The sentiment on L.A. radio today (and those with outlets to me via other outlets, like say…conversation) seems to be an air of dominance after yesterday's altogether dominance of the Aaron Brooks's – ahem, the rockets (lower-case to represent their shell of a team). True, yesterday's performance was entirely one-sided, and despite gritty and tough play from Houston, Bynum, Gasol, Ariza, and others completely controlled all aspects of the game, BUT, what exactly does that mean.
Vegas, for what it's worth, thinks it means little. They give the Denver Nuggets a very realistic chance of winning the series, and considering the Lakers have home-court advantage, somewhat implies that in a neutral arena, Vegas, (whose opinion I value more than any analyst's) thinks the two teams are just about equal. While Denver did earn the number 2 seed, they finished eleven games behind the Lakers, and a staggering .140 points behind the Lakers in the Pythagorean standings. (Denver also finished behind the Celtics, Spurs and Blazers in the Pythagorean standings, three teams currently watching on television) What this means, is that despite no injuries, and despite the Lakers's convincing five-game disposal of the Jazz in the first round, some time in the last two weeks, Denver has made up 11 games of regular season separation and .140 points of Pythagorean separation to even up (or at least come close to evening up) the perception that the Lakers are BETTER than the Nuggets, save for home-court.
While Denver was quite impressive against Dallas in the second round, Dallas's Pythagorean winning percentage was barely better than Pheonix, who missed the playoffs altogether and has to be, at least somewhat, expected. What happened is, at least in Vegas's mind, is that the Lakers' struggles with Houston changed the perception of how good this Lakers team can be. Houston's obviously injured stars should have made for an easy series, but they were unable to capitalize, and were forced to subject their fans, and their own bodies, to a surprising game 7. A lot has been made about their heart, their character, and their "championship will" but I think eventually, like Vegas has done, we need to start looking at other factors such as: age, fatigue, and maybe this Lakers team is not that good.
Am I ARGUING they are not good, or even that they will lose a series…not really. I am saying that perhaps all of the things that critics and fans of the Lakers say they lacked in their 2 defeats in Houston in games 4 and 6, were effects, not moveable variables, of more fixed variables that have changed the perception of the Lakers' dominance in the Western Conference.
Some things to consider: Kobe Byrant, the unquestionable heart and soul of this team, is now 31 years old; however, like many astute critics will be quick to point out, he is an "old" 31, for he came into the league at age 18, and has, for the most part, started since his third year. In his thirteen-year career, he has played in 1112 games, starting 944 of those. This is not counting Olympics, preseasons, or the fact that Kobe is known as the hardest working player, off the court in the NBA. In the past two seasons alone, he has played in 197 games, starting each of them and averaging about 38 minutes per game. These numbers are STAGGERING.
To put this in perspective, over his career, he's already played 16 more games than Magic Johnson played in his entire career, and Johnson's numbers began a slight decline (especially in scoring, rebounds, and defensively) after about 900 games. Larry Bird played in 55 less games than Bryant and his numbers also took a sharp turn (also in part to his back problems) after about 900 games. Not counting his Wizard's numbers, Kobe has even played more games than Jordan, whose career total was 1109. Jordan also took two and a half years off in the mid-90s, and, though he did experience a SMALL dip in his numbers in the last two years of his Bulls career, he still won the championship those seasons.
Kobe, by contrast has NOT yet seen a dip in his numbers. He won his first MVP in 2008 in the season he surpassed the dreaded 900 game clip. Up until maybe two months ago, he was the undisputed, unanimous choice for "best player on the planet," and despite his age and games played numbers starting to reach some important benchmarks, has not (at least to the untrained eye) shown any signs of erosion. (There are some statistics such as FTA and points in the paint that do, in fact, point to a small decline in his athleticism, but Jordan worked through that, meaning there's a precedent to follow).
But the point I'm making with all of this data is that: instead of assuming that players age only during the off-season; the assumption that Kobe's 08/09 exists in a vacuum and signs of fatigue or maybe age will only emerge side by side with his 09/10 numbers is simply wrong. In fact, can't we assume the opposite is true? Can't we assume that players probably age more during the season that after? Can't we assume that Kobe, who seems to be playing at as high of a level as he was last year, is not even playing at as high of a level as he was in November? That assumption goes for Bryant, Fisher (1111 GP), even younger players like Gasol (629) or Odom (723) who may not be "old" but may be experiencing some sort of age-related fatigue after playing the amount of games at the level that they've been playing at over the last eighteen months? Look at Boston. Garnett and Pierced look like they're about 65 years old right now. Their month-long winning streak over November and December seems like it was three years ago.
So maybe, while fans and critics jump on the "will the Lakers show up tonight" bandwagon, they should be looking at another point. Furthermore, maybe the Lakers just aren't as good as we thought. The NBA season, despite being 6 months long, is only 82 games. While 82 games is a large sample size (6 times longer than the NFL) it is far from perfect. It is half as long as baseball's; it is played through an unbalanced schedule, and does not ALWAYS tell the exact story of the best team's in the league. For instance, Denver, Portland, and San Antonio all finished with identical 54-28 records. Houston, with Yao, and half a season of McGrady finished one game behind with a quite comparable 53-29 record. I am considering the fact that the Spurs are banged up, but also considering Houston as even more banged up. In the playoffs, these four teams, despite essentially identical records, have played four ENTIRELY different post-seasons. Denver is 8-2, Houston 7-6, Portand 2-4 and the Spurs 1-4. Since these are small sample sizes as well, little could be said about which team's are "the best" but perhaps the Lakers' 65-17 might not be as impressive considering their second-round performance.
Here again, my point is that maybe, while their regular-season record was more than impressive, perhaps it's sample size was too limited to expose the fact that the Lakers were merely not as good as their record indicates (and their Pythagorean record confirms). For instance, from February 29 through March 31, the Lakers played at a 10-6 clip. Maybe this pedestrian .625 record (duplicated in during a significant stretch in December) is truer to form than the much higher percentage played in other, hotter stretches. Again, I am not arguing that this is the case, but it would not be a stretch to say that the Lakers are closer to a .625, or even .659 (Denver's reg. season Winning pct.) than the loft goal of .793 they actually set. In fact, their post-season record right now (against a free-falling Jazz team, and a terminally injured Rockets team is .666 with 7 of 12 games being played at Staples Center.
Obviously this small sample size renders these numbers ALMOST irrelevant, but perhaps this sample is truer than other samples. Especially considering Kobe's age, the entire team's fatigue, and other fixed variables that are being interpreted by both familiar and unfamiliar sources as moveable variables, maybe the Lakers are just about as good as the Nuggets.
I could go on and discuss the hypocrisy of judging a team's merit based on an incredibly small sample size when a much larger sample size is readily available, or the virtue of match-ups, home-court advantage, and the ever-popular "heart", but I think that Phil and Kobe SHOULD be able to answer any questions over the next month.
I do not want to make any predictions, and I do not want to assume anything. All I will say is to my L.A. brethren, you just went 7 games with a team that most likely would be a high lottery pick if they played the entire regular season with their game 7 roster. Of the four teams in the final four right now, none is more fatigued than you, none is under as much pressure as you, and all three are playing better at this stage of the playoffs. Of course this can change drastically and quickly, but instead of basking in the game 7 domination, maybe a quick fan gut-check is in order. Shit-talking to a minimum, concern at an all-time high.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Kobe vs Lebron????
Today on TrueHoop, several prominent bloggers voiced their opinions on the individual rivalry between Lebron and Kobe. This dichotomy is so interesting to me because I can not remember an ongoing argument over who is better in basketball involving two so similar players in my lifetime. I mean, I guess there was the Garnett/Duncan rivalry in the early 2000s, but that was so one-sided that I don't think any logical person ever chose Garnett over Duncan after the years of domination.
In the 90s, there was very little debate because of Michael. Sure the 1993 and 1998 MVPs don't agree with this decade of individual dominance argument, but those were such flimsy awards (and Micahel proved those in the Finals) that they are not worth mentioning. In 2001 the debate between best player in the league was Iverson or Shaq…the next few seasons were Kidd vs. Shaq or Kidd vs. Duncan. We had a Nash vs. Kidd season, Kobe vs. Jordan…there really hasn't been a toe-to-toe dichotomy with two players arguably peaking since Magic and Bird. That dichotomy was so broad that it seemingly defined the decade.
But Kobe vs. Lebron is something different. It's not necessarily a preference of styles (such as the Bird/Magic dichotomy) though stylistically there are significant differences. It's not about size or speed (such as the Iverson/Kidd/Nash vs. Shaq/Garnett/Duncan dichotomies) though there is a significant size and speed difference. What this dichotomy is essentially boiled down to is youthful potential being realized at the exact same moment that youthful potential is peaking.
