On its face, I can see the logic behind the nixing of the trade that would have sent Chris Paul to the Lakers. Beneath the surface, however, nothing besides shadiness resides. Nixing this deal was a bad, bad thing. I’m having a hard time seeing how player-management relations don’t grow more contentious from this point forward. The canceling of the trade reeks of dishonesty, spite, and paternalism.
This is and was always going to be a nightmare scenario for the NBA. It all starts with George Shinn, who himself has been a nightmare for the league. Stern and the other owners should have forced Shinn to sell years ago. When he left Charlotte, the Hornets should have stayed behind. Bad decisions have a tendency to lead to more bad decisions. That’s a huge part of what got us to yesterday’s debacle.
Another huge, yet overlooked, factor is the CBA ratification. I’ve read a lot of stories about the canceled deal over the past 12 hours, but most failed to mention something that Sam Amick tweeted last night: “if Stern did this yesterday [December 7], deal would not have been ratified by players today [December 8].” That’s an excellent point. All parties involved were led to believe that any Chris Paul trade could be pursued per normal operation. Stern knew, however, that he wasn’t going to let that happen. He lied—as of now, it is unclear to me whether that lie was overt, implicit, or by omission—about Hornet GM Dell Demps’ authority to handle the franchise’s most significant roster move since the Alonzo Mourning trade.
The Hornets got fair value back for Paul. Some would argue that the Hornets got the better end of the trade. So what’s the objection? We have to go back to the reason we were told the lockout occurred. According to one of Adrian Wojnarowski’s sources, “In the end, David didn’t like that the players were dictating where they wanted to go, like Carmelo had, and he wasn’t going to let Chris Paul dictate where he wanted to go.” Dan Gilbert sent an email to Stern in which he wrote the following: “Over the next three seasons this deal would save the Lakers approximately $20 million in salaries and approximately $21 million in luxury taxes. That $21 million goes to non-taxpaying teams and to fund revenue sharing.” That’s right, he’s concerned about the money the trade will cost him in charity from the Lakers. How dare they try to be cap-conscience?
Let’s recap this. Stern didn’t like that Chris Paul, who is in the final year of his contract, is trying to play where he wants to play next year. Small market owners are upset because the Lakers were lowering their luxury tax burden. And Bryant Gumbel’s the bad guy?
Demps’ reported initial reaction was the same as mine would have been, but he was “persuaded” to stay on the job. But what is he supposed to do now? The current state is one of league-wide confusion. Can he make another trade for Chris Paul that will send him to a non-contender? Another trade will not supply the Hornets with the players Demps was able to acquire from Los Angeles and Houston. By no means was this an unfair trade. It was fair in terms of both talent and finances. This was about players doing what owners did not want them to do. It’s not complicated. It’s just the doing of what the O’Jays called Shiftless, Shady, Jealous Kind of People.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Rematch
1990. This season’s LSU and Alabama football teams remind me of that year. Twenty-one years ago, the Giants and 49ers were the NFL’s superpowers. Like the LSU and Alabama teams that will meet in the Superdome on January 9, the Giants and 49ers were defensive juggernauts. And like the Tigers and Crimson Tide, New York and San Francisco played a highly anticipated regular season game that many thought was a dud (in both cases, I found the games to be among the best regular season football games I’ve ever seen). Once the LSU-Alabama rematch became official, I started thinking about the 1990 Giants-49ers games. I can’t get them out of my head, so I figured I’d just go ahead and revisit.
By mid-October 1990 it was apparent that the Giants and 49ers were the class of the league. Both teams remained undefeated and football fans looked forward to November 25th, the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the prospect of a pair of 11-0 teams facing off against each other. The two teams had won 3 of the previous 4 Super Bowls—the 49ers were two-time defending champions looking to become the first team to win 3 consecutive Lombardi Trophies.
8 days before they played each other, both teams’ undefeated runs ended against division rivals. The 10-0 Giants were blown out in Philly (this was the game that featured Keith Byars’ block on Pepper Johnson, the greatest block in NFL history); the 49ers lost by double digits to the Rams in Candlestick (I’ve always found it interesting that through his first 2 seasons as head coach, George Seifert’s 49ers were 15-5 at home and 16-0 on the road). It’s easy to say that both teams were looking ahead, but that would be false. The Rams had been the 49ers’ opponent in the previous season’s NFC Championship Game and the Eagles had taken 4 of the previous 5 against New York. Those two rivalries have been vicious for over 50 years; the Giants and 49ers were just flat-out beaten.
Still, the anticipation for 10-1 Giants at 10-1 49ers was high. I was 13 back then and didn’t watch much Monday Night Football because I had a hard time staying up until 1:00 in the morning. I made sure I stayed up for this one, though. I knew it was going to be hard-hitting and low-scoring. Those defenses were the best and most consistent of my childhood—yes, even more so than Chicago’s—and neither team gave up a lot of points. Including the postseason, only twice that season had San Francisco allowed more than 21 points; the Giants only gave up that much once. I was looking forward to one of those games that my dad told me he remembered from his childhood. I hoped it would live up to the hype. Man, what a game. The 49ers won 7-3, and the game ended with the Giants failing to score a touchdown from a goal-to-go situation.
I went to school the next day looking forward to talking about how great the game was. When I got there, all I heard was how boring the game was. I was so disappointed. When I got home from school, I turned on WIP because I needed to hear somebody who had enjoyed the game. Howard Eskin came on the air and said the game proved to him that the Giants and 49ers were the two best teams in the NFL. Caller after caller told him he was an idiot. I turned off the radio.
That disappointment is similar to what I felt in the aftermath of the LSU-Alabama game in November. I thought the game was great, the best regular season college game I’d seen since the 7-3 Auburn-LSU game from 2006. People at work, on Twitter, and in the media expressed the opposite viewpoint. Even though I’m not a college football rematch fan, I started looking forward to the possibility of an LSU-Alabama national championship game.
Back in 1990, I started looking forward to a Giants-49ers rematch in the NFC Championship Game. I didn’t think anyone else in the NFC could beat either team in a playoff game. Then a crazy game occurred on a Saturday afternoon in Jersey. The Bills came in to play the Giants in a game so physical that both teams lost their starting quarterbacks. Buffalo lost Jim Kelly for the rest of the regular season; the Giants lost Phil Simms for the regular season and playoffs.
I didn’t think Jeff Hostetler would be good enough to get the job done, but he was. The Giants won the NFC East and Hostetler only had to throw 17 passes as his team destroyed the Bears in their first playoff game. The 49ers easily disposed of the Redskins in theirs. The rematch was set.
I went on the internet and looked up defensive statistics for the 1990 NFL season. I found that the Giants and 49ers ranked second and third, respectively, in yards allowed that year. They were also the two least scored upon defenses in the league. New York allowed 13.2 points a game while San Francisco gave up 14.9 (how perfect was it that their rematch ended in a 15-13 Giants victory?).
The NFC Championship Game. Man, that game was everything. And everybody. Madden and Summerall. Rice, Montana, and Craig. Parcells and Belichick. Millen, Haley, Turner, and Burt. LT, Pepper, and Reasons. Ronnie Lott versus Mark Bavaro. And Candlestick Park. The only thing missing was Brent Musberger’s patented “You are looking live…”
The winner would play the Bills (these are the first-time Super Bowl participant Bills, not the punch line Bills who played the Cowboys in later years), but nobody cared. It had been seven years since the AFC had won a Super Bowl and, though we didn’t know it at the time, it would be another seven years before that streak was broken. In the Parcells era, the Giants had never allowed more than 21 points in a playoff game. The 49ers had not allowed a touchdown in their previous 3 NFC Championship Game appearances. This game, Giants at 49ers, was going to be a war. It was the real Super Bowl. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Today, more than 20 years removed from the game, I believe it is the most physical, hard-hitting football game I’ve ever seen, more physical, even, than the Bucs-Rams championship game of January 2000 and the Steelers-Ravens championship game of January 2009. There was some vicious hitting going on out there. Both starting quarterbacks were knocked out the game. Hostetler managed to come back in. 23 months went by before Joe Montana played again.
The game also turned out to be the best football game I’ve ever seen. I can watch that game over and over and over again, and I have. I’ve seen it at least a dozen times, and I never get tired of it. The Giants and 49ers of 1990 were two aging teams making what both knew would be their respective cores’ last Super Bowl run. Rumor of Parcells’ (first) retirement were swirling. Bill Belichick was going to get a head coaching job. Lawrence Taylor was about to turn 32. In San Francisco, it was about to be Steve Young’s time. Ronnie Lott was leaving. Both teams were getting old, but they were still the best. And this game was the last time the old rivals were going to go at it. This was their Thrilla in Manilla. This was the Giants and 49ers’ fight for the championship of each other. They took the glory and splendor of the November game and created something so much grander, so much more intense. To those men, that game was everything. That game epitomizes football to me.
When I look at LSU and Alabama, I see the same thing. Take a look at the LSU schedule and the Alabama schedule for 2011. LSU only gave up 10 or more points six times this season, never more than 27. The Crimson Tide game up 10 points five times with a maximum of 21 points allowed. All told, LSU and Alabama have the two best defenses in the country. Alabama ranks first in the nation in each of the following: yards allowed per game, rushing yards allowed per game, passing yards allowed per game, and points allowed per game. LSU ranks second, third, eight, and second, respectively, in those same categories. Between the two defenses, they allow a combined 19.3 points per game. And both teams represent a conference that will win its 6th consecutive national championship. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to January 9th. I want to see these two teams play with more intensity than they did on November 5th. I want to see the Tigers and Tide bring each other to a higher level. I expect they will. Why shouldn’t I?
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Sometimes, though, wishes do come true.
By mid-October 1990 it was apparent that the Giants and 49ers were the class of the league. Both teams remained undefeated and football fans looked forward to November 25th, the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the prospect of a pair of 11-0 teams facing off against each other. The two teams had won 3 of the previous 4 Super Bowls—the 49ers were two-time defending champions looking to become the first team to win 3 consecutive Lombardi Trophies.
8 days before they played each other, both teams’ undefeated runs ended against division rivals. The 10-0 Giants were blown out in Philly (this was the game that featured Keith Byars’ block on Pepper Johnson, the greatest block in NFL history); the 49ers lost by double digits to the Rams in Candlestick (I’ve always found it interesting that through his first 2 seasons as head coach, George Seifert’s 49ers were 15-5 at home and 16-0 on the road). It’s easy to say that both teams were looking ahead, but that would be false. The Rams had been the 49ers’ opponent in the previous season’s NFC Championship Game and the Eagles had taken 4 of the previous 5 against New York. Those two rivalries have been vicious for over 50 years; the Giants and 49ers were just flat-out beaten.
Still, the anticipation for 10-1 Giants at 10-1 49ers was high. I was 13 back then and didn’t watch much Monday Night Football because I had a hard time staying up until 1:00 in the morning. I made sure I stayed up for this one, though. I knew it was going to be hard-hitting and low-scoring. Those defenses were the best and most consistent of my childhood—yes, even more so than Chicago’s—and neither team gave up a lot of points. Including the postseason, only twice that season had San Francisco allowed more than 21 points; the Giants only gave up that much once. I was looking forward to one of those games that my dad told me he remembered from his childhood. I hoped it would live up to the hype. Man, what a game. The 49ers won 7-3, and the game ended with the Giants failing to score a touchdown from a goal-to-go situation.
I went to school the next day looking forward to talking about how great the game was. When I got there, all I heard was how boring the game was. I was so disappointed. When I got home from school, I turned on WIP because I needed to hear somebody who had enjoyed the game. Howard Eskin came on the air and said the game proved to him that the Giants and 49ers were the two best teams in the NFL. Caller after caller told him he was an idiot. I turned off the radio.
That disappointment is similar to what I felt in the aftermath of the LSU-Alabama game in November. I thought the game was great, the best regular season college game I’d seen since the 7-3 Auburn-LSU game from 2006. People at work, on Twitter, and in the media expressed the opposite viewpoint. Even though I’m not a college football rematch fan, I started looking forward to the possibility of an LSU-Alabama national championship game.
Back in 1990, I started looking forward to a Giants-49ers rematch in the NFC Championship Game. I didn’t think anyone else in the NFC could beat either team in a playoff game. Then a crazy game occurred on a Saturday afternoon in Jersey. The Bills came in to play the Giants in a game so physical that both teams lost their starting quarterbacks. Buffalo lost Jim Kelly for the rest of the regular season; the Giants lost Phil Simms for the regular season and playoffs.
I didn’t think Jeff Hostetler would be good enough to get the job done, but he was. The Giants won the NFC East and Hostetler only had to throw 17 passes as his team destroyed the Bears in their first playoff game. The 49ers easily disposed of the Redskins in theirs. The rematch was set.
I went on the internet and looked up defensive statistics for the 1990 NFL season. I found that the Giants and 49ers ranked second and third, respectively, in yards allowed that year. They were also the two least scored upon defenses in the league. New York allowed 13.2 points a game while San Francisco gave up 14.9 (how perfect was it that their rematch ended in a 15-13 Giants victory?).
The NFC Championship Game. Man, that game was everything. And everybody. Madden and Summerall. Rice, Montana, and Craig. Parcells and Belichick. Millen, Haley, Turner, and Burt. LT, Pepper, and Reasons. Ronnie Lott versus Mark Bavaro. And Candlestick Park. The only thing missing was Brent Musberger’s patented “You are looking live…”
The winner would play the Bills (these are the first-time Super Bowl participant Bills, not the punch line Bills who played the Cowboys in later years), but nobody cared. It had been seven years since the AFC had won a Super Bowl and, though we didn’t know it at the time, it would be another seven years before that streak was broken. In the Parcells era, the Giants had never allowed more than 21 points in a playoff game. The 49ers had not allowed a touchdown in their previous 3 NFC Championship Game appearances. This game, Giants at 49ers, was going to be a war. It was the real Super Bowl. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Today, more than 20 years removed from the game, I believe it is the most physical, hard-hitting football game I’ve ever seen, more physical, even, than the Bucs-Rams championship game of January 2000 and the Steelers-Ravens championship game of January 2009. There was some vicious hitting going on out there. Both starting quarterbacks were knocked out the game. Hostetler managed to come back in. 23 months went by before Joe Montana played again.
The game also turned out to be the best football game I’ve ever seen. I can watch that game over and over and over again, and I have. I’ve seen it at least a dozen times, and I never get tired of it. The Giants and 49ers of 1990 were two aging teams making what both knew would be their respective cores’ last Super Bowl run. Rumor of Parcells’ (first) retirement were swirling. Bill Belichick was going to get a head coaching job. Lawrence Taylor was about to turn 32. In San Francisco, it was about to be Steve Young’s time. Ronnie Lott was leaving. Both teams were getting old, but they were still the best. And this game was the last time the old rivals were going to go at it. This was their Thrilla in Manilla. This was the Giants and 49ers’ fight for the championship of each other. They took the glory and splendor of the November game and created something so much grander, so much more intense. To those men, that game was everything. That game epitomizes football to me.
When I look at LSU and Alabama, I see the same thing. Take a look at the LSU schedule and the Alabama schedule for 2011. LSU only gave up 10 or more points six times this season, never more than 27. The Crimson Tide game up 10 points five times with a maximum of 21 points allowed. All told, LSU and Alabama have the two best defenses in the country. Alabama ranks first in the nation in each of the following: yards allowed per game, rushing yards allowed per game, passing yards allowed per game, and points allowed per game. LSU ranks second, third, eight, and second, respectively, in those same categories. Between the two defenses, they allow a combined 19.3 points per game. And both teams represent a conference that will win its 6th consecutive national championship. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to January 9th. I want to see these two teams play with more intensity than they did on November 5th. I want to see the Tigers and Tide bring each other to a higher level. I expect they will. Why shouldn’t I?
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Sometimes, though, wishes do come true.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Can't See the Forest...
Most of the time I either agree with what I read from the Cold Hard Football Facts or feel convinced enough to at least consider what they write. What they, specifically Kerry J. Byrne, posted on cnnsi.com yesterday struck out with me. (I should also add that something this morning on their own website actually angered me. In this post about the “scrambling quarterback double standard”, Patrick Imig complained about ESPN’s Monday Night Football preview show guys not complaining about a late out of bounds hit on Tim Tebow in overtime on Sunday. I saw the replay at least a dozen times. Tebow was not hit out of bounds. It was proper that no personal foul was called. Sure, he was headed out of bounds, but his right foot was on the ground in bounds. I wish more officials avoided calling late hits on quarterbacks when no foot has yet landed out of bounds. Donovan McNabb stole many yards and caused many penalty flags exploiting this throughout his career.)
Anyway, the conclusion of Byrne’s post was that the Broncos are 5-1 with Tebow starting because he has outplayed the opposing quarterback in each of the 5 victories. To quote Byrne: “Put most simply, Tebow consistently outplays the other team’s quarterback, often by wide margines. This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success….But these superior performances seem lost on even the most knowledgeable football minds, like that of Broncos executive and Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway, for example.” Um…what??? By technical definition, you can say that Tebow’s play has been superior to that of the opposing quarterbacks. In technical definition only. Colloquially, however, the use of the word superior is inappropriate here. Tebow’s quarterback play has been far below average, especially considering that the Broncos have scored a total of 4 offensive touchdowns in their last 3 games.
