Did anyone else read Heyman's most recent take on the Clemens situation? Bizarre, right? It can't just be me, can it? (Sidenote: Why do I continue to read SI.com?)
My favorite part of the Roger Clemens interview on the Mike & Mike in the Morning radio show Tuesday came when he said steroids could be bad for him because of his family history, and then cited his stepfather's heart attack as evidence.
[Actually, I'm with Heyman on this one-- citing a STEPfather to support a "family history" claim = High Comedy.]
Clemens also repeated the claim that McNamee never gave him steroids or HGH, calling the hosts "Greeny" and "Goli" (Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic).
[What nerve, right?! I mean, so informal! As noted by The Guy Who Knows Things in an email to me, "I wonder if when Heyman talks to two people on the phone both named Mike, if he insists on only calling them by their same first name instead of commonly used last names, since Clemens is a jerk for that too."
Exactly. Heyman would never call Mike Greenberg "Greeny." Totally unprofessional.]
It seems he is intent on repeating these claims until no one believes him (even Greeny said he thought Clemens was guilty).
[(heavy sigh)]
I texted McNamee as to whether he'd like to respond to Clemens' latest claims....
[Spoiler alert: Heyman knows McNamee.]
The response from McNamee: "Noooo! Sorry." Which makes sense. It's best to quit while you're ahead. And while we're still in the fifth inning of this drama, it's about 20-zip for McNamee.
[Heyman sent a smiley-face text back to McNamee, for those keeping score at home. Did I mention that they are buddies?]
I will never understand Clemens' "strategy" of denial on 60 Minutes (which I watched with McNamee)....
[Starting to get a little weird.]
While the feds haven't made their move on him yet, I firmly believe -- and many baseball people believe -- he has more chance to wind up in jail than Barry Bonds.
[Heyman knows that Kangaroo Court <> Criminal Justice Department, right?
-- If it pleases the court, I would like to offer Exhibit A into evidence. Let the record show that Exhibit A is a signed statement made by a self-proclaimed "baseball person" that Roger Clemens is more likely to go to prison than Barry Bonds. Also, I would like to offer into evidence Exhibit B- a photograph of me and Brian McNamee riding the Superman Roller coaster at Six Flags. The prosecution rests.]
Taking steroids may be a silly reason to go to jail, but I don't feel sorry for Clemens, whose ego is as big as all of Texas. As hard as it is to fathom, I am starting to feel sorry for Bonds.
[Exactly- Bonds would *never* hang his trainer out to dr-- oh, wait. Nevermind.]
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Ibañez contract: A great deal for *everyone*
What is Raul Ibañez doing with his three-year, $31.5 million contract he received from the Phillies? Joe Lemire of SI.com has the scoop, and thoughts on why this contract was awesome.
"We have really great, funny conversations during pitching changes," Ibañez said. "A lot of random things get brought up -- it's almost like an episode of Seinfeld."
[This has been happening for years in major league baseball, though. Everyone remembers when David Cone re-enacted "The Contest" episode in the bullpen years ago....]
For starters, Ibañez and Werth are avid watchers of infomercials. Though they declined to reveal what absurdities they've recently purchased for fear of giving an undue endorsement, it's not hard to imagine their homes are strewn with Snuggies, ShamWows and Swiffer SweeperVacs.
[Big blow to the ShamWow Guy-- heard he was really holding out for a Raul Ibañnez endorsement.]
"We both agree that it's tough to watch an infomercial and not want to at least try it," Werth said with a laugh. "Maybe we're both suckers."
[Is this really what ball-players do on the road at night? Watch infomercials? I miss the '86 Mets....]
The man Ibañez replaced, Pat Burrell, as well as another ex-Phillie, Bobby Abreu, both had comparable slugging numbers over the last five years, and they settled for contracts of two years, $16 million, and one year, $5 million, respectively.
[So this was... bad value, right?]
But Ibañez's hot start has helped dispel the notion that he was an unnecessary purchase.
[Oh, right-- forget about the part where we analyze multi-year contracts based upon the first 6% of the contract duration. Good point.]
Should opponents start summoning more lefty relievers to face him in the late innings, Ibañez ought to be equipped for the challenge. He's a .267 career hitter against southpaws, and this year is batting .250 with one homer.
[Was that second sentence ironic?]
One of the knocks on Ibañez was his defense, but he has had a renaissance on Philadelphia's south side.... Ibañez's cerebral approach to fielding includes noting the cut of the grass to predict which way a ball is likely to skip.
[This is great stuff.]
"Raul's a winner," Werth said of Ibañez, whose Mariner teams averaged only 72 wins per game. "That's really tough to say about somebody who's played for teams that haven't won."
[Bordering on amazing stuff.]
"We have really great, funny conversations during pitching changes," Ibañez said. "A lot of random things get brought up -- it's almost like an episode of Seinfeld."
[This has been happening for years in major league baseball, though. Everyone remembers when David Cone re-enacted "The Contest" episode in the bullpen years ago....]
For starters, Ibañez and Werth are avid watchers of infomercials. Though they declined to reveal what absurdities they've recently purchased for fear of giving an undue endorsement, it's not hard to imagine their homes are strewn with Snuggies, ShamWows and Swiffer SweeperVacs.
[Big blow to the ShamWow Guy-- heard he was really holding out for a Raul Ibañnez endorsement.]
"We both agree that it's tough to watch an infomercial and not want to at least try it," Werth said with a laugh. "Maybe we're both suckers."
[Is this really what ball-players do on the road at night? Watch infomercials? I miss the '86 Mets....]
The man Ibañez replaced, Pat Burrell, as well as another ex-Phillie, Bobby Abreu, both had comparable slugging numbers over the last five years, and they settled for contracts of two years, $16 million, and one year, $5 million, respectively.
[So this was... bad value, right?]
But Ibañez's hot start has helped dispel the notion that he was an unnecessary purchase.
[Oh, right-- forget about the part where we analyze multi-year contracts based upon the first 6% of the contract duration. Good point.]
Should opponents start summoning more lefty relievers to face him in the late innings, Ibañez ought to be equipped for the challenge. He's a .267 career hitter against southpaws, and this year is batting .250 with one homer.
[Was that second sentence ironic?]
One of the knocks on Ibañez was his defense, but he has had a renaissance on Philadelphia's south side.... Ibañez's cerebral approach to fielding includes noting the cut of the grass to predict which way a ball is likely to skip.
[This is great stuff.]
"Raul's a winner," Werth said of Ibañez, whose Mariner teams averaged only 72 wins per game. "That's really tough to say about somebody who's played for teams that haven't won."
[Bordering on amazing stuff.]
Friday, May 8, 2009
My favorite take on the Manny situation
I got a text message last night my resident medical expert that read:
"Has anyone entertained the idea that maybe Manny wanted to have a baby?"
Pretty high comedy-- was actually kicking myself that I hadn't thought of that seemingly-obvious punch-line.
Jim Salisbury of the Philadelphia Inquirer uses a similar headline in his piece today, but then he kind of resorts to the usual fist-shaking.
"Has anyone entertained the idea that maybe Manny wanted to have a baby?"
Pretty high comedy-- was actually kicking myself that I hadn't thought of that seemingly-obvious punch-line.
Jim Salisbury of the Philadelphia Inquirer uses a similar headline in his piece today, but then he kind of resorts to the usual fist-shaking.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Unwritten Rules: Unwritten for a reason.
John Shea of the San Francisco Chronicle takes issue with Carl Crawford swiping a bag up 7-0 in the 5th inning.
Glancing at Crawford's 19 steals (in 19 attempts), we noticed one in Oakland on April 24. It stands out. Fifth inning. Rays leading 7-0.
[8-0 > 7-0.]
We looked everywhere for that unwritten rule stating baserunners ought not rub it in by stealing in a lopsided game. Couldn't find it. Then we remembered: It's not written anywhere.
[Because it's stupid?]
So we sought the opinion of a couple of A's. Kurt Suzuki, the catcher that night, said he didn't recall the situation and added it "never crossed my mind (that Crawford would disregard etiquette). He plays the game hard. He plays the game right."
[If he didn't recall the situation, did he really need to add that it never crossed his mind?]
Oakland's best base-stealing threat, Rajai Davis, said, "Yeah, I remember it," adding he was taught not to run at such a time. Davis wasn't knocking Crawford, who's respected around the game, as much as suggesting it might have been appropriate to shut down the running game.
[Of all of the things that Davis said, why only put "Yeah, I remember it" in quotes? The rest of the alleged statements were kind of the important part, no?]
Two different interpretations of the rule. What did you expect? It's unwritten.
[Thereby by precluding it from...... being a rule, right?
Not a believer here-- this isn't a YMCA league. These guys are paid professionals. Do other professional industries ease on the breaks if they are crushing their competitors? Suck it up, folks.]
Glancing at Crawford's 19 steals (in 19 attempts), we noticed one in Oakland on April 24. It stands out. Fifth inning. Rays leading 7-0.
[8-0 > 7-0.]
We looked everywhere for that unwritten rule stating baserunners ought not rub it in by stealing in a lopsided game. Couldn't find it. Then we remembered: It's not written anywhere.
[Because it's stupid?]
So we sought the opinion of a couple of A's. Kurt Suzuki, the catcher that night, said he didn't recall the situation and added it "never crossed my mind (that Crawford would disregard etiquette). He plays the game hard. He plays the game right."
[If he didn't recall the situation, did he really need to add that it never crossed his mind?]
Oakland's best base-stealing threat, Rajai Davis, said, "Yeah, I remember it," adding he was taught not to run at such a time. Davis wasn't knocking Crawford, who's respected around the game, as much as suggesting it might have been appropriate to shut down the running game.
[Of all of the things that Davis said, why only put "Yeah, I remember it" in quotes? The rest of the alleged statements were kind of the important part, no?]
Two different interpretations of the rule. What did you expect? It's unwritten.
[Thereby by precluding it from...... being a rule, right?
Not a believer here-- this isn't a YMCA league. These guys are paid professionals. Do other professional industries ease on the breaks if they are crushing their competitors? Suck it up, folks.]
Monday, May 4, 2009
Lessons in scouting
From Peter King today in his SI.com column....
If you're a football scout or GM, how could you watch the Texas-Texas Tech game last fall and not think Harrell belongs in the NFL? He doesn't have the arm of Matthew Stafford, obviously, but neither did Joe Montana, and neither does Drew Brees.
[I sense something amazing forthcoming...]
My humble advice (and I mean that; I don't study college tape at all) to those who make their living grading college football players: Watch the games.
[Boom.
I am going to try to unscramble this:
- King blasts scouts for missing the boat on a player that he thinks is good.
- King admits that he does not "study college tape at all."
- King suggests that scouts should watch COLLEGE GAMES to determine which players are good.
QED.]
If you're a football scout or GM, how could you watch the Texas-Texas Tech game last fall and not think Harrell belongs in the NFL? He doesn't have the arm of Matthew Stafford, obviously, but neither did Joe Montana, and neither does Drew Brees.
[I sense something amazing forthcoming...]
My humble advice (and I mean that; I don't study college tape at all) to those who make their living grading college football players: Watch the games.
[Boom.
I am going to try to unscramble this:
- King blasts scouts for missing the boat on a player that he thinks is good.
- King admits that he does not "study college tape at all."
- King suggests that scouts should watch COLLEGE GAMES to determine which players are good.
QED.]
Friday, May 1, 2009
They wear gloves for a reason
SI.com's Tim Marchman discovers that good defense --> run prevention --> good times.
A near iron law of baseball holds that if you can't quite tell why a team is good, it's probably good at defense.
[Just an atrocious sentence.]
On Tuesday, I had a chance to test this theory against 17 innings of observation when the first-place Seattle Mariners played a straight doubleheader over a cold afternoon and evening in Chicago.
[Iron Law = A Theory?]
It isn't just skill at work here. Like other teams, the Mariners put real thought into positioning.
[Not *every* team though. (See, Mets-- cross-ref Murphy, Daniel)]
"There's obviously three ways of looking at defending a batter," explains manager Don Wakamatsu. "Number one is you look at their sprays versus a left-hander or a right-hander pitching. Number two is you look at what hitters do off your pitcher individually. Number three is the individual matchups.
[Am I just not reading that last part correctly? #2 = #3, right?]
If the Mariners know that no one ever pulls Erik Bedard's curveball, for instance, they can pull the left fielder all the way toward center field at certain times.
[Wouldn't that tip-off the batter as to what pitch is coming?]
Last year, going by Ultimate Zone Rating, a sophisticated defensive statistic based on play-by-play data, the pennant winners were streets ahead of any other team in the field, saving more than 30 runs on defense above what the third-best team did.
[Cool-- I didn't want to know how UZR was calculated anyway. Knowing that it is "sophisticated" is good enough for me.]
"The bottom line is efficiency," he says, "This game is about pitch economy. The team that throws less pitches generally wins." It's an obvious point, but one apparently overlooked by teams such as New York's two clubs, who have struggled in part because of lousy pitching that hasn't been helped by lousy defense.
[2005 Mets: 83-79; 2006 Mets: 97-65; 2007 Mets: 88-74; 2008 Mets: 89-73.
2005 Yankees: 95-67; 2006 Yankees: 97-65; 2007 Yankees: 94-68; 2008 Yankees: 89-73.
2005 Mariners: 69-93; 2006 Mariners: 78-84; 2007 Mariners: 88-74; 2008 Mariners: 61-101.
Yup. This article is going great so far.]
Either way, the wins count the same. The Mariners are on pace to improve on last year's UZR total by about 80 runs....
[OK, got it. Good UZR numbers = Good Defense.]
Granting that it's early and that UZR, like any statistic, has its quirks -- right now it rates spectacularly inept Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy among the better defenders in the game...
[njhfdsahnifdsyuinjkldfajknl]
...this would seem to suggest the Seattle Mariners is for real.
[This article are FAIL.]
A near iron law of baseball holds that if you can't quite tell why a team is good, it's probably good at defense.
[Just an atrocious sentence.]
On Tuesday, I had a chance to test this theory against 17 innings of observation when the first-place Seattle Mariners played a straight doubleheader over a cold afternoon and evening in Chicago.
[Iron Law = A Theory?]
It isn't just skill at work here. Like other teams, the Mariners put real thought into positioning.
[Not *every* team though. (See, Mets-- cross-ref Murphy, Daniel)]
"There's obviously three ways of looking at defending a batter," explains manager Don Wakamatsu. "Number one is you look at their sprays versus a left-hander or a right-hander pitching. Number two is you look at what hitters do off your pitcher individually. Number three is the individual matchups.
[Am I just not reading that last part correctly? #2 = #3, right?]
If the Mariners know that no one ever pulls Erik Bedard's curveball, for instance, they can pull the left fielder all the way toward center field at certain times.
[Wouldn't that tip-off the batter as to what pitch is coming?]
Last year, going by Ultimate Zone Rating, a sophisticated defensive statistic based on play-by-play data, the pennant winners were streets ahead of any other team in the field, saving more than 30 runs on defense above what the third-best team did.
[Cool-- I didn't want to know how UZR was calculated anyway. Knowing that it is "sophisticated" is good enough for me.]
"The bottom line is efficiency," he says, "This game is about pitch economy. The team that throws less pitches generally wins." It's an obvious point, but one apparently overlooked by teams such as New York's two clubs, who have struggled in part because of lousy pitching that hasn't been helped by lousy defense.
[2005 Mets: 83-79; 2006 Mets: 97-65; 2007 Mets: 88-74; 2008 Mets: 89-73.
2005 Yankees: 95-67; 2006 Yankees: 97-65; 2007 Yankees: 94-68; 2008 Yankees: 89-73.
2005 Mariners: 69-93; 2006 Mariners: 78-84; 2007 Mariners: 88-74; 2008 Mariners: 61-101.
Yup. This article is going great so far.]
Either way, the wins count the same. The Mariners are on pace to improve on last year's UZR total by about 80 runs....
[OK, got it. Good UZR numbers = Good Defense.]
Granting that it's early and that UZR, like any statistic, has its quirks -- right now it rates spectacularly inept Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy among the better defenders in the game...
[njhfdsahnifdsyuinjkldfajknl]
...this would seem to suggest the Seattle Mariners is for real.
[This article are FAIL.]
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The NBA Playoffs: Dreadful, but humorously so
With the exception of the Bulls-Celtics series, the rest of the '09 NBA Playoffs have been completely unwatchable (and even the Bulls-Celtics is a tough sell with the TV networks highlighting every Garnett F-bomb). The Hornets lost to Denver 121-63 a few days ago. Brutal. Just go ahead and call me when LeBron and Kobe meet in the finals. Until then, here is an amusing Playoff entry from SI's Scott Howard-Cooper.
It's foolish to put too much stock in one quote after one game, especially a game with the emotions of a season-ending defeat, but just try disregarding the Jerry Sloan assessment of Utah reserve point guard Ronnie Price in the televised news conference Monday.
[But that would be foolish!]
"I've never seen a guy play that hard in my life in that situation," the Jazz coach said.
[OK.]
It's Sloan, the most anti-hyperbole guy in the NBA and possibly the world, so: Wow.
[The most anti-hyperbole guy in THE WORLD.
Anti-hyperbole.
The World.
Wow is right.]
It's foolish to put too much stock in one quote after one game, especially a game with the emotions of a season-ending defeat, but just try disregarding the Jerry Sloan assessment of Utah reserve point guard Ronnie Price in the televised news conference Monday.
[But that would be foolish!]
"I've never seen a guy play that hard in my life in that situation," the Jazz coach said.
[OK.]
It's Sloan, the most anti-hyperbole guy in the NBA and possibly the world, so: Wow.
[The most anti-hyperbole guy in THE WORLD.
Anti-hyperbole.
The World.
Wow is right.]
Friday, April 24, 2009
Hey, High-Schoolers-- go chase millions. Unless it is via basketball.
Hard not to see this kind of fist-shaking coming on the heels of high school hoops star Jeremy Tyler opting to take his senior year of high school overseas to play pro ball in Europe. Eric Crawford of the Courier-Journal is all over the problem.
The last time a kid said he was going to skip his senior year of high school and go pro, the year was 1999, his name was Brandon Bender, and everybody laughed.
[So I guess for the purposes of this "big picture/problem with society" piece that we are just going to ignore golf/tennis/baseball/auto-racing/music/acting/etc.? OK, cool.]
I can't knock the 6-foot-11 U of L prospect and his family for deciding to negotiate a six-figure professional basketball deal in Europe, probably Spain, in favor of his senior year of high school.
[Why do I feel like he is about to knock him anyways?]
Something tells me that Tyler isn't availing himself of much in the way of "off-the-court stuff" in high school, either. Might as well finish his graduation requirements online, as he plans to do. Let's hope one of those lessons teaches him to find Spain on a map.
[Bingo. Classy.]