Kobe, living in the shadows of O'Neal for as long as he did, has struggled with his personal rivalry with Jordan's legacy since Shaq's departure in 2004. Lebron on the other hand is in a personal struggle with the mythical expectations belied upon him by the postmodern media, and the hopes of Stern and the NBA in the wake of Jordan's retirement. The personal side of this rivalry only came into the forefront this year thanks to two independent things:
1. The Olympics – The two struggled to claim the overall leadership moniker and hence the title of "greatest player in the world."
2. Lebron's ascendancy as both super-star, and leader of a top-echelon team (thanks in no small part to his time spent with Bryant in China) gave more validity to the idea that James may have passed Bryant as the best player in the world.
The conversation can be heard in bars, on television, and in blogs. It’s an argument that everyone, young/old, educated/stupid, casual/dedicated, seems to share an opinion on. When I went to the Cavs/Lakers game at Staples Center in January, even Lakers fans, known for going to the mat for Kobe unconditionally, seemed to believe that the torch was being passed before our eyes.
There are DEFINITELY arguments for both players…and though I believe that Lebron passed Kobe approximately two months ago, I believe that the argument is valid and worth discussing. My argument is simply that Kobe GOT OLD. That is not to say that he went through a Chris Webber-esque decline, but that he is an old thirty-one, who has played close to two-hundred games in the last eighteen months. And no one, no matter what anyone says about Howard, James, Garnett, or anyone else, plays these games harder than Kobe. About two months ago, Kobe (and the Lakers) started running out of steam. His drives to the hoop are down, his elevation on his deadly jump-shot is down, and his ability to become an on-fire character in NBA Jam seemed to diminish.
Lebron meanwhile, at age twenty-four (Michael Jordan's age in 1987, or Tiger Woods in 1999), is JUST hitting his stride, carrying a team on his shoulders, and playing a level that Kobe was playing at two years ago. Of course this is just my opinion, but if you were to ask me on March 16th, "who would you rather have?" I'm not wasting any time and answering Kobe. Today, again, not wasting any time, but the answer's Lebron.
Ok, but my opinion doesn't matter at all. One of the facts that I find troubling in the pro-Kobe argument is the "4th quarter assassin" argument. The argument that Kobe is the best player in the league in a one possession game. On TrueHoop today, Royce Young of the Daily Thunder argued:
The thing I see in Kobe is a straight assassin. He's the Travis Bickle of basketball. He's there to finish you, even if your kid is in the other room watching. I don't get that from LeBron. LeBron is a slow cooker -- a guy that needs 48 minutes to beat you. He's absolutely unguardable one-on-one, he can rebound, he can create for teammates and he can man up. But does he have that sense of the moment like Kobe does? Can he just walk on the court and say "I got this" to his teammates. I'm not sure he's there yet.
I hate to be the desperado here out riding fences, but in one respect I'm a straight James man. But in another, I want Kobe. It all depends on where we're at on the clock I guess. If I'm starting a franchise and I get to choose one player, I want LeBron. But if I'm taking one shot at the end of the game, I choose Kobe.
OK, so there is a small concession at the end (the "if I'm starting a franchise" comment, but personally the "taking one shot" situation is analogous to the "best player in the world" metric. My argument isn't that this argument is flawed, it's that it simply is based upon NOTHING. While I like Royce Young, and occasionally read his blog, I don't feel that following the OKC Thunder for one season qualifies anyone for making a judgment on who is better in the 4th quarter.
I would agree that up until this season, this might be true; but up until this season, Lebron's best second scoring options have been players that were riding Phil Jackson's bench in crunch time. This season, as the Cavs improved their personnel, Lebron also ascended to the mythic expecttions bestowed upon him as a seventeen year old. But Young is arguing that the thing that sets Kobe aside from James is his CLUTCH abilities. He is arguing that Lebron is a more complete player, but it is Bryant's clutch seperation that makes him more valuable.
This season, per 48 minutes of crunch time (defined by 4th quarter and OT, 5 minutes or less, game within 5 points) Kobe averaged 56.7 points, while Lebron averaged 55.9. These numbers are essentially identical, and by now means is Byrant's edge significant enough to jump Lebron in the dichotomy. Furthermore, Kobe's FG% in these situations is .457% while Lebron's is .556% essentially meaning that Lebron makes a full shot (two points) more than Kobe for every ten taken. Lebron's clutch FG % is only surpassed by Carmello Anthony, and surprisingly, Zach Randolph. Throw in Lebron's peripheral pretty significant statistical advantages over Bryant (14.3-8.4 boards, 12.6-5.7 dimes, 3.5-1 steal, and 1.7-0 blocks) and it would be hard to argue that Bryant is even close to James late in a game. In fact, the only two metrics in which one could argue that Bryant is superior to James are FT% and turnovers. Free throw percentage (James 85 % and Bryant 92%) is nullified by the fact that James shoots two more free throws per 48 clutch minutes than Kobe, and the turnover number (James 4.8, Bryant 3.0) is a result of James doubling Bryant's assist total.
The point of all of these numbers is that, despite Kobe's propensity for being able ot hit back-breaking daggers from twenty feet (often on national TV), he is not nearly as efficient of a player in crunch time as Lebron is. One other incredibly telling stat (one that Young's blurb is actually consistent with) is that Bryant has player 142 minutes in 41 games of crunch time. Lebron has played in 111 minutes in 31 games of crunch time. Lebron's 48-minute "slow-cooker" attack has proved so much more valuable than Bryant's, that his team has not needed him to play the role that he is statistically better than Bryant at playing. THIRTY-ONE GAMES of crunch time. Are you kidding? That number is ridiculous, and in the playoffs, Lebron has won every game by double digits, while Kobe's team is 7-4. And before you bring up the softer competition argument remember this fact – The Lakers were 2-2 against the Pistons and Hawks this season, the Cavs were 3-1 against the Jazz and Rockets.
What this all adds up to is this: The argument over Lebron vs. Kobe is still valid. It probably will go on for another year before Kobe's legs begin to give a little more (though I would not put anything past Kobe's competitive drive carrying him a few more years in the elite), and it will define this era of the NBA. BUT… the 4th quarter assassin garbage, so often called upon by Kobe apologists to deify Bryant's mythology over James's – is simply false. And once all of us, including Royce Young, figure this out, the dichotomy will become a lot clearer.
In the 90s, there was very little debate because of Michael. Sure the 1993 and 1998 MVPs don't agree with this decade of individual dominance argument, but those were such flimsy awards (and Micahel proved those in the Finals) that they are not worth mentioning. In 2001 the debate between best player in the league was Iverson or Shaq…the next few seasons were Kidd vs. Shaq or Kidd vs. Duncan. We had a Nash vs. Kidd season, Kobe vs. Jordan…there really hasn't been a toe-to-toe dichotomy with two players arguably peaking since Magic and Bird. That dichotomy was so broad that it seemingly defined the decade.
But Kobe vs. Lebron is something different. It's not necessarily a preference of styles (such as the Bird/Magic dichotomy) though stylistically there are significant differences. It's not about size or speed (such as the Iverson/Kidd/Nash vs. Shaq/Garnett/Duncan dichotomies) though there is a significant size and speed difference. What this dichotomy is essentially boiled down to is youthful potential being realized at the exact same moment that youthful potential is peaking.
Kobe, living in the shadows of O'Neal for as long as he did, has struggled with his personal rivalry with Jordan's legacy since Shaq's departure in 2004. Lebron on the other hand is in a personal struggle with the mythical expectations belied upon him by the postmodern media, and the hopes of Stern and the NBA in the wake of Jordan's retirement. The personal side of this rivalry only came into the forefront this year thanks to two independent things:
1. The Olympics – The two struggled to claim the overall leadership moniker and hence the title of "greatest player in the world."
2. Lebron's ascendancy as both super-star, and leader of a top-echelon team (thanks in no small part to his time spent with Bryant in China) gave more validity to the idea that James may have passed Bryant as the best player in the world.
The conversation can be heard in bars, on television, and in blogs. It’s an argument that everyone, young/old, educated/stupid, casual/dedicated, seems to share an opinion on. When I went to the Cavs/Lakers game at Staples Center in January, even Lakers fans, known for going to the mat for Kobe unconditionally, seemed to believe that the torch was being passed before our eyes.
There are DEFINITELY arguments for both players…and though I believe that Lebron passed Kobe approximately two months ago, I believe that the argument is valid and worth discussing. My argument is simply that Kobe GOT OLD. That is not to say that he went through a Chris Webber-esque decline, but that he is an old thirty-one, who has played close to two-hundred games in the last eighteen months. And no one, no matter what anyone says about Howard, James, Garnett, or anyone else, plays these games harder than Kobe. About two months ago, Kobe (and the Lakers) started running out of steam. His drives to the hoop are down, his elevation on his deadly jump-shot is down, and his ability to become an on-fire character in NBA Jam seemed to diminish.