Let’s look at the Broncos’ 5-1 stretch more closely. They have played, in order, Miami, Detroit, Oakland, Kansas City, New York Jets, and San Diego. Those teams currently rank 27, 15, 8, 10, 16, and 7, respectively, most points allowed in the NFL this season. Against those defenses, the Broncos have averaged 19.3 points per game. Considering that Eddie Royal returned a punt for a touchdown in Oakland and Andre Goodman returned an interception for a touchdown versus the Jets, the Broncos’ offense has averaged exactly 17 points per game during Tebow’s 6 starts. The 38 points (31 by the offense) against the Raiders vastly skews those numbers. Eliminating that game and the one loss to Detroit, the Broncos other 4 Tebow-led victories featured a total of 68 points (61 by the offense) for an average of 17 (15.25) points per contest. The Broncos have totaled four offensive touchdowns in their most recent three games, versus the Chiefs, Jets, and Chargers. And I’m only now mentioning that from the 3rd quarter of the game in Oakland through the 3rd quarter the next Sunday in Kansas City, Tebow went 62 minutes of game time without throwing a completed pass. The Broncos scored 34 points during that stretch. It is borderline offensive to use the word “superior” to describe the quarterback play during this stretch.
One might hypothesize that the Broncos’ low scoring is due to their heavy running and spread option offensive attack leading to long, time-consuming drives that drain the clock. One would be incorrect. Only the Rams, Seahawks, and Jaguars have punted more often in 2011 than have the Broncos. Bronco punter Britton Colquitt ranks fourth and fifth, respectively, in net punt average and punts inside the opponents’ 20. And Tebow’s 6 starts represent Colquitt’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 8th heaviest punting loads of the season. Only once in Tebow’s starts have the Broncos punted less than 7 times; they never punted that much in a game started by Kyle Orton.
It is fact, though, that Tebow’s performances have been better than his opponents’. That does not imply that Tebow has played well. He has not. The other quarterbacks have played worse. The Broncos defense has completely shut down the last three starting quarterbacks: Matt Cassel, Mark Sanchez, and Philip Rivers. While none of these 3 quarterbacks is having a good statistical year, the Bronco defense held each of them to an even lower level than their personal season average. During the current 4-game winning streak, no quarterback has achieved as high as an 80 passer rating. Carson Palmer’s 79.7 is the highest rating of the 4. Cassel’s 66.5 rating is 10.1 lower than his season rating, Sanchez’s 67.9 is 13.0 lower than his season rating, and Rivers’ 77.1 is 3.7 below his season rating. So, yes, Tebow has outplayed his opponents’ quaterbacks. He’s done it by sucking less. The man deserves credit for that, not praise. How can anyone look at those opposing passer ratings compared to each quarterback’s season rating and write, “This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success”? As far as I’m concerned, that statement ignores the clear, obvious, and definitive answer.
Tebow’s success is due to his abilities to take hits while running the ball constantly and to avoid turnovers. His ability to lead Denver’s offense to punts gives the defense some cushion. And, yes, he’s led some great drives at the ends of games, but he has not played well. He has not scored points. As I wrote on Twitter earlier this week, the Broncos scored 20 or more points in 4 of Kyle Orton’s 5 starts while only reaching that mark once in Tim Tebow’s 6 starts. Don’t tell me the quarterback is the reason for the victories. It’s nonsense. And it is dismissive of the defense and the running game, the latter of which happens to lead the NFL at over 150 yards per game. (And if you want to know why the defense has suddenly begun playing better, look at the pass rushers. Von Miller is a rookie; Elvis Dumervil is a veteran who missed all of 2010 and 2 games earlier this season. The lockout prevented OTAs and real training camp, and it took these guys some time to get rolling. Also throw in the brand new coaching staff, including on the defensive side of the ball, and the slow start retroactively seems both logical and inevitable.) Defense, defense, defense with a huge dose of the running game. The Broncos have become Les Miles’ LSU Tigers for the second half of this season. It’s clear, it’s obvious, and there really should be no debate.
Anyway, the conclusion of Byrne’s post was that the Broncos are 5-1 with Tebow starting because he has outplayed the opposing quarterback in each of the 5 victories. To quote Byrne: “Put most simply, Tebow consistently outplays the other team’s quarterback, often by wide margines. This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success….But these superior performances seem lost on even the most knowledgeable football minds, like that of Broncos executive and Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway, for example.” Um…what??? By technical definition, you can say that Tebow’s play has been superior to that of the opposing quarterbacks. In technical definition only. Colloquially, however, the use of the word superior is inappropriate here. Tebow’s quarterback play has been far below average, especially considering that the Broncos have scored a total of 4 offensive touchdowns in their last 3 games.
Let’s look at the Broncos’ 5-1 stretch more closely. They have played, in order, Miami, Detroit, Oakland, Kansas City, New York Jets, and San Diego. Those teams currently rank 27, 15, 8, 10, 16, and 7, respectively, most points allowed in the NFL this season. Against those defenses, the Broncos have averaged 19.3 points per game. Considering that Eddie Royal returned a punt for a touchdown in Oakland and Andre Goodman returned an interception for a touchdown versus the Jets, the Broncos’ offense has averaged exactly 17 points per game during Tebow’s 6 starts. The 38 points (31 by the offense) against the Raiders vastly skews those numbers. Eliminating that game and the one loss to Detroit, the Broncos other 4 Tebow-led victories featured a total of 68 points (61 by the offense) for an average of 17 (15.25) points per contest. The Broncos have totaled four offensive touchdowns in their most recent three games, versus the Chiefs, Jets, and Chargers. And I’m only now mentioning that from the 3rd quarter of the game in Oakland through the 3rd quarter the next Sunday in Kansas City, Tebow went 62 minutes of game time without throwing a completed pass. The Broncos scored 34 points during that stretch. It is borderline offensive to use the word “superior” to describe the quarterback play during this stretch.
One might hypothesize that the Broncos’ low scoring is due to their heavy running and spread option offensive attack leading to long, time-consuming drives that drain the clock. One would be incorrect. Only the Rams, Seahawks, and Jaguars have punted more often in 2011 than have the Broncos. Bronco punter Britton Colquitt ranks fourth and fifth, respectively, in net punt average and punts inside the opponents’ 20. And Tebow’s 6 starts represent Colquitt’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 8th heaviest punting loads of the season. Only once in Tebow’s starts have the Broncos punted less than 7 times; they never punted that much in a game started by Kyle Orton.
It is fact, though, that Tebow’s performances have been better than his opponents’. That does not imply that Tebow has played well. He has not. The other quarterbacks have played worse. The Broncos defense has completely shut down the last three starting quarterbacks: Matt Cassel, Mark Sanchez, and Philip Rivers. While none of these 3 quarterbacks is having a good statistical year, the Bronco defense held each of them to an even lower level than their personal season average. During the current 4-game winning streak, no quarterback has achieved as high as an 80 passer rating. Carson Palmer’s 79.7 is the highest rating of the 4. Cassel’s 66.5 rating is 10.1 lower than his season rating, Sanchez’s 67.9 is 13.0 lower than his season rating, and Rivers’ 77.1 is 3.7 below his season rating. So, yes, Tebow has outplayed his opponents’ quaterbacks. He’s done it by sucking less. The man deserves credit for that, not praise. How can anyone look at those opposing passer ratings compared to each quarterback’s season rating and write, “This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success”? As far as I’m concerned, that statement ignores the clear, obvious, and definitive answer.
Tebow’s success is due to his abilities to take hits while running the ball constantly and to avoid turnovers. His ability to lead Denver’s offense to punts gives the defense some cushion. And, yes, he’s led some great drives at the ends of games, but he has not played well. He has not scored points. As I wrote on Twitter earlier this week, the Broncos scored 20 or more points in 4 of Kyle Orton’s 5 starts while only reaching that mark once in Tim Tebow’s 6 starts. Don’t tell me the quarterback is the reason for the victories. It’s nonsense. And it is dismissive of the defense and the running game, the latter of which happens to lead the NFL at over 150 yards per game. (And if you want to know why the defense has suddenly begun playing better, look at the pass rushers. Von Miller is a rookie; Elvis Dumervil is a veteran who missed all of 2010 and 2 games earlier this season. The lockout prevented OTAs and real training camp, and it took these guys some time to get rolling. Also throw in the brand new coaching staff, including on the defensive side of the ball, and the slow start retroactively seems both logical and inevitable.) Defense, defense, defense with a huge dose of the running game. The Broncos have become Les Miles’ LSU Tigers for the second half of this season. It’s clear, it’s obvious, and there really should be no debate.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Smokin' Joe
When I heard that Joe Frazier had passed on last night, my first thought was about my father. On March 8, 1971, he was a college sophomore and away at school far from our hometown of Philadelphia. He said the only Black people in America rooting for Frazier that night were those from Philly. Far as he was from home, there weren’t too many Black Philadelphians in the theater where he watched the closed-circuit broadcast. With all the other Black folk in the audience looking at him angrily, my dad loudly and proudly cheered on Smokin’ Joe. Philadelphians.
From the moment my dad told me that story—and it’s been about 25 years now—Joe Frazier has been my favorite athlete of all time. I never saw him fight live, obviously, and I’ve only seen 5 of his fights on video. Still, he’s my favorite of all time. He ranks higher than Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Charles Barkley, Allen Iverson, Mike Schmidt, Ryan Howard, Cole Hamels, Steve Atwater, John Elway, Ray Lewis, Jerome Brown, Bernard Hopkins, Barry Bonds, Rickey Henderson, Joe Montana, Wilbur Marshall…all of them. For me, Joe Frazier is #1.
And even though he retired before I was born and only fought once after that, I find myself rooting for Joe every time I watch one of his fights. This is especially true when I watch the Thrilla in Manilla. To this day, that is the most brutal, close-to-death for both participants sporting event I’ve ever seen.
The end of that fight, 36 years later, is surreal to me. Both fighters were spent; they were both done. According to Frazier and Ali’s trainer, Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali begged Dundee to cut his gloves off. Dundee told him to hold on and looked over his shoulder at Frazier’s corner. In the opposite corner, Frazier told his trainer, Eddie Futch, that he had one round left in him. Futch looked at his fighter, down to about half an eye, and told him that he loved him too much to let him continue. “OK,” Joe said he said. “Shut it down.” Dundee’s hunch paid off, and Ali won the rubber match. Yes, it was that close between them. As the Newark Star-Ledger’s Jerry Izenberg once said, “They weren’t fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.”
The heavyweight championship of each other. What a perfect way to put it. They killed each other that night in Manilla. To some extent, their minds and bodies held on for decades longer, but neither man was the same after that fight. And the 30 seconds Angelo Dundee waited allowed Ali to go down in history as the greatest heavyweight boxer ever and Frazier left to be considered top 5 or top 10 by most experts. Essentially, he is all but forgotten outside of the trilogy with Ali.
But that’s OK. That’s how it seems to go with Philly’s best. But he’s ours. And we remember him. And that left hook that made Muhammad’s tassels fly in the air.
Joe Frazier lived a good life and hard life, if not such a long life. But he never backed down from a fight and did himself and his people proud. Now, his body told him it was time to shut it down. We remember March 8, 1971; October 1, 1975 (September 30 here in the States); and everything before, between, and after.
God bless you, Smokin’ Joe.
From the moment my dad told me that story—and it’s been about 25 years now—Joe Frazier has been my favorite athlete of all time. I never saw him fight live, obviously, and I’ve only seen 5 of his fights on video. Still, he’s my favorite of all time. He ranks higher than Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Charles Barkley, Allen Iverson, Mike Schmidt, Ryan Howard, Cole Hamels, Steve Atwater, John Elway, Ray Lewis, Jerome Brown, Bernard Hopkins, Barry Bonds, Rickey Henderson, Joe Montana, Wilbur Marshall…all of them. For me, Joe Frazier is #1.
And even though he retired before I was born and only fought once after that, I find myself rooting for Joe every time I watch one of his fights. This is especially true when I watch the Thrilla in Manilla. To this day, that is the most brutal, close-to-death for both participants sporting event I’ve ever seen.
The end of that fight, 36 years later, is surreal to me. Both fighters were spent; they were both done. According to Frazier and Ali’s trainer, Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali begged Dundee to cut his gloves off. Dundee told him to hold on and looked over his shoulder at Frazier’s corner. In the opposite corner, Frazier told his trainer, Eddie Futch, that he had one round left in him. Futch looked at his fighter, down to about half an eye, and told him that he loved him too much to let him continue. “OK,” Joe said he said. “Shut it down.” Dundee’s hunch paid off, and Ali won the rubber match. Yes, it was that close between them. As the Newark Star-Ledger’s Jerry Izenberg once said, “They weren’t fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.”
The heavyweight championship of each other. What a perfect way to put it. They killed each other that night in Manilla. To some extent, their minds and bodies held on for decades longer, but neither man was the same after that fight. And the 30 seconds Angelo Dundee waited allowed Ali to go down in history as the greatest heavyweight boxer ever and Frazier left to be considered top 5 or top 10 by most experts. Essentially, he is all but forgotten outside of the trilogy with Ali.
But that’s OK. That’s how it seems to go with Philly’s best. But he’s ours. And we remember him. And that left hook that made Muhammad’s tassels fly in the air.
Joe Frazier lived a good life and hard life, if not such a long life. But he never backed down from a fight and did himself and his people proud. Now, his body told him it was time to shut it down. We remember March 8, 1971; October 1, 1975 (September 30 here in the States); and everything before, between, and after.
God bless you, Smokin’ Joe.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
OJ Simpson & the NBA Lockout
The way I see it, this NBA Lockout—and the NFL Lockout that ended a few months ago—is very much like OJ Simpson murder trial. In both the cases of a lockout and the murder trial, there was a legal dispute between two sides. We, the general public, believe, by and large, that we know what has happened, what should happen, and what is “right”. However, we, the general public, are not in charge; we are not the final arbiters of the disputes. Instead, there is an actual system in place. As part of that system, there is one party on whom the burden of proof lies. During this current lockout as well as the OJ trial, the public spoke and acted as if that burden does not exist. I find that naïve, destructive, and very dangerous.
First thing is that, yes, the burden of proof is on the owners’ shoulders. Like the NFL, this is a lockout, not a strike. It is the owners who want things to change. If things really do need to change, then the owners need to convince the players of it. There is no logical reason for the players to just accept that things need to change. The owners need to answer the question “Why?”
One thing the NBA owners have in common with the NFL owners and the LAPD investigators of the OJ case is that they lied while the burden of proof was theirs. The current NBA structure may not be viable in the long-term. I know that many people are out there saying it’s not, but I don’t know for myself. I haven’t seen the teams’ financial papers. I haven’t seen the models for the next few years. I don’t know. Somebody would have to show me. I would not take the owners’ word for it.
Back in 1995, we learned about many of the shady things Mark Fuhrman did in Brentwood. I admit that I did not watch a single second of OJ’s trial, so I don’t know all of the details that many of you do. I do know, however, that nothing with Fuhrman’s name on it was trustworthy beyond a reasonable doubt. Essentially, what the prosecutors wanted was for the jury to see beyond Fuhrman’s shadiness. For the past 16 years, I’ve figured that those twelve men and women did not think the rest of the evidence was enough to overcome the doubt created by Fuhrman. For the general public, though, it was enough to just “know” that OJ did it.
Similarly, we know that the NBA owners have been lying about team finances. People in the media and the public know this, but don’t really seem to care. They acknowledge that the owners aren’t being honest, but they still “know” that the model is failing. Bill Simmons, for example, keeps writing about how the compromises are obvious and “need to happen.” Why? He doesn’t offer any actual evidence to support his claim. He gives reasons, but backs his reasoning up with nothing to let me know that he’s actually speaking fact—he doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt since he was the primary creator of the LeBron went to play with his biggest rival nonsense—instead of just treating some idea of his as if it is actually truth. Yesterday, he did a podcast with Blake Griffin in which he said that the players need to understand that game attendance will continue to grow as a problem in this big screen HDTV, internet, iPad era. He might be right—he’s probably right—but where are the projections? Plus, who knows what those effects will be? As of right now, no one. Basically, he believes the players need to give some money back and his rationale is that we don’t know how the assumed dwindling numbers at the gate will affect the league’s revenue stream.
What kind of logic suggests that players should give back money because no one knows how much money there will be? It’s the players’ money. It’s theirs right now. The owners need to prove to them that they need it.
But, no. people want their basketball, players need to understand that the system isn’t working, and it doesn’t matter that the owners have been lying about many things throughout the entire process. Knowing it isn’t enough. And it shouldn’t be enough. It should never be enough. We’re talking about people’s lives and livelihoods here. “I can’t see any way it could have been anyone other than him.” So what? I don’t feel comfortable damaging people on the strength of someone else’s lack of imagination, insight, and creative thinking. Get out of my face with that nonsense.