On the flip-side, a rare kudos to SI.com for Andy Staple's piece on the same issue. Hint: Staples takes a slightly different view than Crawford.
The last time a kid said he was going to skip his senior year of high school and go pro, the year was 1999, his name was Brandon Bender, and everybody laughed.
[So I guess for the purposes of this "big picture/problem with society" piece that we are just going to ignore golf/tennis/baseball/auto-racing/music/acting/etc.? OK, cool.]
I can't knock the 6-foot-11 U of L prospect and his family for deciding to negotiate a six-figure professional basketball deal in Europe, probably Spain, in favor of his senior year of high school.
[Why do I feel like he is about to knock him anyways?]
Something tells me that Tyler isn't availing himself of much in the way of "off-the-court stuff" in high school, either. Might as well finish his graduation requirements online, as he plans to do. Let's hope one of those lessons teaches him to find Spain on a map.
[Bingo. Classy.]
On the flip-side, a rare kudos to SI.com for Andy Staple's piece on the same issue. Hint: Staples takes a slightly different view than Crawford.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
NFL Draft Columns: Where Logic Goes to Die
A couple of points in Peter King's most recent column (though, he is hardly the only one making them) about the upcoming NFL Draft that I cannot quite wrap my mind around.
Curry's less of a gamble than Stafford because quarterbacks fail at a higher percentage high in the draft than do linebackers.
[Perhaps I am missing something, but this simply makes *no* sense. Picking Curry is less risky than picking Stafford because previous players that *aren't* Stafford have failed?? Really? Not sure what that has to do with Stafford. Using past performance of SEPARATE individual players to predict future performance of a particular present-day player seems...... stupid, right? I mean, this is an obvious point, no??]
New England will surely hit it rich on one of their first-day picks. Check out some of the names taken in the last two decades with that 34th pick, for instance: Carnell Lake, Amani Toomer, Jamie Sharper, Kyle Vanden Bosch, Chris Snee, D'Qwell Jackson.
[Kind of the same idea here, right? Predicting that a team will get a great player at a certain pick because six times in the last 20 years the team with that same pick ended up with a decent player? Solid. Cherry-pick = Fail.]
Curry's less of a gamble than Stafford because quarterbacks fail at a higher percentage high in the draft than do linebackers.
[Perhaps I am missing something, but this simply makes *no* sense. Picking Curry is less risky than picking Stafford because previous players that *aren't* Stafford have failed?? Really? Not sure what that has to do with Stafford. Using past performance of SEPARATE individual players to predict future performance of a particular present-day player seems...... stupid, right? I mean, this is an obvious point, no??]
New England will surely hit it rich on one of their first-day picks. Check out some of the names taken in the last two decades with that 34th pick, for instance: Carnell Lake, Amani Toomer, Jamie Sharper, Kyle Vanden Bosch, Chris Snee, D'Qwell Jackson.
[Kind of the same idea here, right? Predicting that a team will get a great player at a certain pick because six times in the last 20 years the team with that same pick ended up with a decent player? Solid. Cherry-pick = Fail.]
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Citi Field: Why aren't you causing the Mets to win every game?
Bob Klapisch plays the role of Buzz Killington in his breakdown of last night's Citi Field debut.
Everything was bigger, louder, brighter — a consumer’s dream, at least for those who equate a good time at the ballpark with the perks.
[True. I'd prefer the Mets play their games on one of the LGA runways. No grass. No dirt. No seats. Just asphalt, jet fuel fumes and baseball. Good time.]
But it’ll take more than the peripherals to make believers out of this long-suffering community.
[Believers of what? It's a BUILDING.]
The only way to eradicate the collapses of ’07 and ’08 is to win a pennant in ’09, which is to say, give it a month and Citi won’t feel so new anymore.
[Really? Those two things are related? Dude, it's a new stadium, not one of those Men In Black memory-erasing gadgets. Which is to say, fail.]
Is Mike Pelfrey injured?
[Why? Was he holding his arm or complaining of soreness?]
He allowed five runs in five innings, and with an 8.10 ERA has management worried.
[Oh, right, he's had a bad *week*. Obviously injured. In a related story, Chien-Ming Wang is in a coma.]
By June, depending on how the Mets are playing, Citi either will be greater New York’s nifty little treasure, or just another place where fans can have their hearts broken.
[Note to architects: Worry less about the actual structure, and more about the various people that may occupy it. And nice T-square. Nerds.]
If Shea Stadium’s legacy belonged to Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza and Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez, Citi will be Wright’s domain now and forever. Only 25, he’ll soon enter his prime years in this ballpark, and with left field a manageable 364 feet in left, the third baseman easily could evolve into a 40-homer threat.
[In contrast to right field, which is 330 feet IN RIGHT.]
Learning that the ball doesn’t carry straightaway is just one of the many secrets of Citi.
[Soooo, they should..... swing harder?]
The Mets have the potential to rock the house in 2009, but not because Citi is a nice upgrade over Shea.
[Just enjoy the new digs, Klapisch. This isn't that hard.]
Everything was bigger, louder, brighter — a consumer’s dream, at least for those who equate a good time at the ballpark with the perks.
[True. I'd prefer the Mets play their games on one of the LGA runways. No grass. No dirt. No seats. Just asphalt, jet fuel fumes and baseball. Good time.]
But it’ll take more than the peripherals to make believers out of this long-suffering community.
[Believers of what? It's a BUILDING.]
The only way to eradicate the collapses of ’07 and ’08 is to win a pennant in ’09, which is to say, give it a month and Citi won’t feel so new anymore.
[Really? Those two things are related? Dude, it's a new stadium, not one of those Men In Black memory-erasing gadgets. Which is to say, fail.]
Is Mike Pelfrey injured?
[Why? Was he holding his arm or complaining of soreness?]
He allowed five runs in five innings, and with an 8.10 ERA has management worried.
[Oh, right, he's had a bad *week*. Obviously injured. In a related story, Chien-Ming Wang is in a coma.]
By June, depending on how the Mets are playing, Citi either will be greater New York’s nifty little treasure, or just another place where fans can have their hearts broken.
[Note to architects: Worry less about the actual structure, and more about the various people that may occupy it. And nice T-square. Nerds.]
If Shea Stadium’s legacy belonged to Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza and Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez, Citi will be Wright’s domain now and forever. Only 25, he’ll soon enter his prime years in this ballpark, and with left field a manageable 364 feet in left, the third baseman easily could evolve into a 40-homer threat.
[In contrast to right field, which is 330 feet IN RIGHT.]
Learning that the ball doesn’t carry straightaway is just one of the many secrets of Citi.
[Soooo, they should..... swing harder?]
The Mets have the potential to rock the house in 2009, but not because Citi is a nice upgrade over Shea.
[Just enjoy the new digs, Klapisch. This isn't that hard.]
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tiger, We Hardly Know Ye
Here's a truly bizarre piece by Edwin Pope of the Miami Herald about Tiger, and how the fact that we don't know anything really damaging about him makes him a jerk.
He is the greatest athlete the world has never known. And never will.
[Tiger Woods = Keyser Söze]
I wrote about 10 years ago that the only thing wrong with Tiger's future dominance was that we would never know him. At the time, I thought that sad.
[The only thing wrong with his FUTURE dominance?? That must have been a breakthrough column. "Tiger Woods: Young Phenom Destined for Greatness-- But also Sadness."]
Tiger has plenty to say, including how it must feel to be a future billionaire. But I sat through a 40-minute news conference with him here and he never said one word about himself that was worth printing.
[So...... I'm just going to write an entire article about how he didn't say anything worth printing.]
And he was too bland, as he almost always is, for it to be accidental. Only obsessive self-control seems to keep everything about him inside.
[I guess I should be happy that he said "seems."]
He talked about his wife, Elin, and their two children, who, he said, could save the worst golf day any human ever endured. Nothing about Tiger. Nothing that would give away the slightest hint of what he is all about.
[Frustrating, right? I mean, who talks about their family?? What an irrelevant topic! Tell me about things that are, you know, *important* to you.]
I have one rag-tag theory why he is like this, but it cannot be any more than a guess.
[But what the hell! Let's print it.
Professional.
Journalism.]
A friend of mine, one of golf's most prominent writers ever, has known every top golfer of the past 50 years, but he doesn't know Tiger.
[Here's a rag-tag theory of my own: Using the word "prominent" a little loosely, are we? Just a thought?]
On a different level, some expect Woods to at least occasionally refer to President Barack Obama, if for no other reason than Obama is the first black president.
[Apparently all minorities must make at least one audible reference to Obama per day? Can anyone confirm this?]
On the Obama matter, though, Tiger has been pointedly apolitical. He spoke at a Navy Glee Club affair at the Lincoln Memorial in connection with Obama's inauguration. Otherwise, no politics.
[The nerve! Who does Tiger think he is-- not forcing his personal views on all of us!?!]
Part of this is easy to understand. With a virtually limitless fortune to manage alongside his still-blazing golf ambition, he has no time to spare.
[While Pope, on the other hand, apparently has tons to spare!
What, exactly, does Pope actually want to *know* about Tiger? His favorite ice cream flavor? His Tivo recordings? His favorite Beatle?
Pointless.]
He is the greatest athlete the world has never known. And never will.
[Tiger Woods = Keyser Söze]
I wrote about 10 years ago that the only thing wrong with Tiger's future dominance was that we would never know him. At the time, I thought that sad.
[The only thing wrong with his FUTURE dominance?? That must have been a breakthrough column. "Tiger Woods: Young Phenom Destined for Greatness-- But also Sadness."]
Tiger has plenty to say, including how it must feel to be a future billionaire. But I sat through a 40-minute news conference with him here and he never said one word about himself that was worth printing.
[So...... I'm just going to write an entire article about how he didn't say anything worth printing.]
And he was too bland, as he almost always is, for it to be accidental. Only obsessive self-control seems to keep everything about him inside.
[I guess I should be happy that he said "seems."]
He talked about his wife, Elin, and their two children, who, he said, could save the worst golf day any human ever endured. Nothing about Tiger. Nothing that would give away the slightest hint of what he is all about.
[Frustrating, right? I mean, who talks about their family?? What an irrelevant topic! Tell me about things that are, you know, *important* to you.]
I have one rag-tag theory why he is like this, but it cannot be any more than a guess.
[But what the hell! Let's print it.
Professional.
Journalism.]
A friend of mine, one of golf's most prominent writers ever, has known every top golfer of the past 50 years, but he doesn't know Tiger.
[Here's a rag-tag theory of my own: Using the word "prominent" a little loosely, are we? Just a thought?]
On a different level, some expect Woods to at least occasionally refer to President Barack Obama, if for no other reason than Obama is the first black president.
[Apparently all minorities must make at least one audible reference to Obama per day? Can anyone confirm this?]
On the Obama matter, though, Tiger has been pointedly apolitical. He spoke at a Navy Glee Club affair at the Lincoln Memorial in connection with Obama's inauguration. Otherwise, no politics.
[The nerve! Who does Tiger think he is-- not forcing his personal views on all of us!?!]
Part of this is easy to understand. With a virtually limitless fortune to manage alongside his still-blazing golf ambition, he has no time to spare.
[While Pope, on the other hand, apparently has tons to spare!
What, exactly, does Pope actually want to *know* about Tiger? His favorite ice cream flavor? His Tivo recordings? His favorite Beatle?
Pointless.]
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Losing breeds... winning?
Mike Bianchi of the Orlando Sentinel "explains" how Tracy McGrady's selfishness paved the way for Magic's future success.
And, to think, all these years I've been erroneously blaming Me-Mac for essentially quitting during the 2003-04 season when the Magic lost 19 consecutive games at one joyless juncture and finished the season with an NBA-worst 21-61 record.
[What does "essentially" quitting mean? Who cares-- attacking a guy's character here with vagaries here!]
Without the Magic's disastrous difficulties of five seasons ago, they would likely still be in a state of utter disrepair.
[hgjhmujkmjghu7yikknm3asctnh5hnq
Let me try to wrap my mind around this one: If the Magic weren't terrible five years ago, then they would probably STILL be terrible now..... even though (under this logical gem) they *weren't* terrible five years ago?]
Let's be honest, shall we? Without Dwight on the team, the Magic would today be the Bobcats, who took Emeka Okafor with the No. 2 pick in that 2004 draft. Actually, they might be worse than the Bobcats.
[Great point. If not for event X occuring, team A *might* be different.]
If McGrady had been a real leader who refused to give up in 2004 instead of the team captain who abandoned ship and sat out the final 10 games of that season with one of his mysterious ailments, the Magic might be the Grizzlies right now.
[Did I already mention that Bianchi thinks that McGrady is a total pansy? I mean, who gets injured or sick anyways?? Sounds bogus to me too....]
The San Antonio Spurs, coincidentally, were 21-61 the year before Tim Duncan arrived and have won four championships in the years since. Could the Magic conceivably be on a similar path? What better person to ask than....
[...Tim Duncan? The Spurs GM?]
...Magic reserve point guard Tyronn Lue, who was shipped to Houston along with McGrady after the calamitous 2004 season but now is back in Orlando.
[Or him. Done!]
And, to think, all these years I've been erroneously blaming Me-Mac for essentially quitting during the 2003-04 season when the Magic lost 19 consecutive games at one joyless juncture and finished the season with an NBA-worst 21-61 record.
[What does "essentially" quitting mean? Who cares-- attacking a guy's character here with vagaries here!]
Without the Magic's disastrous difficulties of five seasons ago, they would likely still be in a state of utter disrepair.
[hgjhmujkmjghu7yikknm3asctnh5hnq
Let me try to wrap my mind around this one: If the Magic weren't terrible five years ago, then they would probably STILL be terrible now..... even though (under this logical gem) they *weren't* terrible five years ago?]
Let's be honest, shall we? Without Dwight on the team, the Magic would today be the Bobcats, who took Emeka Okafor with the No. 2 pick in that 2004 draft. Actually, they might be worse than the Bobcats.
[Great point. If not for event X occuring, team A *might* be different.]
If McGrady had been a real leader who refused to give up in 2004 instead of the team captain who abandoned ship and sat out the final 10 games of that season with one of his mysterious ailments, the Magic might be the Grizzlies right now.
[Did I already mention that Bianchi thinks that McGrady is a total pansy? I mean, who gets injured or sick anyways?? Sounds bogus to me too....]
The San Antonio Spurs, coincidentally, were 21-61 the year before Tim Duncan arrived and have won four championships in the years since. Could the Magic conceivably be on a similar path? What better person to ask than....
[...Tim Duncan? The Spurs GM?]
...Magic reserve point guard Tyronn Lue, who was shipped to Houston along with McGrady after the calamitous 2004 season but now is back in Orlando.
[Or him. Done!]
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
It's Official: The Yankees' Off-Season Was a HUGE Fail
SI's Jon Heyman takes the completely appropriate perspective in dissecting the Yankees' off-season acquisitions of Sabathia and Teixiera.
The whole thing was such a letdown after the big buildup, yet manager Joe Girardi declared in the postgame press conference that he feels as good about this Yankees team as any team he's ever been associated with, big talk since Girardi was on the 1998 Yankees team that won 125 games.
[Yeah, Girardi. Idiot. You just lost a game. Totally not something that the '98 team would have done.]
Between Sabathia and Teixeira, the Yankees got zero return on their $341 million investment.
[Seriously. If Cashman knew that Sabathia and Teixeria were going to have a *single* bad game over the course of their lengthy multi-year contracts, he would have NEVER inked those deals. Spot on, Heyman. Kudos on a job....... done.]
The whole thing was such a letdown after the big buildup, yet manager Joe Girardi declared in the postgame press conference that he feels as good about this Yankees team as any team he's ever been associated with, big talk since Girardi was on the 1998 Yankees team that won 125 games.
[Yeah, Girardi. Idiot. You just lost a game. Totally not something that the '98 team would have done.]
Between Sabathia and Teixeira, the Yankees got zero return on their $341 million investment.
[Seriously. If Cashman knew that Sabathia and Teixeria were going to have a *single* bad game over the course of their lengthy multi-year contracts, he would have NEVER inked those deals. Spot on, Heyman. Kudos on a job....... done.]
Friday, April 3, 2009
Baseball Trivia Wears a Bow-Tie!
Nils (if he is still alive-- questionable at this point) and I are naturally excited for baseball season to finally start, and in that spirit I am passing along (courtesy of The Guy Who Knows Things) a link to George Will's most recent Newsweek piece that includes 50 baseball trivia questions that are actually pretty fun to skim through.
And I also share TGWKT's hope that Will, this Sunday morning on ABC, "responds to a question about the banking crisis by talking about Placido Polanco's musical sounding name."
And I also share TGWKT's hope that Will, this Sunday morning on ABC, "responds to a question about the banking crisis by talking about Placido Polanco's musical sounding name."
Thursday, April 2, 2009
LeBron and Arbitrary Statistical Benchmarks
Big fan of Michael Wilbon here, but his piece on LeBron's chances at averaging a triple-double was fail-tastic.
We see all-court brilliance like this every 25 years or so, when a player is extraordinary in basketball's primary skills: scoring, rebounding and passing. Only Oscar Robertson, in 1962, has averaged double digits in those three categories over an entire season.
[OK.]
It has been such an unreachable mark, like hitting .400 for an entire season or scoring 100 points in a single game, that it's now presumed to be unthinkable that a player would average a triple-double over a full NBA season.
[Except that every other NBA columnist is writing "LeBron! Triple-Double!" articles now. Makes it seem at least kind of thinkable, right? Oh, and also, what makes an impossibility (which none of the noted achievements are, by the way) an unreachable mark versus *such* an unreachable mark? Infinity plus one!]
Robertson, who isn't one to throw a lot of phony praise at today's players, said of James: "I am definitely impressed with LeBron. . . . [He's] so gifted in his abilities. He doesn't even know, yet, all of what he can do."
[For example, last week it was reported that LeBron realized that he was fluent in Mandarin. Neat.]
There are those who think LeBron could, if he decided it was a priority.
[Great point. Accumulating as many points, rebounds and assists as possible would be a stupid top priority, especially when LeBron has that cool baby powder entrance to focus on each game. I'm sure that LeBron actively decides to limit the number of points, rebounds and assists he gets each game. It just makes sense. Think about it.]
Even if LeBron wanted to go after the season-long triple-double it might be out of his reach because what Robertson did is the pre-steroid statistical equivalent of hitting .350, with 55 home runs and 160 runs batted in.
[???? This is turning into some kind of sportswriting Madlibs. Oooh! I want to try one:
...what Robertson did is the (arbitrary sports era) pre-forward pass statistical equivalent of (your favorite number) 20 points in a single game.
Fun.]
He knows it's going to be difficult, but Robertson repeated that he believes LeBron has a chance.