Lebron meanwhile, at age twenty-four (Michael Jordan's age in 1987, or Tiger Woods in 1999), is JUST hitting his stride, carrying a team on his shoulders, and playing a level that Kobe was playing at two years ago. Of course this is just my opinion, but if you were to ask me on March 16th, "who would you rather have?" I'm not wasting any time and answering Kobe. Today, again, not wasting any time, but the answer's Lebron.
Ok, but my opinion doesn't matter at all. One of the facts that I find troubling in the pro-Kobe argument is the "4th quarter assassin" argument. The argument that Kobe is the best player in the league in a one possession game. On TrueHoop today, Royce Young of the Daily Thunder argued:
The thing I see in Kobe is a straight assassin. He's the Travis Bickle of basketball. He's there to finish you, even if your kid is in the other room watching. I don't get that from LeBron. LeBron is a slow cooker -- a guy that needs 48 minutes to beat you. He's absolutely unguardable one-on-one, he can rebound, he can create for teammates and he can man up. But does he have that sense of the moment like Kobe does? Can he just walk on the court and say "I got this" to his teammates. I'm not sure he's there yet.
I hate to be the desperado here out riding fences, but in one respect I'm a straight James man. But in another, I want Kobe. It all depends on where we're at on the clock I guess. If I'm starting a franchise and I get to choose one player, I want LeBron. But if I'm taking one shot at the end of the game, I choose Kobe.
OK, so there is a small concession at the end (the "if I'm starting a franchise" comment, but personally the "taking one shot" situation is analogous to the "best player in the world" metric. My argument isn't that this argument is flawed, it's that it simply is based upon NOTHING. While I like Royce Young, and occasionally read his blog, I don't feel that following the OKC Thunder for one season qualifies anyone for making a judgment on who is better in the 4th quarter.
I would agree that up until this season, this might be true; but up until this season, Lebron's best second scoring options have been players that were riding Phil Jackson's bench in crunch time. This season, as the Cavs improved their personnel, Lebron also ascended to the mythic expecttions bestowed upon him as a seventeen year old. But Young is arguing that the thing that sets Kobe aside from James is his CLUTCH abilities. He is arguing that Lebron is a more complete player, but it is Bryant's clutch seperation that makes him more valuable.
This season, per 48 minutes of crunch time (defined by 4th quarter and OT, 5 minutes or less, game within 5 points) Kobe averaged 56.7 points, while Lebron averaged 55.9. These numbers are essentially identical, and by now means is Byrant's edge significant enough to jump Lebron in the dichotomy. Furthermore, Kobe's FG% in these situations is .457% while Lebron's is .556% essentially meaning that Lebron makes a full shot (two points) more than Kobe for every ten taken. Lebron's clutch FG % is only surpassed by Carmello Anthony, and surprisingly, Zach Randolph. Throw in Lebron's peripheral pretty significant statistical advantages over Bryant (14.3-8.4 boards, 12.6-5.7 dimes, 3.5-1 steal, and 1.7-0 blocks) and it would be hard to argue that Bryant is even close to James late in a game. In fact, the only two metrics in which one could argue that Bryant is superior to James are FT% and turnovers. Free throw percentage (James 85 % and Bryant 92%) is nullified by the fact that James shoots two more free throws per 48 clutch minutes than Kobe, and the turnover number (James 4.8, Bryant 3.0) is a result of James doubling Bryant's assist total.
The point of all of these numbers is that, despite Kobe's propensity for being able ot hit back-breaking daggers from twenty feet (often on national TV), he is not nearly as efficient of a player in crunch time as Lebron is. One other incredibly telling stat (one that Young's blurb is actually consistent with) is that Bryant has player 142 minutes in 41 games of crunch time. Lebron has played in 111 minutes in 31 games of crunch time. Lebron's 48-minute "slow-cooker" attack has proved so much more valuable than Bryant's, that his team has not needed him to play the role that he is statistically better than Bryant at playing. THIRTY-ONE GAMES of crunch time. Are you kidding? That number is ridiculous, and in the playoffs, Lebron has won every game by double digits, while Kobe's team is 7-4. And before you bring up the softer competition argument remember this fact – The Lakers were 2-2 against the Pistons and Hawks this season, the Cavs were 3-1 against the Jazz and Rockets.
What this all adds up to is this: The argument over Lebron vs. Kobe is still valid. It probably will go on for another year before Kobe's legs begin to give a little more (though I would not put anything past Kobe's competitive drive carrying him a few more years in the elite), and it will define this era of the NBA. BUT… the 4th quarter assassin garbage, so often called upon by Kobe apologists to deify Bryant's mythology over James's – is simply false. And once all of us, including Royce Young, figure this out, the dichotomy will become a lot clearer.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Rivalry Lost?
Six years ago, on the eve of the 2003 NBA draft, the draft that was poised to save the NBA, to put the Jordan era behind us, to take the league from the "thug-ball" that the pre-blog sports journalist seemed to fear so much, the story was not about the potential of Dwayne Wade; or the anticipation for the career of number two overall pick, Darko Milicic. The anticipation and unprecedented promise was brought by two teenagers: Lebron James and Carmelo Anthony. We heard they were friends, we heard they were rivals, we heard about their lone high-school match-up in which James outscored Anthony, but his team came up short. More than anything, we heard about a potential Magic vs. Bird rivalry – a pairing teeming with contradictions:
- The duality of James and Anthony would redefine the individual in the NBA.
- The future of the NBA, the NEXT chapter, would be defined by homage to the past, and, hopefully, if we were lucky enough that this rivalry should pan out, the future would be an ideal representation of the past.
- A league full of young, brash, self-aggrandizing, precocious children of the hip-hop era, who were supposedly ruining the league with their "biting-the-hand-that-feeds-them behavior, would be saved by two young, black, kids, who were superstars by the time they were old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes.
But the media, the hype machine responsible for creating the iconography of James years before his first game, with little else to talk about during anti-classic Spurs/Nets finals, spurred on this potential rivalry. The Rocky Mountian News said, "They could be the future of the NBA. Or they could be like the past, when Magic Johnson and Larry Bird carried on a dramatic rivalry after entering the league in 1979." The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette said that the two were "poised to stage the next great rivalry."
This was the new era: Lebron and Carmelo.
At about this same time, Kobe Bryant's career appeared like it might be on an early decline. First, the Lakers' dynasty was crumbling. Their three-year stretch of invincibility was shattered that spring after an early exit to the San Antonio Spurs. Then later that summer, weeks after the draft that welcomed the supposed savior partnership into the league, Bryant was charged with rape, leaving both the Lakers' future, and Bryant's career in treacherous uncertainty. The twenty-five year old Bryant already had his three rings, but his shaky relationship with both his Lakers co-star and his coach left a lot of us thinking that maybe this is it: a Hendrix-esque career that dazzled us for a short period of time and was over before it ever really got started. The idea of a potential Bryant/James rivalry was so far-fetched at this time, that it was never even a spark inside a columnist's head. Forget the fact that Bryant is a mere six years older than Anthony, one of the hardest working players in the game, and one who takes almost every challenge personally (hence his feuds with both O'Neal and Jackson), he was part of the "thug" era. He was Iverson, Sprewell, O'Neal, and Marbury. Bryant was a part of the old guard, and no one was hoping that six years later, it would be a duality involving him, and not Anthony, that would be the dream Finals.
After Anthony and James finally did meet in the regular season, the hopes for the rivalry were reduced. After all, their respective teams won a total or thirty-four games in 2002-2003. That's a sum; aggregate; COMBINED. The idea that these two kids, whose combined AGES were merely thirty seven, would take these two teams, with their combined zero Finals appearances, to the Finals, in the same year, seemed somewhat preposterous. Hope and hype gave way to realism and awareness.
Marc Stein of ESPN said, "It's the most unrealistic expectation yet to be placed on LeBron James. And Carmelo Anthony shares it with him. Let's all please stop with this stuff about these two recreating Magic vs. Larry." Mark Heisler of the L.A. Times sarcastically treated their first regular season match-up, more as a dais for roasting the hype. He joked " Yes, the league that gave you Wilt Chamberlain vs. Bill Russell and Magic Johnson vs. Larry Bird now proudly presents ...LeBron James vs. Carmelo Anthony?" He went on, " . . . be careful what you televise, buy commercial time on or tune in to, you just might get it . . . There was the Goodyear blimp beaming, "The Future is Now ... LeBron vs. Melo," and providing shots of the glittering Cleveland skyline.