First thing is that, yes, the burden of proof is on the owners’ shoulders. Like the NFL, this is a lockout, not a strike. It is the owners who want things to change. If things really do need to change, then the owners need to convince the players of it. There is no logical reason for the players to just accept that things need to change. The owners need to answer the question “Why?”
One thing the NBA owners have in common with the NFL owners and the LAPD investigators of the OJ case is that they lied while the burden of proof was theirs. The current NBA structure may not be viable in the long-term. I know that many people are out there saying it’s not, but I don’t know for myself. I haven’t seen the teams’ financial papers. I haven’t seen the models for the next few years. I don’t know. Somebody would have to show me. I would not take the owners’ word for it.
Back in 1995, we learned about many of the shady things Mark Fuhrman did in Brentwood. I admit that I did not watch a single second of OJ’s trial, so I don’t know all of the details that many of you do. I do know, however, that nothing with Fuhrman’s name on it was trustworthy beyond a reasonable doubt. Essentially, what the prosecutors wanted was for the jury to see beyond Fuhrman’s shadiness. For the past 16 years, I’ve figured that those twelve men and women did not think the rest of the evidence was enough to overcome the doubt created by Fuhrman. For the general public, though, it was enough to just “know” that OJ did it.
Similarly, we know that the NBA owners have been lying about team finances. People in the media and the public know this, but don’t really seem to care. They acknowledge that the owners aren’t being honest, but they still “know” that the model is failing. Bill Simmons, for example, keeps writing about how the compromises are obvious and “need to happen.” Why? He doesn’t offer any actual evidence to support his claim. He gives reasons, but backs his reasoning up with nothing to let me know that he’s actually speaking fact—he doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt since he was the primary creator of the LeBron went to play with his biggest rival nonsense—instead of just treating some idea of his as if it is actually truth. Yesterday, he did a podcast with Blake Griffin in which he said that the players need to understand that game attendance will continue to grow as a problem in this big screen HDTV, internet, iPad era. He might be right—he’s probably right—but where are the projections? Plus, who knows what those effects will be? As of right now, no one. Basically, he believes the players need to give some money back and his rationale is that we don’t know how the assumed dwindling numbers at the gate will affect the league’s revenue stream.
What kind of logic suggests that players should give back money because no one knows how much money there will be? It’s the players’ money. It’s theirs right now. The owners need to prove to them that they need it.
But, no. people want their basketball, players need to understand that the system isn’t working, and it doesn’t matter that the owners have been lying about many things throughout the entire process. Knowing it isn’t enough. And it shouldn’t be enough. It should never be enough. We’re talking about people’s lives and livelihoods here. “I can’t see any way it could have been anyone other than him.” So what? I don’t feel comfortable damaging people on the strength of someone else’s lack of imagination, insight, and creative thinking. Get out of my face with that nonsense.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
2011 Phillies - The Morning After
Yes, there is the desire and passion for immediate pleasure, but one of the more overlooked important things about sports is that they exist for the purpose of making memories. Memories. Times, good and bad, to look back upon as we get older and further removed from the days when the games were played. I have always felt this way, which is why I have never understood the “we have nothing to lose” and “all the pressure was on them” mentalities—you have the chance to make a happy memory right in front of you, and you say you have nothing to lose? I wouldn’t want to look thirty years into the past and say, “You know what, we were closed, but nobody expected us to get that far anyway.” Don’t get me wrong; I can appreciate how close I came to accomplishing a goal while acknowledging that the odds against me were strong. But I do not want to enter the situation expecting to be happy with a so-called moral victory. Looking back…that’s what it’s about. Validating your era.
When I look back at the Phillies, the first sports team I ever loved in life, I will smile whenever I think of this current era. In the year my mother died, the Phillies rallied in the midst of a historic collapse by the New York Mets and won the National League East Division title on the last day of the season, which happened to be on my mother’s birthday. Yes, the Rockies swept them out of the playoffs, but nobody outside of Colorado really remembers that anymore. The next season, they again trailed the Mets. They also trailed the Brewers in the wild card standings. They entered a four-game September series at Citizens Bank Park against Milwaukee trailing them by four games. They swept them. And then the Phillies kept winning, this time clinching the division on the day prior to the last day of the season. How could I ever look back on these years and not think about Brett Myers fouling off four CC Sabathia pitches in a row before drawing a walk that set up Shane Victorino’s grand slam (or, for that matter, Jamie Moyer doing the same thing to set up a Victorino grand slam off Johan Santana on Sunday Night Baseball in 2010)? I’ll remember dramatic two-run homeruns off Corey Wade and Jonathan Broxton in Dodger Stadium (“Stairs hits one deep into the night!”). Joe Blanton’s homerun off Edwin Jackson…the Game 5 rain...Pedro Feliz’s RBI single…Utley’s heads up throw to home…Brad Lidge vs. Eric Hinske…Ryan Howard’s game winners in Games 3 and 4 at Coors Field…Rollins’ double off Broxton…Lee’s Game 1 in Yankee Stadium…the perfect game…the no-hitter against Cincinnati…Chase Utley hitting the first World Series homerun in the history of 2 different stadiums.
On a personal level, I got to watch my team play as the first defending World Series champion to play in the new Yankee Stadium, and I did it on my honeymoon. I went up to Citi Field and saw our ace throw 8 shutout innings against the hated Mets. I was able to be there in person as Doc Halladay threw a complete game 2-hit shutout in Nationals Park to clinch the division in 2010. This season, I went to Opening Day for the first time in my life. Later, I sat in the stands as Clifton Phifer dealt a 12-strikeout, 3-hit shutout on only 99 pitches. And I was able to take my sister to a game on her birthday and watch her favorite pitcher, Cole Hamels, toss a gem. This was a great era for me.
Of course there were some bad times. Brad Lidge vs. Johnny Damon. Pedro vs. Matsui. But overall, this has been a great time. And I’m OK with it
In the Wild Card era, there have been 12 seasons (20 total teams) from the National League to win 97 games. Only three times has one of those teams made the World Series. On two of those occasions, all three division winners were 97-win teams. The playoffs are a crapshoot. The Phillies’ loss last night means that 2011 is the 13th season out of the last 15 in which the top seed in the National League playoffs did not win the pennant. Neither of them won the World Series. Meanwhile, the National League Wild Card team has gone on to the World Series 6 times in the last 14 years (the Cardinals can make it 7 out of 15) and won it all twice. These statistics are not offered as excuses. No, they show how much harder it is to achieve postseason success in the modern era. They show how difficult it is to validate your era in modern Major League Baseball.
We saw the Phillies win a World Series and then go back to the Fall Classic the following year. I know it hurts for us Phillies fans right now, but we all know it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as 2009 or 2010, especially 2009. With everyone getting older and Ryan Howard’s injury, I’m pretty sure this is the end. It was a great run. And we did more with it than most teams would have. The Cardinals were a bad matchup, and they out-hit and out-pitched the Phillies. It happens.
I’m proud of my team and what they have accomplished over the past five years. And what they did for me the summer my mother died and my wife was in chemotherapy cannot be overstated. This group will always be my boys.
When I look back at the Phillies, the first sports team I ever loved in life, I will smile whenever I think of this current era. In the year my mother died, the Phillies rallied in the midst of a historic collapse by the New York Mets and won the National League East Division title on the last day of the season, which happened to be on my mother’s birthday. Yes, the Rockies swept them out of the playoffs, but nobody outside of Colorado really remembers that anymore. The next season, they again trailed the Mets. They also trailed the Brewers in the wild card standings. They entered a four-game September series at Citizens Bank Park against Milwaukee trailing them by four games. They swept them. And then the Phillies kept winning, this time clinching the division on the day prior to the last day of the season. How could I ever look back on these years and not think about Brett Myers fouling off four CC Sabathia pitches in a row before drawing a walk that set up Shane Victorino’s grand slam (or, for that matter, Jamie Moyer doing the same thing to set up a Victorino grand slam off Johan Santana on Sunday Night Baseball in 2010)? I’ll remember dramatic two-run homeruns off Corey Wade and Jonathan Broxton in Dodger Stadium (“Stairs hits one deep into the night!”). Joe Blanton’s homerun off Edwin Jackson…the Game 5 rain...Pedro Feliz’s RBI single…Utley’s heads up throw to home…Brad Lidge vs. Eric Hinske…Ryan Howard’s game winners in Games 3 and 4 at Coors Field…Rollins’ double off Broxton…Lee’s Game 1 in Yankee Stadium…the perfect game…the no-hitter against Cincinnati…Chase Utley hitting the first World Series homerun in the history of 2 different stadiums.
On a personal level, I got to watch my team play as the first defending World Series champion to play in the new Yankee Stadium, and I did it on my honeymoon. I went up to Citi Field and saw our ace throw 8 shutout innings against the hated Mets. I was able to be there in person as Doc Halladay threw a complete game 2-hit shutout in Nationals Park to clinch the division in 2010. This season, I went to Opening Day for the first time in my life. Later, I sat in the stands as Clifton Phifer dealt a 12-strikeout, 3-hit shutout on only 99 pitches. And I was able to take my sister to a game on her birthday and watch her favorite pitcher, Cole Hamels, toss a gem. This was a great era for me.
Of course there were some bad times. Brad Lidge vs. Johnny Damon. Pedro vs. Matsui. But overall, this has been a great time. And I’m OK with it
In the Wild Card era, there have been 12 seasons (20 total teams) from the National League to win 97 games. Only three times has one of those teams made the World Series. On two of those occasions, all three division winners were 97-win teams. The playoffs are a crapshoot. The Phillies’ loss last night means that 2011 is the 13th season out of the last 15 in which the top seed in the National League playoffs did not win the pennant. Neither of them won the World Series. Meanwhile, the National League Wild Card team has gone on to the World Series 6 times in the last 14 years (the Cardinals can make it 7 out of 15) and won it all twice. These statistics are not offered as excuses. No, they show how much harder it is to achieve postseason success in the modern era. They show how difficult it is to validate your era in modern Major League Baseball.
We saw the Phillies win a World Series and then go back to the Fall Classic the following year. I know it hurts for us Phillies fans right now, but we all know it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as 2009 or 2010, especially 2009. With everyone getting older and Ryan Howard’s injury, I’m pretty sure this is the end. It was a great run. And we did more with it than most teams would have. The Cardinals were a bad matchup, and they out-hit and out-pitched the Phillies. It happens.
I’m proud of my team and what they have accomplished over the past five years. And what they did for me the summer my mother died and my wife was in chemotherapy cannot be overstated. This group will always be my boys.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
MLB Awards
One of the biggest problems that I have with Major League Baseball’s regular season awards is that the voters tend to take the entire season into consideration when the last 3 or 4 weeks of the season are actually irrelevant to many award contenders. Very often, September games are formalities. Let’s take the American League MVP race, for instance. The top 5 contenders for the award seem to be Jose Bautista, Jacoby Ellsbury, Curtis Granderson, Dustin Pedroia, and Justin Verlander. Today, Granderson is viewed as less in contention for the MVP than he was at the end of August. Why? Because his numbers fell off. To that, I say “So what?”
The Yankees have been a virtual postseason lock since the All-Star break. The second half of the season has only strengthened their hold on a playoff spot. Essentially, their place in October was sewn up before Labor Day. Why should anything that happened after that point count for or against Curtis Granderson’s MVP case? It makes no sense to me.
During the early portions of the season, everyone has—or appears to have—the same goal of trying to make it into October. That changes by the end of August. Don’t get me wrong. I am not arguing that only players for contenders should be considered for the league MVP. What I am saying is that players on teams fighting for playoff berths have different September goals than those on teams already assured of playoff spots and those on teams just playing out the string. The Yankees woke up on September 1 with a 8.5-game lead on Tampa Bay for the American League Wild Card. Honestly, can you count anything against any Yankee player—A.J. Burnett excepted—for their play from then to now?
The same thing can be said about the National League Cy Young Award. Clayton Kershaw is a clear and deserving winner this year. He would get my vote. I know some voters, however, will pay attention to how Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee closed the season. Again, why? The Phillies swept the Braves in a three-game series from September 5-7. The sweep increased the Phillies’ lead in the National League East from 7.5 to 10.5 games. The race was over at that point. The last 3 weeks for the Phillies was about getting & staying healthy and keeping everyone sharp for the playoffs. It was not about going out there every fifth day and shutting down opposing offenses.
These awards should be judged based upon the contending players’ effective seasons. To me, it makes no sense to do it any other way.
The Yankees have been a virtual postseason lock since the All-Star break. The second half of the season has only strengthened their hold on a playoff spot. Essentially, their place in October was sewn up before Labor Day. Why should anything that happened after that point count for or against Curtis Granderson’s MVP case? It makes no sense to me.
During the early portions of the season, everyone has—or appears to have—the same goal of trying to make it into October. That changes by the end of August. Don’t get me wrong. I am not arguing that only players for contenders should be considered for the league MVP. What I am saying is that players on teams fighting for playoff berths have different September goals than those on teams already assured of playoff spots and those on teams just playing out the string. The Yankees woke up on September 1 with a 8.5-game lead on Tampa Bay for the American League Wild Card. Honestly, can you count anything against any Yankee player—A.J. Burnett excepted—for their play from then to now?
The same thing can be said about the National League Cy Young Award. Clayton Kershaw is a clear and deserving winner this year. He would get my vote. I know some voters, however, will pay attention to how Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee closed the season. Again, why? The Phillies swept the Braves in a three-game series from September 5-7. The sweep increased the Phillies’ lead in the National League East from 7.5 to 10.5 games. The race was over at that point. The last 3 weeks for the Phillies was about getting & staying healthy and keeping everyone sharp for the playoffs. It was not about going out there every fifth day and shutting down opposing offenses.
These awards should be judged based upon the contending players’ effective seasons. To me, it makes no sense to do it any other way.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Stream of Thoughts on the NFL
The other day, Cold Hard Football Facts made a post defending Eli’s claim that he was on the same level as Tom Brady. They weren’t arguing that Eli is at the same level as Brady, but rather that he led both the greatest upset and greatest championship drive in NFL history and, therefore, needs to take a back seat to no one. After reading that column, I felt the need to go back and rewatch the 4th quarter of Super Bowl XLIII because I thought both Kurt Warner and Ben Roethlisberger had led pretty great drives themselves. Let me tell you: both of them are amazing to watch in real-time, especially Roethlisberger’s game-winner. Thinking about those drives got me thinking about other things, too. Here’s how my thought process went:
- During my rewatch, I got to see Larry Fitzgerald’s long touchdown catch-and-run that put the Cardinals ahead. I remember watching the game live and seeing James Harrison run with every ounce of energy he had to try and catch Fitzgerald until Troy Polamalu ran over to him and tapped his shoulder. “Give it up, man. They got us,” was the message in that tap. Every time I rewatch that play, that tap is what sticks with me. That play, if you really think about it, embodies everything that four players personified during their careers. The perfect placement of the pass by Warner that led Fitzgerald into the opening of the defense; Fitzgerald’s great hands and perfect route, and perfect stride; the relentless pursuit of James Harrison; and Polamalu putting himself in awful defensive position by jumping to the outside and leaving the middle open, then coming back and trying to make a play, and finally taking care of his teammate. Great, great play. It’s the most memorable play from that Super Bowl to me, and yes I remember Harrison and Santonio Holmes’ touchdowns.
- On the television broadcast, John Madden remarked how the game was in the Steelers defense’s hands and they failed to come through. When the Steelers came back to win, people commented how Roethlisberger was actually a part of that Super Bowl team. There is a myth out there that he rode the defense’s coattails to the 2005 championship. That’s false. Roethlisberger had a historically bad Super Bowl, but look at the rest of that playoff run. The Steelers offense passed in the first half to get leads and then ran the ball in the second half kill the clock. People are letting the horrible Super Bowl XL he played cloud their memories of the other 3 playoff games Pittsburgh played that year. Roethlisberger threw 2 touchdown passes in the first half of each of those other 3 games and totaled 7 TDs and 1 INT total. His quarterback rating in those games were 148.7, 95.3, and 124.9, respectively. One dreadful game does not equal riding the defense’s coattails during a playoff run.
- The moment when Polamalu tapped Harrison’s shoulder reminds me of a similar moment that took place a year earlier. After Randy Moss caught the touchdown that put the Patriots up 14-10 in the Super Bowl against the Giants, Tedy Bruschi and Junior Seau hugged on the sidelines. Those two moments were the exact opposite of each other. Whereas the Steelers’ moment was consoling, this was triumphant. Ironic how the Steelers came back to win and the Patriots’ defense let the game slip through their fingers.
- Speaking of slipping through fingers, have any good players ever had worst Super Bowl 4th quarters than Asante Samuel and Rodney Harrison did against the Giants? Harrison, of course, couldn’t get the ball off of David Tyree’s helmet. The Giants’ first touchdown drive began with Kevin Boss beating Harrison for a 45-yard gain. Samuel, you remember, failed to intercept a pass that went through his hands on the play before the helmet catch. Earlier in the quarter, a few plays after Boss’ big gain, David Tyree caught a touchdown pass when Samuel was too slow to react to him in the end zone.