[What is he supposed to say? "You know, Mike, actually..., not a huge LeBron fan here. Seems a little flash-in-the-pan-y for me. I bet he levels off big time."]
That such a discussion even exists and that one of the five best all-around players in history has an open mind about LeBron doing it is one of the best arguments for him being MVP this season....
[This statement makes the BBWAA seem like Dr. Gregory House. Let me see if I got it. One of the "best" arguments for LeBron being named the 2008-09 MVP is that *one* retired player mentioned to a reporter that LeBron has a "chance" at having an historic statistical season... at some point in the future?
Sold. Start etching that plaque now!]
We see all-court brilliance like this every 25 years or so, when a player is extraordinary in basketball's primary skills: scoring, rebounding and passing. Only Oscar Robertson, in 1962, has averaged double digits in those three categories over an entire season.
[OK.]
It has been such an unreachable mark, like hitting .400 for an entire season or scoring 100 points in a single game, that it's now presumed to be unthinkable that a player would average a triple-double over a full NBA season.
[Except that every other NBA columnist is writing "LeBron! Triple-Double!" articles now. Makes it seem at least kind of thinkable, right? Oh, and also, what makes an impossibility (which none of the noted achievements are, by the way) an unreachable mark versus *such* an unreachable mark? Infinity plus one!]
Robertson, who isn't one to throw a lot of phony praise at today's players, said of James: "I am definitely impressed with LeBron. . . . [He's] so gifted in his abilities. He doesn't even know, yet, all of what he can do."
[For example, last week it was reported that LeBron realized that he was fluent in Mandarin. Neat.]
There are those who think LeBron could, if he decided it was a priority.
[Great point. Accumulating as many points, rebounds and assists as possible would be a stupid top priority, especially when LeBron has that cool baby powder entrance to focus on each game. I'm sure that LeBron actively decides to limit the number of points, rebounds and assists he gets each game. It just makes sense. Think about it.]
Even if LeBron wanted to go after the season-long triple-double it might be out of his reach because what Robertson did is the pre-steroid statistical equivalent of hitting .350, with 55 home runs and 160 runs batted in.
[???? This is turning into some kind of sportswriting Madlibs. Oooh! I want to try one:
...what Robertson did is the (arbitrary sports era) pre-forward pass statistical equivalent of (your favorite number) 20 points in a single game.
Fun.]
He knows it's going to be difficult, but Robertson repeated that he believes LeBron has a chance.
[What is he supposed to say? "You know, Mike, actually..., not a huge LeBron fan here. Seems a little flash-in-the-pan-y for me. I bet he levels off big time."]
That such a discussion even exists and that one of the five best all-around players in history has an open mind about LeBron doing it is one of the best arguments for him being MVP this season....
[This statement makes the BBWAA seem like Dr. Gregory House. Let me see if I got it. One of the "best" arguments for LeBron being named the 2008-09 MVP is that *one* retired player mentioned to a reporter that LeBron has a "chance" at having an historic statistical season... at some point in the future?
Sold. Start etching that plaque now!]
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
"Optimism" for the Royals
Buster Olney blogs today about Mark Teahan's transition to 2B as one piece of the "widespread optimism" in Kansas City this spring.
Teahen feels the optimism that has been pervasive in the Royals' camp. He sees the improvement in Alex Gordon and in Kyle Davies. He sees the same potential in the team that rival scouts have noted. "This is the first year I'm leaving camp thinking that we should be in contention," Teahen said.
[Hmmm. Seems pretty glass-half-full, but I haven't really looked into the '09 Royals to any meaningful extent yet. So maybe the "pervasive" optimism about the '09 Royals is appropriate.]
It appears that Sidney Ponson has won a spot in the Royals' rotation....
[Nevermind!]
Teahen feels the optimism that has been pervasive in the Royals' camp. He sees the improvement in Alex Gordon and in Kyle Davies. He sees the same potential in the team that rival scouts have noted. "This is the first year I'm leaving camp thinking that we should be in contention," Teahen said.
[Hmmm. Seems pretty glass-half-full, but I haven't really looked into the '09 Royals to any meaningful extent yet. So maybe the "pervasive" optimism about the '09 Royals is appropriate.]
It appears that Sidney Ponson has won a spot in the Royals' rotation....
[Nevermind!]
Monday, March 30, 2009
Never? Did I say never??
Bob Ford of the Philadelphia Inquirer seems confused. I know I am.
"The Play" - and it will be known for a very long time as "The Play" among followers of Villanova basketball in particular and Philadelphia basketball in general - never works in practice, of course.
[Can't you just picture Ford forcing this "The Play" moniker into every conversation he has about that Villanova-Pitt game?
Co-worker/friend/relative/total stranger: Bob, tell me saw the finish to that Villanova game!
Bob Ford: You mean "The Play?"
Other Person: No, I mean when Scottie Reynolds went almost the length of the court weaving through defenders and hit that shot in the paint with practically no time left?
Bob Ford: Right! "The Play!"
Other Person: What the hell are you talking about? Did you see the game or not?
Bob Ford: Of course. It's called "The Play." Everybody's calling it "The Play."
Other Person: Nobody is calling it that. That's stupid. Whatever, Ford.]
It is one of the Wildcats' standard, end-of-game, little-time-left, 94-feet-away plays, and they practice it every day, with the blue team of starters being defended by the white team of reserves. Never works.
[I wonder why it NEVER works in practice....]
Either the inbounds pass goes to Scottie Reynolds and he can't make his way through the maze of defenders quickly enough, or the pass goes to Dante Cunningham but is knocked away. Or perhaps the blue team scores, but leaves too much time on the clock, and the white team comes right back down and wins the imaginary game.
[That would mean that the played WORKED though, right?? You know what? Forget it. Whatever, Ford.]
"The Play" - and it will be known for a very long time as "The Play" among followers of Villanova basketball in particular and Philadelphia basketball in general - never works in practice, of course.
[Can't you just picture Ford forcing this "The Play" moniker into every conversation he has about that Villanova-Pitt game?
Co-worker/friend/relative/total stranger: Bob, tell me saw the finish to that Villanova game!
Bob Ford: You mean "The Play?"
Other Person: No, I mean when Scottie Reynolds went almost the length of the court weaving through defenders and hit that shot in the paint with practically no time left?
Bob Ford: Right! "The Play!"
Other Person: What the hell are you talking about? Did you see the game or not?
Bob Ford: Of course. It's called "The Play." Everybody's calling it "The Play."
Other Person: Nobody is calling it that. That's stupid. Whatever, Ford.]
It is one of the Wildcats' standard, end-of-game, little-time-left, 94-feet-away plays, and they practice it every day, with the blue team of starters being defended by the white team of reserves. Never works.
[I wonder why it NEVER works in practice....]
Either the inbounds pass goes to Scottie Reynolds and he can't make his way through the maze of defenders quickly enough, or the pass goes to Dante Cunningham but is knocked away. Or perhaps the blue team scores, but leaves too much time on the clock, and the white team comes right back down and wins the imaginary game.
[That would mean that the played WORKED though, right?? You know what? Forget it. Whatever, Ford.]
Best Damn Benchmark Period.
Personally, I would be a little surprised if John Calipari left Memphis to take the Kentucky job. But, I could see how Memphis fans might be moderately nervous. Geoff Calkins of the Memphis Commercial Appeal, however, identifies the key pro-Memphis arguments that should help put all Tigers fans at ease.
He can’t get more famous than he is now. He can’t get richer. He can’t do better than the No. 1 recruiting class in the country. He can’t have any more appearances on “The Best Damn Sports Show Period.”
[Yup. Sorry, Kentucky. Unless you randomly hire Tom Arnold as your athletic director in the next few days, might as well start looking at other candidates.]
He can’t get more famous than he is now. He can’t get richer. He can’t do better than the No. 1 recruiting class in the country. He can’t have any more appearances on “The Best Damn Sports Show Period.”
[Yup. Sorry, Kentucky. Unless you randomly hire Tom Arnold as your athletic director in the next few days, might as well start looking at other candidates.]
Friday, March 27, 2009
Maybe these Tebow-rific quotes will drag Nils out from hiding...
Not a jab at David Jones at all here. I just felt compelled to share some of the quotes he got for his The USA Today piece that are...... well......
When it came time for Urban Meyer, head coach of the defending national champion Florida Gators, to offer some advice to his new quarterbacks coach on how to handle Heisman Trophy winning quarterback Tim Tebow, the message was pretty simple. "Coach Meyer said just don't screw him up," Scot Loeffler said.
[That would imply that Tebow has flaws or even human mortality, which is a ridiculous implication because everyone knows that he does not.]
Loeffler calls it "an honor" to be apart of the UF staff and work with Tebow.
[Hmmm, that's an OK start. But I still think that your adulation for Tebow can be a *lot* more over-the-top, to the point where it borders on creepy.]
"From day one, meeting the kid, he's had 'it.' And he'll always have 'it.' There's not one thing that surprises me about him except how he handles the off-the-field issues. He has a miraculous way of dealing with the public. He's awesome in every sense of the word."
[Boom.]
When it came time for Urban Meyer, head coach of the defending national champion Florida Gators, to offer some advice to his new quarterbacks coach on how to handle Heisman Trophy winning quarterback Tim Tebow, the message was pretty simple. "Coach Meyer said just don't screw him up," Scot Loeffler said.
[That would imply that Tebow has flaws or even human mortality, which is a ridiculous implication because everyone knows that he does not.]
Loeffler calls it "an honor" to be apart of the UF staff and work with Tebow.
[Hmmm, that's an OK start. But I still think that your adulation for Tebow can be a *lot* more over-the-top, to the point where it borders on creepy.]
"From day one, meeting the kid, he's had 'it.' And he'll always have 'it.' There's not one thing that surprises me about him except how he handles the off-the-field issues. He has a miraculous way of dealing with the public. He's awesome in every sense of the word."
[Boom.]
"Wanting it" > Anything Else
Last night, I found myself watching Villanova completely destroy Duke and wondering aloud "How is 'Nova doing it?" Well, thanks to Bob Ford of the Philadelphia Inquirer, my query has been answered.
It is this simple: They don't want it to end.
[Analysis over!]
From the very start, Villanova played to win, not to avoid a loss.
[Which would also leave "winning" as their only option..... right?]
From the very start, the Wildcats gave No. 2-seeded Duke far more than it wanted.
[Well, that's not surprising because we've already established that Duke wanted "it" less than Nova did, so the amount of "it" that Duke wanted was likely a manageable sum.]
If the game was a test of will, only one team passed.
[In fact, Jay Wright's $2,000 suit was actually made out of "will." Really durable fabric.]
Whatever this postseason will become, however far it will go, it isn't over yet.
[?]
It is this simple: They don't want it to end.
[Analysis over!]
From the very start, Villanova played to win, not to avoid a loss.
[Which would also leave "winning" as their only option..... right?]
From the very start, the Wildcats gave No. 2-seeded Duke far more than it wanted.
[Well, that's not surprising because we've already established that Duke wanted "it" less than Nova did, so the amount of "it" that Duke wanted was likely a manageable sum.]
If the game was a test of will, only one team passed.
[In fact, Jay Wright's $2,000 suit was actually made out of "will." Really durable fabric.]
Whatever this postseason will become, however far it will go, it isn't over yet.
[?]
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Who needs coins anyways?
One area where Peter King and I have always agreed is that the NFL overtime system is stupid. His take on what the appropriate remedy should be, however, leaves me a little... well, let's take a look:
From Bruce Grossberg of Forest Hills, N.Y.: "Overtime: Instead of focusing on each team having a possession, why not focus on the unfairness of the coin flip? Why can't there be a 100-yard dash for possession, or the longest throw, or a "punt-off" for possession? Something quick, but something that would be less arbitrary than a coin flip."
King's response: I actually like that. Eliminate the capricious coin flip in favor of something that would demonstrate one team's superiority over the other.
[Brilliant. What better way to illustrate one *team's* superiority over another *team* than by having one guy from each 53-man roster run a 100-yard dash?
In a totally unrelated story, the Dallas Cowboys reportedly just offered Usain Bolt an $800MM contract.]
The following is the e-mail and King's response that immediately preceded the above exchange. King's advocacy for "something that would demonstrate one team's superiority over the other" got me thinking. What kind of activity could reliably demonstrate this....
From Matt Cafaro of Athens, Ga.: "Fixing overtime is the easiest thing imaginable: Follow the old NHL rules, which were fair. Every regular season game plays a full extra period if it ends in a tie at four quarters. If the game remains tied after this extra period, it's a tie. Deal with it. For playoff games, you do as hockey does in the playoffs. You keep playing full quarters, until there is a winner. You could go to six or seven 'quarters,' but you get a winner without having to compromise to the college solution."
King's response: The problem is that players don't want to add a full quarter to the season, which, as I explained Monday, is likely to be increased by a game or two in the near future. If the league goes to 18 games -- which I think would be a disaster because of the increased injury factor -- and if a team plays two overtime games in that season, the team would be playing 2.5 more games than it's playing now. That's 16 percent more football in a league in which injuries are already at high levels. Not going to fly.
[Adding a "full" quarter to the season = C'mon, don't be an idiot.
Adding a game or two to the season = Yeah, we can do that.
So yeah, that who-can-kick-the-ball-the-farthest idea is definitely better (ignoring that it could still result in a horrifying full quarter being added to a season).]
From Bruce Grossberg of Forest Hills, N.Y.: "Overtime: Instead of focusing on each team having a possession, why not focus on the unfairness of the coin flip? Why can't there be a 100-yard dash for possession, or the longest throw, or a "punt-off" for possession? Something quick, but something that would be less arbitrary than a coin flip."
King's response: I actually like that. Eliminate the capricious coin flip in favor of something that would demonstrate one team's superiority over the other.
[Brilliant. What better way to illustrate one *team's* superiority over another *team* than by having one guy from each 53-man roster run a 100-yard dash?
In a totally unrelated story, the Dallas Cowboys reportedly just offered Usain Bolt an $800MM contract.]
The following is the e-mail and King's response that immediately preceded the above exchange. King's advocacy for "something that would demonstrate one team's superiority over the other" got me thinking. What kind of activity could reliably demonstrate this....
From Matt Cafaro of Athens, Ga.: "Fixing overtime is the easiest thing imaginable: Follow the old NHL rules, which were fair. Every regular season game plays a full extra period if it ends in a tie at four quarters. If the game remains tied after this extra period, it's a tie. Deal with it. For playoff games, you do as hockey does in the playoffs. You keep playing full quarters, until there is a winner. You could go to six or seven 'quarters,' but you get a winner without having to compromise to the college solution."
King's response: The problem is that players don't want to add a full quarter to the season, which, as I explained Monday, is likely to be increased by a game or two in the near future. If the league goes to 18 games -- which I think would be a disaster because of the increased injury factor -- and if a team plays two overtime games in that season, the team would be playing 2.5 more games than it's playing now. That's 16 percent more football in a league in which injuries are already at high levels. Not going to fly.
[Adding a "full" quarter to the season = C'mon, don't be an idiot.
Adding a game or two to the season = Yeah, we can do that.
So yeah, that who-can-kick-the-ball-the-farthest idea is definitely better (ignoring that it could still result in a horrifying full quarter being added to a season).]
Monday, March 23, 2009
Slow stretch, paging Nils, etc.
Apologies for the recent drought. Chalk it up to some recent travels and Nils' propensity to completely vanish for weeks at a time. Which reminds me, several people have asked if Nils and I are, in fact, the same person simply operating this site under two psuedonyms. This is not the case, but now I am also starting to wonder if Nils is a real person....
In other news, March Madness is one of my favorite times of year, but it doesn't seem to lend itself to the usual amount of humorously poor sports journalism. Fortunately, baseball season starts next week.
Nonetheless, here was a quality facts-be-damned piece on the tournament from Jim Litke in the Boston Herald.
The focus for the first weekend of the NCAA tournament may have been on fresh faces, but next weekend it’s back to familiar ones.
[OK.]
The NCAA tournament is miles ahead of the BCS when it comes to crowning a real champion, but they have this in common: Nobody wins it on the cheap. There are 330-odd Division I basketball teams competing for 64 spots and the median program runs a yearly operating loss approaching [the] million figure.
[Did he write this in the cab on his way over to meet his deadline?? 330-odd? You couldn't look up the exact number? And where are we getting these "median program" operating loss numbers from? You couldn't type "number of ncaa division 1 basketball teams" into Google, but you went through the balance sheets of all 330-odd programs? P.S. It's 65 spots now.]
Money is the short answer to the question of why a real mid-major still can’t win the NCAA tournament.
[After the previous paragraph, we were supposed to be expecting the *long* answer?]
The [Siena] Saints still might have been good enough to topple another No. 1 seed most nights, but not Louisville on this night.
[Huh? What?]
It took nearly all 60 minutes for that slight edge to prove decisive, but it usually does.
[Actually, this is a good point. Louisville really showed why they are superior to Siena in those 20 minutes that immediately followed their FORTY MINUTE BASKETBALL GAME.
Solid editing job.]
In other news, March Madness is one of my favorite times of year, but it doesn't seem to lend itself to the usual amount of humorously poor sports journalism. Fortunately, baseball season starts next week.
Nonetheless, here was a quality facts-be-damned piece on the tournament from Jim Litke in the Boston Herald.
The focus for the first weekend of the NCAA tournament may have been on fresh faces, but next weekend it’s back to familiar ones.
[OK.]
The NCAA tournament is miles ahead of the BCS when it comes to crowning a real champion, but they have this in common: Nobody wins it on the cheap. There are 330-odd Division I basketball teams competing for 64 spots and the median program runs a yearly operating loss approaching [the] million figure.
[Did he write this in the cab on his way over to meet his deadline?? 330-odd? You couldn't look up the exact number? And where are we getting these "median program" operating loss numbers from? You couldn't type "number of ncaa division 1 basketball teams" into Google, but you went through the balance sheets of all 330-odd programs? P.S. It's 65 spots now.]
Money is the short answer to the question of why a real mid-major still can’t win the NCAA tournament.
[After the previous paragraph, we were supposed to be expecting the *long* answer?]
The [Siena] Saints still might have been good enough to topple another No. 1 seed most nights, but not Louisville on this night.
[Huh? What?]
It took nearly all 60 minutes for that slight edge to prove decisive, but it usually does.
[Actually, this is a good point. Louisville really showed why they are superior to Siena in those 20 minutes that immediately followed their FORTY MINUTE BASKETBALL GAME.
Solid editing job.]
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Hey, NCAA, Bobby Bowden is more important than your precious "academic integrity"
Love this article. Just amazing. I present to you "Strippin wins from Florida State's Bobby Bowden too steep a punishment" by Gary Shelton of the St. Petersburg Times.
The man who will write history wears a clip-on tie.
[As did, ironically, the man who wrote the exams for Bowden's players, I think.]