This was unusual for an indoor event but the blimp had a nice view of the adjacent baseball stadium as well as the Gund Arena roof, under which James and Anthony dueled to see whose future this was."
So we had a problem. We had a hyped duality that was primed to save the league, but the mainstream sports press (and most logical observers) were insulted by the presumptions that this seed would sprout to fruition, hence saving the NBA and ridding the league of the evil-doers (see: Artest, Ron). These two kids, and more importantly these two teams, were not ever meeting in the Finals. Give it up, stop talking about, and let's enjoy watching Shaq, a rapist, and two aging veterans run the table and win their rightful rings.
[SMASH CUT TO SIX YEARS LATER]
Now its 2009. Lebron is MVP. Kobe is last year's. Kobe lost last year's Finals. Lebron lost two years ago. Kobe and Lebron shared the captain title in the Olympics. Lebron and Kobe star in the new Nike commercial portraying the two as puppets. Meanwhile, Carmello, the supposed second half of the holy duality, came into this season with a career 4-20 playoff record. His two biggest stories in his career were a "Stop Snitchin'" video he did, and his sucker punch thrown at Madison Square Garden. His career has not been, per se, a disappointment, but by no means has he lived up to his potential. And now he sits 4 wins away from the Finals, and most likely a meeting with James. It is finally here. The potential has lived up to the hope and we sit a mere eight victories away from the rivalry that WE built six years ago. We should be looking at our creation and beeming with paternal pride. And yet, the hype about 2009, the story, the theme, the prayer, is that Carmello, one step away from where we never believed he'd get, will lose to Byrant's Lakers.
You don't need me to tell you, it has been ordained by higher forces that the Lakers will meet the Cavaliers in the Finals, and this must happen. Cynics are calling for a Nuggets-Celtics Finals. Traditionalists are hoping for Lakers-Celtics. Purists are calling for a Rockets-Cavs. But the hype, the commercials, and public discourse is all discounting any scenario that is not: Lebron and Kobe. Bethlehem Shoals of freedarko and The Sporting News's The Baseline says of the potential, "So turn down the commercials, stop reading the columns, and tell all your friends that Denver's going all the way. As long as you can admit, in your heart of hearts, that LeBron vs. Kobe would be a pretty amazing series to be forced to sit through."
Wait? What happened? What happened to these two guys saving the league? What happened to it never being possible? What happened to the Holy Duality!?!?!? It's Lebron and KOBE? I thought he was going to jail? Or getting older? I thought he destroyed the Laker dynasty, set the league back, and was considered one of the least popular players in the league? I'm confused. But what I'm more confused about is the lack of anyone bringing up the fruition of all of the prayers from six years ago. This very well could be it. The true start of a rivalry that was abruptly put on hold on a snowy November night in Cleveland six years ago, when Denver defeated Cleveland by fourteen and Lebron's 7 were a low-light in his 3-11 shooting night.
Obviously, if the Nuggets can take a game from the Lakers/Rockets and maybe stir things up, we will start to remember, but I want it now. The only two teams in the conference finals are led by Anthony and James and I want to know where everyone went. Where are the believers, the optimists, and the faithful? Where are the cynics, the realists, and the naysayers? Where is the league, so adept at training our eyes towards certain characters, stories, and settings? Why wait? Why root against it? Sure, Kobe vs. Lebron would be amazing, but so would Lebron vs. Anthony—at least that's what you told us six years ago…
- The duality of James and Anthony would redefine the individual in the NBA.
- The future of the NBA, the NEXT chapter, would be defined by homage to the past, and, hopefully, if we were lucky enough that this rivalry should pan out, the future would be an ideal representation of the past.
- A league full of young, brash, self-aggrandizing, precocious children of the hip-hop era, who were supposedly ruining the league with their "biting-the-hand-that-feeds-them behavior, would be saved by two young, black, kids, who were superstars by the time they were old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes.
But the media, the hype machine responsible for creating the iconography of James years before his first game, with little else to talk about during anti-classic Spurs/Nets finals, spurred on this potential rivalry. The Rocky Mountian News said, "They could be the future of the NBA. Or they could be like the past, when Magic Johnson and Larry Bird carried on a dramatic rivalry after entering the league in 1979." The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette said that the two were "poised to stage the next great rivalry."
This was the new era: Lebron and Carmelo.
At about this same time, Kobe Bryant's career appeared like it might be on an early decline. First, the Lakers' dynasty was crumbling. Their three-year stretch of invincibility was shattered that spring after an early exit to the San Antonio Spurs. Then later that summer, weeks after the draft that welcomed the supposed savior partnership into the league, Bryant was charged with rape, leaving both the Lakers' future, and Bryant's career in treacherous uncertainty. The twenty-five year old Bryant already had his three rings, but his shaky relationship with both his Lakers co-star and his coach left a lot of us thinking that maybe this is it: a Hendrix-esque career that dazzled us for a short period of time and was over before it ever really got started. The idea of a potential Bryant/James rivalry was so far-fetched at this time, that it was never even a spark inside a columnist's head. Forget the fact that Bryant is a mere six years older than Anthony, one of the hardest working players in the game, and one who takes almost every challenge personally (hence his feuds with both O'Neal and Jackson), he was part of the "thug" era. He was Iverson, Sprewell, O'Neal, and Marbury. Bryant was a part of the old guard, and no one was hoping that six years later, it would be a duality involving him, and not Anthony, that would be the dream Finals.
After Anthony and James finally did meet in the regular season, the hopes for the rivalry were reduced. After all, their respective teams won a total or thirty-four games in 2002-2003. That's a sum; aggregate; COMBINED. The idea that these two kids, whose combined AGES were merely thirty seven, would take these two teams, with their combined zero Finals appearances, to the Finals, in the same year, seemed somewhat preposterous. Hope and hype gave way to realism and awareness.
Marc Stein of ESPN said, "It's the most unrealistic expectation yet to be placed on LeBron James. And Carmelo Anthony shares it with him. Let's all please stop with this stuff about these two recreating Magic vs. Larry." Mark Heisler of the L.A. Times sarcastically treated their first regular season match-up, more as a dais for roasting the hype. He joked " Yes, the league that gave you Wilt Chamberlain vs. Bill Russell and Magic Johnson vs. Larry Bird now proudly presents ...LeBron James vs. Carmelo Anthony?" He went on, " . . . be careful what you televise, buy commercial time on or tune in to, you just might get it . . . There was the Goodyear blimp beaming, "The Future is Now ... LeBron vs. Melo," and providing shots of the glittering Cleveland skyline.
This was unusual for an indoor event but the blimp had a nice view of the adjacent baseball stadium as well as the Gund Arena roof, under which James and Anthony dueled to see whose future this was."
So we had a problem. We had a hyped duality that was primed to save the league, but the mainstream sports press (and most logical observers) were insulted by the presumptions that this seed would sprout to fruition, hence saving the NBA and ridding the league of the evil-doers (see: Artest, Ron). These two kids, and more importantly these two teams, were not ever meeting in the Finals. Give it up, stop talking about, and let's enjoy watching Shaq, a rapist, and two aging veterans run the table and win their rightful rings.
[SMASH CUT TO SIX YEARS LATER]
Now its 2009. Lebron is MVP. Kobe is last year's. Kobe lost last year's Finals. Lebron lost two years ago. Kobe and Lebron shared the captain title in the Olympics. Lebron and Kobe star in the new Nike commercial portraying the two as puppets. Meanwhile, Carmello, the supposed second half of the holy duality, came into this season with a career 4-20 playoff record. His two biggest stories in his career were a "Stop Snitchin'" video he did, and his sucker punch thrown at Madison Square Garden. His career has not been, per se, a disappointment, but by no means has he lived up to his potential. And now he sits 4 wins away from the Finals, and most likely a meeting with James. It is finally here. The potential has lived up to the hope and we sit a mere eight victories away from the rivalry that WE built six years ago. We should be looking at our creation and beeming with paternal pride. And yet, the hype about 2009, the story, the theme, the prayer, is that Carmello, one step away from where we never believed he'd get, will lose to Byrant's Lakers.
You don't need me to tell you, it has been ordained by higher forces that the Lakers will meet the Cavaliers in the Finals, and this must happen. Cynics are calling for a Nuggets-Celtics Finals. Traditionalists are hoping for Lakers-Celtics. Purists are calling for a Rockets-Cavs. But the hype, the commercials, and public discourse is all discounting any scenario that is not: Lebron and Kobe. Bethlehem Shoals of freedarko and The Sporting News's The Baseline says of the potential, "So turn down the commercials, stop reading the columns, and tell all your friends that Denver's going all the way. As long as you can admit, in your heart of hearts, that LeBron vs. Kobe would be a pretty amazing series to be forced to sit through."