- He wasn’t a good player, but Anthony Dorsett had a pretty bad play in a Super Bowl 4th quarter when he misplayed a ball in the air. That turned into Kurt Warner’s 73-yard game-winning touchdown pass to Isaac Bruce. Of course, the Raiders signed Dorsett to a free agent contract that offseason. He repaid them by misplaying a pass over the middle to Shannon Sharpe that the tight end turned into the longest touchdown pass in NFL playoff history.
- Isaac Bruce’s touchdown overshadows two of the greatest drives in history. Everyone remembers the nearly 90-yard drive that ended with Kevin Dyson at the Rams’ 1-yard line. Earlier in that half, though, the Titans were on the verge of getting blown out. The Rams had just scored to make the score 16-0, and my father and I were wondering if we were about to witness the first shutout in Super Bowl history. The Titans then marched on to the first of what would be consecutive 7+ minute scoring drives that would help them tie the game. The first one was a beauty, though, encompassing everything the Steve McNair-era Titans were all about. Only three men—other than the center—touched the ball during that drive: McNair, Eddie George, and Frank Wycheck. It was a 12-play, 66 yard touchdown drive that made the score 16-6, and the only play that went longer than 9 yards was a McNair run that went for 23. You don’t see teams trailing by double digits in the second half commit to running the football, but the Titans did, and they came all the way back to tie the game. It was a great drive, and we’ll probably never see another one like it in a Super Bowl situation again.
- I don’t think people realize how great Mike Jones’ tackle of Kevin Dyson on the game’s final play really was. Watch it again. Jones wasn’t supposed to be able to make that play. He must have seen Dyson from the extreme limit of his peripheral vision. It is, without hyperbole, the most important tackle in Super Bowl history.
- And all this makes me think about how lucky football fans in their mid-20s and younger are. When I was growing up, the Super Bowl was always an awful game. From the time I was 6 years old through my freshman year in college, the Super Bowl scores were as follows: 38-9, 36-16, 46-10, 39-20, 42-10, 20-16, 55-10, 20-19, 37-24 (24-0 midway through the 3rd), 52-17, 30-13, and 49-26. From Super Bowl XXX on, they’ve been pretty good, and people who grew up watching these games are very fortunate. Look at the scores from the last 16 Super Bowls: 27-17 (Steelers trailed by 3 and had ball at midfield with a few minutes left), 35-21, 31-24, 34-19, 23-16, 34-7, 20-17, 48-24, 32-29, 24-21, 21-10, 29-17 (Chicago trailed and had the ball nearing midfield in the 4th), 17-14, 27-23, 31-17, and 31-25. That’s a pretty good run of Super Bowls.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Ballparks
Last night, my wife and I enjoyed PNC Park in Pittsburgh for the First Time:. It was nice, but not nearly as nice as I had been led to believe. Throughout the game, I had the feeling I was in an oversized minor league park. Maybe that’s what people like about it. For me, that was a negative. But I did like the place. As long as I live in the East, I could see myself making an annual or biannual trip there.
It was the 11th Major League ballpark she and I have visited together. I hope we can add Progressive Field in Cleveland next year. Or even Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati—then we could go to the aquarium in Newport, Kentucky, my favorite aquarium in America.
Anyway, I figured I should rank the ballparks I’ve been to so far in my life. I’ve been to 15 overall. * denotes parks I’ve been to with my wife…for the 2 of you who care. For the record, I also saw two games at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, but they were in the Olympics.
It was the 11th Major League ballpark she and I have visited together. I hope we can add Progressive Field in Cleveland next year. Or even Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati—then we could go to the aquarium in Newport, Kentucky, my favorite aquarium in America.
Anyway, I figured I should rank the ballparks I’ve been to so far in my life. I’ve been to 15 overall. * denotes parks I’ve been to with my wife…for the 2 of you who care. For the record, I also saw two games at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, but they were in the Olympics.
- *AT&T Park, San Francisco, California
First Time: April 6, 2005
Favorite Memory: Seeing Willie Mays when the Giants celebrated their great outfielders during their 50 years in San Francisco celebration
Best Game: August 9, 2008—Giants 3, Dodgers 2 (10 innings)
- Yankee Stadium II, The Bronx, New York (retired)
First Time: May 17, 2008
Favorite Memory: The last time we were there, my father, sister, and I stood by our seats for an hour after the game ended and trying to savor the moment.
Best Game: July 5, 2008—Yankees 2, Red Sox 1
- *Citizens Bank Park, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
First Time: May 29, 2004
Favorite Memory: Walking through Ashburn Alley with my sister on Opening Day 2011 and discovering that the Phillies were going to parade into the stadium and having a front row view.
Best Game: April 1, 2011—Phillies 5, Astros 4
- *Wrigley Field, Chicago, Illinois
First Time: August 6, 2011 (only time)
Favorite Memory: Walking through the tunnel from the concourse and into the seating area, finding our seats in right field foul territory, looking out over the right field stands, and knowing that Lou Gehrig had hit one over that wall as a high schooler.
Best Game: August 6, 2011—Cubs 11, Reds 4
- *Yankee Stadium III, The Bronx, New York
First Time: May 23, 2009 (only time)
Favorite Memory: John Mayberry, Jr.’s first Major League homerun off Andy Pettitte.
Best Game: May 23, 2009—Yankees 5, Phillies 4
- Fenway Park, Boston, Massachusetts
First Time: April 15, 1994 (only time)
Favorite Memory: Seeing Frank Thomas hit a homerun off Roger Clemens
Best Game: April 15, 1994—Red Sox 5, White Sox 3
- *Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, California
First Time: May 25, 2008
Favorite Memory: Realizing I was going to see the Major League debut of a top pitching prospect (Clayton Kershaw)
Best Game: May 25, 2008—Dodgers 4, Cardinals 3
- *PNC Park, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
First Time: August 20, 2011 (only time)
Favorite Memory: Seeing Aroldis Chapman hit 101mph on a fastball
Best Game: August 20, 2011—Pirates 5, Reds 3
- *Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland
First Time: July 31, 1993
Favorite Memory: Going to my first doubleheader
Best Game: August 10, 2011—Orioles 6, White Sox 4 (10 innings)
- *Citi Field, Flushing, New York
First Time: August 14, 2010 (only time)
Favorite Memory: Seeing Roy Halladay pitch for the First Time:.
Best Game: August 14, 2010—Phillies 4, Mets 0
- *Nationals Park, Washington, D.C.
First Time: April 8, 2010
Favorite Memory: Being in the park for Roy Halladay’s complete game 2-hitter to clinch the 2010 National League East for the Phillies.
Best Game: July 31, 2010—Nationals 7, Phillies 5
- Candlestick Park, San Francisco, California (retired)
First Time: April 23, 1994 (only time)
Favorite Memory: The First Time: my father and I saw a game together outside of Philly
Best Game: April 23, 1994—Giants 10, Mets 1
- *US Cellular Field, Chicago, Illinois
First Time: June 26, 2009 (only time)
Favorite Memory: Seeing the wedding congratulations the my in-laws paid to put on the big board for my wife and me
Best Game: June 26, 2009—Cubs 5, White Sox 4
- *McAfee Coliseum, Oakland, California
First Time: May 16, 2005
Favorite Memory: My First Time: seeing a Philadelphia team play outside of Philly
Best Game: July 7, 2008—Athletics 4, Mariners 3
- Veterans Stadium, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (retired)
First Time: Who knows? I was young.
Favorite Memory: Seeing Dwight Gooden and Steve Carlton face each other. I will never see a better pitching matchup.
Best Game: April 19, 1985—Mets 1, Phillies 0
Monday, July 18, 2011
Bochy
I don’t watch award shows, but I often hit the internet the next morning to see the winners. Even though they didn’t surprise me, some of the results made me shake my head. Two of those were won by the Dallas Mavericks. One of them was their winning the Best Team award. I’ll discuss that in a separate post. This one is about Rick Carlisle’s winning the Best Coach/Manager award. The nominees in this category were Jim Calhoun, Rick Carlisle, Gene Chizik, Mike McCarthy, and Dom Starsia. Where was Bruce Bochy on that list? I understand that the last baseball season ended 8 months ago, but, frankly, I don’t see a compelling argument that any major American sports coach has done a better job over the past 12 months than the manager of the San Francisco Giants. Let me make my case.
As we all know, last year’s Giants won the World Series for the first time since moving from New York to California. They were not a powerhouse. Did you realize that this team went 14 consecutive games without scoring as many as 5 runs? Did you know those games went from September 26 to Game 4 of the NLCS? The Giants went 10-4 in those games. No matter who’s on your pitching staff, you don’t win that many games down the stretch and in the playoffs with a putrid offense without some shrewd managerial moves. But that’s easy stuff; you can see that by looking at the schedule.
To see Bochy’s genius with the 2010 Giants, you have to know the team and the three head cases in the starting rotation. Matt Cain, Jonathan Sanchez, and Barry Zito are three of the most inconsistent, nausea-inducing starting pitchers of the current era. Bochy’s first championship decision was to keep Zito, the $126 million man, off the postseason roster and use rookie Madison Bumgarner as the fourth starter. Who knows what the Giants would have gotten from Zito, but Bumgarner pitched brilliantly in his two road starts, the NLDS clincher in Atlanta and an 8-inning shutout performance to in Arlington to put the Giants up 3-1 in the World Series.
Bochy’s next key decision involved his utilization of Cain and Sanchez in the postseason rotation. Sanchez is the kind of pitcher who’s either great or awful; either he’s got it or he doesn’t. And you can usually tell what kind of game you’re getting out of Sanchez within the first 20 pitches. He’ll throw a complete game shutout one outing and get shelled for 5 runs in 2 innings the next, and it doesn’t matter whether he’s at home or on the road. Matt Cain, on the other hand, sometimes lets things get to him. You can see the annoyance on his face. Cain has always been the type of pitcher who has a difficult time recovering; once things start to go wrong, they stay wrong. And if you look at his splits throughout his entire career, you’ll see that he is much better in AT&T Park than he is pitching on the road. Knowing these two pitchers, Bochy made the same decision that I would have—he manipulated his rotation so that Cain would not pitch on the road. As a result, Cain went 3-0 with a 0.00 ERA in the 2010 postseason.
The key series for the Giants was the NLCS versus Philadelphia. Going into the series, I thought the Giants’ only chance to win was if they won the series in 4 or 5 games. Lincecum was going to start Games 1 and 5; Bumgarner was going to start Game 4. Cain and Sanchez would start Games 2, 3, 6, and 7 in some combination. The Phillies were going to rock Sanchez in his starts; I considered that a given. And if Cain ever pitched in Citizens Bank Park, he would get shelled as well. No matter what, the Giants were going to lose Game 2. Bochy made the decision to start Sanchez in Game 2, which would allow Cain to start Game 3 in San Francisco. As expected, Sanchez lost Game 2. Cain shut the Phillies out in Game 3. Lincecum lost to Roy Halladay in Game 5, which brought the series back to Philadelphia. At that point, I thought the Phillies were going to win the series. I knew they were going to get to Sanchez in Game 6. I figured they’d light up Cain the next night. Bochy responded by managing Game 6 as if his life depended on it.
Sanchez gave up 3 hits, a walk, a wild pitch, and 2 runs in the first inning. San Francisco tied it up in the top of the third. In the bottom of that inning, Sanchez walked the leadoff batter then hit the second batter. Benches cleared and tempers flared when Utley was hit by the pitch. Bochy knew the Sanchez meltdown had come, and immediately removed him from the game. Not many managers would remove a starting pitcher in the third inning of a 2-2 game while leading the series. He did, and it saved his team’s season. This was the game the Giants had to win. Bochy used Bumgarner on two days’ rest to get a couple of shutout innings. Once the Giants got a lead, he used Lincecum as his bridge to closer Brian Wilson to secure the pennant.
I’m a Phillies fan, and as I write this, I’m reliving Game 6. I don’t understand how Bochy pulled that off. I don’t think any other manager would have done what he did. Benching Zito for the playoffs for an unproven rookie? Going out of his way to make sure Cain never pitched on the road? Using 2 starting pitchers in relief while leading the series?
Try and convince me he wasn’t the coach of the year. Good luck.
As we all know, last year’s Giants won the World Series for the first time since moving from New York to California. They were not a powerhouse. Did you realize that this team went 14 consecutive games without scoring as many as 5 runs? Did you know those games went from September 26 to Game 4 of the NLCS? The Giants went 10-4 in those games. No matter who’s on your pitching staff, you don’t win that many games down the stretch and in the playoffs with a putrid offense without some shrewd managerial moves. But that’s easy stuff; you can see that by looking at the schedule.
To see Bochy’s genius with the 2010 Giants, you have to know the team and the three head cases in the starting rotation. Matt Cain, Jonathan Sanchez, and Barry Zito are three of the most inconsistent, nausea-inducing starting pitchers of the current era. Bochy’s first championship decision was to keep Zito, the $126 million man, off the postseason roster and use rookie Madison Bumgarner as the fourth starter. Who knows what the Giants would have gotten from Zito, but Bumgarner pitched brilliantly in his two road starts, the NLDS clincher in Atlanta and an 8-inning shutout performance to in Arlington to put the Giants up 3-1 in the World Series.
Bochy’s next key decision involved his utilization of Cain and Sanchez in the postseason rotation. Sanchez is the kind of pitcher who’s either great or awful; either he’s got it or he doesn’t. And you can usually tell what kind of game you’re getting out of Sanchez within the first 20 pitches. He’ll throw a complete game shutout one outing and get shelled for 5 runs in 2 innings the next, and it doesn’t matter whether he’s at home or on the road. Matt Cain, on the other hand, sometimes lets things get to him. You can see the annoyance on his face. Cain has always been the type of pitcher who has a difficult time recovering; once things start to go wrong, they stay wrong. And if you look at his splits throughout his entire career, you’ll see that he is much better in AT&T Park than he is pitching on the road. Knowing these two pitchers, Bochy made the same decision that I would have—he manipulated his rotation so that Cain would not pitch on the road. As a result, Cain went 3-0 with a 0.00 ERA in the 2010 postseason.
The key series for the Giants was the NLCS versus Philadelphia. Going into the series, I thought the Giants’ only chance to win was if they won the series in 4 or 5 games. Lincecum was going to start Games 1 and 5; Bumgarner was going to start Game 4. Cain and Sanchez would start Games 2, 3, 6, and 7 in some combination. The Phillies were going to rock Sanchez in his starts; I considered that a given. And if Cain ever pitched in Citizens Bank Park, he would get shelled as well. No matter what, the Giants were going to lose Game 2. Bochy made the decision to start Sanchez in Game 2, which would allow Cain to start Game 3 in San Francisco. As expected, Sanchez lost Game 2. Cain shut the Phillies out in Game 3. Lincecum lost to Roy Halladay in Game 5, which brought the series back to Philadelphia. At that point, I thought the Phillies were going to win the series. I knew they were going to get to Sanchez in Game 6. I figured they’d light up Cain the next night. Bochy responded by managing Game 6 as if his life depended on it.
Sanchez gave up 3 hits, a walk, a wild pitch, and 2 runs in the first inning. San Francisco tied it up in the top of the third. In the bottom of that inning, Sanchez walked the leadoff batter then hit the second batter. Benches cleared and tempers flared when Utley was hit by the pitch. Bochy knew the Sanchez meltdown had come, and immediately removed him from the game. Not many managers would remove a starting pitcher in the third inning of a 2-2 game while leading the series. He did, and it saved his team’s season. This was the game the Giants had to win. Bochy used Bumgarner on two days’ rest to get a couple of shutout innings. Once the Giants got a lead, he used Lincecum as his bridge to closer Brian Wilson to secure the pennant.
I’m a Phillies fan, and as I write this, I’m reliving Game 6. I don’t understand how Bochy pulled that off. I don’t think any other manager would have done what he did. Benching Zito for the playoffs for an unproven rookie? Going out of his way to make sure Cain never pitched on the road? Using 2 starting pitchers in relief while leading the series?
Try and convince me he wasn’t the coach of the year. Good luck.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Random Linearity 07-09-2011
The human brain is an amazing thing. Last night, reading one simple baseball tweet set off a string of randomly linear thoughts that led me to ask a not-so-simple question.