At least, in my mind's eye, he does. He works in an office where big books have small type, and there is a toy of Capt. James T. Kirk on his desk. He owns the latest calculator, the one that plays the theme from the X-Files whenever he hits the button to make it multiply.
[Yeah, nerd! I bet this completely fictional Johnny Do-Gooder never even went to a football game. Pshaw, what would he know?]
He went to a football game once, but he didn't care for it.
[See? This guy is *such* a loser, what with his books of words and math-figuring-out machines.]
Tell me: Is that the guy who will determine the winner in the Joe Paterno-Bobby Bowden race?
[NOOOO!]
In a typically ham-fisted decision, the NCAA's Committee on Infractions has decided to trim an unspecified number of victories off Bobby Bowden's coaching record because players cheated in a course that — let's be honest here — Bowden probably didn't know existed.
[Unbelievable use of "let's be honest here" right in the middle of casually dismissing a cheating scandal. And if Shelton's excuse was somehow validated, I bet that FSU football team study hall would start going something like this:
Player X: Hey, does anybody know if Coach Bowden is aware of the existence of LEI 1181-Leisure and Recreation?
Player Y: No, he's not. I took it last semester and he had no idea that course existed.
Player X: Phew, good. Because I was planning on cheating in that course, and now if I get caught, at least I know that Coach won't lose any of his career victories.
(Player X and Player Y high-five each other.)]
For the record, the course was called "Cultures of World Music." Ha. The only thing that Bowden knows about music is that the 1812 Overture sounded better back in 1812.
[Exactly. Call me when his players cheat in a course Bowden knows something about, like PEO 3644-Theory and Practice of Football.]
Look, cheating is a horrible thing, and with 61 athletes from 10 sports involved, no one should suggest FSU shouldn't pay heavily. If you remember, I was the guy who wrote FSU should offer to withdraw from the 2007 Music City Bowl because of the academic fraud.
[Not the Music City Bowl! You wouldn't!!]
On the other hand, when you're talking about vacating victories, you have reached the point where the punishment no longer fits the crime.
[Right; it's sheer lunacy! It suggests that the eligibilty of the players is somehow tied to their academic standing. C'mon, Clip-on-Tie Guy. Put down the rubix cube and get with reality.]
When it comes to the NCAA, shouldn't that be the point? (Of course, it is often difficult to say what the point is when it comes to the NCAA. For instance, it remains a mystery why the NCAA hasn't taken bloodhounds and magnifying glasses and the cast of CSI: Miami to look into the Reggie Bush case, but I am sure there is an explanation.)
[Hey, everyone! Quick, look over there! Someone else may have also violated a rule! Nothing to see here! Ignore Bowden! No reason to talk about this any further!]
The truth is that it shouldn't have any effect. Not unless the NCAA could prove the cheating was directly aided by the coaching staff. Not unless the college was unwilling to act on its own.
[Coach Bowden doesn't even wear a headset on the sidelines anymore. Do you really think he would start wearing one for a massive "Old School" style cheating endeavor?? (Good test.)]
Again, cheating is terrible, but if you are talking about gaining a competitive edge, this isn't the same as a coach buying cars for his quarterbacks.
[Love this approach. Running over puppies with your car is terrible, BUT....]
Besides, in most places, where is the sting to having the NCAA erase a victory from the season before last? In most places, the coach's lifetime record is just another line on his resume.
[So why are you whining!?]
At FSU, and at Penn State, it's a little different. Bowden and Paterno have earned that.
[And that's something we can all be proud of.]
The man who will write history wears a clip-on tie.
[As did, ironically, the man who wrote the exams for Bowden's players, I think.]
At least, in my mind's eye, he does. He works in an office where big books have small type, and there is a toy of Capt. James T. Kirk on his desk. He owns the latest calculator, the one that plays the theme from the X-Files whenever he hits the button to make it multiply.
[Yeah, nerd! I bet this completely fictional Johnny Do-Gooder never even went to a football game. Pshaw, what would he know?]
He went to a football game once, but he didn't care for it.
[See? This guy is *such* a loser, what with his books of words and math-figuring-out machines.]
Tell me: Is that the guy who will determine the winner in the Joe Paterno-Bobby Bowden race?
[NOOOO!]
In a typically ham-fisted decision, the NCAA's Committee on Infractions has decided to trim an unspecified number of victories off Bobby Bowden's coaching record because players cheated in a course that — let's be honest here — Bowden probably didn't know existed.
[Unbelievable use of "let's be honest here" right in the middle of casually dismissing a cheating scandal. And if Shelton's excuse was somehow validated, I bet that FSU football team study hall would start going something like this:
Player X: Hey, does anybody know if Coach Bowden is aware of the existence of LEI 1181-Leisure and Recreation?
Player Y: No, he's not. I took it last semester and he had no idea that course existed.
Player X: Phew, good. Because I was planning on cheating in that course, and now if I get caught, at least I know that Coach won't lose any of his career victories.
(Player X and Player Y high-five each other.)]
For the record, the course was called "Cultures of World Music." Ha. The only thing that Bowden knows about music is that the 1812 Overture sounded better back in 1812.
[Exactly. Call me when his players cheat in a course Bowden knows something about, like PEO 3644-Theory and Practice of Football.]
Look, cheating is a horrible thing, and with 61 athletes from 10 sports involved, no one should suggest FSU shouldn't pay heavily. If you remember, I was the guy who wrote FSU should offer to withdraw from the 2007 Music City Bowl because of the academic fraud.
[Not the Music City Bowl! You wouldn't!!]
On the other hand, when you're talking about vacating victories, you have reached the point where the punishment no longer fits the crime.
[Right; it's sheer lunacy! It suggests that the eligibilty of the players is somehow tied to their academic standing. C'mon, Clip-on-Tie Guy. Put down the rubix cube and get with reality.]
When it comes to the NCAA, shouldn't that be the point? (Of course, it is often difficult to say what the point is when it comes to the NCAA. For instance, it remains a mystery why the NCAA hasn't taken bloodhounds and magnifying glasses and the cast of CSI: Miami to look into the Reggie Bush case, but I am sure there is an explanation.)
[Hey, everyone! Quick, look over there! Someone else may have also violated a rule! Nothing to see here! Ignore Bowden! No reason to talk about this any further!]
The truth is that it shouldn't have any effect. Not unless the NCAA could prove the cheating was directly aided by the coaching staff. Not unless the college was unwilling to act on its own.
[Coach Bowden doesn't even wear a headset on the sidelines anymore. Do you really think he would start wearing one for a massive "Old School" style cheating endeavor?? (Good test.)]
Again, cheating is terrible, but if you are talking about gaining a competitive edge, this isn't the same as a coach buying cars for his quarterbacks.
[Love this approach. Running over puppies with your car is terrible, BUT....]
Besides, in most places, where is the sting to having the NCAA erase a victory from the season before last? In most places, the coach's lifetime record is just another line on his resume.
[So why are you whining!?]
At FSU, and at Penn State, it's a little different. Bowden and Paterno have earned that.
[And that's something we can all be proud of.]
Monday, March 9, 2009
I appreciate the dedication; but seriously, you can take a week off, King.
I just realized today that Peter King still writes his MMQB column even though football season has long since ended, and nothing is really happening in the sport. Sure, he had a few quick points about TO signing with the Bills, but let's face it, nobody really cares about the Bills.
What else, then, did King use to fill his weekly football column? Well, a large chunk of it was dedicated to the hot scoop that his family is moving from Jersey to Boston, including an anecdotal Top Ten list of things he'll miss about Jersey. Awesome. I'm glad I know which of your neighbors helped you coach a U-10 girls softball team. Seriously, the column was a family newsletter. Save it for Twitter, King.
Although I did like the following (and rather miraculous) progression:
Page 3: "I will not miss moving. The pain. The humanity. The sore back."
Page 4: "Moving, at 51, has a certain energizing quality to it, and I'm excited."
What else, then, did King use to fill his weekly football column? Well, a large chunk of it was dedicated to the hot scoop that his family is moving from Jersey to Boston, including an anecdotal Top Ten list of things he'll miss about Jersey. Awesome. I'm glad I know which of your neighbors helped you coach a U-10 girls softball team. Seriously, the column was a family newsletter. Save it for Twitter, King.
Although I did like the following (and rather miraculous) progression:
Page 3: "I will not miss moving. The pain. The humanity. The sore back."
Page 4: "Moving, at 51, has a certain energizing quality to it, and I'm excited."
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
I am a big Cap'n Jetes fan, but c'mon!
It has been well-documented that Jeter's defense has markedly declined over the years (although, I must admit that as an average layperson fan, I still have a difficult time adequately deciphering the various defensive metrics).
But, as Mike Vaccaro of the New York Post points out, who needs defense when you have a "C" on your jersey.
Yesterday afternoon at Steinbrenner Field, there were two baseball teams competing against each other - one representing America, the other America's Team. But there was only one captain on the field, one designated leader for both Team USA and the Yankees.
[And in an interesting gesture, Jeter asked to wear jersey number 200 for the WBC just so that he depict his dual-captainship on the back of his jersey.]
The fact is, there were nearly 60 players on the field during USA's 6-5 win over the Yankees who would tell you they wouldn't trade Derek Jeter for anyone-
[Are we sure that's a *fact,* professional journalist Mike Vaccaro? Like, you asked all of the players and they said so? Oh, no? Oh, OK. You're right, though. Let's just call it a fact anyways. Solid.]
There may be one prominent player who disagrees with that...
[One?]
...but he was in Jupiter, Fla., yesterday, telling reporters how much he would enjoy having Jose Reyes on his team.
[Aww snap! A-Rod may or may not have just implied that Jose Reyes is better at baseball than Derek Jeter! That would probably REALLY sting if it weren't accepted as an obvious factual statement by, you know, EVERYONE.]
"I wish [Reyes] was leading off on our team, playing on our team," Rodriguez said. "That's fun to watch. Anytime you have that type of speed.... So, to recount, in the space of 47 words Rodriguez buried Jeter, buried Johnny Damon, then said he didn't mean it.
[Huh? Settle down, Vaccaro. Who *wouldn't* want Jose Reyes leading off for their team. Oh, right... The Mets.]
Those who choose A-Rod as the Yankees' current foundation do so only because of his numbers, which are historic (regardless of artificial inflation) and awe-inspiring -
[That is only partially true. I would probably choose A-Rod as the Yankees' current foundation because of his awesome numbers AND because it would make Mike Vaccaro visibly angry.]
A leader? Would you like to know what a leader does?
[Brings in bagels for the whole team?]
A leader, when asked the other day about David Wright, says something like this: "I have a great deal of respect for him, because he's talented and he loves to win, and he plays hard. It's a great challenge playing against him, so I'm happy to have the chance to play with him for a little while."
That's what Jeter said about Wright.
[Do you know what A-Rod said about Wright?? Well, needless to say, the phrase "garden variety" appeared several times.]
[Jeter] has been criticized for not publicly defending A-Rod more, but it is on days like this that you realize his silences are as loud as any words he might employ.
[Again, I am a big Jeter fan, but isn't having an open and rather public feud with a teammate kind of, oh I don't know, not very leadership-y??
Although I bet those bagels make up for it and then some.]
But, as Mike Vaccaro of the New York Post points out, who needs defense when you have a "C" on your jersey.
Yesterday afternoon at Steinbrenner Field, there were two baseball teams competing against each other - one representing America, the other America's Team. But there was only one captain on the field, one designated leader for both Team USA and the Yankees.
[And in an interesting gesture, Jeter asked to wear jersey number 200 for the WBC just so that he depict his dual-captainship on the back of his jersey.]
The fact is, there were nearly 60 players on the field during USA's 6-5 win over the Yankees who would tell you they wouldn't trade Derek Jeter for anyone-
[Are we sure that's a *fact,* professional journalist Mike Vaccaro? Like, you asked all of the players and they said so? Oh, no? Oh, OK. You're right, though. Let's just call it a fact anyways. Solid.]
There may be one prominent player who disagrees with that...
[One?]
...but he was in Jupiter, Fla., yesterday, telling reporters how much he would enjoy having Jose Reyes on his team.
[Aww snap! A-Rod may or may not have just implied that Jose Reyes is better at baseball than Derek Jeter! That would probably REALLY sting if it weren't accepted as an obvious factual statement by, you know, EVERYONE.]
"I wish [Reyes] was leading off on our team, playing on our team," Rodriguez said. "That's fun to watch. Anytime you have that type of speed.... So, to recount, in the space of 47 words Rodriguez buried Jeter, buried Johnny Damon, then said he didn't mean it.
[Huh? Settle down, Vaccaro. Who *wouldn't* want Jose Reyes leading off for their team. Oh, right... The Mets.]
Those who choose A-Rod as the Yankees' current foundation do so only because of his numbers, which are historic (regardless of artificial inflation) and awe-inspiring -
[That is only partially true. I would probably choose A-Rod as the Yankees' current foundation because of his awesome numbers AND because it would make Mike Vaccaro visibly angry.]
A leader? Would you like to know what a leader does?
[Brings in bagels for the whole team?]
A leader, when asked the other day about David Wright, says something like this: "I have a great deal of respect for him, because he's talented and he loves to win, and he plays hard. It's a great challenge playing against him, so I'm happy to have the chance to play with him for a little while."
That's what Jeter said about Wright.
[Do you know what A-Rod said about Wright?? Well, needless to say, the phrase "garden variety" appeared several times.]
[Jeter] has been criticized for not publicly defending A-Rod more, but it is on days like this that you realize his silences are as loud as any words he might employ.
[Again, I am a big Jeter fan, but isn't having an open and rather public feud with a teammate kind of, oh I don't know, not very leadership-y??
Although I bet those bagels make up for it and then some.]
Monday, March 2, 2009
Haynesworth's Mega-ish Deal
Albert Haynesworth, you need a new agent. Or, bad sportswriting is not always the fault of the reporter.
An AP headline blazed “Haynesworth gets 7-year, $100 deal from Redskins,” and opened up the possibility for a million and one economy/stimulus jokes. Disappointingly, the body of the article correctly states that the deal is a $100 million deal…well, as correctly as the value of any NFL contract is stated and anyway far closer to the real value that $100.
Unfortunately.
For one hot minute, my chosen career seemed awfully lucrative.
An AP headline blazed “Haynesworth gets 7-year, $100 deal from Redskins,” and opened up the possibility for a million and one economy/stimulus jokes. Disappointingly, the body of the article correctly states that the deal is a $100 million deal…well, as correctly as the value of any NFL contract is stated and anyway far closer to the real value that $100.
Unfortunately.
For one hot minute, my chosen career seemed awfully lucrative.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Fun with analogies and fist-shaking!
Jason Whitlock is taking issue with Jim Calhoun's weekend press conference spat in connection with a question regarding his salary.
Jim Calhoun's "got to feed his family," too.
[Let the misplaced analogizing begin!]
Sprewell submarined the last few years of his NBA career when he foolishly claimed insult over a three-year, $27 million contract offer from the T-Wolves and uttered words that live in infamy: "I got to feed my family." Calhoun blabbered words equally as brainless on Saturday when a citizen journalist/activist slipped into Calhoun's postgame news conference and wondered how Calhoun felt about being the state's highest-paid employee when the state is going bankrupt and government employees are being terminated, laid off, pink-slipped and separated from their health insurance.
[These are two fairly different situations, right? (1) A guy responding to an *offered* amount of money, and (2) a guy responding to a query about an amount of money he *already* makes (as a result of a bilaterally negotiated contract). But, yeah, let's just pretend they are the same. It's easier that way.]
But Sprewell and Calhoun share a common characteristic.
[Ummm, that they were/are both prominent basketball figures?]
They deserted reality years ago and have a deep belief in their own importance.
[That was my next guess!]
Only arrogance and greed would make a man take the bait. Calhoun believes he's underpaid. That's why he ranted about his basketball program generating $12 million.
[Let the fist-shaking begin!]
Jim Calhoun is doing the entire state of Connecticut a gigantic favor funneling kids through the academic charade and winning basketball games for the entertainment of alumnus, boosters, faculty and students.
[I know Whitlock is being sarcastic here, but hasn't he kind of stumbled upon the kill-shot to his own tirade? For a state that is "going bankrupt," isn't Calhoun ACTUALLY doing said state a "gigantic favor" by generating $12 million dollars while only be paid about 10% of that amount?? Seems like the state would welcome that kind of return, no?]
No one wants Calhoun to refund any of his money.
[Then what's the point of this article? That Calhoun needs sensitivity training? Great scoop.]
Calhoun isn't Roger Goodell.... Goodell recently accepted a 20 percent pay cut from his $11 million salary. Does Roger feel your pain? Maybe. Maybe not. He's probably just negotiating with the NFLPA. Goodell's league is headed toward an economic showdown with its players. He'll soon be asking the players to take a lot less than what they're expecting, and he'll be able to say he's in the same boat.
[Again, something that Calhoun will NOT have to do. He's a state employee.]
Goodell is smart. Calhoun is arrogant and delusional.
[Why do I even bother reading this stuff? Where is Nils already? Stop making me read Whitlock.]
And I'm equally sure that Geno Auriemma, Connecticut's women's coach, and his peers were Calhoun's most frequent callers. The most passionate supporters of Title IX are the overpaid women's basketball coaches who play in front of volleyball crowds and get paid every two weeks as if they're filling Michigan's football Big House.
[We get it! You have a problem with coaches' salaries.]
I don't have a problem with the salaries of coaches....
[hjsdfnldfasnloeruihoanlkdmadsfljkmceo
Sorry. I just hurled my laptop out of the window. Surprisingly sturdy.]
I have a problem when coaches/athletes lose touch with reality, rub their ble$$ing in our faces and carry themselves like they're above being queried about the economic flaw in our democracy.
[Whitlock doesn't have a "problem" with coaches' salaries, he only thinks that they are an "economic flaw in our democracy."
(re-opening window...)]
Jim Calhoun's "got to feed his family," too.
[Let the misplaced analogizing begin!]
Sprewell submarined the last few years of his NBA career when he foolishly claimed insult over a three-year, $27 million contract offer from the T-Wolves and uttered words that live in infamy: "I got to feed my family." Calhoun blabbered words equally as brainless on Saturday when a citizen journalist/activist slipped into Calhoun's postgame news conference and wondered how Calhoun felt about being the state's highest-paid employee when the state is going bankrupt and government employees are being terminated, laid off, pink-slipped and separated from their health insurance.
[These are two fairly different situations, right? (1) A guy responding to an *offered* amount of money, and (2) a guy responding to a query about an amount of money he *already* makes (as a result of a bilaterally negotiated contract). But, yeah, let's just pretend they are the same. It's easier that way.]
But Sprewell and Calhoun share a common characteristic.
[Ummm, that they were/are both prominent basketball figures?]