Wait? What happened? What happened to these two guys saving the league? What happened to it never being possible? What happened to the Holy Duality!?!?!? It's Lebron and KOBE? I thought he was going to jail? Or getting older? I thought he destroyed the Laker dynasty, set the league back, and was considered one of the least popular players in the league? I'm confused. But what I'm more confused about is the lack of anyone bringing up the fruition of all of the prayers from six years ago. This very well could be it. The true start of a rivalry that was abruptly put on hold on a snowy November night in Cleveland six years ago, when Denver defeated Cleveland by fourteen and Lebron's 7 were a low-light in his 3-11 shooting night.
Obviously, if the Nuggets can take a game from the Lakers/Rockets and maybe stir things up, we will start to remember, but I want it now. The only two teams in the conference finals are led by Anthony and James and I want to know where everyone went. Where are the believers, the optimists, and the faithful? Where are the cynics, the realists, and the naysayers? Where is the league, so adept at training our eyes towards certain characters, stories, and settings? Why wait? Why root against it? Sure, Kobe vs. Lebron would be amazing, but so would Lebron vs. Anthony—at least that's what you told us six years ago…
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Talkin' Hoops
Over the last month-and-a-half, I find myself constantly reading basketball blogs, pouring over old basketball articles (under the guise of primary research for my thesis), and constant discussion about the current state of the NBA, as well as historical issues such as Ray Allen vs. Reggie Miller, Kobe vs. Michael, and the historical context of the current era of officiating. It suddenly dawned on me, that despite my own belief that baseball was my favorite sport, and the Browns were my favorite team, I think I like talking about hoops most. And I want to figure out WHY that is. Of course the very simple answer to this question is: I am from Cleveland and I live in Los Angeles, and representatives from those two cities are currently favored to meet in the finals of the field of sixteen's (now seven) tournament.
But I think there's more. As a bartender in the City of Kobe, ahem, Angels, I am privileged to talk to a lot of pretty dedicated hoops fans that have experienced some pretty heady moments in NBA history. Also, it should be noted: LA fans get a bad rap as being fair-weather—I am hear to say that—at least Lakers fans—are some of the most knowledgeable, dedicated, and educated fans of any team I have met. They are the anti-Boston sports fans. Conversations with this group (leaving out the occasional irrational Kobe nut) often leave me satisfied and informed about the perspective of West Coast hoops fans.
I apologize for that brief transgression. As I was saying: as a bartender, I have been lucky enough to have some pretty intense conversations in the last few months, conversations I feel that I have rarely been able to have at such a consistent level about baseball and SURELY about football. Here is my theory on why:
Baseball is about statistics, and results. Opinions, even empirical evidence rarely can trump the veracity of statistics. Conversations about baseball—at least those I tend to become involved in—are often comparing the use and utility of particular stats. How important are stats like RBIs and wins, when OBP, slugging, IP, and Ks seem to be better barometers of production? Discussions about baseball are mathematic and definable. To use an academic analogy, baseball is a hard science, say chemistry—elements have defined atomic weights, predictable behavior around other elements, and tend to follow certain physical laws that are pretty easily defined. Hoops is not like this. Hoops is a soft science, like say anthropology. You can apply similar methods to analysis, but at the end of the day, the both the results, and the methods of analysis themselves, will be open to interpretation.
Football on the other hand seems to be about excess and sensationalism. We are rarely impressed with historical context, we rarely discuss cultural significance, there is very little room for non-traditional thinking, and, really, discussions about the NFL tend to be mind-numbingly narrow. That is not to say I do not LIKE the NFL, it is merely a weird trend you can call the American Idol phenomenon. Like American Idol, the NFL inspires plenty of discussion and conversations, but these conversations, regardless of age, education, social status, or any other mitigating factor, tend to me remarkably similar in breadth and relevance. Conversations about last months draft were astoundingly similar in any circle. Furthermore, we tend to be impressed, not by ability, intelligence, or grace, but by size, speed, and strength. We are impressed by 6'4" linebackers who run forty yards in less than four-and-a-half seconds. We are impressed by 6'6" inch receivers who can outrun a cheetah. Unfortunately, conversations I would like to have—conversations about the social and racial implications regarding the self-lionization of the players, conversations about leadership, conversations about alternative perspectives on the game—are rarely, if ever, welcome. I find this incredibly frustrating, that every conversation regarding the NFL, is compressed down to a simple analysis with very little room for external thought.
Which brings me to the NBA. So much about the NBA lends itself to informed and substantial discourse that a short list here will not nearly do justice, but let me try. Issues in the NBA span such a broad spectrum of education, analysis, and society, that every conversation you can have can be different. The game cannot be explained simply by numbers so that arguments over who is better at what, seem to all have, at least a small amount, or validity. The two month playoff system (which can be exhausting) lends itself to a two month cavern of nationally televised games in which casual fans participate, and hard-core fans are submerged. The games are played by players with no hats or helmets so that every corn-row, braid, smile, sneer, tear, and cringe are exposed with virtually nothing to get in the way. The game is played with an indefinable grace that makes the play of some of the league's stars so tangible yet unquantifiable that the only externalization available is discourse and verbal awe.
The obvious example of this phenomenon is Lebron. Lebron is doing things that many people have not seen before. This is interesting, because if the game were analyzed like baseball, this would not be the case. Lebron's numbers are similar to Oscar's, Bird's, Michael's, and a few more guys. But he is doing it differently. What exactly is different about Lebron compared to his predecessors? THAT is the discussion. Is it his size, his determination, his youthful exuberance, perhaps his game's influence by other players, his individual rivalry with Kobe, his team's rivalry with Boston, his own historical significance, his responses to criticisms levied on him by the press in the last five years. All of these play a part in the formation of Lebron James. Then, subsequently, there is discussion about his game on the court. His style, the way he has a weird ability to hit half-court shots, his Dr. J dunks, his Magic-like passing, it's all up for discussion. In baseball, it's numbers; in football is structured rigidity that takes away from the overall substance of any conversation or participation in any contextual analysis of the game, in basketball, it's about the individual, the team, the history, the culture, and then, after all of that, there's still a champion.
Why is it that the best basketball players are judged by how many rings they've won, while football players and baseball players are judged by individual achievements? Why is it that the personality and charm of the basketball player is so much more important than the dullness and litany of other sports (presented beautifully by Kevin Costner in Bull Durham in the cliché speech on the bus)? The answers to these questions are as great as the answers to questions about the game itself. Basketball, unlike other major team sports, is simply a matter of discussion.
But I think there's more. As a bartender in the City of Kobe, ahem, Angels, I am privileged to talk to a lot of pretty dedicated hoops fans that have experienced some pretty heady moments in NBA history. Also, it should be noted: LA fans get a bad rap as being fair-weather—I am hear to say that—at least Lakers fans—are some of the most knowledgeable, dedicated, and educated fans of any team I have met. They are the anti-Boston sports fans. Conversations with this group (leaving out the occasional irrational Kobe nut) often leave me satisfied and informed about the perspective of West Coast hoops fans.
I apologize for that brief transgression. As I was saying: as a bartender, I have been lucky enough to have some pretty intense conversations in the last few months, conversations I feel that I have rarely been able to have at such a consistent level about baseball and SURELY about football. Here is my theory on why:
Baseball is about statistics, and results. Opinions, even empirical evidence rarely can trump the veracity of statistics. Conversations about baseball—at least those I tend to become involved in—are often comparing the use and utility of particular stats. How important are stats like RBIs and wins, when OBP, slugging, IP, and Ks seem to be better barometers of production? Discussions about baseball are mathematic and definable. To use an academic analogy, baseball is a hard science, say chemistry—elements have defined atomic weights, predictable behavior around other elements, and tend to follow certain physical laws that are pretty easily defined. Hoops is not like this. Hoops is a soft science, like say anthropology. You can apply similar methods to analysis, but at the end of the day, the both the results, and the methods of analysis themselves, will be open to interpretation.
Football on the other hand seems to be about excess and sensationalism. We are rarely impressed with historical context, we rarely discuss cultural significance, there is very little room for non-traditional thinking, and, really, discussions about the NFL tend to be mind-numbingly narrow. That is not to say I do not LIKE the NFL, it is merely a weird trend you can call the American Idol phenomenon. Like American Idol, the NFL inspires plenty of discussion and conversations, but these conversations, regardless of age, education, social status, or any other mitigating factor, tend to me remarkably similar in breadth and relevance. Conversations about last months draft were astoundingly similar in any circle. Furthermore, we tend to be impressed, not by ability, intelligence, or grace, but by size, speed, and strength. We are impressed by 6'4" linebackers who run forty yards in less than four-and-a-half seconds. We are impressed by 6'6" inch receivers who can outrun a cheetah. Unfortunately, conversations I would like to have—conversations about the social and racial implications regarding the self-lionization of the players, conversations about leadership, conversations about alternative perspectives on the game—are rarely, if ever, welcome. I find this incredibly frustrating, that every conversation regarding the NFL, is compressed down to a simple analysis with very little room for external thought.