At 11:17pm last night, Joe Posnanski tweeted “Kyle Davies gave up five runs in six innings. His ERA went down.” Reading that tweet got me changing the channel to the Royals game. The Royals were playing the Tigers, which got me to thinking about Detroit, which led to thoughts about Joe Louis, who fought Max Schmeling, who was a pawn of Adolph Hitler’s Nazi propaganda. We all know the simplified history of how Hitler trumpeted the virtues of the Aryan Nation while he, himself, was not Aryan. Well, is Michelle Bachmann doing anything different? She preaches that women should submit to their husbands, who should be the heads of the households, but she is running to be the leader of this country. According to her own principles, how can she lead the country if she cannot lead her own family? Then again, Donovan McNabb often professed how he was the leader of the Eagles, yet his parents and brother did more speaking out for him than he did himself. Of course, I started thinking about the McNabb/TO drama in Philly. When you think about it, TO final season in Philly wasn’t all that different from Jim Riggleman’s last year in DC, was it? I know one of the things that pissed Riggleman off was knowing that he was the lowest paid manager in the majors, yet his management spent $18million a year for 6 years on a guy who never drove in 100 runs, and in his 3 years as a starter seen his batting average with runners in scoring position go from .274 (.268 with 2 outs) in 2008 to .186 (.139 with 2 outs) in 2010 despite hitting 5th in the best offense in the National League. In that way, Jayson Werth reminds me of Mark Texiera. They both put up good numbers—Tex’s numbers are borderline great—but they always seem to be inconsequential to their teams’ success. Texiera does, however, share the record for the most times homering from both sides of the plate in a Major League game. I’ve never seen a player do that in person, but I had to get on the internet to look up Danny Espinosa. He’s a switch-hitter and I’ve twice seen him hit 2 homeruns in a game (the first time, both came left-handed; the second time, both were right-handed). Danny Espinosa is from Santa Ana, the same town where Matt Leinart is from. Who can think about Matt Leinart without thinking of Vince Young and Jay Cutler? Those two obviously bring Nashville to mind. Nashville is in Tennessee, which is where Memphis is. Thoughts of Memphis reminded me of Toya’s conversation with Chill on The Morning Jones. Chill is from Miami, where LeBron plays. LeBron brings to mind Delonte West who leads to Michael Beasley, who plays in Minnesota. I wonder if Beasley has anyone in his life who really cares about him and will help him get his life together. I wondered the same thing about Eddie Griffin, who also played in Minnesota. Griffin was never able to overcome his demons. I hope recent events do not keep Josh Hamilton from continuing to overcome his. I do wonder, though, why everyone feels sorry for Josh Hamilton right now while Darryl Strawberry only faced ridicule and scorn when he relapsed into drug usage while undergoing cancer treatment. Whenever I think of Strawberry, I think back to the 1999 World Series and how I will always believe the Braves lost that series because Greg Maddux was afraid to pitch to him in the 8th inning of Game 1. Greg’s brother, Mike pitched for the Phillies. Philadelphia teams always have the wrong brother. Dom DiMaggio, Jeremy Giambi, and Harvey Grant are a few examples. Harvey Grant was brought to the Sixers to motivate Tim Thomas. Tim Thomas was foolishly brought to Philly by Larry Brown, who always fought with Allen Iverson, who tried to be a rapper, but wasn’t as successful at it as Shaquille O’Neal, who once admitted that the FU-Schnickens were his favorite rap group. Their first single featured Pfife Dog, who was in A Tribe Called Quest, whose documentary opened today. Why isn’t Beats, Rhymes, & Life playing anywhere near our nation’s capital?
At 11:17pm last night, Joe Posnanski tweeted “Kyle Davies gave up five runs in six innings. His ERA went down.” Reading that tweet got me changing the channel to the Royals game. The Royals were playing the Tigers, which got me to thinking about Detroit, which led to thoughts about Joe Louis, who fought Max Schmeling, who was a pawn of Adolph Hitler’s Nazi propaganda. We all know the simplified history of how Hitler trumpeted the virtues of the Aryan Nation while he, himself, was not Aryan. Well, is Michelle Bachmann doing anything different? She preaches that women should submit to their husbands, who should be the heads of the households, but she is running to be the leader of this country. According to her own principles, how can she lead the country if she cannot lead her own family? Then again, Donovan McNabb often professed how he was the leader of the Eagles, yet his parents and brother did more speaking out for him than he did himself. Of course, I started thinking about the McNabb/TO drama in Philly. When you think about it, TO final season in Philly wasn’t all that different from Jim Riggleman’s last year in DC, was it? I know one of the things that pissed Riggleman off was knowing that he was the lowest paid manager in the majors, yet his management spent $18million a year for 6 years on a guy who never drove in 100 runs, and in his 3 years as a starter seen his batting average with runners in scoring position go from .274 (.268 with 2 outs) in 2008 to .186 (.139 with 2 outs) in 2010 despite hitting 5th in the best offense in the National League. In that way, Jayson Werth reminds me of Mark Texiera. They both put up good numbers—Tex’s numbers are borderline great—but they always seem to be inconsequential to their teams’ success. Texiera does, however, share the record for the most times homering from both sides of the plate in a Major League game. I’ve never seen a player do that in person, but I had to get on the internet to look up Danny Espinosa. He’s a switch-hitter and I’ve twice seen him hit 2 homeruns in a game (the first time, both came left-handed; the second time, both were right-handed). Danny Espinosa is from Santa Ana, the same town where Matt Leinart is from. Who can think about Matt Leinart without thinking of Vince Young and Jay Cutler? Those two obviously bring Nashville to mind. Nashville is in Tennessee, which is where Memphis is. Thoughts of Memphis reminded me of Toya’s conversation with Chill on The Morning Jones. Chill is from Miami, where LeBron plays. LeBron brings to mind Delonte West who leads to Michael Beasley, who plays in Minnesota. I wonder if Beasley has anyone in his life who really cares about him and will help him get his life together. I wondered the same thing about Eddie Griffin, who also played in Minnesota. Griffin was never able to overcome his demons. I hope recent events do not keep Josh Hamilton from continuing to overcome his. I do wonder, though, why everyone feels sorry for Josh Hamilton right now while Darryl Strawberry only faced ridicule and scorn when he relapsed into drug usage while undergoing cancer treatment. Whenever I think of Strawberry, I think back to the 1999 World Series and how I will always believe the Braves lost that series because Greg Maddux was afraid to pitch to him in the 8th inning of Game 1. Greg’s brother, Mike pitched for the Phillies. Philadelphia teams always have the wrong brother. Dom DiMaggio, Jeremy Giambi, and Harvey Grant are a few examples. Harvey Grant was brought to the Sixers to motivate Tim Thomas. Tim Thomas was foolishly brought to Philly by Larry Brown, who always fought with Allen Iverson, who tried to be a rapper, but wasn’t as successful at it as Shaquille O’Neal, who once admitted that the FU-Schnickens were his favorite rap group. Their first single featured Pfife Dog, who was in A Tribe Called Quest, whose documentary opened today. Why isn’t Beats, Rhymes, & Life playing anywhere near our nation’s capital?
Monday, June 27, 2011
I Hate Pseudo-Fans
I miss the days when you could go to Phillies games and the people in stands actually knew the game. I went to Saturday night's game and heard some crazy things coming from the row behind me. If these fans are the trade-off for having a good team, I'll take it.
- What I heard
Do you think Werth left because he was upset? Was he sad?
The real story
Werth left the Phillies by way of a 7-year $126million free agent contract with the Washington Nationals. - What I heard
Woman: Why were they booing Ibanez?
Man: Because he grounds into a lot of double plays.
The real story
The crowd was chanting “RRRRAAAUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLL”; there were no boos. - What I heard
Did you see the homeruns?
The real story
The person had missed the A’s scoring two runs. There was one homerun; the other run was scored via a walk and a pair of singles. - What I heard
Man: I saw Victorino’s bonehead play.
Woman: Yeah, what happened with that? Was it an error?
Man: They don’t call that an error, but they probably should. He was trying to be a hot dog.
The real story
Coco Crisp was on second base. Connor Jackson flied out to Victorino in centerfield. Crisp faked as if he was going to tag up and run to third, so Victorino prepared to fire the ball there. Crisp stopped running and Victorino relaxed his arm. Crisp broke for third and made it easily as Victorino’s soft throw got there very late. This is not being a hot dog. This was one veteran player deking another. Victorino had a brain fart and got faked out. Nothing hot dog about it. - What I heard (Ibanez grounded out to third)
At least he tried to go the other way.
The real story
First of all, Ibanez’s power is mostly to right, but he is not generally a pull hitter. He hits it to all fields. More importantly, what does trying to go the other way have to do with anything? He wasn’t a right handed batter with a man on second. Trevor Cahill wasn’t feeding him sinkers or breaking balls away. Ibanez was seeing a steady diet of fastballs that he couldn’t catch up to. When you can’t catch up to a pitch, it goes the other way. That’s what happened here. - What I heard
What have these guys done for us lately?
The real story
The Phillies have the best record in the Major Leagues. - What I heard
They need to shake this team up, get rid of some pieces. Trade Victorino.
The real story
The Phillies have the best record in the Major Leagues and, at the time, had won 11 of their last 14 games. They also lead the National League with a +63 run differential. The Braves, who are second in this category, are +39.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
McNabb & Favre? Not for My Playoff Team
Over the years, I have watched a lot of football. One thing that I have noticed is that with very rare exception, NFL quarterbacks only have a short stretch of championship football in him. Quarterbacks can play at a high level for a long time, but there seems to be a very short time span during which they actually play at a championship level in the playoffs. During my lifetime, I count only John Elway and Joe Montana among them. As you will see later, Kurt Warner is an outlier on that list.
I initially started compiling this data in the summer of 2010 to show that the Vikings and Redskins were foolish to put their championship hopes in the hands of Brett Favre and Donovan McNabb, respectively. Their peaks were years ago. If you only took the last 12 years of Favre’s career, for instance, he doesn’t even get a glimpse of the Hall of Fame. His first 8 seasons were so great that they carried his reputations for a full two decades.
McNabb’s peak ended in 2005. The Eagles had a great run with him from 2000-2004, but he’s only won two playoff games since then. And what I remember most about that era is that the last meaningful play of every single Eagles season from 2001-2005 was an interception thrown by McNabb. Check it out:
Furthermore, the record for consecutive Super Bowl appearances is only 8 years. The record for longest time between a quarterback’s first and last Super Bowl appearances is 12. Both of those records belong to Elway. Kurt Warner is in second place on both lists with 7 years and 9 years, respectively (Craig Morton is tied with Warner’s 7).
What this shows is that, for the most part, quarterbacks’ Super Bowl appearances come within a short time span. The stories of the old gunslinger leading his team on one last Super Bowl run are just a myth. It doesn’t happen in the NFL.
Now that that’s out of the way…
Last night, a quarterback discussion broke out on Twitter. Specifically, the names of Favre, McNabb, Brady, and Peyton Manning were thrown around. Thankfully, I had all of their data already compiled. The data I speak of is the playoff performance of all NFL quarterbacks who have started 10 or more playoff games since 1999, which is the year Donovan McNabb entered the league, Peyton Manning first made the playoffs, and Brett Favre really fell off. In total, this list includes the 4 quarterbacks already mentioned as well as Kurt Warner and Ben Roethlisberger. My initial premise was that McNabb and post-Holmgren Favre are the two worst playoff quarterbacks of this generation. I knew Peyton Manning wasn’t good, but I didn’t realize how close he was to Favre and McNabb. Manning’s actually been bad.
What you will see is the performance data broken up into different categories of playoff games since 1999: all games, games with a single-digit point differential, Championship Games/Super Bowls, wins, losses, games tied after 3 quarters, games led by 8 points or less after 3 quarters, games trailed by 8 points or less after 3 quarters, and overtime games. One interesting thing of which to take note is that Roethlisberger’s performances are all fairly consistent, no matter the category. His statistics are always OK, yet the Steelers always score a lot. Anyway…make your judgments for yourself. (Click here for the data)
ALL PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
The biggest surprise for me here was the realization that the Colts have scored as many as 20 points in only 9 of Peyton Manning’s 19 playoff games and that the Colts only averaged 22.37 points in those games. Next was realizing that only Kurt Warner averaged more than 2 touchdown passes per game.
By more than 4 points, Favre and McNabb have the 2 worst quarterback ratings of the group. Warner’s rating is a ridiculous 102.84.
SINGLE DIGIT PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
Before doing my research, I knew that Favre and McNabb’s teams had poor records in playoff games decided by less than 10 points. I knew that the only such game the Eagles won was the 4th & 26 game in which they defeated Favre’s Packers in overtime. Favre’s 1 win was the “and we’re gonna score” game in which Al Harris returned a Matt Hasselbeck interception for a touchdown in overtime. The Colts only scored 20 points in 3 of their 9 single-digit playoff games.
Oddly, even though each only posted a 1-3 record in such games, Favre and McNabb were the only 2 of the 6 to have a higher quarterback rating in single-digit games than in overall playoff games.
CHAMPIONSHIP GAMES & SUPER BOWLS SINCE 1999
It is here where Brady and Warner shine while Favre and McNabb fall far behind the others. By a lot, Favre and McNabb have the worst quarterback ratings of the bunch and Brady and Warner have the best. Only Warner and Brady managed to have more touchdown passes than interceptions in half of these games. No one else did it more than a third of the time. While Warner and Brady averaged 1 interception per game or less, Favre and McNabb were both at or near 2. That helps to explain why those Warner and Brady have a combined 11-4 record (1 game against each other) while the other two are 1-7 (no games played against each other). Manning and Roethlisberger also sport winning records in Championship Games and Super Bowls.
The most interesting statistic here is that Warner’s team averaged only 22.5 points in these games, yet still won 4 out of 6.
PLAYOFF LOSSES SINCE 1999
The first thing that struck me when looking at this data is that Roethlisberger’s Steelers have a higher scoring average in their losses than they do in their wins. Despite that, Roethlisberger throws 2.67 interceptions in each loss. Warner, amazingly, still has a respectable 88.47 quarterback rating in his losses.
Manning’s numbers are the most fascinating here, though. In his 10 playoff losses, he’s only thrown 9 touchdown passes. In 5 of those losses, however, he managed to throw more touchdown passes than interceptions. At 14.2 points per game, Manning has the worst scoring offense of those examined. Accordingly, they’ve only scored 20 points once in those losses.
PLAYOFF WINS SINCE 1999
When Brett Favre is good, he’s really good. In his 4 playoff wins, he posted a group best 123.25 quarterback rating. This is the only category in which Warner, who was second best with 109.96, did not have the best rating of the group. In those wins, Favre’s teams averaged 33.5 points per game and the quarterback had 10 TDs against only 1 INT and, naturally, had more touchdowns than interceptions in each game.
Peyton? In his 9 wins, he has 20 touchdowns and 9 interceptions. But I considered that he only threw for more touchdowns than interceptions in 5 of those 9 wins and looked deeper. If you eliminate the 2 games against Mike Shanahan’s defenseless Broncos, Manning has only 11 touchdowns and 8 interceptions in 7 wins. Those numbers are very un-Peyton like. In addition, he is the only quarterback of the 6 to average 1 interception per game.
PLAYOFF GAMES TIED AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
I wanted to take a look at how these guys performed in close, tense playoff games. Looking at games with a final margin of single digits can be misleading—sometimes teams score late and make a game appear closer than it really was. So I took a look at games that were within 1 score at the end of the 3rd quarter. In addition to noting who won and lost these games, I captured how many points the team scored, how many times they went ahead, fell behind, and either came back or had the other team come back against them.
As you’d expect, there weren’t too many games tied after 3 quarters. What is interesting is that McNabb’s Eagles lost their 1 tied game while Brady and Roethlisberger’s teams won all of theirs. Favre had 1 tie game; it went to overtime. It is worth nothing that Favre’s team fell behind in that 4th quarter and had to score a touchdown in order to send that game into overtime.
PLAYOFF GAMES WITH 1-POSSESSION LEAD AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
In looking at games that our quarterbacks’ teams led by 8 or less after 3, I saw that most of these guys were frontrunners. Brady, McNabb, Warner, and Roethlisberger all averaged scoring a touchdown or more in these 4th quarters. While averaging only 5.67 points in his 3 games, Warner fell behind twice and managed to come back to win both games. His record is 3-0.
Only Brady and Manning lost games in regulation. In fact, Brady’s team fell behind 3 times. The Pats won 1 of them. Manning’s case is the most interesting. Out of 8 games, the Colts only won 4. Hmm.
PLAYOFF GAMES WITH 1-POSSESSION DEFECIT AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
In the opposite type games, again we find that only Brady and Manning have won in regulation. Each of the others brought one of these games into overtime. Manning and McNabb have both given their teams the lead only to wind up losing in the end. Each of these guys outside of Warner, who was never in the situation, averaged more than a touchdown per game.
OVERTIME PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
I knew this going in, but I am amazed that every single one of Brett Favre’s playoff games since 1999 that has ended with a single-digit margin has gone into overtime. It says a lot that, while his team is 1-3 in those overtime games, a Favre interception has played a role in every single one of those losses (overtime interceptions against the Eagles and Giants as well as the interception that sent the Saints loss to overtime). It is absolutely hilarious that the only single-digit victory Favre has was via a defensive score. Similarly, McNabb’s only close playoff victory was an overtime victory that was assisted by a Favre interception in overtime.
Peyton Manning cannot at all be blamed for his 0-2 overtime record. One loss was to San Diego; Indianapolis never saw the ball in overtime. In 2000, the Colts lost in overtime in Miami. Manning drove the offense to what should have been the winning score, but Mike Vanderjagt missed a field goal.
