Sure, Thomas deserves a lot of heat for his mismanagement as a coach and commissioner, but to load their book with rumormongering and innuendo was small time stuff…One month after separating with his wife, Dodgers owner Frank McCourt fired her as CEO of the team. Jamie McCourt should have a pretty good case against her estranged husband, because EH hears he was sleeping with one of his employees…Oklahoma QB Sam Bradford’s shoulder injury – and re-injury – will forever more be known as Exhibits A and B why any player with the chance to go in the top five of the NFL Draft should do so without question. Unless there is a rookie salary cap, there is little reason to take the risk Bradford did, all in the name of devotion to dear, old State U. Even if there is a salary cap for newcomers, it’s possible Bradford’s injury could impact his career – and earning power – permanently. That’s a steep price to pay for loyalty.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Every time Cole Hamels has pitched during the post-season, fans and Phillies brass have hoped the lefthander would return to the form that made him so successful last October. Well, it ain’t happening. Unlike Brad Lidge, who has regained some of his mastery after discovering the two-seam fastball, Hamels is a flawed pitcher right now. Teams have solved him somewhat and are sitting on his solid but hardly jaw-dropping fastball, a fact evidenced by the large number of at bats that he requires six, seven and even eight pitches to complete – sometimes with a poor outcome. Hamels can’t get lefties out, is running high pitch counts in early innings and looks like he has lost his confidence. Once the team’s ace, he’s now better suited for the three or four spot in the World Series rotation. Hamels needs to gut out the rest of the year and then discover a way to counter the hitters’ adjustments to him, unless he wants to remain ordinary. With that in mind, here’s how the W.S. pitching order should go – Game One: Clifford The Big Red Ace; Game Two: Heavy B; Game Three: Pedro; Game Four: Hamels, unless Lee wants to go on three days rest like his Yankee pal C.C. Sabathia.

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AND ANOTHER THING: The absolutely horrible umpiring during the post-season has renewed pleas for an instant replay system in Majoke League Baseball. The game simply can’t be determined by incompetent umpires, especially when so much is at stake. Since MLB already has a system in place for home run calls, it wouldn’t be a major step to institute a method of reviewing other plays – but not balls and strikes. Give each team one or two challenges a game and let it stay at that. For those worrying about how much time it would add, like some of those interminable NFL replay stoppages, remember that a big part of that process involves clock and yard-line issues, considerations which don’t have any role in baseball games. Further, allow for no commercial breaks during reviews, the better to prevent a 30-second interruption from mushrooming into two or three minutes. Think the umps would have needed much time to divine that Joe Mauer’s hit in Game Three against the Yankees was fair? Hell, an NBA ref could have seen that. It’s time to take the game out of the hands of incompetents and get it right.

-EH-

"The Second Half"

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

While myriad theories emerge about the low ratings for Tuesday’s All-Star Game, and clueless Majoke League Baseball burgermeister Bud Sellout protests (ever so gently) the Manny Ramirez Minor League Victory Tour, baseball resumes its pennant races today with a “second half” that should provide fans with plenty of interest while angering mathematical purists who argue that 88 is NOT half of 162.

Sellout’s declaration that he wasn’t happy with Ramirez’s playing tune-up games in garden spots like San Bernardino and Albuquerque is hilarious. It affords him another way to blame all of the steroid problems in the game on the players’ union, which while certainly highly culpable, has hardly acted alone. Sellout is right (stop the presses!) to say that a 50-game suspension should be a 50-game suspension and that if Ramirez wants to loosen up before returning to the big time ball, he should do so at an American Legion post or a local semi-pro outfit. Since the Dodgers own the 66ers and (it was) the Dukes, Ramirez shouldn’t get an early furlough to get back into shape with those clubs. But for Sellout to make it seem as if the evil players are solely responsible for the loophole is like Terrell Owens’ saying his troubles with every team for which he’s played have been his teammates’ fault.