Which brings me to the NBA. So much about the NBA lends itself to informed and substantial discourse that a short list here will not nearly do justice, but let me try. Issues in the NBA span such a broad spectrum of education, analysis, and society, that every conversation you can have can be different. The game cannot be explained simply by numbers so that arguments over who is better at what, seem to all have, at least a small amount, or validity. The two month playoff system (which can be exhausting) lends itself to a two month cavern of nationally televised games in which casual fans participate, and hard-core fans are submerged. The games are played by players with no hats or helmets so that every corn-row, braid, smile, sneer, tear, and cringe are exposed with virtually nothing to get in the way. The game is played with an indefinable grace that makes the play of some of the league's stars so tangible yet unquantifiable that the only externalization available is discourse and verbal awe.
The obvious example of this phenomenon is Lebron. Lebron is doing things that many people have not seen before. This is interesting, because if the game were analyzed like baseball, this would not be the case. Lebron's numbers are similar to Oscar's, Bird's, Michael's, and a few more guys. But he is doing it differently. What exactly is different about Lebron compared to his predecessors? THAT is the discussion. Is it his size, his determination, his youthful exuberance, perhaps his game's influence by other players, his individual rivalry with Kobe, his team's rivalry with Boston, his own historical significance, his responses to criticisms levied on him by the press in the last five years. All of these play a part in the formation of Lebron James. Then, subsequently, there is discussion about his game on the court. His style, the way he has a weird ability to hit half-court shots, his Dr. J dunks, his Magic-like passing, it's all up for discussion. In baseball, it's numbers; in football is structured rigidity that takes away from the overall substance of any conversation or participation in any contextual analysis of the game, in basketball, it's about the individual, the team, the history, the culture, and then, after all of that, there's still a champion.
Why is it that the best basketball players are judged by how many rings they've won, while football players and baseball players are judged by individual achievements? Why is it that the personality and charm of the basketball player is so much more important than the dullness and litany of other sports (presented beautifully by Kevin Costner in Bull Durham in the cliché speech on the bus)? The answers to these questions are as great as the answers to questions about the game itself. Basketball, unlike other major team sports, is simply a matter of discussion.
Friday, May 8, 2009
PEDs
Of all of the hypocrisies created by the "War on Drugs," perhaps the most tangible and quantifiable is that of the current steroids war within Major League Baseball. I am not the first person to point out these hypocrisies, nor am I in a respected minority. It seems as if almost all branches of communication are vehemently "anti-steroid" which is eerily similar to being "anti-terror." Of course, terror is a bad thing, as are steroids, and supporting bad things is akin to participating in bad things, and none of us want to be confused with a terrorist or a drug abuser, so down with terror and down with steroids.
The terror/steroid links don't just end there. The arguments for why exactly the two parallel "wars" must be waged seem to follow a similar ubiquitous, yet never quite concrete line of reasoning. For instance: "Excuse me Mr. Bush, why again are we invading Iraq, and again, tell me, why must we continue to wage war there after six years of stalemate?"
"Oh yeah, they were masterminds behind 9/11. Wait, they weren't involved...umm, they have something bad, something we need to rid them of, let's see…let's try this buzzword: weapons of mass destruction. No? OK then…this Saddam guy is pretty malicious, we'll ignore all of the other repressive dictatorships and bring this one down…what's that you say? Oh, we did that five years ago? Hmmm…have we installed democratic government there? No? That's it! Democratic government."
Similar lines of justification have surrounded the steroid "epidemic." We've heard that it taints the record books. It's cheating. It is harmful to the body. It gives players a competitive advantage. It's not natural. And quite simply "drugs are bad."
Why all the justifications, each of which is fundamentally flawed, and yet almost universally, amongst the press, the league, the common fan, and even ex-players seem to be unconditionally in agreeance that this problem is the biggest problem in sports.
First off, let's remember that NFL players have been busted for using these drugs for years. Players receive short suspensions and are forgiven. In baseball, we talk about players' legacies, their Hall of Fame credentials, and their attacks on the integrity of the game. You hear that Shawn Merriman, INTEGRITY OF THE GAME! HA. You've got more important attacks on integrity of your game; things like end-zone dances and trash-talk.
Given this week's news about Manny Ramirez, and questions about his Hall of Fame votes, let's address the justifications and see who else isn't getting into the hall of fame.
Drugs are bad: Ok, so players that do drugs are out, huh? OK, Mickey, Babe, and Ty, sorry, but despite your iconic careers, your literary legacies, and your incredible numbers, your alcohol abuse and participation in underworld culture keeps you out. And as far as the law is concerned, just because alcohol is legal now, doesn't mean it was legal then. Babe, those speakeasy trips are going to cost you. Sorry pal.
And while we're talking about Babe, let's address this tainting of the record books. Anyone that played before 1947, didn't have to play against black players. You know what, let's make this 1959, when Pumpsie Green became the first black player on the last team to integrate. So, Babe, Ty, Gherrig, Foxx, Wagner, Williams, Dimaggio – you guys are gone. Imagine if a marginal pitcher like say, Steve Avery never had to face Barry Bonds, Gary Sheffield, Kenny Lofton, or Mo Vaughn. Imagine if someone like Steve Finley never had to face C.C. Sabathia, Doc Gooden, or Lee Smith. Isn't that a little more of a competitive advantage than getting an extra four feet on a fly ball, or returning from injury three weeks earlier.
Speaking of injuries, the argument of late against steroids has been about how unnatural it is. Working out, that's natural. Batting practice, rehab assignments, and vitamins are natural, steroids are not. This is true…kind of. Steroids simply increase production of hormones that are produced naturally. So, while the drug itself is unnatural, the result is simply an unnatural increase of a natural substance. You know what isn't natural? Taking cartilage from your left elbow and putting it in your right. This procedure is more commonly known as Tommy John surgery. Mariano Rivera, Paul Molitor, and Pat Hentgen are all subjects to this completely unnatural surgery. As are current MLB stars, Chris Carpenter, Tim Hudson, Carlos Quentin, and Josh Johnson. These guys can forget the Hall of Fame, and, as per the war of steroids, have tainted their legacy and destroyed the integrity of the game.
Integrity. What an interesting concept. There are two main schools of thought against steroids. There's the record book school, and the integrity school. The record-book school assumes that scores of innocent, pre-pubescent children are somewhere pouring over books filled with statistics and numbers, and these children's innocence will somehow be compromised when come across Brady Anderson's 1996.
The integrity school assumes that the sport is not a business, but a game, played in either a prairie, or a busy Brooklyn street. The game is not played under lights, but somewhere in between Walt Whitman's death, and Ken Burns's birth. Compromising the integrity of such an idyllic slice of Americana is both unpatriotic and careless. But what these critics often seem to conveniently forget was that up until two years ago, the use of most of the Performance enhancing drugs that are currently under such scrutiny was simply not against the rules. Scuffing the ball of (see: Perry, Gaylord), use of violence (see: Cobb, Ty), and collusion (see: all owners up until the late 1970s) WAS, in fact against the rules. Not only does this find flaw in the "cheating" argument, but acknowledgement that rules are not always just, needs to be considered.
The most obvious would be the color ban that changed the way the first half of the twentieth century was played. How about the raising of the pitchers mound in the early 1960s? Pitchers like Koufax, Drysdale, Gibson, and Marichel certainly played within the rules, but the rules gave them a distinct advantage. Until Curt Flood came along, rules made the players pieces of property, slaves under the plantation-like leagues. There have been rules banning curve balls, a rule placing an asterisk behind certain records, even a crazy idea to let half of the teams put in a substitute hitter every time their pitcher bats, but not allowing the other half. Is this cheating? Of course not. But it kind of puts a damper on the whole "cheating argument."
And finally, the record books. Oh the record books. The fictional metonym that seems to represent all that is good about baseball, and the innocent bystander in the drive-by shooting perpetuated by Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and Manny Ramirez. The biggest problem with the argument that these players' actions have ruined the innocence of the record books is simply bogus. To read the record books without context, without understanding that eras change, rules change, and records are not as symmetrical as we all want them to be, taints a comparison between any eras, not just one that includes the last fifteen years. To read the record books without acknowledging Jackie Robinson, changes in technology, changes in rules, changes in the way the game is managed, tracked, followed, and consumed is as irresponsible as casual drug use. The 1990s brought us tiny ballparks, expansion, exponential improvements in technology, increased scrutiny and coverage, and yes…it included the rise of designer performance enhancing drugs. We know this. We acknowledge this. No one will ever try to compare Bonds's 73 with Ruth's 60. There are too many differences in the eras. Anyone that loves baseball knows these things, and if you don't love baseball, then put down that 1,200 page fictional tome that your reading and go watch American Idol.