I initially started compiling this data in the summer of 2010 to show that the Vikings and Redskins were foolish to put their championship hopes in the hands of Brett Favre and Donovan McNabb, respectively. Their peaks were years ago. If you only took the last 12 years of Favre’s career, for instance, he doesn’t even get a glimpse of the Hall of Fame. His first 8 seasons were so great that they carried his reputations for a full two decades.
McNabb’s peak ended in 2005. The Eagles had a great run with him from 2000-2004, but he’s only won two playoff games since then. And what I remember most about that era is that the last meaningful play of every single Eagles season from 2001-2005 was an interception thrown by McNabb. Check it out:
- 2001-2002: McNabb interception on 4th down in NFC Championship Game in St. Louis.
- 2002-2003: McNabb interception returned for touchdown by Ronde Barber in NFC Championship Game
- 2003-2004: McNabb’s 3rd interception by Ricky Manning, Jr. in the NFC Championship Game
- 2004-2005: McNabb’s interception on by Rodney Harrison clinched the Super Bowl for New England
- 2005-2006: McNabb’s interception that Roy Williams returned for a touchdown on a Monday night (McNabb was injured on the play and missed the rest of the season)
Furthermore, the record for consecutive Super Bowl appearances is only 8 years. The record for longest time between a quarterback’s first and last Super Bowl appearances is 12. Both of those records belong to Elway. Kurt Warner is in second place on both lists with 7 years and 9 years, respectively (Craig Morton is tied with Warner’s 7).
What this shows is that, for the most part, quarterbacks’ Super Bowl appearances come within a short time span. The stories of the old gunslinger leading his team on one last Super Bowl run are just a myth. It doesn’t happen in the NFL.
Now that that’s out of the way…
Last night, a quarterback discussion broke out on Twitter. Specifically, the names of Favre, McNabb, Brady, and Peyton Manning were thrown around. Thankfully, I had all of their data already compiled. The data I speak of is the playoff performance of all NFL quarterbacks who have started 10 or more playoff games since 1999, which is the year Donovan McNabb entered the league, Peyton Manning first made the playoffs, and Brett Favre really fell off. In total, this list includes the 4 quarterbacks already mentioned as well as Kurt Warner and Ben Roethlisberger. My initial premise was that McNabb and post-Holmgren Favre are the two worst playoff quarterbacks of this generation. I knew Peyton Manning wasn’t good, but I didn’t realize how close he was to Favre and McNabb. Manning’s actually been bad.
What you will see is the performance data broken up into different categories of playoff games since 1999: all games, games with a single-digit point differential, Championship Games/Super Bowls, wins, losses, games tied after 3 quarters, games led by 8 points or less after 3 quarters, games trailed by 8 points or less after 3 quarters, and overtime games. One interesting thing of which to take note is that Roethlisberger’s performances are all fairly consistent, no matter the category. His statistics are always OK, yet the Steelers always score a lot. Anyway…make your judgments for yourself. (Click here for the data)
ALL PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
The biggest surprise for me here was the realization that the Colts have scored as many as 20 points in only 9 of Peyton Manning’s 19 playoff games and that the Colts only averaged 22.37 points in those games. Next was realizing that only Kurt Warner averaged more than 2 touchdown passes per game.
By more than 4 points, Favre and McNabb have the 2 worst quarterback ratings of the group. Warner’s rating is a ridiculous 102.84.
SINGLE DIGIT PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
Before doing my research, I knew that Favre and McNabb’s teams had poor records in playoff games decided by less than 10 points. I knew that the only such game the Eagles won was the 4th & 26 game in which they defeated Favre’s Packers in overtime. Favre’s 1 win was the “and we’re gonna score” game in which Al Harris returned a Matt Hasselbeck interception for a touchdown in overtime. The Colts only scored 20 points in 3 of their 9 single-digit playoff games.
Oddly, even though each only posted a 1-3 record in such games, Favre and McNabb were the only 2 of the 6 to have a higher quarterback rating in single-digit games than in overall playoff games.
CHAMPIONSHIP GAMES & SUPER BOWLS SINCE 1999
It is here where Brady and Warner shine while Favre and McNabb fall far behind the others. By a lot, Favre and McNabb have the worst quarterback ratings of the bunch and Brady and Warner have the best. Only Warner and Brady managed to have more touchdown passes than interceptions in half of these games. No one else did it more than a third of the time. While Warner and Brady averaged 1 interception per game or less, Favre and McNabb were both at or near 2. That helps to explain why those Warner and Brady have a combined 11-4 record (1 game against each other) while the other two are 1-7 (no games played against each other). Manning and Roethlisberger also sport winning records in Championship Games and Super Bowls.
The most interesting statistic here is that Warner’s team averaged only 22.5 points in these games, yet still won 4 out of 6.
PLAYOFF LOSSES SINCE 1999
The first thing that struck me when looking at this data is that Roethlisberger’s Steelers have a higher scoring average in their losses than they do in their wins. Despite that, Roethlisberger throws 2.67 interceptions in each loss. Warner, amazingly, still has a respectable 88.47 quarterback rating in his losses.
Manning’s numbers are the most fascinating here, though. In his 10 playoff losses, he’s only thrown 9 touchdown passes. In 5 of those losses, however, he managed to throw more touchdown passes than interceptions. At 14.2 points per game, Manning has the worst scoring offense of those examined. Accordingly, they’ve only scored 20 points once in those losses.
PLAYOFF WINS SINCE 1999
When Brett Favre is good, he’s really good. In his 4 playoff wins, he posted a group best 123.25 quarterback rating. This is the only category in which Warner, who was second best with 109.96, did not have the best rating of the group. In those wins, Favre’s teams averaged 33.5 points per game and the quarterback had 10 TDs against only 1 INT and, naturally, had more touchdowns than interceptions in each game.
Peyton? In his 9 wins, he has 20 touchdowns and 9 interceptions. But I considered that he only threw for more touchdowns than interceptions in 5 of those 9 wins and looked deeper. If you eliminate the 2 games against Mike Shanahan’s defenseless Broncos, Manning has only 11 touchdowns and 8 interceptions in 7 wins. Those numbers are very un-Peyton like. In addition, he is the only quarterback of the 6 to average 1 interception per game.
PLAYOFF GAMES TIED AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
I wanted to take a look at how these guys performed in close, tense playoff games. Looking at games with a final margin of single digits can be misleading—sometimes teams score late and make a game appear closer than it really was. So I took a look at games that were within 1 score at the end of the 3rd quarter. In addition to noting who won and lost these games, I captured how many points the team scored, how many times they went ahead, fell behind, and either came back or had the other team come back against them.
As you’d expect, there weren’t too many games tied after 3 quarters. What is interesting is that McNabb’s Eagles lost their 1 tied game while Brady and Roethlisberger’s teams won all of theirs. Favre had 1 tie game; it went to overtime. It is worth nothing that Favre’s team fell behind in that 4th quarter and had to score a touchdown in order to send that game into overtime.
PLAYOFF GAMES WITH 1-POSSESSION LEAD AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
In looking at games that our quarterbacks’ teams led by 8 or less after 3, I saw that most of these guys were frontrunners. Brady, McNabb, Warner, and Roethlisberger all averaged scoring a touchdown or more in these 4th quarters. While averaging only 5.67 points in his 3 games, Warner fell behind twice and managed to come back to win both games. His record is 3-0.
Only Brady and Manning lost games in regulation. In fact, Brady’s team fell behind 3 times. The Pats won 1 of them. Manning’s case is the most interesting. Out of 8 games, the Colts only won 4. Hmm.
PLAYOFF GAMES WITH 1-POSSESSION DEFECIT AFTER 3 QUARTERS SINCE 1999
In the opposite type games, again we find that only Brady and Manning have won in regulation. Each of the others brought one of these games into overtime. Manning and McNabb have both given their teams the lead only to wind up losing in the end. Each of these guys outside of Warner, who was never in the situation, averaged more than a touchdown per game.
OVERTIME PLAYOFF GAMES SINCE 1999
I knew this going in, but I am amazed that every single one of Brett Favre’s playoff games since 1999 that has ended with a single-digit margin has gone into overtime. It says a lot that, while his team is 1-3 in those overtime games, a Favre interception has played a role in every single one of those losses (overtime interceptions against the Eagles and Giants as well as the interception that sent the Saints loss to overtime). It is absolutely hilarious that the only single-digit victory Favre has was via a defensive score. Similarly, McNabb’s only close playoff victory was an overtime victory that was assisted by a Favre interception in overtime.
Peyton Manning cannot at all be blamed for his 0-2 overtime record. One loss was to San Diego; Indianapolis never saw the ball in overtime. In 2000, the Colts lost in overtime in Miami. Manning drove the offense to what should have been the winning score, but Mike Vanderjagt missed a field goal.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Archrivals
Archrivals
I don’t know it he deserves full credit for it, but Bill Simmons is largely responsible for this ridiculous notion that LeBron James and Dwyane Wade were archrivals prior to their becoming teammates. In his most recent column, he wrote of Wade, “we’ll remember him forever as an evil genius who somehow convinced his biggest archrival to move to HIS city, play for HIS team, and become HIS sidekick.” Last November, it was, “Don’t forget that Wade convinced his biggest rival—a two-time MVP, the best player alive—to turn his back on his hometown and play for Dwyane Wade’s Miami Heat.” Even before The Decision, there was this passage: “Any super-competitive person would rather beat Dwyane Wade than play with him. Don’t you want to find the Ali to your Frazier and have that rival pull the greatness out of you?” Simmons is firmly entrenched in the Wade and James are rivals camp. And others in the media and American public have bought in. I’m on the outside wondering where this idea came from.
The concept of Wade and LeBron as rivals baffles me. Before becoming teammates this past offseason, each of them had spent 7 years in the league. Sure, they were from the same draft class, but Wade was a virtual afterthought at the top of the draft. LeBron & Carmelo—that was the rivalry (and I do find it ironic that LeBron and Wade now play with 3rd wheel Chris Bosh since you could say Wade was the Chris Bosh of the 2003 draft, the 3rd best wing player available, the one who wasn’t supposed to be quite as good as the other, more desired two).
There is nothing in Wade & LeBron’s past to suggest that a rivalry between them is anything other than a media creation. Despite playing in the same conference, not once did they ever face each other in the playoffs. Only once prior to this year did both make it out of the first round during the same postseason, and that was 2006, the first year LeBron took the Cavs into the playoffs. Cleveland and Miami were never contenders in the same seasons. Check it out:
Like I said, media creation, and the public continues to buy it.
I don’t know it he deserves full credit for it, but Bill Simmons is largely responsible for this ridiculous notion that LeBron James and Dwyane Wade were archrivals prior to their becoming teammates. In his most recent column, he wrote of Wade, “we’ll remember him forever as an evil genius who somehow convinced his biggest archrival to move to HIS city, play for HIS team, and become HIS sidekick.” Last November, it was, “Don’t forget that Wade convinced his biggest rival—a two-time MVP, the best player alive—to turn his back on his hometown and play for Dwyane Wade’s Miami Heat.” Even before The Decision, there was this passage: “Any super-competitive person would rather beat Dwyane Wade than play with him. Don’t you want to find the Ali to your Frazier and have that rival pull the greatness out of you?” Simmons is firmly entrenched in the Wade and James are rivals camp. And others in the media and American public have bought in. I’m on the outside wondering where this idea came from.
The concept of Wade and LeBron as rivals baffles me. Before becoming teammates this past offseason, each of them had spent 7 years in the league. Sure, they were from the same draft class, but Wade was a virtual afterthought at the top of the draft. LeBron & Carmelo—that was the rivalry (and I do find it ironic that LeBron and Wade now play with 3rd wheel Chris Bosh since you could say Wade was the Chris Bosh of the 2003 draft, the 3rd best wing player available, the one who wasn’t supposed to be quite as good as the other, more desired two).
There is nothing in Wade & LeBron’s past to suggest that a rivalry between them is anything other than a media creation. Despite playing in the same conference, not once did they ever face each other in the playoffs. Only once prior to this year did both make it out of the first round during the same postseason, and that was 2006, the first year LeBron took the Cavs into the playoffs. Cleveland and Miami were never contenders in the same seasons. Check it out:
- 2004—Miami makes second round, Cleveland no playoffs
- 2005—Miami makes conference finals, Cleveland no playoffs
- 2006—Miami wins championship, Cleveland makes second round
- 2007—Miami out in first round, Cleveland makes Finals
- 2008—Miami no playoffs, Cleveland makes second round
- 2009—Miami out in first round, Cleveland makes conference finals
- 2010—Miami out in first round, Cleveland makes second round
Like I said, media creation, and the public continues to buy it.
Friday, June 10, 2011
With a Little Help from His Friends
I wonder what, if any, connection LeBron James has to his peers. When I say “peer,” I’m not referring to Dwyane Wade or Kobe Bryant or any other NBA superstar. By my count, LeBron only had 3 peers among “active” American athletes: Venus Williams, Serena Williams, and Tiger Woods. Among the not active, but living, I see Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
Whether it was a media creation, his own doing, or some combination thereof, LeBron James entered the NBA with an unenviable expectation. For him, anything less than becoming the best player in this history of the game would be viewed by many as a disappointment. Although it was a very different time when he entered the league, Kareem can relate to those expectations. Tiger can, too.
To a somewhat lesser degree, the Williams Sisters entered the professional tennis ranks with a need to be the greatest. While neither was expected to be great, greatness was required of both of them. Media hatred and disdain for their father was high. Both Venus and Serena faced “who do they think they are?” scrutiny. In a way, LeBron’s situation is most similar to their plight, especially Venus’. In 1999, Venus sat in the stands as the less heralded Serena won the family’s first Grand Slam championship. I remember watching her that day and wondering if she would ever recover, if she would ever become a great champion.
In the years that followed Serena’s breakthrough at the US Open, Venus proved that she could. I think it would be very difficult to overstate the amount of mental fortitude and self-confidence it took for Venus to become the world’s #1 player just a little more than a year later.
Venus’ September 1999 is where LeBron finds himself right now. I wonder if they’re friends. I wonder if they talk.
There are only a few who know the weight of the burden on his shoulders. I hope one or some of them are there to share the load.
Whether it was a media creation, his own doing, or some combination thereof, LeBron James entered the NBA with an unenviable expectation. For him, anything less than becoming the best player in this history of the game would be viewed by many as a disappointment. Although it was a very different time when he entered the league, Kareem can relate to those expectations. Tiger can, too.
To a somewhat lesser degree, the Williams Sisters entered the professional tennis ranks with a need to be the greatest. While neither was expected to be great, greatness was required of both of them. Media hatred and disdain for their father was high. Both Venus and Serena faced “who do they think they are?” scrutiny. In a way, LeBron’s situation is most similar to their plight, especially Venus’. In 1999, Venus sat in the stands as the less heralded Serena won the family’s first Grand Slam championship. I remember watching her that day and wondering if she would ever recover, if she would ever become a great champion.
In the years that followed Serena’s breakthrough at the US Open, Venus proved that she could. I think it would be very difficult to overstate the amount of mental fortitude and self-confidence it took for Venus to become the world’s #1 player just a little more than a year later.
Venus’ September 1999 is where LeBron finds himself right now. I wonder if they’re friends. I wonder if they talk.
There are only a few who know the weight of the burden on his shoulders. I hope one or some of them are there to share the load.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
History Remembers
On June 20, 2006, the Heat and Mavericks played Game 6 of the NBA Finals. The Heat led 3 games to 2, and with 10 seconds left in the game, led 95-92. Dwyane Wade was fouled and went to the line for two free throws. Making either of the pair would have given Miami a four-point lead and secured the championship. Wade missed them both. Fortunately for him, Jason Terry missed a three-pointer that could have tied the game. Still, history remembers Dwyane Wade being clutch throughout the 2006 Finals. They do not remember his Game 6 free throws. History will not remember his Game 4 free throws. Because of LeBron James, no one will lump Dwyane Wade in with Nick Anderson and Derrick Rose—and, boy, has history forgotten all about Chris Douglas-Roberts; Rose actually made one his foul shots.
History will remember Game 4 as the defining moment of LeBron James' career. Unless he has a legendary Michael Jordan in Game 6 of the 1998 Finals, there is no way of getting around that now. Where LeBron now stands is a place where it will no longer be enough to just have a monster game. He needs to have an all-time great game AND hit the winning basket in Game 5 or Game 7 (doing it in Game 6 will only make the doubters say that he is just a front-runner and that he would never have been in position for his Game 6 heroics without Wade’s brilliant leadership and clutch play). Otherwise, Game 4 will live forever.