They deserted reality years ago and have a deep belief in their own importance.
[That was my next guess!]
Only arrogance and greed would make a man take the bait. Calhoun believes he's underpaid. That's why he ranted about his basketball program generating $12 million.
[Let the fist-shaking begin!]
Jim Calhoun is doing the entire state of Connecticut a gigantic favor funneling kids through the academic charade and winning basketball games for the entertainment of alumnus, boosters, faculty and students.
[I know Whitlock is being sarcastic here, but hasn't he kind of stumbled upon the kill-shot to his own tirade? For a state that is "going bankrupt," isn't Calhoun ACTUALLY doing said state a "gigantic favor" by generating $12 million dollars while only be paid about 10% of that amount?? Seems like the state would welcome that kind of return, no?]
No one wants Calhoun to refund any of his money.
[Then what's the point of this article? That Calhoun needs sensitivity training? Great scoop.]
Calhoun isn't Roger Goodell.... Goodell recently accepted a 20 percent pay cut from his $11 million salary. Does Roger feel your pain? Maybe. Maybe not. He's probably just negotiating with the NFLPA. Goodell's league is headed toward an economic showdown with its players. He'll soon be asking the players to take a lot less than what they're expecting, and he'll be able to say he's in the same boat.
[Again, something that Calhoun will NOT have to do. He's a state employee.]
Goodell is smart. Calhoun is arrogant and delusional.
[Why do I even bother reading this stuff? Where is Nils already? Stop making me read Whitlock.]
And I'm equally sure that Geno Auriemma, Connecticut's women's coach, and his peers were Calhoun's most frequent callers. The most passionate supporters of Title IX are the overpaid women's basketball coaches who play in front of volleyball crowds and get paid every two weeks as if they're filling Michigan's football Big House.
[We get it! You have a problem with coaches' salaries.]
I don't have a problem with the salaries of coaches....
[hjsdfnldfasnloeruihoanlkdmadsfljkmceo
Sorry. I just hurled my laptop out of the window. Surprisingly sturdy.]
I have a problem when coaches/athletes lose touch with reality, rub their ble$$ing in our faces and carry themselves like they're above being queried about the economic flaw in our democracy.
[Whitlock doesn't have a "problem" with coaches' salaries, he only thinks that they are an "economic flaw in our democracy."
(re-opening window...)]
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Note to NBA Players: C'mon, guys! Team owners are *only* billionaires! Let's be flexible here.
Interesting piece in the NY Times this week where Howard Beck discusses the NBA's future with super-agent David Falk. Hat-tip to The Guy Who Knows Things for passing this along. (And a finger-wag to Nils for going into witness protection.)
The N.B.A.’s system is broken, Falk says, and fixing it will require radical measures that almost guarantee a standoff in 2011, when the collective bargaining agreement expires.
[But LeBron can still be on the Knicks, right? In any event, I'm assuming that "radical measures" implies compromise on multiple fronts.]
Falk said he believed Stern, the commissioner, would push for a hard salary cap, shorter contracts, a higher age limit on incoming players, elimination of the midlevel cap exception and an overall reduction in the players’ percentage of revenue.
[Aaaaaand I would assume incorrectly.]
“The owners have the economic wherewithal to shut the thing down for two years, whatever it takes, to get a system that will work long term,” he said in an extensive interview to discuss his new book. “The players do not have the economic wherewithal to sit out one year.”
[*Two* years? Wouldn't a lot of NBA guys just go play overseas (where a lot of them are already wildly popular)? Although, this is assuming that the Euro leagues still have money.]
The players, he said, must recognize that the owners have the ultimate leverage. Many are billionaires for whom owning an N.B.A. team is merely a pricey hobby.
[Ugh.]
Unlike most of his peers, and the union leadership, Falk is an advocate of the age limit, which Stern won during collective bargaining negotiations in 2005. Falk said the limit, now 19 years old, should be raised to 20 or 21.
[That sounds totally impractical from a player representation standpoint.]
His reasons are purely practical.
[(shaking head)]
The influx of underclassmen to the N.B.A. has eroded fan familiarity and the quality of play, Falk said. An age limit will create more polished and prepared rookies, while the N.C.A.A. provides free advertising for future N.B.A. stars.
[Oh, ok. So that last sentence should have actually read that his reasons are purely practical FOR OWNERS. From a player's perspective, I am almost positive that "Making (potentially) millions of dollars" > "Providing free advertising for your future employer."]
Changes to the salary cap and the age limit sound like sacrifices from the player’s side.
[I would certainly see it that way.]
Falk does not see it that way.
[This is still super-agent David Falk, right? That is, super-agent to NBA players, right? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!]
“The only logical way over the next 25 years that players are going to make more money is to grow the pie,” Falk said.
[Yep. Take note, Kobe. If you want to be more richly compensated two decades from now, you are going to have to make some concessions in the present day. Wait, what's that, Kobe? You say that won't be playing in the NBA 20 years from now? Well why not? You'll be in your mid-50s? Hmmmm. Hey, what's that over there!?! (scurries away)]
It seems to me that current players aren't likely to benefit (outside of potentially avoiding a work stoppage) from making the kinds of concessions noted herein by Falk. But you know who will? Well, owners, obviously. But also...... agents like David Falk who will still be representing NBA players 25 years from now, albeit new and different players. Clever, right?
The N.B.A.’s system is broken, Falk says, and fixing it will require radical measures that almost guarantee a standoff in 2011, when the collective bargaining agreement expires.
[But LeBron can still be on the Knicks, right? In any event, I'm assuming that "radical measures" implies compromise on multiple fronts.]
Falk said he believed Stern, the commissioner, would push for a hard salary cap, shorter contracts, a higher age limit on incoming players, elimination of the midlevel cap exception and an overall reduction in the players’ percentage of revenue.
[Aaaaaand I would assume incorrectly.]
“The owners have the economic wherewithal to shut the thing down for two years, whatever it takes, to get a system that will work long term,” he said in an extensive interview to discuss his new book. “The players do not have the economic wherewithal to sit out one year.”
[*Two* years? Wouldn't a lot of NBA guys just go play overseas (where a lot of them are already wildly popular)? Although, this is assuming that the Euro leagues still have money.]
The players, he said, must recognize that the owners have the ultimate leverage. Many are billionaires for whom owning an N.B.A. team is merely a pricey hobby.
[Ugh.]
Unlike most of his peers, and the union leadership, Falk is an advocate of the age limit, which Stern won during collective bargaining negotiations in 2005. Falk said the limit, now 19 years old, should be raised to 20 or 21.
[That sounds totally impractical from a player representation standpoint.]
His reasons are purely practical.
[(shaking head)]
The influx of underclassmen to the N.B.A. has eroded fan familiarity and the quality of play, Falk said. An age limit will create more polished and prepared rookies, while the N.C.A.A. provides free advertising for future N.B.A. stars.
[Oh, ok. So that last sentence should have actually read that his reasons are purely practical FOR OWNERS. From a player's perspective, I am almost positive that "Making (potentially) millions of dollars" > "Providing free advertising for your future employer."]
Changes to the salary cap and the age limit sound like sacrifices from the player’s side.
[I would certainly see it that way.]
Falk does not see it that way.
[This is still super-agent David Falk, right? That is, super-agent to NBA players, right? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!]
“The only logical way over the next 25 years that players are going to make more money is to grow the pie,” Falk said.
[Yep. Take note, Kobe. If you want to be more richly compensated two decades from now, you are going to have to make some concessions in the present day. Wait, what's that, Kobe? You say that won't be playing in the NBA 20 years from now? Well why not? You'll be in your mid-50s? Hmmmm. Hey, what's that over there!?! (scurries away)]
It seems to me that current players aren't likely to benefit (outside of potentially avoiding a work stoppage) from making the kinds of concessions noted herein by Falk. But you know who will? Well, owners, obviously. But also...... agents like David Falk who will still be representing NBA players 25 years from now, albeit new and different players. Clever, right?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Nostalgia = Acumen
Jerry Brewer of The Seattle Times outlines the sentimental maneuvering that brought legend Ken Griffey, Jr. back to the Mariners.
Of all the touching, misty, joyful tales of this Junior Reprise, the most underrated comes from a man you've been hoping would be thrown overboard wearing a concrete life vest.
[I'm not really sure what A-Rod could have possibly had to do with this....]
For years, Mariners fans have blamed team president Chuck Armstrong, along with CEO Howard Lincoln, for their team's woes.
[Oh. Right. Sorry. I am just so accustomed to reading.... Nevermind.]
How did it happen? Go back several months, to the start of free agency. General manager Jack Zduriencik had just been hired, and after he got comfortable and started mulling plans to improve the roster, Armstrong mentioned his familial relationship with Griffey and his agent, Brian Goldberg.
[Hint, hint....]
Maybe it was his love for Griffey. Maybe he just knew him better than most. So the team president offered his assistance to Zduriencik. "Let me take the Griffey thing," Armstrong told his new GM. "Obviously, you have autonomy to do what you want here, but I'll look into this, and if you think acquiring Junior is the best baseball decision, then I will do everything I can to make it happen."
[HINT, HINT!!!]
After examining their options, Zduriencik and manager Don Wakamatsu agreed the Mariners could use Griffey's left-handed bat.
[Zduriencik's "options": (1) Keep job; (2) Lose job.]
Armstrong flew to California, where Griffey was playing in a Pebble Beach pro-am golf tournament. Griffey, his agent and Armstrong had dinner together at the Lodge at Pebble Beach that night. People kept coming over to say hello to Griffey, and Armstrong became nervous he would be spotted.
[Do you think he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache? I bet he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache.]
But no one recognized Armstrong as a representative of the Mariners.
[Huh? Is this guy one of the Jonas Brothers or something?]
After dinner, the three men went to Junior's hotel room to talk some more. Armstrong wiggled past an ironing board in the middle of the room.
[Umm, ok?]
"You ironed your shirt?" he said. "Yeah, I wanted to look good," Griffey replied.
[Cue over-the-top wah pedal riffs.]
It spurred conversation of how much Junior had grown in the 22 years since the Mariners drafted him.
[Crank up over-the-top wah pedal riffs. All the way to 11.]
They drifted back in time, to the first contract Griffey signed. What a long night that was.
[It's already at 11!!]
Then Atlanta started bidding against Seattle, and it seemed like the Braves would sign him.... At least the experience was cathartic for Armstrong. Griffey made him feel inspired again...
[I could keep going with this all day.]
Shortly after Armstrong's flight landed, he turned on his cellphone and received the call from Goldberg. He sounded very serious and put Griffey on the phone. "It's hard for me to tell you, but ... " Griffey said softly, pausing for effect, "I'm coming back!" When the call concluded, Mariners team physician Mitch Storey, who was on that same flight, looked at Armstrong and noticed some wetness around his eyes.
[Serious question here: Would you want *this* guy running your favorite team?]
After all the lows, Armstrong finally felt the ultimate high — pure joy.
[Can't say enough about how much I loved this article. Just amazing.]
Of all the touching, misty, joyful tales of this Junior Reprise, the most underrated comes from a man you've been hoping would be thrown overboard wearing a concrete life vest.
[I'm not really sure what A-Rod could have possibly had to do with this....]
For years, Mariners fans have blamed team president Chuck Armstrong, along with CEO Howard Lincoln, for their team's woes.
[Oh. Right. Sorry. I am just so accustomed to reading.... Nevermind.]
How did it happen? Go back several months, to the start of free agency. General manager Jack Zduriencik had just been hired, and after he got comfortable and started mulling plans to improve the roster, Armstrong mentioned his familial relationship with Griffey and his agent, Brian Goldberg.
[Hint, hint....]
Maybe it was his love for Griffey. Maybe he just knew him better than most. So the team president offered his assistance to Zduriencik. "Let me take the Griffey thing," Armstrong told his new GM. "Obviously, you have autonomy to do what you want here, but I'll look into this, and if you think acquiring Junior is the best baseball decision, then I will do everything I can to make it happen."
[HINT, HINT!!!]
After examining their options, Zduriencik and manager Don Wakamatsu agreed the Mariners could use Griffey's left-handed bat.
[Zduriencik's "options": (1) Keep job; (2) Lose job.]
Armstrong flew to California, where Griffey was playing in a Pebble Beach pro-am golf tournament. Griffey, his agent and Armstrong had dinner together at the Lodge at Pebble Beach that night. People kept coming over to say hello to Griffey, and Armstrong became nervous he would be spotted.
[Do you think he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache? I bet he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache.]
But no one recognized Armstrong as a representative of the Mariners.
[Huh? Is this guy one of the Jonas Brothers or something?]
After dinner, the three men went to Junior's hotel room to talk some more. Armstrong wiggled past an ironing board in the middle of the room.
[Umm, ok?]
"You ironed your shirt?" he said. "Yeah, I wanted to look good," Griffey replied.
[Cue over-the-top wah pedal riffs.]
It spurred conversation of how much Junior had grown in the 22 years since the Mariners drafted him.
[Crank up over-the-top wah pedal riffs. All the way to 11.]
They drifted back in time, to the first contract Griffey signed. What a long night that was.
[It's already at 11!!]
Then Atlanta started bidding against Seattle, and it seemed like the Braves would sign him.... At least the experience was cathartic for Armstrong. Griffey made him feel inspired again...
[I could keep going with this all day.]
Shortly after Armstrong's flight landed, he turned on his cellphone and received the call from Goldberg. He sounded very serious and put Griffey on the phone. "It's hard for me to tell you, but ... " Griffey said softly, pausing for effect, "I'm coming back!" When the call concluded, Mariners team physician Mitch Storey, who was on that same flight, looked at Armstrong and noticed some wetness around his eyes.
[Serious question here: Would you want *this* guy running your favorite team?]
After all the lows, Armstrong finally felt the ultimate high — pure joy.
[Can't say enough about how much I loved this article. Just amazing.]
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Justice. Sweet, arbitrary justice.
Nils and I have been waiting for this yawner A-Rod story to disappear before cranking it back up here at The Theorem. But, my goodness, people just WON'T stop pontificating about this. I feel compelled to mock *one* story, if only to avoid accumulating too much rust. (Deep breath) Here goes.
Rick Reilly (ugh, am I really going to do this?) wants to take the recent MVP awards and give them to their "rightful" recipients.
It's been tougher than a $4.99 steak. Got chased by Dobermans eight times. Had to hire five different sticky-fingered third-graders. Broke into the wrong house twice. But it's finally done. I've been able to retrieve every single MVP award that was wrongfully won by every single suspected 'roid ranger over the last 20 years.
[Hey, did you know that Reilly reportedly makes $3.4 MILLION per year to write stuff like this?]
[H]ere's yours from 2001, Luis Gonzalez, after you finished behind The Barry Bonds Pharmacy. We won't even mention the home run title you would've won that year.
[Well at least Reilly isn't accusing guys who saw random statistical spikes (in this case, Luis Gonzalez) but have never admitted using PEDs or been linked to usage. Maybe I was wrong about Reilly. He deserves credit for that much.]
You already have two MVPs, Albert [Pujols], and you're about to get three more, since Barry Bonds ripped you off worse than Bernie Madoff to win the award from 2002 to 2004. You hit .335 and averaged 41 bombs those years and yet you finished second behind the clearly creaming Bonds in '02 and '03 and third behind Bonds and Adrian Beltre in '04. We're throwing out Beltre since, while he denies ever using PEDs, he fell off the face of the planet once baseball put in stricter steroid suspensions in 2005. If he wasn't cheating, I'm the Queen Mother.
[Honestly, it's my own fault for even bothering to read a Reilly article. It really is.]
Rick Reilly (ugh, am I really going to do this?) wants to take the recent MVP awards and give them to their "rightful" recipients.
It's been tougher than a $4.99 steak. Got chased by Dobermans eight times. Had to hire five different sticky-fingered third-graders. Broke into the wrong house twice. But it's finally done. I've been able to retrieve every single MVP award that was wrongfully won by every single suspected 'roid ranger over the last 20 years.
[Hey, did you know that Reilly reportedly makes $3.4 MILLION per year to write stuff like this?]
[H]ere's yours from 2001, Luis Gonzalez, after you finished behind The Barry Bonds Pharmacy. We won't even mention the home run title you would've won that year.
[Well at least Reilly isn't accusing guys who saw random statistical spikes (in this case, Luis Gonzalez) but have never admitted using PEDs or been linked to usage. Maybe I was wrong about Reilly. He deserves credit for that much.]
You already have two MVPs, Albert [Pujols], and you're about to get three more, since Barry Bonds ripped you off worse than Bernie Madoff to win the award from 2002 to 2004. You hit .335 and averaged 41 bombs those years and yet you finished second behind the clearly creaming Bonds in '02 and '03 and third behind Bonds and Adrian Beltre in '04. We're throwing out Beltre since, while he denies ever using PEDs, he fell off the face of the planet once baseball put in stricter steroid suspensions in 2005. If he wasn't cheating, I'm the Queen Mother.
[Honestly, it's my own fault for even bothering to read a Reilly article. It really is.]
Friday, February 13, 2009
Revisionism, Hello Old Friend
Slow week at The Theorem largely because Nils is lazy and I am not particularly interested in the latest steroid psuedo-drama. But I couldn't pass this piece by Carl Steward entitled "Next generation must restore baseball's purity."
[Purity should definitely be in ironic air quotes, right?]
If the sanctity of Major League Baseball is to be restored, it'll be the next generation of players, not the ever-growing cast of tarnished stars, that does it.
[Restored??]
It's a ray of hope in a sad, sordid time for the game.
[Really? If *now* is a sad, sordid time for the game, what would we call the ENTIRE period before 1947?]
Desire to shake fist at the sky > Having perspective.
[Purity should definitely be in ironic air quotes, right?]
If the sanctity of Major League Baseball is to be restored, it'll be the next generation of players, not the ever-growing cast of tarnished stars, that does it.
[Restored??]
It's a ray of hope in a sad, sordid time for the game.
[Really? If *now* is a sad, sordid time for the game, what would we call the ENTIRE period before 1947?]
Desire to shake fist at the sky > Having perspective.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sanctimony is the new black!
Ian O'Connor is on a roll.
In the real world, the Yankees would do what employers always do when they discover an employee has deceived them. They’d fire Rodriguez.
[Unless the deceit was limited to your tax return.]
The fans don’t want him. His teammates don’t want him. Even the old-timers have had their fill. “I was just across the street having a beer when all the TV kept showing was A-Rod hitting homers,” Whitey Ford said from his Florida home. “I made the owner of the place change the channel. I don’t know A-Rod, but this steroid thing is the same story over and over, and I’m sick of it.”