The point of all of this is that, yes, steroids, performance enhancing drugs, weapons of mass slugging percentage, whatever you want to call them, have changed the game. Not for the worse, or for the better for that matter. Players who can jump from the minors to the majors, increasing their salary by 1500 % have to do this. Players who need to take a pill, vitamin, antibiotic, or steroid, to compete with the rest of the league, have to do it. It is us—the consumers, the media, and the players who are no longer good enough to play—that have the biggest problems with it. It hurts us. It affects us. I say to you that this issue is not a problem, it has been addressed, and eventually, not far off, we will find a new demon to attack. Let's all relax, watch some baseball, and if you really have a problem with all the drugs, maybe it's time you took a puff of pot, squinted real hard, and maybe you can see the game played in 1927…but a little more colorful.
The terror/steroid links don't just end there. The arguments for why exactly the two parallel "wars" must be waged seem to follow a similar ubiquitous, yet never quite concrete line of reasoning. For instance: "Excuse me Mr. Bush, why again are we invading Iraq, and again, tell me, why must we continue to wage war there after six years of stalemate?"
"Oh yeah, they were masterminds behind 9/11. Wait, they weren't involved...umm, they have something bad, something we need to rid them of, let's see…let's try this buzzword: weapons of mass destruction. No? OK then…this Saddam guy is pretty malicious, we'll ignore all of the other repressive dictatorships and bring this one down…what's that you say? Oh, we did that five years ago? Hmmm…have we installed democratic government there? No? That's it! Democratic government."
Similar lines of justification have surrounded the steroid "epidemic." We've heard that it taints the record books. It's cheating. It is harmful to the body. It gives players a competitive advantage. It's not natural. And quite simply "drugs are bad."
Why all the justifications, each of which is fundamentally flawed, and yet almost universally, amongst the press, the league, the common fan, and even ex-players seem to be unconditionally in agreeance that this problem is the biggest problem in sports.
First off, let's remember that NFL players have been busted for using these drugs for years. Players receive short suspensions and are forgiven. In baseball, we talk about players' legacies, their Hall of Fame credentials, and their attacks on the integrity of the game. You hear that Shawn Merriman, INTEGRITY OF THE GAME! HA. You've got more important attacks on integrity of your game; things like end-zone dances and trash-talk.
Given this week's news about Manny Ramirez, and questions about his Hall of Fame votes, let's address the justifications and see who else isn't getting into the hall of fame.
Drugs are bad: Ok, so players that do drugs are out, huh? OK, Mickey, Babe, and Ty, sorry, but despite your iconic careers, your literary legacies, and your incredible numbers, your alcohol abuse and participation in underworld culture keeps you out. And as far as the law is concerned, just because alcohol is legal now, doesn't mean it was legal then. Babe, those speakeasy trips are going to cost you. Sorry pal.
And while we're talking about Babe, let's address this tainting of the record books. Anyone that played before 1947, didn't have to play against black players. You know what, let's make this 1959, when Pumpsie Green became the first black player on the last team to integrate. So, Babe, Ty, Gherrig, Foxx, Wagner, Williams, Dimaggio – you guys are gone. Imagine if a marginal pitcher like say, Steve Avery never had to face Barry Bonds, Gary Sheffield, Kenny Lofton, or Mo Vaughn. Imagine if someone like Steve Finley never had to face C.C. Sabathia, Doc Gooden, or Lee Smith. Isn't that a little more of a competitive advantage than getting an extra four feet on a fly ball, or returning from injury three weeks earlier.
Speaking of injuries, the argument of late against steroids has been about how unnatural it is. Working out, that's natural. Batting practice, rehab assignments, and vitamins are natural, steroids are not. This is true…kind of. Steroids simply increase production of hormones that are produced naturally. So, while the drug itself is unnatural, the result is simply an unnatural increase of a natural substance. You know what isn't natural? Taking cartilage from your left elbow and putting it in your right. This procedure is more commonly known as Tommy John surgery. Mariano Rivera, Paul Molitor, and Pat Hentgen are all subjects to this completely unnatural surgery. As are current MLB stars, Chris Carpenter, Tim Hudson, Carlos Quentin, and Josh Johnson. These guys can forget the Hall of Fame, and, as per the war of steroids, have tainted their legacy and destroyed the integrity of the game.
Integrity. What an interesting concept. There are two main schools of thought against steroids. There's the record book school, and the integrity school. The record-book school assumes that scores of innocent, pre-pubescent children are somewhere pouring over books filled with statistics and numbers, and these children's innocence will somehow be compromised when come across Brady Anderson's 1996.
The integrity school assumes that the sport is not a business, but a game, played in either a prairie, or a busy Brooklyn street. The game is not played under lights, but somewhere in between Walt Whitman's death, and Ken Burns's birth. Compromising the integrity of such an idyllic slice of Americana is both unpatriotic and careless. But what these critics often seem to conveniently forget was that up until two years ago, the use of most of the Performance enhancing drugs that are currently under such scrutiny was simply not against the rules. Scuffing the ball of (see: Perry, Gaylord), use of violence (see: Cobb, Ty), and collusion (see: all owners up until the late 1970s) WAS, in fact against the rules. Not only does this find flaw in the "cheating" argument, but acknowledgement that rules are not always just, needs to be considered.
The most obvious would be the color ban that changed the way the first half of the twentieth century was played. How about the raising of the pitchers mound in the early 1960s? Pitchers like Koufax, Drysdale, Gibson, and Marichel certainly played within the rules, but the rules gave them a distinct advantage. Until Curt Flood came along, rules made the players pieces of property, slaves under the plantation-like leagues. There have been rules banning curve balls, a rule placing an asterisk behind certain records, even a crazy idea to let half of the teams put in a substitute hitter every time their pitcher bats, but not allowing the other half. Is this cheating? Of course not. But it kind of puts a damper on the whole "cheating argument."
And finally, the record books. Oh the record books. The fictional metonym that seems to represent all that is good about baseball, and the innocent bystander in the drive-by shooting perpetuated by Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and Manny Ramirez. The biggest problem with the argument that these players' actions have ruined the innocence of the record books is simply bogus. To read the record books without context, without understanding that eras change, rules change, and records are not as symmetrical as we all want them to be, taints a comparison between any eras, not just one that includes the last fifteen years. To read the record books without acknowledging Jackie Robinson, changes in technology, changes in rules, changes in the way the game is managed, tracked, followed, and consumed is as irresponsible as casual drug use. The 1990s brought us tiny ballparks, expansion, exponential improvements in technology, increased scrutiny and coverage, and yes…it included the rise of designer performance enhancing drugs. We know this. We acknowledge this. No one will ever try to compare Bonds's 73 with Ruth's 60. There are too many differences in the eras. Anyone that loves baseball knows these things, and if you don't love baseball, then put down that 1,200 page fictional tome that your reading and go watch American Idol.
The point of all of this is that, yes, steroids, performance enhancing drugs, weapons of mass slugging percentage, whatever you want to call them, have changed the game. Not for the worse, or for the better for that matter. Players who can jump from the minors to the majors, increasing their salary by 1500 % have to do this. Players who need to take a pill, vitamin, antibiotic, or steroid, to compete with the rest of the league, have to do it. It is us—the consumers, the media, and the players who are no longer good enough to play—that have the biggest problems with it. It hurts us. It affects us. I say to you that this issue is not a problem, it has been addressed, and eventually, not far off, we will find a new demon to attack. Let's all relax, watch some baseball, and if you really have a problem with all the drugs, maybe it's time you took a puff of pot, squinted real hard, and maybe you can see the game played in 1927…but a little more colorful.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
i'm back
First Post in a year. I will try to continue to post.
The Donte Stallworth saga.
In case you don't know the whole story, allow me to run a quick version by you. Donte Stallworth, the Cleveland Browns wide receiver, who last year totaled 17 catches for 170 yds, and one touchdown, despite earning a high-priced contract, (details which seem inane for this issue, but become important later...just wait!) was charged today with DUI manslaughter dating back to an icident which happened over two weeks ago.
These details, despite not coming directly from the courts, seem pretty corroborated between both Stallworth and the Miami PD, that I feel my account is just as close to the truth available. Stallworth, driving eastbound on a causeway connecting Miami and Miami Beach at 7 AM, hit and killed a pedestrian. The man was NOT in the crosswalk, and both Stallworth and a witness claim that he saw the man ready to enter the street from a distance and flashed his lights (from the west, away from the rising sun) and honked his horn. The man ran into the street and was struck and killed.