History has a way of remembering things in a way in which they did not actually occur. History remembers Raghib Ismail as the 1990 Heisman winner. History remembers Mike Jones' tackle of Kevin Dyson as a play that kept the Titans from winning the Super Bowl. History remembers Hakeem Olajuwon dominating Shaquille O'Neal in the 1995 Finals. History remembers Kobe as a monster throughout the 2001 playoffs. History remembers Ronald Reagan bringing the hostages home. History remembers the stimulus & bailout as Obama's ideas. History remembers the Tea Party forming after Obama's started implementing his policies. None of these events happened exactly that way. Ty Detmer undeservedly won that Heisman Trophy. A Titan touchdown and extra point would only have tied Super Bowl XXXIV. Olajuwon and O’Neal played very evenly in 1995. Kobe dominated the Spurs, who were missing the player they had acquired specifically to guard him, but was up and down during the other series. Jimmy Carter had negotiated the hostages’ release, but George H. W. Bush held it up to help Reagan win the election. The stimulus & bailout plans began under George W. Bush. The Tea Party protests, while not fully formalized, began before Obama took office.
History has already been unkind to LeBron James.
I wonder…if Wilt Chamberlain was still alive, would he reach out to LeBron today? He knows what it’s like. Chamberlain played on 2 NBA champions, one which had the best record in league history until 1996 and another which, through my childhood, was considered the best single season team ever. Still, he’s viewed as a loser and underachiever. Bill Simmons wrote a 700+ book that seems like nothing more than a literary way of taking potshots at Wilt and Kareem.
I hope LeBron has realized that he will never win in the eyes of the general public. If/When he comes to that realization, life should get a lot easier for him.
History will remember Game 4 as the defining moment of LeBron James' career. Unless he has a legendary Michael Jordan in Game 6 of the 1998 Finals, there is no way of getting around that now. Where LeBron now stands is a place where it will no longer be enough to just have a monster game. He needs to have an all-time great game AND hit the winning basket in Game 5 or Game 7 (doing it in Game 6 will only make the doubters say that he is just a front-runner and that he would never have been in position for his Game 6 heroics without Wade’s brilliant leadership and clutch play). Otherwise, Game 4 will live forever.
History has a way of remembering things in a way in which they did not actually occur. History remembers Raghib Ismail as the 1990 Heisman winner. History remembers Mike Jones' tackle of Kevin Dyson as a play that kept the Titans from winning the Super Bowl. History remembers Hakeem Olajuwon dominating Shaquille O'Neal in the 1995 Finals. History remembers Kobe as a monster throughout the 2001 playoffs. History remembers Ronald Reagan bringing the hostages home. History remembers the stimulus & bailout as Obama's ideas. History remembers the Tea Party forming after Obama's started implementing his policies. None of these events happened exactly that way. Ty Detmer undeservedly won that Heisman Trophy. A Titan touchdown and extra point would only have tied Super Bowl XXXIV. Olajuwon and O’Neal played very evenly in 1995. Kobe dominated the Spurs, who were missing the player they had acquired specifically to guard him, but was up and down during the other series. Jimmy Carter had negotiated the hostages’ release, but George H. W. Bush held it up to help Reagan win the election. The stimulus & bailout plans began under George W. Bush. The Tea Party protests, while not fully formalized, began before Obama took office.
History has already been unkind to LeBron James.
- Before The Decision, people said he and Wade wouldn’t play together because their egos wouldn’t allow them to share the spotlight—history says he went to Miami so he could be a “Robin.”
- When he came out of high school, everyone said his skillset was the closest we’ve seen to Magic Johnson—history says he doesn’t have Michael Jordan’s killer instinct.
- In Game 2, pundits proclaimed that Miami lost because LeBron started playing “hero ball”—history says that he is a lesser player for deferring to the hot hand during the Game 3 victory.
I wonder…if Wilt Chamberlain was still alive, would he reach out to LeBron today? He knows what it’s like. Chamberlain played on 2 NBA champions, one which had the best record in league history until 1996 and another which, through my childhood, was considered the best single season team ever. Still, he’s viewed as a loser and underachiever. Bill Simmons wrote a 700+ book that seems like nothing more than a literary way of taking potshots at Wilt and Kareem.
I hope LeBron has realized that he will never win in the eyes of the general public. If/When he comes to that realization, life should get a lot easier for him.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Showtime
Before I get into the meat of this, let me first state that I am not writing this to denigrate the 1980s Los Angeles Lakers. I’m not trying to call them frauds, phonies, or anything of the sort. I do not think they were lucky. I believe the Showtime Lakers were one of the greatest basketball teams in history. Those Lakers may have been the best team of the 1980s. However, I do not think they were the most impressive team of that decade. The Lakers were consistent, and they took advantage of the opportunities afforded them. And most of all, the Lakers did not have to play in the East.
A few years ago, some of my friends were complaining about the East-West imbalance in the NBA. I told them that I didn’t think it was any different from the 80s. Back then, the East ruled. The Lakers had no competition in their conference. In the ten years from 1980-1989, the Lakers lost two series to Western Conference foes, to the 1981 and 1986 Houston Rockets. On the other side of the country, the Boston Celtics had to deal with the 76ers, Bucks, and, later, Pistons.
I was thinking about this the other day and wondered about something. I did some quick research and found a telling truth. If we use the 1986 season as the cutoff point—I chose 1986 because that marks the 76ers killing the franchise by trading away Moses Malone and the first pick of the draft—every season from 1980-1986 in which there was a Sixers-Celtics playoff series whose winner went on to play the Lakers in the Finals, that team lost to the Lakers. Every season during that period in which either there was no Sixers-Celtics playoff series or the Lakers failed to make the Finals, the Sixers or Celtics won the championship. From 1987-1989, the same is true if you replace the 76ers with the Pistons. To further illustrate this, see the table below:
| Year | Eastern Conference Finals | Western Conference Winner | NBA Champion |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1980 | Celtics-76ers | Lakers | Lakers |
| 1981 | Celtics-76ers | Rockets | Celtics |
| 1982 | Celtics-76ers | Lakers | Lakers |
| 1983 | 76ers-Bucks | Lakers | 76ers |
| 1984 | Celtics-Bucks | Lakers | Celtics |
| 1985 | Celtics-76ers | Lakers | Lakers |
| 1986 | Celtics-Bucks | Rockets | Celtics |
| 1987 | Celtics-Pistons | Lakers | Lakers |
| 1988 | Celtics-Pistons | Lakers | Lakers |
| 1989 | Pistons-Bulls | Lakers | Pistons |
As I said before, I think the Lakers were a great team. I just find it more impressive what the Celtics, Sixers, and Pistons had to get through just to make it to the Finals.
Of course, all this is probably just coincidence. The 1983 team was the best Sixers team of the era. The 1986 Celtics are argued by some to be the best team in NBA history. Those teams played Milwaukee in the Eastern Conference Finals. Would they have won the championship had they faced their rival instead? We’ll never know, but I’ll always wonder.
You have to give the Lakers credit for their consistency, though. They made it through the West 8 times out of 10 years, and won 5 championships. Nothing but greatness.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Boyle Effect
My first thought upon reading the news that Duke freshman Kyrie Irving was leaving school for the NBA was that the young man had made a smart decision. Sure, he might be able to improve his game and long-term prospects as a player by remaining in college for at least another year, but an injury already cost him all but 11 games this season. Another collegiate injury would severely hurt his draft stock, and there is a strong possibility that it would render him virtually undraftable. Irving is already considered a top 2 or 3 pick in the draft; his potential coming out of college would never be higher than it is today. One attends college to grow as an individual and to do what is necessary to maximize one’s market value to potential employers. After one season, Kyrie Irving has accomplished that. Professionally speaking, there is nothing left for the young man to accomplish at Duke. The time for him to leave is right now. He made the right decision, and I am happy for him.
But my second thought was that I wouldn’t draft Kyrie Irving. That has nothing to do with him leaving school after just one season. Had Irving remained at Duke for four year, won 3 national championships, and 3 Naismith Awards, I still wouldn’t draft him. That has nothing to do with Irving’s character or ability. Nope. Irving’s biggest basketball flaw is that he played on a high school team coached by Kevin Boyle.
Before we get to Boyle, some background…
One day last week someone brought up the Pistons-Heat Eastern Conference Finals of 2005. Whenever I think about that series, I don’t think about Dwyane Wade’s injury. Instead, I think about the fourth quarter of Game 7 and how the Heat blew the game on two possessions near the end of the game. Miami trailed by two points with about three and a half minutes left, and Shaquille O’Neal made an apparent decision to take over the game. He established himself in the post and demanded the ball. Ben Wallace fouled him and Shaq converted both free throws to tie the game. After a defensive stop, O’Neal demanded the ball again and gave Miami the lead by hitting a basket. The Heat held Detroit scoreless again. On the ensuing possession, Miami had a chance to make it a two-possession game. Again, O’Neal planted himself in the post and demanded the ball. Damon Jones passed the ball into the post, but Shaq wanted to get a little closer. He passed it back to Jones and attempted to repost, but Jones instead swung it around the perimeter. Tayshaun Prince stole the ball and Richard Hamilton scored to tie the game again. When Miami got the ball back, they fed Shaq in the post and he drew another foul on Wallace. He converted one of two to put the Heat up by one. Two free throws put Detroit back up by one, and instead of feeding O’Neal in the post again, Dwyane Wade came down and rushed a long jump shot before most of his teammates had made it down the court. Detroit scored again and the game was essentially over. I will always feel that Miami would have won that game had they fed Shaq on those two possessions that ended with Damon Jones’ turnover and Wade’s missed long jumper.
Because of the way my brain works, that led me to thinking about Game 7 of the NBA Finals between Detroit and San Antonio. The fourth quarter began with the two teams tied, and I thought to myself that Detroit would win if they continually fed Rasheed Wallace in the post. I knew that wasn’t going to happen though. As it turned out, no Piston other than Rasheed scored until 8:35 had ticked off the clock in that quarter. The Spurs were up by six points by then. Rasheed was 3-4 in the quarter up to that point, but it wasn’t enough. Detroit never caught up, and I will always believe that Detroit lost that game because they didn’t learn the lesson of why Miami had failed against them. They didn’t feet Rasheed like they should have, and Rasheed didn’t demand the ball like he should have.
But I knew not to expect that out of Rasheed Wallace. I had been watching him play since he was in the tenth grade at Simon Gratz High School in North Philly. At Gratz, Wallace was coached by Bill Ellerbe, a coach I found to be stylistically and philosophically closer to John Chaney than any other coach I’ve ever seen. Like Chaney, Ellerbe is a coach who believed that the guards should do all of the ball handling and an overwhelming majority of the shooting. He wanted his big guys to always defer to the guards. When I saw Gratz lose to Franklin Learning Center in the 1992 Public League Championship Game, I came away thinking that Rasheed would never, ever dominate even though he had the talent to do so. I can’t tell you how many times he was wide open for 12-foot baseline jumpers in that game, but I can tell you he only took one of them (he made it). The normal routine was for him to hold the ball above his head and pass it out to point guard Reds Smith. That’s why Wallace only averaged 16 points per game as a senior. He was the national player of the year because all the scouts could see his talent, but he didn’t even lead his high school team in scoring or shot attempts per game.
Rasheed wasn’t going to ever dominate in college or the NBA because Ellerbe coached that out of his game. That messed up his game for his entire career. I will always believe that is why we never saw Rasheed Wallace exploit his post game and become a Hall of Fame power forward.
Chaney and Ellerbe are coaches who are good at getting the most out of players with low and average levels of talent. But they coach the same way when they have the best players, and I believe that hurts those highly talented players. For every Aaron McKie and Mardy Collins that Chaney sent to the NBA, there was a Mark Macon or Lamont Barnes, really good players who got worse every year under the coach’s tutelage.
Most high school coaches have little effect on the long-term games of NBA-level players. Others help. Some are really, really detrimental. And because I was thinking about that Miami-Detroit game and the San Antonio-Detroit game, I started to think about other high school coaches who mess up their players. At the top of my list is Kevin Boyle.
Once I found out the Kyrie Irving went to St. Patrick’s I realized that he is someone I would never draft. I’ve seen enough of Kevin Boyle and I’ve seen enough of his players. He sends a lot of players to high level Division I schools and the NBA because he was able to recruit New Jersey’s best players to his school. But he is the most hotheaded and spastic basketball coach I have ever seen. A quick look at some of his former players (Al Harrington, Samuel Dalembert, and Derrick Caracter, to name a few) is to look at a list of some the most brain farting and frustrating players in college and NBA ball in the past 15 years. (As I write this, I’m surprised he lost J.R. Smith to St. Benedict’s.)
I haven’t seen any of that out of Kyrie Irving—or Dexter Strickland, for that matter—but I don’t trust Kevin Boyle. I’d sign Irving or any of Boyle’s other players as a free agent after watching them play in the league for a few years, but I wouldn’t draft any of them, especially not at or near the top of the draft.
But my second thought was that I wouldn’t draft Kyrie Irving. That has nothing to do with him leaving school after just one season. Had Irving remained at Duke for four year, won 3 national championships, and 3 Naismith Awards, I still wouldn’t draft him. That has nothing to do with Irving’s character or ability. Nope. Irving’s biggest basketball flaw is that he played on a high school team coached by Kevin Boyle.
Before we get to Boyle, some background…
One day last week someone brought up the Pistons-Heat Eastern Conference Finals of 2005. Whenever I think about that series, I don’t think about Dwyane Wade’s injury. Instead, I think about the fourth quarter of Game 7 and how the Heat blew the game on two possessions near the end of the game. Miami trailed by two points with about three and a half minutes left, and Shaquille O’Neal made an apparent decision to take over the game. He established himself in the post and demanded the ball. Ben Wallace fouled him and Shaq converted both free throws to tie the game. After a defensive stop, O’Neal demanded the ball again and gave Miami the lead by hitting a basket. The Heat held Detroit scoreless again. On the ensuing possession, Miami had a chance to make it a two-possession game. Again, O’Neal planted himself in the post and demanded the ball. Damon Jones passed the ball into the post, but Shaq wanted to get a little closer. He passed it back to Jones and attempted to repost, but Jones instead swung it around the perimeter. Tayshaun Prince stole the ball and Richard Hamilton scored to tie the game again. When Miami got the ball back, they fed Shaq in the post and he drew another foul on Wallace. He converted one of two to put the Heat up by one. Two free throws put Detroit back up by one, and instead of feeding O’Neal in the post again, Dwyane Wade came down and rushed a long jump shot before most of his teammates had made it down the court. Detroit scored again and the game was essentially over. I will always feel that Miami would have won that game had they fed Shaq on those two possessions that ended with Damon Jones’ turnover and Wade’s missed long jumper.
Because of the way my brain works, that led me to thinking about Game 7 of the NBA Finals between Detroit and San Antonio. The fourth quarter began with the two teams tied, and I thought to myself that Detroit would win if they continually fed Rasheed Wallace in the post. I knew that wasn’t going to happen though. As it turned out, no Piston other than Rasheed scored until 8:35 had ticked off the clock in that quarter. The Spurs were up by six points by then. Rasheed was 3-4 in the quarter up to that point, but it wasn’t enough. Detroit never caught up, and I will always believe that Detroit lost that game because they didn’t learn the lesson of why Miami had failed against them. They didn’t feet Rasheed like they should have, and Rasheed didn’t demand the ball like he should have.
But I knew not to expect that out of Rasheed Wallace. I had been watching him play since he was in the tenth grade at Simon Gratz High School in North Philly. At Gratz, Wallace was coached by Bill Ellerbe, a coach I found to be stylistically and philosophically closer to John Chaney than any other coach I’ve ever seen. Like Chaney, Ellerbe is a coach who believed that the guards should do all of the ball handling and an overwhelming majority of the shooting. He wanted his big guys to always defer to the guards. When I saw Gratz lose to Franklin Learning Center in the 1992 Public League Championship Game, I came away thinking that Rasheed would never, ever dominate even though he had the talent to do so. I can’t tell you how many times he was wide open for 12-foot baseline jumpers in that game, but I can tell you he only took one of them (he made it). The normal routine was for him to hold the ball above his head and pass it out to point guard Reds Smith. That’s why Wallace only averaged 16 points per game as a senior. He was the national player of the year because all the scouts could see his talent, but he didn’t even lead his high school team in scoring or shot attempts per game.
Rasheed wasn’t going to ever dominate in college or the NBA because Ellerbe coached that out of his game. That messed up his game for his entire career. I will always believe that is why we never saw Rasheed Wallace exploit his post game and become a Hall of Fame power forward.
Chaney and Ellerbe are coaches who are good at getting the most out of players with low and average levels of talent. But they coach the same way when they have the best players, and I believe that hurts those highly talented players. For every Aaron McKie and Mardy Collins that Chaney sent to the NBA, there was a Mark Macon or Lamont Barnes, really good players who got worse every year under the coach’s tutelage.
Most high school coaches have little effect on the long-term games of NBA-level players. Others help. Some are really, really detrimental. And because I was thinking about that Miami-Detroit game and the San Antonio-Detroit game, I started to think about other high school coaches who mess up their players. At the top of my list is Kevin Boyle.
Once I found out the Kyrie Irving went to St. Patrick’s I realized that he is someone I would never draft. I’ve seen enough of Kevin Boyle and I’ve seen enough of his players. He sends a lot of players to high level Division I schools and the NBA because he was able to recruit New Jersey’s best players to his school. But he is the most hotheaded and spastic basketball coach I have ever seen. A quick look at some of his former players (Al Harrington, Samuel Dalembert, and Derrick Caracter, to name a few) is to look at a list of some the most brain farting and frustrating players in college and NBA ball in the past 15 years. (As I write this, I’m surprised he lost J.R. Smith to St. Benedict’s.)