[This might be my favorite reaction to date. According to The Baseball Page .Com profile of Whitey Ford, they list his "Best Strength as a Player" as follows:
His willingness and ability to skirt the rules. Ford was a master at doctoring the baseball. He bragged that he could cut a baseball in more ways than any other pitcher. Ford sharpened the edges of his wedding ring and used it to cut slices in the ball, as well as the buckle on his belt. He also had his catchers, including Elston Howard, sharpen their belt buckles. One of his most famous inventions was a "gunk ball" which he loaded with a mixture of baby oil, resin, and turpentine. Several other pitchers, teammates and opponents, claim that Ford taught them how to throw the spitball and cutball.]
Good times.
In the real world, the Yankees would do what employers always do when they discover an employee has deceived them. They’d fire Rodriguez.
[Unless the deceit was limited to your tax return.]
The fans don’t want him. His teammates don’t want him. Even the old-timers have had their fill. “I was just across the street having a beer when all the TV kept showing was A-Rod hitting homers,” Whitey Ford said from his Florida home. “I made the owner of the place change the channel. I don’t know A-Rod, but this steroid thing is the same story over and over, and I’m sick of it.”
[This might be my favorite reaction to date. According to The Baseball Page .Com profile of Whitey Ford, they list his "Best Strength as a Player" as follows:
His willingness and ability to skirt the rules. Ford was a master at doctoring the baseball. He bragged that he could cut a baseball in more ways than any other pitcher. Ford sharpened the edges of his wedding ring and used it to cut slices in the ball, as well as the buckle on his belt. He also had his catchers, including Elston Howard, sharpen their belt buckles. One of his most famous inventions was a "gunk ball" which he loaded with a mixture of baby oil, resin, and turpentine. Several other pitchers, teammates and opponents, claim that Ford taught them how to throw the spitball and cutball.]
Good times.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Who is to blame for the A-Rod situation? Hank Steinbrenner. Oh, and Warren Buffett
In general, nothing gets sportswriters going like outrage; and nothing seems to create outrage quite like steroids (unless it is an NFL player). Ian O'Connor gets the ball rolling nicely.
Hank [Steinbrenner] signed off on a $305 million contract worth more than some major-league teams, a deal including $30 million in bonuses for slaying baseball’s sultans of swat. Never mind that the fan base couldn’t stand A-Rod, and that the DNA of the game’s most gifted player was so clearly missing that indefinable winner’s gene.
[Yeah, because it is smart to emphasize "indefinable winner's gene" over "the game's most gifted player" in that analysis. Maybe Cashman should have run a few gels before signing off on the new contract.]
Do Warren Buffett and the money guys at Goldman Sachs deserve a little grief from Yankees fans for bridging the troubled waters separating A-Rod and their team. Sure, why not?
[Ummm, because that's stupid?]
But Hank was the voice of the franchise at the time.
[Voice = Sole decision-maker]
As it turned out, Hank would’ve been much better off letting A-Rod sign with the Toledo Mud Hens.
[I got a guy on the other line asking about some white walls!]
There isn’t going to be a next employer; Rodriguez is too radioactive for any team to take.
[Umm, I'll take him, right?]
Hank [Steinbrenner] signed off on a $305 million contract worth more than some major-league teams, a deal including $30 million in bonuses for slaying baseball’s sultans of swat. Never mind that the fan base couldn’t stand A-Rod, and that the DNA of the game’s most gifted player was so clearly missing that indefinable winner’s gene.
[Yeah, because it is smart to emphasize "indefinable winner's gene" over "the game's most gifted player" in that analysis. Maybe Cashman should have run a few gels before signing off on the new contract.]
Do Warren Buffett and the money guys at Goldman Sachs deserve a little grief from Yankees fans for bridging the troubled waters separating A-Rod and their team. Sure, why not?
[Ummm, because that's stupid?]
But Hank was the voice of the franchise at the time.
[Voice = Sole decision-maker]
As it turned out, Hank would’ve been much better off letting A-Rod sign with the Toledo Mud Hens.
[I got a guy on the other line asking about some white walls!]
There isn’t going to be a next employer; Rodriguez is too radioactive for any team to take.
[Umm, I'll take him, right?]
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Everyone loves a bad boy
Bob Kravitz of IndyStar.com writes why he thinks Bob Knight would be a good hire by the University of Georgia. The bottom-line, according to Kravitz?
For all of his behavioral excesses -- the bullying, the sexism and the rest -- the bottom line is, college basketball is better with Knight.
[Sorry, ladies!]
For all of his behavioral excesses -- the bullying, the sexism and the rest -- the bottom line is, college basketball is better with Knight.
[Sorry, ladies!]
Wishful thinking!
Brian Windhorst of the Cleveland Plain Dealer thinks that even after a 52-point, triple-double performance at MSG, Knick fans are SOOOO over LeBron.
Like most of the Northeast, the country's largest city is in a veritable midwinter deep freeze these days. For now, apparently, so is the unfolding LeBron James 2010 drama.
[Is he serious? He can't be serious, right?]
After getting peppered about his future during the Cavaliers' previous visit in November, James enjoyed a more subdued trip to Madison Square Garden on Wednesday.
[Did Windhorst miss the part where LBJ was the first person since *1975* to score 50+ and register a triple-double in the same game? Definitely a more subdued trip.]
Even the questions from reporters during James' pregame media session focused on his recent play and the Cavs' All-Star snubs.
[Like that time he went for 52, 11 and 10? Yeah, I'd probably ask about that too.]
Like most of the Northeast, the country's largest city is in a veritable midwinter deep freeze these days. For now, apparently, so is the unfolding LeBron James 2010 drama.
[Is he serious? He can't be serious, right?]
After getting peppered about his future during the Cavaliers' previous visit in November, James enjoyed a more subdued trip to Madison Square Garden on Wednesday.
[Did Windhorst miss the part where LBJ was the first person since *1975* to score 50+ and register a triple-double in the same game? Definitely a more subdued trip.]
Even the questions from reporters during James' pregame media session focused on his recent play and the Cavs' All-Star snubs.
[Like that time he went for 52, 11 and 10? Yeah, I'd probably ask about that too.]
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Save a Championship Bath Robe for Jesus
What an article…we have contrasting emotions, outrageous hyperbole, filler sentences, a Kurt Warner/Jesus joke and championship bath robes. That’s right. Championship bath robes. Take it away, Dan Bickley:
In the dark minutes after Super Bowl XLIII, the contrast in emotions was striking.
Because, already prepared by sportswriter groupthink with the “it was a good loss” column, Bickley was surprised to see that the Cardinals were actually upset that they had lost.
He had figured that they would probably be pretty happy with themselves and that their emotions, despite the close loss, would be similar to the Steelers’. It was a woeful miscalculation.
Didn’t they know that this good loss was just like winning? Didn’t they know that they should be happy with their effort? Didn’t they know that they were ruining the premise of a thousand articles currently being written by sportswriters all across America?
Oh no, they didn’t.
The Steelers strolled toward the team bus wearing white championship bath robes and smoking cigars.
Championship bath robes. Just think about that for a second.
…
…
…
Championship.
Bath robes.
…
…
…
I love professional sports.
They were in a state of collective ecstasy. Their lives had all changed forever, for the better, and they knew it.
I like hyperbole. Hyperbole, hyperbole, hyperbole. Get in my article.
The Cardinals were appropriately numb. The difference between winning and losing a Super Bowl is immense, emotionally, historically and financially.
Some other sentences that didn’t have to be written:
John McCain was appropriately numb. The difference between winning and losing a Presidential election is immense, emotionally, historically and financially.
The patient was appropriately numb. The difference between anesthesia and no anesthesia is immense, emotionally, physically and lawsuit-causingly.
Colonel Jessup will look back and think that he probably shouldn’t have ordered the Code Red.
Beer is awesome.
… What if someone had just pushed the Steelers' James Harrison out of bounds on that interception to end the first half? What if the Cardinals had gone to that explosive, no-huddle offense earlier in the game? What if the defense would've just stood up at the end? What if Santonio Holmes doesn't make one of the best catches in Super Bowl history, rivaling grabs from the Giants' David Tyree and the Steelers' Lynn Swann?
Then the Cardinals still probably have lost the game because Jesus was upset that Kurt Warner didn’t set aside a Championship Bath Robe for him.
In the dark minutes after Super Bowl XLIII, the contrast in emotions was striking.
Because, already prepared by sportswriter groupthink with the “it was a good loss” column, Bickley was surprised to see that the Cardinals were actually upset that they had lost.
He had figured that they would probably be pretty happy with themselves and that their emotions, despite the close loss, would be similar to the Steelers’. It was a woeful miscalculation.
Didn’t they know that this good loss was just like winning? Didn’t they know that they should be happy with their effort? Didn’t they know that they were ruining the premise of a thousand articles currently being written by sportswriters all across America?
Oh no, they didn’t.
The Steelers strolled toward the team bus wearing white championship bath robes and smoking cigars.
Championship bath robes. Just think about that for a second.
…
…
…
Championship.
Bath robes.
…
…
…
I love professional sports.
They were in a state of collective ecstasy. Their lives had all changed forever, for the better, and they knew it.
I like hyperbole. Hyperbole, hyperbole, hyperbole. Get in my article.
The Cardinals were appropriately numb. The difference between winning and losing a Super Bowl is immense, emotionally, historically and financially.
Some other sentences that didn’t have to be written:
John McCain was appropriately numb. The difference between winning and losing a Presidential election is immense, emotionally, historically and financially.
The patient was appropriately numb. The difference between anesthesia and no anesthesia is immense, emotionally, physically and lawsuit-causingly.
Colonel Jessup will look back and think that he probably shouldn’t have ordered the Code Red.
Beer is awesome.
… What if someone had just pushed the Steelers' James Harrison out of bounds on that interception to end the first half? What if the Cardinals had gone to that explosive, no-huddle offense earlier in the game? What if the defense would've just stood up at the end? What if Santonio Holmes doesn't make one of the best catches in Super Bowl history, rivaling grabs from the Giants' David Tyree and the Steelers' Lynn Swann?
Then the Cardinals still probably have lost the game because Jesus was upset that Kurt Warner didn’t set aside a Championship Bath Robe for him.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Good guys DON'T finish last
Nils and argued this point vehemently over a slew of text messages last night, but I still say that the best commercial of the night was the one about the free Grand Slam breakfast this Tuesday at Denny's. I'm not even sure how this is up for debate.
As far as the game goes, it was surprisingly exciting. But what put Pittsburgh over the top, exactly? Peter King has some ideas.
It's a story about the affection everyone on the Steelers has for everyone, basically.
[I'm not following....]
"It matters,'' said [Hines] Ward. "You're going to be a better team if you like one another and trust one another."
[Oh, OK. Actually, I was thinking a similar thing when Warner threw that crippling INT that was returned for a score right before half-time. I thought, "Wow, Warner just *totally* showed his lack of trust in his teammates. If the back-up punter hadn't intentionally ignored Warner's 'I've got five on this seat' when he got up to grab a bagel during film study that week, Warner would have definitely thrown a TD right there."
I am still a little unclear on how liking each other directly causes success on the field, though. King, do you have another quote that, when taken out of context, is creepy and altogether hilarious?]
"We're just a bunch of little boys, fooling around in the living room,'' Troy Polamalu said.
[Perfect.]
Chemistry didn't win the most exciting Super Bowl I've covered, but chemistry did wear a Pittsburgh jersey.
[Because chemistry, like players, can only play for *one* team at a time. Sorry, Cards.]
Chemistry got built three years ago in Pittsburgh when Jerome Bettis wanted to draw the franchise quarterback more into the fraternal graces of the locker room and started playing a silly game with Ben Roethlisberger, standing 20 yards from the goal post and seeing who could be the first one to hit an upright with a pass.
[This is brutal. One more.]
No one knows what chemistry is, or how important it is in winning.... It's one of those things you can't define, but you can see. And the Steelers are full of it.
[OK, I can't read anymore of this. And how counter-examples do we all need to experience before we stop singing this song (Reggie Jackson-Billy Martin, Shaq-Kobe, Hall and Oates (there's no way they liked each other, right?), etc.)? Enough already.
Well, on the bright side, only 16+ hours until my free Grand Slam at Denny's.]
As far as the game goes, it was surprisingly exciting. But what put Pittsburgh over the top, exactly? Peter King has some ideas.
It's a story about the affection everyone on the Steelers has for everyone, basically.
[I'm not following....]
"It matters,'' said [Hines] Ward. "You're going to be a better team if you like one another and trust one another."
[Oh, OK. Actually, I was thinking a similar thing when Warner threw that crippling INT that was returned for a score right before half-time. I thought, "Wow, Warner just *totally* showed his lack of trust in his teammates. If the back-up punter hadn't intentionally ignored Warner's 'I've got five on this seat' when he got up to grab a bagel during film study that week, Warner would have definitely thrown a TD right there."
I am still a little unclear on how liking each other directly causes success on the field, though. King, do you have another quote that, when taken out of context, is creepy and altogether hilarious?]
"We're just a bunch of little boys, fooling around in the living room,'' Troy Polamalu said.
[Perfect.]
Chemistry didn't win the most exciting Super Bowl I've covered, but chemistry did wear a Pittsburgh jersey.
[Because chemistry, like players, can only play for *one* team at a time. Sorry, Cards.]
Chemistry got built three years ago in Pittsburgh when Jerome Bettis wanted to draw the franchise quarterback more into the fraternal graces of the locker room and started playing a silly game with Ben Roethlisberger, standing 20 yards from the goal post and seeing who could be the first one to hit an upright with a pass.
[This is brutal. One more.]
No one knows what chemistry is, or how important it is in winning.... It's one of those things you can't define, but you can see. And the Steelers are full of it.
[OK, I can't read anymore of this. And how counter-examples do we all need to experience before we stop singing this song (Reggie Jackson-Billy Martin, Shaq-Kobe, Hall and Oates (there's no way they liked each other, right?), etc.)? Enough already.
Well, on the bright side, only 16+ hours until my free Grand Slam at Denny's.]
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Boss >> EVERYTHING. EVER.
Look, I think Bruce Springstein is OK. I can appreciate his song-writing abilities. But honestly, I never really "got it" with respect to the sheer insanity of his rabid fanbase. For example, take a look at Ian O'Connor's column.
His sideburns and soul patch a dusty shade of gray, his voice as rough as a turnpike exit ramp, the man dressed in casual black sat on a stool with his right foot planted on the floor and his left foot planted on the crossbar. Springsteen wouldn’t have come across any better, any more regular-Joe genuine, if he had grabbed a guitar and starting singing about warm beer and a soft summer rain.
[For starters, I have a personal rule against getting *too* excited about anyone with a soul patch. Also, now that we know how the Boss likes to position his feet when sitting, why does "warm beer" conjure a positive connotation? Warm beer is gross. And a song about it would just be weird.]
So I’m one Bruce-loving son of New Jersey who is going to positively hate himself in the morning.
[Should have taken it easy with the warm beer. Maybe bring a cooler or something next time.]
The Boss is bad for the Super Bowl.
[Huh?]
He’s too big, too good, too damned popular to be plunked down in the middle of America’s leading sports event.
[Great point. With 100+ million people watching, we wouldn't want someone *too* popular. Think about it....]
Springsteen doesn’t play at the Super Bowl.
[Boy, those TV execs are going to be PISSED come halftime.]
If NFL officials wanted Bruce so badly, they should’ve turned this into a concert and had Pittsburgh and Arizona play a 12-minute game at intermission, like those mini Giants Stadium scrimmages the little boys play at the half.
[I can't tell if he's being serious or not.]
Springsteen said he hasn’t played football since his backyard games from 50 summers ago, and yet he was met at the Super Bowl by a larger audience than would greet a collection of every living member of pro football’s Hall of Fame.
[We get it. The Boss is popular.]
His sideburns and soul patch a dusty shade of gray, his voice as rough as a turnpike exit ramp, the man dressed in casual black sat on a stool with his right foot planted on the floor and his left foot planted on the crossbar. Springsteen wouldn’t have come across any better, any more regular-Joe genuine, if he had grabbed a guitar and starting singing about warm beer and a soft summer rain.
[For starters, I have a personal rule against getting *too* excited about anyone with a soul patch. Also, now that we know how the Boss likes to position his feet when sitting, why does "warm beer" conjure a positive connotation? Warm beer is gross. And a song about it would just be weird.]
So I’m one Bruce-loving son of New Jersey who is going to positively hate himself in the morning.
[Should have taken it easy with the warm beer. Maybe bring a cooler or something next time.]
The Boss is bad for the Super Bowl.
[Huh?]
He’s too big, too good, too damned popular to be plunked down in the middle of America’s leading sports event.
[Great point. With 100+ million people watching, we wouldn't want someone *too* popular. Think about it....]
Springsteen doesn’t play at the Super Bowl.
[Boy, those TV execs are going to be PISSED come halftime.]
If NFL officials wanted Bruce so badly, they should’ve turned this into a concert and had Pittsburgh and Arizona play a 12-minute game at intermission, like those mini Giants Stadium scrimmages the little boys play at the half.
[I can't tell if he's being serious or not.]
Springsteen said he hasn’t played football since his backyard games from 50 summers ago, and yet he was met at the Super Bowl by a larger audience than would greet a collection of every living member of pro football’s Hall of Fame.
[We get it. The Boss is popular.]
War Crimes & Homoeroticism in the Sports Section
I think that Bill Plashke may be losing it…and I don’t mean that in an insulting way. I mean it in a positive we-can-help-you-Bill way.
Because I want to help.
The fairy tale is that, if he wins Sunday, the Arizona Cardinals quarterback has promised to buy his family a puppy.
It’s a fairy tale? As in, it's not real? Warner’s kids are going to be PISSED.
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to whip the dog out of him.
I’m pretty sure that is not a real phrase.
The fairy tale is that, while dining with his family every Friday night before home games, the Arizona Cardinals quarterback picks up a stranger's bill.
How is this a fairy tale? This really happens. It happens every Friday night before home games. I know this because you just told me it was true…even though you also told me it was a fairy tale.
Your bad writing hurts me.
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to cash him out.
Plashke is currently waterboarding this fairy tale/reality show device despite waterboarding being specifically disallowed in the Army Field Manual...which means that this column is four sentences in and already officially guilty of a War Crime.
Good start.
The fairy tale is that, for the second time in a bungee-jump of a career, Kurt Warner will finish work Sunday as the sweetest of Super Bowl heroes.
Just when I started to think “hey, that actually is kind of a fairy tale” and “maybe that means that Plashke just needed to get warmed up and is now going to make sense,” I do something stupid like read his next sentence…
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers will make him melt in their mouthpieces.
Without a single shred of a doubt, this is the single most disturbing sentence ever written in a sports column.