As for the All-Star Game, it was refreshing to see a 4-3, close contest that had some drama. If TV ratings went down because of that, then MLB should just hold a second Home Run Derby (even though the first one is getting ollllllldddd) and realize that fans don’t like baseball; they like highlights and asinine commentary. Look for baseballs to start flying during the Midsummer Classic next year, as their composition changes to include some of the same material that allows American Idol to keep bouncing back, despite dispensing ever-growing doses of inanity. If you weren’t interested in Carl Crawford’s catch, Joe Nathan’s eighth-inning showdown with Ryan Howard and yet another perfect ninth from Mariano Rivera, then you should be sentenced to a season of Nationals games.

With those issues out of the way, it’s time to look at the storylines that will dominate the remaining 45.679% of the season.

Yanks-Sawx: Get you tickets now! The teams only play 43 more times this season, giving espn the chance to show at least 25 special reports on how great the rivalry is. The fact that New York hasn’t beaten Boston since Bloody Sock Schilling single-handedly ended Communism doesn’t dilute the drama at all. Or at least that’s what the propaganda ministers tell us. Look for devoted TV minions to get the Yanks a wild-card berth and then fix the first round to allow for a Yanks-Sawx ALCS. Hello, Mr. Nielsen.

The Great Chase: Although Washington is on pace to lose “only” 114 games, there is still hope that the Nats can surpass the ’62 Mets’ epic, 40-120 futility. All it takes are a couple months of continued lackadaisical and uninspired play – think Adam Dunn in the outfield – and the Nats could pull it off. But there is some danger out there, since new manager Jim Riggleman could turn things around. Then again, Riggleman describes himself as a “softy,” so the malaise could well continue. The hope here is for 119 losses, so the Mets and their odious fans can continue to wallow in ignominy.

Fire Sales: While most eyes will be on the Blue Jays to see if they dish ace Roy Halladay (more on that below), there will be plenty of other teams trying to get rid of big salaries in the name of rebuilding. The Pirates could let just about anybody go, including Manny Sanguillen, Dave Parker and Dock Ellis’ acid peddler. The Nationals will be holding a tag sale, and all prices are negotiable. San Diego will still try to deal Jake Peavy (with little success), and the Indians are heading to the trading post. As usual, just about any Oriole can be had in return for some mannequins to put in the seats.

Friendly Confounds: After choking last post-season, the Cubs were supposed to mount a strong charge to the pennant and perhaps even win the World Series. Instead, they find themselves mired in a gooey NL Central race, struggling to keep pace with the Happiest Place on Earth Cardinals, whose errors even receive standing ovations from the country’s softest fans. Lou Piniella is calling his players names. The big guns can’t hit. The best pitchers don’t win. But at least the beer’s cold. Look for a rally, but in the end, more disappointment defines the Cubbies.

Wild West: Since most fans can’t name a combined 10 players on the Mariners, Rangers and Angels, the AL West race is getting no attention. But things could get pretty interesting, particularly if Ichiro and Seattle keep winning. The Angels have the best all-around talent, but Texas sure can mash. And Rangers’ ace Kevin Millwood doesn’t look so out of shape anymore. L.A. will probably win, but things could be interesting here in September. Too bad fans will need a satellite dish or premium cable package to see it all.