I haven’t seen any of that out of Kyrie Irving—or Dexter Strickland, for that matter—but I don’t trust Kevin Boyle. I’d sign Irving or any of Boyle’s other players as a free agent after watching them play in the league for a few years, but I wouldn’t draft any of them, especially not at or near the top of the draft.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Myth of the Best
Last night, I got into a debate on Twitter. My tweet that sparked said debate reads, “A 9th place conference team playing for the national championship hurts the credibility of the sport.” What I mean by that statement is that the college basketball regular season is rather meaningless when it comes to determining the national champion. Connecticut, who finished tied for 9th place in the Big East, and Butler will play for the NCAA Men’s Basketball national championship tomorrow night. If you believe either of these teams is among the fifteen best in the nation, I have serious doubts about how much college basketball you know and watch.
But that is my point here. The NCAA tournament is fun and exciting; and the primary reason for that is the high level of unpredictability. From day to day, game to game, and half to half, we really have no idea what is going to happen. These games are played by teenagers and early twenty-somethings whose emotions are on a rollercoaster. We never know for sure what we’re going to get. It’s wonderful. That’s why it’s one of the most popular sporting events in America. But les us all go into it without the illusion that this tournament is about determining who is the country’s best college basketball team. Being the best team and being the champion are two things that often have absolutely nothing to do with each other.
The NCAA tournament is a crapshoot. We see it every year. A team can get hot for a few games and make a deep run. Often, the two or three best teams are beaten before they even reach the Final Four. All we remember are the Final Four and the national champion. What does the regular season mean? What relevance does that long grind hold?
But it’s not just college basketball. Major League Baseball and NHL hockey also hold crapshoot postseason tournaments. Once you get in, anything can happen. I’m not saying this is a bad thing; I’m just calling it what it is. Let’s not pretend that it’s the best team and not the team with the hottest goaltender and peaking sniper who holds up the Stanley Cup. And let us not pretend that a hot pitcher and one hot hitter aren’t the determining factor in winning the World Series.
Some people may—and have—brought up the fact that the Green Bay Packers just won the Super Bowl as the 6th seed in the NFC playoffs. My counter is this: how many times during the past decade have you thought a mediocre team played in the Super Bowl? I give you the 2008 Cardinals. That’s it. Plus, injuries affect NFL teams’ playoff seeding more than they do teams in any other sport. Scheduling also greatly affects seeding. In fact, I wrote a blog post earlier this year about how the schedule often provides the wrong teams with playoff byes. Sure, there are upsets in the NFL playoffs, but more often than not, road teams winning is a righting of the ship that was thrown off course by inflated records. And, yes, I believe the ridiculous scheduling formula diminishes the meaning of the NFL regular season, but it still does mean something.
The best of seven NBA playoffs are the realest playoffs around. Only once every decade or so do you ever leave the playoffs with the feeling that the best team did not win the championship. That’s why, in a sport when the best players don’t often change teams, only a few select players have led their teams to championships.
In college football, it’s often too hard to figure out who the best team is. But the NCAA doesn’t try to fool us. They neither award nor acknowledge a Division I-FBS champion. The playoff proponents often yell out the spiel that we deserve to see who the best team is. What a crock. A playoff won’t do that for these people any more than the bowls will.
When interviewers question underdogs about their ability to win, they often ask if they believe they are better than the favorite. I’ve always found it to be a stupid question. They don’t have to be better; they just have to win. And that’s championships are about. You don’t have to be the best; you just have to win.
To bring this back to college basketball, let me close by saying that I enjoy the tournament. I hope I enjoy the Connecticut-Butler game tomorrow night. But the tournament allows 68 teams in. It’s moving toward 96 teams (I happen to be in favor of the expansion to 96). But you have to understand that every team added to the tournament further diminishes the meaning of the regular season. The more teams involved, especially when teams are eliminated after one defeat, the less likely it is you’ll see one of the top teams win it all. The belief that we are crowning college basketball’s best team is just a myth. We’re crowning the champion. That’s it. Just the champion. Don’t make it out to be anything more than that.
But that is my point here. The NCAA tournament is fun and exciting; and the primary reason for that is the high level of unpredictability. From day to day, game to game, and half to half, we really have no idea what is going to happen. These games are played by teenagers and early twenty-somethings whose emotions are on a rollercoaster. We never know for sure what we’re going to get. It’s wonderful. That’s why it’s one of the most popular sporting events in America. But les us all go into it without the illusion that this tournament is about determining who is the country’s best college basketball team. Being the best team and being the champion are two things that often have absolutely nothing to do with each other.
The NCAA tournament is a crapshoot. We see it every year. A team can get hot for a few games and make a deep run. Often, the two or three best teams are beaten before they even reach the Final Four. All we remember are the Final Four and the national champion. What does the regular season mean? What relevance does that long grind hold?
But it’s not just college basketball. Major League Baseball and NHL hockey also hold crapshoot postseason tournaments. Once you get in, anything can happen. I’m not saying this is a bad thing; I’m just calling it what it is. Let’s not pretend that it’s the best team and not the team with the hottest goaltender and peaking sniper who holds up the Stanley Cup. And let us not pretend that a hot pitcher and one hot hitter aren’t the determining factor in winning the World Series.
Some people may—and have—brought up the fact that the Green Bay Packers just won the Super Bowl as the 6th seed in the NFC playoffs. My counter is this: how many times during the past decade have you thought a mediocre team played in the Super Bowl? I give you the 2008 Cardinals. That’s it. Plus, injuries affect NFL teams’ playoff seeding more than they do teams in any other sport. Scheduling also greatly affects seeding. In fact, I wrote a blog post earlier this year about how the schedule often provides the wrong teams with playoff byes. Sure, there are upsets in the NFL playoffs, but more often than not, road teams winning is a righting of the ship that was thrown off course by inflated records. And, yes, I believe the ridiculous scheduling formula diminishes the meaning of the NFL regular season, but it still does mean something.
The best of seven NBA playoffs are the realest playoffs around. Only once every decade or so do you ever leave the playoffs with the feeling that the best team did not win the championship. That’s why, in a sport when the best players don’t often change teams, only a few select players have led their teams to championships.
In college football, it’s often too hard to figure out who the best team is. But the NCAA doesn’t try to fool us. They neither award nor acknowledge a Division I-FBS champion. The playoff proponents often yell out the spiel that we deserve to see who the best team is. What a crock. A playoff won’t do that for these people any more than the bowls will.
When interviewers question underdogs about their ability to win, they often ask if they believe they are better than the favorite. I’ve always found it to be a stupid question. They don’t have to be better; they just have to win. And that’s championships are about. You don’t have to be the best; you just have to win.
To bring this back to college basketball, let me close by saying that I enjoy the tournament. I hope I enjoy the Connecticut-Butler game tomorrow night. But the tournament allows 68 teams in. It’s moving toward 96 teams (I happen to be in favor of the expansion to 96). But you have to understand that every team added to the tournament further diminishes the meaning of the regular season. The more teams involved, especially when teams are eliminated after one defeat, the less likely it is you’ll see one of the top teams win it all. The belief that we are crowning college basketball’s best team is just a myth. We’re crowning the champion. That’s it. Just the champion. Don’t make it out to be anything more than that.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Audition
This afternoon I read this column by Tim Keown of ESPN.com’s Page 2. I often like and/or agree with the things Keown says. Today…not so much. In today’s column, he committed one of this generation’s most manipulative, yet effective, argument techniques: he pulled something completely out of context and reshaped it to fit his point. This is one of the least effective ways to argue with me, but I find that the vast majority of people fall prey to it day after day after day.
What Tim Keown pulled out of context in this instance is Harrison Barnes’ attempted pass to himself in North Carolina’s game Sunday versus Kentucky. If you did not see the game, Barnes drove to the basket, got surrounded by Wildcats, and could not find an open teammate. Instead of trying a low percentage pass, he threw it off the backboard and tried to catch it himself. Unfortunately for the Tar Heels, Barnes mistimed his jump and Kentucky secured the ball. As someone who believes a bad shot is better—that is, less defensively destructive—than a bad pass, I thought it was a smart play by Barnes. Keown saw it differently. He wrote, “And so, in one act of self-glorification, Barnes exemplified why everybody is so excited about VCU and Butler in the Final Four.” A couple of paragraphs later, Keown added, “Nothing against Barnes. It's just that he's the one who thought to pass to himself in an Elite Eight game at a time when it's becoming increasingly clear that balancing team basketball and future NBA plans is not the simple act we once supposed.” Please correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me like the writer took an arguably intelligent act in a moment of basketball desperation and described it to the masses as an act of selfishness exemplifying a me-first attitude. Pardon me, but would a me-first player who is billed as a scorer just shot the 10-foot turnaround?
But Keown doesn’t stop there. Nope, his very next words are “For what it's worth, I'd pay to see Barnes play before I'd pay to see any single player on VCU or Butler. But the thing is, I'd pay to see VCU or Butler before I'd pay to see Barnes.” With these two statements, Keown employed the technique of saying something utterly stupid and expecting people to nod their heads in agreement. Unfortunately, too many people do just that. What does that statement even mean? If you break down what Keown says here, he is saying he’d rather spend his entertainment dollar on lesser skilled players who work together than higher skilled players who work alone. Maybe that’s a fair point, but he hasn’t yet shown me that Harrison Barnes works alone.
To emphasize this point, the writer invoked the name Kyrie Irving. Of the Duke freshman, he wrote, “Kyrie Irving is another fabulous freshman talent, but his play against Arizona is the main reason the Blue Devils' season ended before most people thought it would.” Flat out lie. If you watched that game and came to any conclusion other than Irving’s play kept the game as close as it was, then you don’t know basketball. But Keown had a point to make here, and he was not going to let facts or circumstances get in his way of making them. He added, “It was nearly impossible to believe that Duke’s game plan was to have Irving take over while the best player on the court—Nolan Smith—was reduced to an innocent bystander.” There was no mention of the fact that Kyrie Irving is a true point guard and Nolan Smith is not. There was no mention that this was Smith’s first year playing as the primary ball handler and that moving to the point after Irving’s December injury may have been as responsible for his improved statistics as anything else(for evidence of this, look at Smith’s freshman through junior year statistics as well as how much his numbers improved this season once Irving went down and Krzyzewski was forced to move him to the point). It seemed to me that both Irving and Smith need the ball to play their best; it also seemed to me that Irving’s best is significantly better than Smith’s best. You can chalk Duke’s poor play in the second half versus Arizona to poor coaching, a talent deficiency, or to one of those nights. But you absolutely cannot say it was Kyrie Irving’s fault. You just can’t. Keown did it anyway.
Near the end, Keown wrote that he feels like he’s watching an audition when he watches “these guys” play. He doesn’t fully define these guys, but logic dictates that we can use the phrase as a euphemism for talented players with realistic NBA dreams. Well, Tim, considering the way professional team sports operate, wouldn’t you say these are their auditions? At the same time, wouldn’t you also admit that each player’s career is more important than a college basketball team? And wouldn’t you agree that showcasing talent while playing in the framework of a team is what the NBA coaches and general managers want to see?
He wrote, “It's rare to find a team relying on a one-and-done player who displays the same kind of camaraderie and share-the-ball philosophy we see in the upstarts.” He then listed Kemba Walker, Derrick Rose, and Derrick Williams as exceptions who “manage to combine transcendent talent with the ability to make their teammates better.” I counter that Kemba Walker is nothing close to a one-and-done player. He is a junior who still causes scouts to wonder if he can play in the NBA. I would also add that we have seen plenty of other one-and-done players raise the level of their teams. Players like John Wall, DeMarcus Cousins, Kevin Durant, Carmelo Anthony, Michael Beasley, and many others took their college teams to levels far beyond what their teams’ talent and coaching should have achieved.
I fully understand the point that Keown wants to make in this column. The one-and-done players do present a challenge for coaches trying to build programs and win championships. But they are not evil. They are not the problem. They most definitely do not make teams like Butler and VCU more enjoyable to watch. And they aren’t all selfishly bad teammates.
Keown took his point, backed it up with manipulated evidence that does not at all support his point, and will, I am sure, convince the majority of people who read the column that he is 100% right. And it pisses me off.
What Tim Keown pulled out of context in this instance is Harrison Barnes’ attempted pass to himself in North Carolina’s game Sunday versus Kentucky. If you did not see the game, Barnes drove to the basket, got surrounded by Wildcats, and could not find an open teammate. Instead of trying a low percentage pass, he threw it off the backboard and tried to catch it himself. Unfortunately for the Tar Heels, Barnes mistimed his jump and Kentucky secured the ball. As someone who believes a bad shot is better—that is, less defensively destructive—than a bad pass, I thought it was a smart play by Barnes. Keown saw it differently. He wrote, “And so, in one act of self-glorification, Barnes exemplified why everybody is so excited about VCU and Butler in the Final Four.” A couple of paragraphs later, Keown added, “Nothing against Barnes. It's just that he's the one who thought to pass to himself in an Elite Eight game at a time when it's becoming increasingly clear that balancing team basketball and future NBA plans is not the simple act we once supposed.” Please correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me like the writer took an arguably intelligent act in a moment of basketball desperation and described it to the masses as an act of selfishness exemplifying a me-first attitude. Pardon me, but would a me-first player who is billed as a scorer just shot the 10-foot turnaround?
But Keown doesn’t stop there. Nope, his very next words are “For what it's worth, I'd pay to see Barnes play before I'd pay to see any single player on VCU or Butler. But the thing is, I'd pay to see VCU or Butler before I'd pay to see Barnes.” With these two statements, Keown employed the technique of saying something utterly stupid and expecting people to nod their heads in agreement. Unfortunately, too many people do just that. What does that statement even mean? If you break down what Keown says here, he is saying he’d rather spend his entertainment dollar on lesser skilled players who work together than higher skilled players who work alone. Maybe that’s a fair point, but he hasn’t yet shown me that Harrison Barnes works alone.
To emphasize this point, the writer invoked the name Kyrie Irving. Of the Duke freshman, he wrote, “Kyrie Irving is another fabulous freshman talent, but his play against Arizona is the main reason the Blue Devils' season ended before most people thought it would.” Flat out lie. If you watched that game and came to any conclusion other than Irving’s play kept the game as close as it was, then you don’t know basketball. But Keown had a point to make here, and he was not going to let facts or circumstances get in his way of making them. He added, “It was nearly impossible to believe that Duke’s game plan was to have Irving take over while the best player on the court—Nolan Smith—was reduced to an innocent bystander.” There was no mention of the fact that Kyrie Irving is a true point guard and Nolan Smith is not. There was no mention that this was Smith’s first year playing as the primary ball handler and that moving to the point after Irving’s December injury may have been as responsible for his improved statistics as anything else(for evidence of this, look at Smith’s freshman through junior year statistics as well as how much his numbers improved this season once Irving went down and Krzyzewski was forced to move him to the point). It seemed to me that both Irving and Smith need the ball to play their best; it also seemed to me that Irving’s best is significantly better than Smith’s best. You can chalk Duke’s poor play in the second half versus Arizona to poor coaching, a talent deficiency, or to one of those nights. But you absolutely cannot say it was Kyrie Irving’s fault. You just can’t. Keown did it anyway.
Near the end, Keown wrote that he feels like he’s watching an audition when he watches “these guys” play. He doesn’t fully define these guys, but logic dictates that we can use the phrase as a euphemism for talented players with realistic NBA dreams. Well, Tim, considering the way professional team sports operate, wouldn’t you say these are their auditions? At the same time, wouldn’t you also admit that each player’s career is more important than a college basketball team? And wouldn’t you agree that showcasing talent while playing in the framework of a team is what the NBA coaches and general managers want to see?
He wrote, “It's rare to find a team relying on a one-and-done player who displays the same kind of camaraderie and share-the-ball philosophy we see in the upstarts.” He then listed Kemba Walker, Derrick Rose, and Derrick Williams as exceptions who “manage to combine transcendent talent with the ability to make their teammates better.” I counter that Kemba Walker is nothing close to a one-and-done player. He is a junior who still causes scouts to wonder if he can play in the NBA. I would also add that we have seen plenty of other one-and-done players raise the level of their teams. Players like John Wall, DeMarcus Cousins, Kevin Durant, Carmelo Anthony, Michael Beasley, and many others took their college teams to levels far beyond what their teams’ talent and coaching should have achieved.
I fully understand the point that Keown wants to make in this column. The one-and-done players do present a challenge for coaches trying to build programs and win championships. But they are not evil. They are not the problem. They most definitely do not make teams like Butler and VCU more enjoyable to watch. And they aren’t all selfishly bad teammates.
Keown took his point, backed it up with manipulated evidence that does not at all support his point, and will, I am sure, convince the majority of people who read the column that he is 100% right. And it pisses me off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)