There are, by my rough count, 325,648 jokes that it is possible to make from this sentence alone, but each of them only reinforces what I just read…and I need to be cleansed of that sentence. To pretend that it never happened. To scour my mind clear of the thought that any part (or emission) of Kurt Warner might be melting in the mouthpieces of a single Steelers player. To try manfully to knock away the image of the Steelers actively wanting Kurt Warner in their mouths. So I do not joke about it.
I just flail helplessly beating my head against the wall and weeping in sorrow for the state of sportswriting.
I would go on, but Plashke rides the fairy tale/reality show metaphor so indecently, unfeasibly long that it really belongs in a John Holmes movie. And I just can't do that to myself.
Or to you.
Because I want to help.
The fairy tale is that, if he wins Sunday, the Arizona Cardinals quarterback has promised to buy his family a puppy.
It’s a fairy tale? As in, it's not real? Warner’s kids are going to be PISSED.
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to whip the dog out of him.
I’m pretty sure that is not a real phrase.
The fairy tale is that, while dining with his family every Friday night before home games, the Arizona Cardinals quarterback picks up a stranger's bill.
How is this a fairy tale? This really happens. It happens every Friday night before home games. I know this because you just told me it was true…even though you also told me it was a fairy tale.
Your bad writing hurts me.
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to cash him out.
Plashke is currently waterboarding this fairy tale/reality show device despite waterboarding being specifically disallowed in the Army Field Manual...which means that this column is four sentences in and already officially guilty of a War Crime.
Good start.
The fairy tale is that, for the second time in a bungee-jump of a career, Kurt Warner will finish work Sunday as the sweetest of Super Bowl heroes.
Just when I started to think “hey, that actually is kind of a fairy tale” and “maybe that means that Plashke just needed to get warmed up and is now going to make sense,” I do something stupid like read his next sentence…
The reality show is that the Pittsburgh Steelers will make him melt in their mouthpieces.
Without a single shred of a doubt, this is the single most disturbing sentence ever written in a sports column.
There are, by my rough count, 325,648 jokes that it is possible to make from this sentence alone, but each of them only reinforces what I just read…and I need to be cleansed of that sentence. To pretend that it never happened. To scour my mind clear of the thought that any part (or emission) of Kurt Warner might be melting in the mouthpieces of a single Steelers player. To try manfully to knock away the image of the Steelers actively wanting Kurt Warner in their mouths. So I do not joke about it.
I just flail helplessly beating my head against the wall and weeping in sorrow for the state of sportswriting.
I would go on, but Plashke rides the fairy tale/reality show metaphor so indecently, unfeasibly long that it really belongs in a John Holmes movie. And I just can't do that to myself.
Or to you.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
LeBron James might be a fictional character sent from the future
Here's a pretty mind-boggling piece by Chris Ballard on SI.com about the mythological creature we know as LeBron James.
Apparently, LeBron weighs "between 265 and 270" and has "5% body fat." And not only that, but according to Ballard, "James has never really lifted."
I'm not even mad; that's amazing.
Apparently, LeBron weighs "between 265 and 270" and has "5% body fat." And not only that, but according to Ballard, "James has never really lifted."
I'm not even mad; that's amazing.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Peter King, Scoop Machine
I'm not entirely sure why, but Peter King devoted most of his Tuesday column to a conversation with Jake Plummer. I know he played for the Cardinals years ago, but.... Plummer? Really?
Plummer did not watch the NFC championship game. He didn't see the team that made him its poster child a decade ago make the first Super Bowl in its history. "I caught the highlights,'' he said, "but I had a handball tournament in Seattle."
[Here's how my "Things I Bet Jake Plummer Is Doing With His Retirement" list looked prior to today:
1. Spending time with family.
2. Staying in shape for eventual comeback.
3. Grooming beard.
4. Grooming mustache.
.
.
.
.
.
.
847. Playing in handball tournaments.]
Aren't there a hundred questions you'd like to ask Jake Plummer?
[At least that many just about handball tournaments, right?]
Plummer knows what he wants to do for the rest of his life -- something in coaching, but not at any level higher than high school.
[OK.]
"I really don't know what I'll do exactly," [Plummer] said.
[No, Jake, you *do* know. You want to coach. King just said so. C'mon dude.]
Handball, he said, is a way to keep his competitive juices flowing. He has bonded with a lot of western handball players, who play the game for the love of the game instead of money.
[SO refreshing to hear. Personally, I'd about had it with all of the prima donna handball players.]
"It's the purest sport in the world," Plummer said. "Even the president [the President's Council on Physical Fitness] says it's a great sport to stay physically fit.
[Things that make this quote hilarious:
(1) The "purest" sport in the world? Per Wikipedia: "Contact is only allowed when the defensive player is completely in front of the offensive player, i.e. between the offensive player and the goal, this is referred to as a player sandwich." Mmmmmm, player sandwich. Pure.
(2) The fact that King had to include the bracketed portion. This means that coming off of the most publicized and hype-filled Presidential election in recent American history, Jake Plummer refers to the guy who heads the President's Council on Physical Fitness as "the president."
(3) I Googled the President's Council on Physical Fitness to determine the name of "the president" (so as to make an Obama joke), and found the following on the Council Members bio page:
PCPFS Chairman - Vacant
PCPFS Vice Chair - Vacant
PCPFS Council Members - Vacant
Acting Executive Director - RADM Penelope Slade-Sawyer, P.T., M.S.W.
How to become a Council member:
All Council members are appointed by the President of the United States. Please contact:
Director, Office of Presidential Personnel
The White House
Washington, DC 20500
(202) 456-1414
If a person who was appointed on the basis of asking-for-the-job-when-apparently-no-one-else-wanted-it says that handball is a great sport to stay physically fit, consider me officially convinced.]
"I TiVoed the game last year, but the last three minutes got cut off. I was a novice TiVo-er, and I recorded the game, but I guess it ran long, so there I was, watching the game and it just stopped. I was a little mad. The game was getting good. This year I'll make sure to TiVo the program after the Super Bowl."
[Best. Interview. Ever.]
Plummer did not watch the NFC championship game. He didn't see the team that made him its poster child a decade ago make the first Super Bowl in its history. "I caught the highlights,'' he said, "but I had a handball tournament in Seattle."
[Here's how my "Things I Bet Jake Plummer Is Doing With His Retirement" list looked prior to today:
1. Spending time with family.
2. Staying in shape for eventual comeback.
3. Grooming beard.
4. Grooming mustache.
.
.
.
.
.
.
847. Playing in handball tournaments.]
Aren't there a hundred questions you'd like to ask Jake Plummer?
[At least that many just about handball tournaments, right?]
Plummer knows what he wants to do for the rest of his life -- something in coaching, but not at any level higher than high school.
[OK.]
"I really don't know what I'll do exactly," [Plummer] said.
[No, Jake, you *do* know. You want to coach. King just said so. C'mon dude.]
Handball, he said, is a way to keep his competitive juices flowing. He has bonded with a lot of western handball players, who play the game for the love of the game instead of money.
[SO refreshing to hear. Personally, I'd about had it with all of the prima donna handball players.]
"It's the purest sport in the world," Plummer said. "Even the president [the President's Council on Physical Fitness] says it's a great sport to stay physically fit.
[Things that make this quote hilarious:
(1) The "purest" sport in the world? Per Wikipedia: "Contact is only allowed when the defensive player is completely in front of the offensive player, i.e. between the offensive player and the goal, this is referred to as a player sandwich." Mmmmmm, player sandwich. Pure.
(2) The fact that King had to include the bracketed portion. This means that coming off of the most publicized and hype-filled Presidential election in recent American history, Jake Plummer refers to the guy who heads the President's Council on Physical Fitness as "the president."
(3) I Googled the President's Council on Physical Fitness to determine the name of "the president" (so as to make an Obama joke), and found the following on the Council Members bio page:
PCPFS Chairman - Vacant
PCPFS Vice Chair - Vacant
PCPFS Council Members - Vacant
Acting Executive Director - RADM Penelope Slade-Sawyer, P.T., M.S.W.
How to become a Council member:
All Council members are appointed by the President of the United States. Please contact:
Director, Office of Presidential Personnel
The White House
Washington, DC 20500
(202) 456-1414
If a person who was appointed on the basis of asking-for-the-job-when-apparently-no-one-else-wanted-it says that handball is a great sport to stay physically fit, consider me officially convinced.]
"I TiVoed the game last year, but the last three minutes got cut off. I was a novice TiVo-er, and I recorded the game, but I guess it ran long, so there I was, watching the game and it just stopped. I was a little mad. The game was getting good. This year I'll make sure to TiVo the program after the Super Bowl."
[Best. Interview. Ever.]
Monday, January 26, 2009
Stay classy, Torre
Tell-alls are all the rage, I know. Britney is about to write one. Ditto for Sarah Palin. So Joe Torre is striking while the iron is hot, as the excerpt posted on SI.com illustrates.
The meeting was Torre's idea. Hank, Hal, Lopez, Levine, Trost and Cashman had kicked around the idea of what to do about Torre for the better part of a week. Do they offer him another contract, and, if so, for how long and for how much money? Do they even want him back at all? While they deliberated, Torre told Cashman he wanted to meet with the group face-to-face. It wasn't much different than how he managed: You look somebody in the eye and rely on direct honesty, rather than leaks and secondhand information.
[A bonus feature for purchasers of this book who also happen to work in the Yankee front office: Torre will come to your home or office and read the book aloud to you. Direct.]
"They only want to give you one year," Cashman told him over the phone.... "Cash, I have an idea. What about a two-year contract? It doesn't even really matter what the money is. Two years, and if I get fired in the first year, the second year is guaranteed. But if I get fired after the first year, I don't get the full amount of the second year, just a buyout. The money doesn't matter. I mean, as long as it's not just something ridiculous. It's not about the money. It's the second year."
[Exactly. The money makes *no* difference. Oh, but yeah, I'm going to want to see the terms of that buyout before I sign off on it.]
Torre had just gone through a hellish season, with constant leaks in the press, sniping from the front office, frequent rumors about him getting fired and the feeling that people within his own organization were rooting against him. He was worn out by all of it. There was no way he was going to go through another year like that.
[But *two* years of that? I can be persuaded....]
All Torre wanted was to manage one more season in relative calm, and the second year on a contract would help provide that kind of stability. The second year was nothing but an insurance policy. He planned to retire after that one season, anyway.
[Amazed that this negotiating tactic was unsuccessful, I tried it out myself following my recent performance review at my own place of employment:
Boss: Archie, is there anything that you'd like to discuss?
Me: Actually there is, sir: my employment contract.
Boss: OK, what specifically would you like to discuss?
Me: The length of my imminent extension. I know that we normally go year-to-year, but I would really prefer to get 2009 *and* 2010 guaranteed now.
Boss: Hmmm, for any particular reason?
Me: Yes. I'd like to retire in 2010 and move someplace warm..., maybe Scottsdale. But I'd prefer to get paid for that year.
Boss: .....But you have no intention of working for the company. You just admitted as much.
Me: You are focusing on all the wrong details, sir. Paying me for 2010-- even though I have no intention of working for you at all during that year-- will make me more productive in 2009.
Boss: I'm going to have to say "no" here, Archie. I'll see you on Monday.
Me: Maybe a buyout option?
Boss: Don't make me call Security.
"Yeah, I was leaving a lot of money on the table," Torre said, "but I didn't give a s---, because I knew what I went through the year before, dreading coming to the ballpark and sitting behind that desk every day. It would have been the same thing."
[How could the Yankees let this guy go?!?]
The meeting was Torre's idea. Hank, Hal, Lopez, Levine, Trost and Cashman had kicked around the idea of what to do about Torre for the better part of a week. Do they offer him another contract, and, if so, for how long and for how much money? Do they even want him back at all? While they deliberated, Torre told Cashman he wanted to meet with the group face-to-face. It wasn't much different than how he managed: You look somebody in the eye and rely on direct honesty, rather than leaks and secondhand information.
[A bonus feature for purchasers of this book who also happen to work in the Yankee front office: Torre will come to your home or office and read the book aloud to you. Direct.]
"They only want to give you one year," Cashman told him over the phone.... "Cash, I have an idea. What about a two-year contract? It doesn't even really matter what the money is. Two years, and if I get fired in the first year, the second year is guaranteed. But if I get fired after the first year, I don't get the full amount of the second year, just a buyout. The money doesn't matter. I mean, as long as it's not just something ridiculous. It's not about the money. It's the second year."
[Exactly. The money makes *no* difference. Oh, but yeah, I'm going to want to see the terms of that buyout before I sign off on it.]
Torre had just gone through a hellish season, with constant leaks in the press, sniping from the front office, frequent rumors about him getting fired and the feeling that people within his own organization were rooting against him. He was worn out by all of it. There was no way he was going to go through another year like that.
[But *two* years of that? I can be persuaded....]
All Torre wanted was to manage one more season in relative calm, and the second year on a contract would help provide that kind of stability. The second year was nothing but an insurance policy. He planned to retire after that one season, anyway.
[Amazed that this negotiating tactic was unsuccessful, I tried it out myself following my recent performance review at my own place of employment:
Boss: Archie, is there anything that you'd like to discuss?
Me: Actually there is, sir: my employment contract.
Boss: OK, what specifically would you like to discuss?
Me: The length of my imminent extension. I know that we normally go year-to-year, but I would really prefer to get 2009 *and* 2010 guaranteed now.
Boss: Hmmm, for any particular reason?
Me: Yes. I'd like to retire in 2010 and move someplace warm..., maybe Scottsdale. But I'd prefer to get paid for that year.
Boss: .....But you have no intention of working for the company. You just admitted as much.
Me: You are focusing on all the wrong details, sir. Paying me for 2010-- even though I have no intention of working for you at all during that year-- will make me more productive in 2009.
Boss: I'm going to have to say "no" here, Archie. I'll see you on Monday.
Me: Maybe a buyout option?
Boss: Don't make me call Security.
"Yeah, I was leaving a lot of money on the table," Torre said, "but I didn't give a s---, because I knew what I went through the year before, dreading coming to the ballpark and sitting behind that desk every day. It would have been the same thing."
[How could the Yankees let this guy go?!?]
Friday, January 23, 2009
Mark McGwire's Air Tight Excuse
I have a new defense the next time I do something egregiously wrong, whether at work or personally…human error. How does that work? I’ll let Richard Justice of the Houston Chronicle explain:
McGwire’s Mistake was Human Error.
Pure, simple, could-happen-to-anyone human error. Like forgetting to carry a one or grazing the side of the garage when parking your car or purposefully injecting yourself with a not-quite-legal performance-enhancing drug that markedly improves your performance.
People are way more complicated than those of us in the media sometimes paint them. For instance, Mark McGwire. He was a great baseball player in every sense.
Except for that whole not cheating part.
Not only was he one of the best offensive players of all time, he handled himself with class off the field as well.
He helped little old ladies across the street, helped abused children and never swore. He also used the shit out of steroids. But he never swore.
His teammates loved him. They admired his talent, and they loved his humility and decency. They loved how he went about his business and placed winning above any individual accomplishment.
They loved how he gave them access to his dealer and his abnormal size and performance gains gave cover for their own steroid use. They loved how he never lorded it over them that he got into steroids first. They thought that it was pretty decent when he shared his needles. They loved how he made the 90s fun.
I got to know him over the years and found him to be smart, moody and dedicated to being the best he could be.
It’s weird, he was never described as moody during his early years in Oakland…
I know all the things he’s accused of doing, and I believe he did them. In his case, unlike those of Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds, performance-enhancing drugs might have been critical to the career he had.
It would be pretty neat-o if sportswriters used actual evidence when they made an argument. It would help to make this credible, it’s kinda their job and it would make it so I wasn't wondering why Mark McGwire, an excellent player who became abnormally awesome in his twilight years, was good only because of performance-enhancing drugs, whereas Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds, who were also both excellent players who became abnormally awesome in their twilight years because of performance-enhancing drugs too, would have been good anyway.
I am not saying this is wrong. I am not even saying that it is a ridiculous assertion because it is impossible to prove. I am just saying that a little information to back it up would be nice.
The Sept. 11 attacks had occurred two weeks earlier when we spoke, and McGwire’s eyes filled with tears as he talked of being glued to CNN for hours.
Or we could just change subjects. That’s cool, too.
He wondered what he could do to help the victims.
Strangely, neither 9/11 nor McGwire’s helping the victims are relevant to his unethical and illegal use of steroids, but let’s stick with this for a while. It’s a human interest story. People love that shit.
Even steroid users have charitable hearts.
Must be a side effect of the drug.
I’m guessing he has been devastated by the loss of his good name these past few years.
And the worst part is that because of the steroids, he’s still too bulky to pay the world’s smallest violin.
I figured he would be the first of the alleged steroid guys to tell the world what they did and why.
Me: Why Mark, why?
Mark McGwire: Well, I was in my late 30s and not that good anymore and wanted to be better so I could make millions more dollars.
Me: Hmm. Do you think that would make me better at my job?
Mark McGwire: What do you do?
Me: I blog.
Mark McGwire: Couldn’t hurt.
Me: Do you know a guy?
If that happens, others could come forward. They might find that people are way more forgiving than they think. The truth is we’re all trying to get our minds around baseball’s steroid era.
And the best way to get our minds off of the steroid era is to have a bunch of guys from the era talk about all the drugs they did. Logic. Fail.
… Forget prison. What Bonds and Clemens have lost is far worse than jail time. Their reputations have been destroyed, their accomplishments diminished.
Cheating leads to people thinking you are better than you are. Getting caught leads to people thinking that you’re not as good as they thought you were before they knew you were a cheat. And that is worse than jail.
Fans sometimes complain that players don’t care as much as they do. In the case of Bonds, McGwire and Clemens, they might have cared too much.
The old “I hit you because I love you” defense. Air tight.
They allowed their ambition to get the best of their judgment. For that, they’ll pay forever.
And that seems fair, right? What is Justice going to write next, an agonized defense of Madoff?
McGwire’s Mistake was Human Error.
Pure, simple, could-happen-to-anyone human error. Like forgetting to carry a one or grazing the side of the garage when parking your car or purposefully injecting yourself with a not-quite-legal performance-enhancing drug that markedly improves your performance.
People are way more complicated than those of us in the media sometimes paint them. For instance, Mark McGwire. He was a great baseball player in every sense.
Except for that whole not cheating part.
Not only was he one of the best offensive players of all time, he handled himself with class off the field as well.
He helped little old ladies across the street, helped abused children and never swore. He also used the shit out of steroids. But he never swore.
His teammates loved him. They admired his talent, and they loved his humility and decency. They loved how he went about his business and placed winning above any individual accomplishment.
They loved how he gave them access to his dealer and his abnormal size and performance gains gave cover for their own steroid use. They loved how he never lorded it over them that he got into steroids first. They thought that it was pretty decent when he shared his needles. They loved how he made the 90s fun.
I got to know him over the years and found him to be smart, moody and dedicated to being the best he could be.