Reboot: With “half” the season gone, it’s appropriate to re-think the division races and make some predictions. American League division winners: Boston, Chicago, L.A. Wild Card: Yankees. National League division winners: Philadelphia, St. Louis, L.A. Wild Card: Cubs. ALDS: Boston over Chicago; L.A. over New York. ALCS: Boston over L.A. NLDS: Philadelphia over Chicago; L.A. over St. Louis. NLCS: L.A. over Philadelphia. World Series: Boston over L.A.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: Great line from a Western Conference executive about why the Clippers will sign Allen Iverson: “Because it makes absolutely no sense.” Anybody who thinks one of the most selfish players in NBA history will accept a team role is crazy…Cowboy QB has finally decided to end this chapter of the drama surrounding his return. He’ll let everyone know by July 30. Of course, that doesn’t exactly satisfy the Vikings, who would like an earlier decision, but why should Brett Favre care about them? This is a personal matter between him and his ego…You can root for Tiger or Paddy or any of the others at Turnberry this weekend. El Hombre is pulling for the course, which should claim plenty of self-esteem and reduce normally reasonable men to near tears. At least they can weep into some top-flight Scotch…The NHL announced Wednesday that Boston and Philadelphia will play Jan. 1, 2010 at Fenway Park in the only hockey game to which anybody will pay attention. No word on whether new Flyers goon, er defenseman, Chris Pronger will try to grind anybody into the Green Monster. In other hockey news, NBC has agreed to keep televising NHL games through the 2010-11 season. The league did have to make one major concession in order to keep its flagging product on network TV: the best-of-seven Stanley Cup Finals series will be played over four consecutive days in the morning. Game On!...NASCAR’s Jeremy Mayfield tested positive again for methamphetamine and promptly denied the charge, even though his stepmother reported that she had seen him take meth 30 times over a seven-year period. That didn’t sit well with the high-strung driver, who said, “that [nasty term for a woman] is trash and has got nothing on me but lies.” Mayfield then excused himself and went for a practice lap – the wrong way around the track. Ah, wholesome family entertainment…The savior of American soccer, David Beckham, is back in action Thursday night for the Galaxy, amidst rumors that he was a bad captain and didn’t care about his team. Beckham denied he dissed his mates, although he was overheard asking a Galaxy official, “When do Number Four and Whatsisname get in the game?”

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? If the Phillies think they have solved their starting pitching problems by signing a 37-year old (or so he says) who has trouble getting past the sixth inning, strained his shoulder during tryouts and hasn’t pitched a complete season since 2005, then GM Ruben Amaro has been possessed by the ghost of Ed Wade. Unless the Phils are trying to overload their bullpen and think sterling J.A. Happ will continue to be their ace, then asking Pedro Martinez to go every fifth day is a mistake. Let’s hope this is a relatively inexpensive stopgap solution to a problem that needs a real answer: Roy Halladay. While the Phils wring their hands about what to offer the Blue Jays in return for the big-time ace, consider that the franchise hasn’t produced one homegrown standout pitcher who sustained excellence over five years or more in decades. Halladay, meanwhile, has won 20 games twice and 19 once during the past seven years, has maintained an ERA of below 3.00 in the run-happy American League, and sounds like he’s looking for a new address. The worst-case scenario is that he pitches this season and the next for the Phillies, giving them a true righthanded stopper on a team that leans more left than Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. In a perfect world, he signs a three-year extension and becomes a true bulwark of the future. If that means giving up Kyle Drabek and Joe Savery, Lou Marson and Jason Donald, Carlos Carasco and anybody else but Michael Taylor, DO IT!!! Professional sports are about winning now, and if Amaro wants to worry about what happens in five years, he should go work for the Pirates. Pedro makes for good copy, but Halladay will help the Phillies win another pennant.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Since Nike and LeBron James decided to deprive the world of Xavier player Jordan Crawford’s dunk over the Cavalier star, we must rely on the reports of those who were there to learn what really happened. (El Hombre isn’t sure this is what Nike had in mind when it unveiled the “Witness” ad campaign for James.) One camper present was Michigan guard Manny Harris, who provides this exclusive account. “It was pretty good. [Crawford] actually drove past his guy, and he was already in the air. LeBron saw that he was in the air, and he tried to block [the dunk]. At that point, it’s tough to block a guy, because [Raymond] was already in the air. But [James] got dunked on. Afterward, [Michael] Jordan made some noise, and so did the high school kids. LeBron kept his composure and acted like nothing happened.” Thank you, Manny, for letting us in on what happened, since James and Nike chickened out. On the one hand, it’s understandable how the player and sponsor want to protect his image, especially in this YouTube world. But don’t you think this would have gone away faster had James and Nike released the video, congratulated the kid and moved on? What are they afraid of? Guess humility and the ability to laugh at one’s self aren’t part of the LBJ package. One thing’s for certain: Had that happened to Jordan in his prime, he wouldn’t have squelched the video. He would have just abused Crawford for the rest of the game and then showed up for every Xavier practice this season looking to play one-on-one. That’s how a competitor does it.

-EH-