It’s weird, he was never described as moody during his early years in Oakland…
I know all the things he’s accused of doing, and I believe he did them. In his case, unlike those of Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds, performance-enhancing drugs might have been critical to the career he had.
It would be pretty neat-o if sportswriters used actual evidence when they made an argument. It would help to make this credible, it’s kinda their job and it would make it so I wasn't wondering why Mark McGwire, an excellent player who became abnormally awesome in his twilight years, was good only because of performance-enhancing drugs, whereas Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds, who were also both excellent players who became abnormally awesome in their twilight years because of performance-enhancing drugs too, would have been good anyway.
I am not saying this is wrong. I am not even saying that it is a ridiculous assertion because it is impossible to prove. I am just saying that a little information to back it up would be nice.
The Sept. 11 attacks had occurred two weeks earlier when we spoke, and McGwire’s eyes filled with tears as he talked of being glued to CNN for hours.
Or we could just change subjects. That’s cool, too.
He wondered what he could do to help the victims.
Strangely, neither 9/11 nor McGwire’s helping the victims are relevant to his unethical and illegal use of steroids, but let’s stick with this for a while. It’s a human interest story. People love that shit.
Even steroid users have charitable hearts.
Must be a side effect of the drug.
I’m guessing he has been devastated by the loss of his good name these past few years.
And the worst part is that because of the steroids, he’s still too bulky to pay the world’s smallest violin.
I figured he would be the first of the alleged steroid guys to tell the world what they did and why.
Me: Why Mark, why?
Mark McGwire: Well, I was in my late 30s and not that good anymore and wanted to be better so I could make millions more dollars.
Me: Hmm. Do you think that would make me better at my job?
Mark McGwire: What do you do?
Me: I blog.
Mark McGwire: Couldn’t hurt.
Me: Do you know a guy?
If that happens, others could come forward. They might find that people are way more forgiving than they think. The truth is we’re all trying to get our minds around baseball’s steroid era.
And the best way to get our minds off of the steroid era is to have a bunch of guys from the era talk about all the drugs they did. Logic. Fail.
… Forget prison. What Bonds and Clemens have lost is far worse than jail time. Their reputations have been destroyed, their accomplishments diminished.
Cheating leads to people thinking you are better than you are. Getting caught leads to people thinking that you’re not as good as they thought you were before they knew you were a cheat. And that is worse than jail.
Fans sometimes complain that players don’t care as much as they do. In the case of Bonds, McGwire and Clemens, they might have cared too much.
The old “I hit you because I love you” defense. Air tight.
They allowed their ambition to get the best of their judgment. For that, they’ll pay forever.
And that seems fair, right? What is Justice going to write next, an agonized defense of Madoff?
Jeff Kent: A be-mustached matryoshka doll of sensitivity
Bill Plaschke notes that under the close to two-decades of unpleasantness lies the *real* Jeff Kent.
In announcing his retirement Thursday, Jeff Kent finally showed the passion that he spent 17 years hiding underneath an icy veneer that won many games but few friends.
[Take note Albert Belle: When people refer to you as "surly," correct them; it was merely your *veneer* that was surly.]
He cried when talking about the Dodgers uniform, cried when talking about his family, sincerely thanked reporters for their questions, and even explained the last unexplainable thing in his career. "My dad was a police officer . . . hence, the mustache," he said, smiling below reddened eyes.
[Somewhere Nic Cage is nodding in approval.]
It's a sad thing, knowing now that he could have perhaps used some of this passion to have more impact as a leader.
[MORE impact as a leader?]
He spoke of his confrontations with everyone from Barry Bonds to Milton Bradley to Dodgers rookies as being part of a plan to sacrifice himself for the sake of the clubhouse. "The run-ins I might have had with teammates or some of the media, almost everything I did, I did purposely," he said.
[O Captain! My Captain!]
He said that his perceived toughness on teammates was just his way of injecting a respect for the game.
[Similar to when Kenny Rogers gave that cameraman an "esteem hug" back in June 2005.]
His one misgiving, he later admitted, was that perhaps he wasn't tough enough on one teammate. Kent will forever believe that after his San Francisco Giants blew the five-run lead in the last three innings of Game 6 of the 2002 World Series against the Angels, he should have fought Barry Bonds.
[He even went as far as passing the bat-boy a note addressed to Bonds that read: "Visitors parking lot - 30 minutes after the game. Be there. Or else. P.S. Nobody likes you."]
"If I had fought Barry, I could have gotten the focus off losing, and we could have been better prepared for Game 7."
[This has to be the mustache talking, right? I can hear the pre-game interview now: "You know, despite the fact that I have two broken bones in my hand and Barry's jaw is wired shut, we've never been more focused as a team than we are right now."]
We may have never known the depth of the real Jeff Kent, but the one we did know was plenty.
[Amen.]
In announcing his retirement Thursday, Jeff Kent finally showed the passion that he spent 17 years hiding underneath an icy veneer that won many games but few friends.
[Take note Albert Belle: When people refer to you as "surly," correct them; it was merely your *veneer* that was surly.]
He cried when talking about the Dodgers uniform, cried when talking about his family, sincerely thanked reporters for their questions, and even explained the last unexplainable thing in his career. "My dad was a police officer . . . hence, the mustache," he said, smiling below reddened eyes.
[Somewhere Nic Cage is nodding in approval.]
It's a sad thing, knowing now that he could have perhaps used some of this passion to have more impact as a leader.
[MORE impact as a leader?]
He spoke of his confrontations with everyone from Barry Bonds to Milton Bradley to Dodgers rookies as being part of a plan to sacrifice himself for the sake of the clubhouse. "The run-ins I might have had with teammates or some of the media, almost everything I did, I did purposely," he said.
[O Captain! My Captain!]
He said that his perceived toughness on teammates was just his way of injecting a respect for the game.
[Similar to when Kenny Rogers gave that cameraman an "esteem hug" back in June 2005.]
His one misgiving, he later admitted, was that perhaps he wasn't tough enough on one teammate. Kent will forever believe that after his San Francisco Giants blew the five-run lead in the last three innings of Game 6 of the 2002 World Series against the Angels, he should have fought Barry Bonds.
[He even went as far as passing the bat-boy a note addressed to Bonds that read: "Visitors parking lot - 30 minutes after the game. Be there. Or else. P.S. Nobody likes you."]
"If I had fought Barry, I could have gotten the focus off losing, and we could have been better prepared for Game 7."
[This has to be the mustache talking, right? I can hear the pre-game interview now: "You know, despite the fact that I have two broken bones in my hand and Barry's jaw is wired shut, we've never been more focused as a team than we are right now."]
We may have never known the depth of the real Jeff Kent, but the one we did know was plenty.
[Amen.]
Ingenius Tactics
After following the latest Caroline Kennedy/Senate developments, Donovan McNabb has announced that he is withdrawning himself from Super Bowl MVP consideration.
In other news, Buster Olney, on his ESPN blog, thinks that
A candidate for least interesting story of the year so far, for me, is word that Mark McGwire's brother, Jay, has circulated a book proposal in which the brother says the former slugger used steroids.
[I will follow Olney's lead and propose my own candidate for least interesting story of the year so far:
Buster Olney's piece devoted to the story that *he* deemed a candidate for least interesting story of the year so far.]
In other news, Buster Olney, on his ESPN blog, thinks that
A candidate for least interesting story of the year so far, for me, is word that Mark McGwire's brother, Jay, has circulated a book proposal in which the brother says the former slugger used steroids.
[I will follow Olney's lead and propose my own candidate for least interesting story of the year so far:
Buster Olney's piece devoted to the story that *he* deemed a candidate for least interesting story of the year so far.]
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Cardinals in the Super Bowl = BCS is awesome
Stewart Mandel, who I normally really like, launches a myopic (and kind of angry) defense of the current BCS system.
Each year, when fans, broadcasters and columnists engage in their annual hand-wringing over the lack of a college football playoff, the lords of the BCS defend their divisive system by noting a playoff would deflate the sport's uniquely gripping regular season.... Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present the living embodiment of a devalued regular season: The Arizona Cardinals.
[Basing a broad argument on a sample size of *one* specific instance? Solid.]
Because the sport employs a traditional playoff rather than polls and computers, a Cardinals championship will be deemed far more legitimate than Florida's BCS title this past college season. Four great playoff games will override four months of mediocrity.
["Playing actual games" is an inherently more legitimate "polls and computers" means of determining which is the better team, right?]
"If the NFL has now arrived at a strange point where regular-season performance does nothing to predict playoff performance, and every team has an equal chance to win if they make the tournament, is that bad for the league?" Football Outsiders president Aaron Schatz wrote [Peter] King in an e-mail. It's certainly bad for the Tennessee Titans, whose league-best 13-3 record this season earned them ... bupkis.
[WRONG. Having the league's best record earned them (1) the privilege of playing one fewer game to win the championship (having to win 3 games >>> having to win 4 games); and (2) the opportunity to play at home (the Titans were 7-1 at home this year). Just because the Titans lost that playoff game does not mean that the privileges garnered by having the league's best record were devoid of value.]
[W]hy does the NFL even bother to hold a regular season? (Wait, I know -- for fantasy football and gamblers.) Why not stage one big, 32-team playoff?
[Glib.]
In a story from last week's Sports Illustrated leading up to the NFC title game, Cardinals defensive end Bertrand Berry explained his team's late-season slump thusly: "Mentally we eased up a little bit because we had clinched [the NFC West division] so early." That, my friends, is exactly what college football's powers-that-be fear most. Theirs is the only sport where every single game truly matters, where you can't afford to take your foot off the peddle for even one week.
[Again, not always true. Both Florida and Oklahoma lost a game in the regular season. Did it ultimately matter? No. They still made the title game. Plus, the "every game truly matters" mantra results in embarrassing non-conference scheduling by the perennial powers (e.g., Florida hosting Citadel, Oklahoma hosting Chattanooga, etc.). *Winning* every game truly matters, so let's line-up as many non-conference cupcakes as we can. Now THAT'S a meaningful regular season.]
The Virginia Tech Hokies are a more appropriate college parallel to the Cardinals. The Hokies won the ACC last season with a 9-4 record. They were ranked 19th in the final BCS standings and hadn't entered the national-title discussion since the preseason. However, in a playoff, Virginia Tech would have been guaranteed a berth. (Every other major sport, college and professional, gives first dibs to conference/division champions. College football wouldn't be any different.) Who's to say the Hokies couldn't have gotten hot, pulled off a couple of upsets and won the whole thing?
[I don't understand why a team getting "hot" is dismissed as some completely arbitrary stroke of luck. If a Florida's blow-out win against Citadel is so meaningful, why wouldn't a Virgina Tech win over Florida in a playoff format be viewed the same way?]
A national champion with four losses. There goes your "meaningful" regular season.
[Yes, because in a system wherein the contending teams almost *never* share common opponents, win-loss records should be the sole basis for comparing teams' relative dominance.]
Don't get me wrong, the BCS is far from ideal. Now more than ever, it's an inherently ludicrous task to identify just two teams worthy of a shot at the national championship.
[That's kind of *my* point, right? But yeah, let's just stick with the inherently ludicrious approach.]
With a playoff in place, fans would inevitably lose interest once their teams were eliminated from contention.
[Another off-base blanket statement. Most teams (in the current system) are out of contention once they lose their *first* game. I'm pretty sure most fans continue to follow as the season goes along.]
Even if the bowls stayed in business, they'd become to football what the NIT is to basketball.
[This argument always confuses me. Isn't that what the bowls already are?? We have the National Championship game, and then all other bowls. Am I missing something?]
Meanwhile, the regular season would become just like the NFL's and college basketball's. Instead of revolving around the national-title race, the biggest games at the end of the season would be those involving potential wild-card or at-large teams.
[Which would mean that there would be *more* big games each week, right? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here.]
In college football, there's always at least one, if not several, big "national" games each week (like the ones GameDay features). With a playoff, it would be more like basketball, where there are only two truly "big" games unaffiliated fans watch in droves: The two Duke-North Carolina games. Just substitute Ohio State-Michigan and Oklahoma-Texas.
[See the previous point. Opening up a shot to play for a national title to four or eight teams (instead of just two) would inherently create more important regular season match-ups. That *has* to be correct, doesn't it?]
Obviously, the NFL doesn't exactly suffer because of its playoff format. Fans will not be any less interested in next September's games due to the Cardinals' presence in this year's Super Bowl.
[Ugh. I'm glad we just wasted the previous ten minutes reading how much the NFL's system sucks...... just to come to the conclusion that the NFL system is actually fine.]
If the Cardinals played in college, they might have finished their season in the hometown Insight Bowl. Last month, two 7-5 teams -- Minnesota and Kansas -- played in that relatively low-profile game. It's funny. In college, we complain when mediocre teams like the Gophers and Jayhawks are rewarded with bowl berths. In the pros, the system rewards comparable teams with a shot at the championship.
[This is hyperbole. A 7-5 team would *never* qualify for a four or eight team college playoff. And a "shot" at the championship still requires a team to win games (three, for a team like the Cardinals)-- which is not exactly a hand-out.
P.S. Mandel, ask undefeated Utah how truly meaningful the college football regular season is. The BCS will remain in place because it puts the big schools at an obvious and distinct advantage, thereby making the regular season almost completely meaningless for everyone not included in that group.]
Each year, when fans, broadcasters and columnists engage in their annual hand-wringing over the lack of a college football playoff, the lords of the BCS defend their divisive system by noting a playoff would deflate the sport's uniquely gripping regular season.... Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present the living embodiment of a devalued regular season: The Arizona Cardinals.
[Basing a broad argument on a sample size of *one* specific instance? Solid.]
Because the sport employs a traditional playoff rather than polls and computers, a Cardinals championship will be deemed far more legitimate than Florida's BCS title this past college season. Four great playoff games will override four months of mediocrity.
["Playing actual games" is an inherently more legitimate "polls and computers" means of determining which is the better team, right?]
"If the NFL has now arrived at a strange point where regular-season performance does nothing to predict playoff performance, and every team has an equal chance to win if they make the tournament, is that bad for the league?" Football Outsiders president Aaron Schatz wrote [Peter] King in an e-mail. It's certainly bad for the Tennessee Titans, whose league-best 13-3 record this season earned them ... bupkis.
[WRONG. Having the league's best record earned them (1) the privilege of playing one fewer game to win the championship (having to win 3 games >>> having to win 4 games); and (2) the opportunity to play at home (the Titans were 7-1 at home this year). Just because the Titans lost that playoff game does not mean that the privileges garnered by having the league's best record were devoid of value.]
[W]hy does the NFL even bother to hold a regular season? (Wait, I know -- for fantasy football and gamblers.) Why not stage one big, 32-team playoff?
[Glib.]
In a story from last week's Sports Illustrated leading up to the NFC title game, Cardinals defensive end Bertrand Berry explained his team's late-season slump thusly: "Mentally we eased up a little bit because we had clinched [the NFC West division] so early." That, my friends, is exactly what college football's powers-that-be fear most. Theirs is the only sport where every single game truly matters, where you can't afford to take your foot off the peddle for even one week.
[Again, not always true. Both Florida and Oklahoma lost a game in the regular season. Did it ultimately matter? No. They still made the title game. Plus, the "every game truly matters" mantra results in embarrassing non-conference scheduling by the perennial powers (e.g., Florida hosting Citadel, Oklahoma hosting Chattanooga, etc.). *Winning* every game truly matters, so let's line-up as many non-conference cupcakes as we can. Now THAT'S a meaningful regular season.]
The Virginia Tech Hokies are a more appropriate college parallel to the Cardinals. The Hokies won the ACC last season with a 9-4 record. They were ranked 19th in the final BCS standings and hadn't entered the national-title discussion since the preseason. However, in a playoff, Virginia Tech would have been guaranteed a berth. (Every other major sport, college and professional, gives first dibs to conference/division champions. College football wouldn't be any different.) Who's to say the Hokies couldn't have gotten hot, pulled off a couple of upsets and won the whole thing?
[I don't understand why a team getting "hot" is dismissed as some completely arbitrary stroke of luck. If a Florida's blow-out win against Citadel is so meaningful, why wouldn't a Virgina Tech win over Florida in a playoff format be viewed the same way?]
A national champion with four losses. There goes your "meaningful" regular season.
[Yes, because in a system wherein the contending teams almost *never* share common opponents, win-loss records should be the sole basis for comparing teams' relative dominance.]
Don't get me wrong, the BCS is far from ideal. Now more than ever, it's an inherently ludicrous task to identify just two teams worthy of a shot at the national championship.
[That's kind of *my* point, right? But yeah, let's just stick with the inherently ludicrious approach.]
With a playoff in place, fans would inevitably lose interest once their teams were eliminated from contention.
[Another off-base blanket statement. Most teams (in the current system) are out of contention once they lose their *first* game. I'm pretty sure most fans continue to follow as the season goes along.]
Even if the bowls stayed in business, they'd become to football what the NIT is to basketball.
[This argument always confuses me. Isn't that what the bowls already are?? We have the National Championship game, and then all other bowls. Am I missing something?]
Meanwhile, the regular season would become just like the NFL's and college basketball's. Instead of revolving around the national-title race, the biggest games at the end of the season would be those involving potential wild-card or at-large teams.
[Which would mean that there would be *more* big games each week, right? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here.]
In college football, there's always at least one, if not several, big "national" games each week (like the ones GameDay features). With a playoff, it would be more like basketball, where there are only two truly "big" games unaffiliated fans watch in droves: The two Duke-North Carolina games. Just substitute Ohio State-Michigan and Oklahoma-Texas.
[See the previous point. Opening up a shot to play for a national title to four or eight teams (instead of just two) would inherently create more important regular season match-ups. That *has* to be correct, doesn't it?]
Obviously, the NFL doesn't exactly suffer because of its playoff format. Fans will not be any less interested in next September's games due to the Cardinals' presence in this year's Super Bowl.
[Ugh. I'm glad we just wasted the previous ten minutes reading how much the NFL's system sucks...... just to come to the conclusion that the NFL system is actually fine.]
If the Cardinals played in college, they might have finished their season in the hometown Insight Bowl. Last month, two 7-5 teams -- Minnesota and Kansas -- played in that relatively low-profile game. It's funny. In college, we complain when mediocre teams like the Gophers and Jayhawks are rewarded with bowl berths. In the pros, the system rewards comparable teams with a shot at the championship.
[This is hyperbole. A 7-5 team would *never* qualify for a four or eight team college playoff. And a "shot" at the championship still requires a team to win games (three, for a team like the Cardinals)-- which is not exactly a hand-out.
P.S. Mandel, ask undefeated Utah how truly meaningful the college football regular season is. The BCS will remain in place because it puts the big schools at an obvious and distinct advantage, thereby making the regular season almost completely meaningless for everyone not included in that group.]
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