Stallworth then stopped, waited for police to arive, passed a field sobriety test and was allowed to go. He later said in a statement that he was greif stricken (obviously a heard thing to cope with) and has stayed out of the news since the incident. However, at the scene, Miami PD took a routine blood sample from Stallworth, standard procedure when a major injury or death occurs. Today Stallworth was charged with DUI manslaughter after the two-week old blood test showed he had a .12 BAC, over the .08 legal limit.
My issue with this isn't the Miami PD, or even the media's jump-to-conclusions coverage of the story with the limited facts that have been released in the last two weeks. My issue is more with the public repsonse to Stallworth's actions. It seems like most of the comments on the news sites are incredibly outraged at this man's actions, depsite the fact that they were pretty common in our society. Stallworth was out drinking the night before, and decided against driving home that night, and instead waiting until morning, where unfortunately, he still had a buzz. I am in no way defending Stallworth's actions, other than saying that almost all of us have done similar things, and were lucky enough to not encounter a dare-devil jaywalker as we drove directly into a rising sun at 7 AM.
The problem is that so many of the comments mention his braided hair, the fact that he was driving a Bentley, and his meager statistics from last year. Words like "thug," "primadonna," and "diva" seem incredibly out of place given the story that has been pretty consistently agreed upon by the suspect, the police, and the eye-witnesses.
It is a terrible situation, but with comments attacking the legal system, arguing that Stallworth (who was charged today, and will await trial, though most likely never go to trial) will get off based on his status as an NFL player and his money. However, I don't understand what these people are basing this on.
We just finished reading about the Ryan Moats saga in which the Dallas PD abused their power and helped embarress themselves in the national media. The argument here is that the officer didn't know that Moats was an NFL player (though he is a 210 lb. black man in a 80,000 dollar car) and Stallworth DID in fact let the officers know who he was. But the fact that Moats was an NFL player is the only reason this story even made it to the media. It was not officer's actions that forced him to resign, it was his ignorance as to who he was dealing with. One can only imagine that this type of incident is more than common, not just in the south, but everywhere that black Americans drive.
We are also coming to the tail end of the Michael Vick story, in which a young black man was sent to prison for killing dogs. He has spent the last year wasting away with murders, rapists, and thieves, despite the fact that his actions were quite similar with those of last year's Republican Vice Presidential Nominee's vacation activities.
Where does the public think that NFL stars get off easy? Sure, Leonard Little, the NFL star who's drunk driving killed a woman several years ago, and subsequent DUI arrest has not stopped him from playing, but for every Leonard Little, there is a Vick, Moats, or Ricky Williams, whose marijuana use has had him suspended and banned and this and that for years.
The point is that the public is so effected by Stallworth's aesthetic, skin color, and small statistics, that not only is his guilt assumed, but his actions are clumped in with other criminal athlete's like Little, Pacman Jones, and Vick. However, when "star" quarterback gets in a fight after he and his friends repeatedly hurling homophobic attacks on a group of gay passer bys, the incident is quickly forgotten.
Is killing a man and being an outspoken gay-basher on the same level? Of course not, and I am not arguing that the two are comparable. The issue is when commentators, credible or not, attack Stallworth's character because of the outcome of his actions (actions which were indeed irresponsible, but lacked malice, pre-meditation, and bad intentions) when Quinn's actions are a far better gauge of one's character.
If Quinn were a black, dreadlocked wide reciever, whose numbers were less than stellar, I would assume that the public outcry against his "character" would be far from praiseworthy, while if Stallworth were a white, catholic QB from Notre Dame, his actions would be viewed with more sympathy given the commonality of the situation that he put himself in.
The Donte Stallworth saga.
In case you don't know the whole story, allow me to run a quick version by you. Donte Stallworth, the Cleveland Browns wide receiver, who last year totaled 17 catches for 170 yds, and one touchdown, despite earning a high-priced contract, (details which seem inane for this issue, but become important later...just wait!) was charged today with DUI manslaughter dating back to an icident which happened over two weeks ago.
These details, despite not coming directly from the courts, seem pretty corroborated between both Stallworth and the Miami PD, that I feel my account is just as close to the truth available. Stallworth, driving eastbound on a causeway connecting Miami and Miami Beach at 7 AM, hit and killed a pedestrian. The man was NOT in the crosswalk, and both Stallworth and a witness claim that he saw the man ready to enter the street from a distance and flashed his lights (from the west, away from the rising sun) and honked his horn. The man ran into the street and was struck and killed.
Stallworth then stopped, waited for police to arive, passed a field sobriety test and was allowed to go. He later said in a statement that he was greif stricken (obviously a heard thing to cope with) and has stayed out of the news since the incident. However, at the scene, Miami PD took a routine blood sample from Stallworth, standard procedure when a major injury or death occurs. Today Stallworth was charged with DUI manslaughter after the two-week old blood test showed he had a .12 BAC, over the .08 legal limit.
My issue with this isn't the Miami PD, or even the media's jump-to-conclusions coverage of the story with the limited facts that have been released in the last two weeks. My issue is more with the public repsonse to Stallworth's actions. It seems like most of the comments on the news sites are incredibly outraged at this man's actions, depsite the fact that they were pretty common in our society. Stallworth was out drinking the night before, and decided against driving home that night, and instead waiting until morning, where unfortunately, he still had a buzz. I am in no way defending Stallworth's actions, other than saying that almost all of us have done similar things, and were lucky enough to not encounter a dare-devil jaywalker as we drove directly into a rising sun at 7 AM.
The problem is that so many of the comments mention his braided hair, the fact that he was driving a Bentley, and his meager statistics from last year. Words like "thug," "primadonna," and "diva" seem incredibly out of place given the story that has been pretty consistently agreed upon by the suspect, the police, and the eye-witnesses.
It is a terrible situation, but with comments attacking the legal system, arguing that Stallworth (who was charged today, and will await trial, though most likely never go to trial) will get off based on his status as an NFL player and his money. However, I don't understand what these people are basing this on.
We just finished reading about the Ryan Moats saga in which the Dallas PD abused their power and helped embarress themselves in the national media. The argument here is that the officer didn't know that Moats was an NFL player (though he is a 210 lb. black man in a 80,000 dollar car) and Stallworth DID in fact let the officers know who he was. But the fact that Moats was an NFL player is the only reason this story even made it to the media. It was not officer's actions that forced him to resign, it was his ignorance as to who he was dealing with. One can only imagine that this type of incident is more than common, not just in the south, but everywhere that black Americans drive.
We are also coming to the tail end of the Michael Vick story, in which a young black man was sent to prison for killing dogs. He has spent the last year wasting away with murders, rapists, and thieves, despite the fact that his actions were quite similar with those of last year's Republican Vice Presidential Nominee's vacation activities.
Where does the public think that NFL stars get off easy? Sure, Leonard Little, the NFL star who's drunk driving killed a woman several years ago, and subsequent DUI arrest has not stopped him from playing, but for every Leonard Little, there is a Vick, Moats, or Ricky Williams, whose marijuana use has had him suspended and banned and this and that for years.
The point is that the public is so effected by Stallworth's aesthetic, skin color, and small statistics, that not only is his guilt assumed, but his actions are clumped in with other criminal athlete's like Little, Pacman Jones, and Vick. However, when "star" quarterback gets in a fight after he and his friends repeatedly hurling homophobic attacks on a group of gay passer bys, the incident is quickly forgotten.
Is killing a man and being an outspoken gay-basher on the same level? Of course not, and I am not arguing that the two are comparable. The issue is when commentators, credible or not, attack Stallworth's character because of the outcome of his actions (actions which were indeed irresponsible, but lacked malice, pre-meditation, and bad intentions) when Quinn's actions are a far better gauge of one's character.
If Quinn were a black, dreadlocked wide reciever, whose numbers were less than stellar, I would assume that the public outcry against his "character" would be far from praiseworthy, while if Stallworth were a white, catholic QB from Notre Dame, his actions would be viewed with more sympathy given the commonality of the situation that he put himself in.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
hope springs eternal??/
Monday the Indians will begin their quest for their first World Championship in sixty years. I remember just a decade ago feeling that this year, this golden anniversary of Boudreau's win over the Spahn and Sane Braves would surely be the year. Hell, we were three outs away the year before, and we've only gotten better. But the 116 win Yankees had other plans that year.
I remember four oh so long months ago last year when we had to endure three straight losses as our championship hopes fell to the same pit where we found Lebron in June, and DA in December, and we were reminded again exactly why Bill Livingston, Paul Hoynes and the rest of the crabby and cantankerous sports writers are even employed.
But again, the pain that was four months ago is being overtaken by this anticipation. To call it "giddy" or "hopeful" would seem so normal, so cliché, and at times, insufficient. This discussion of eternal spring and fervent optimism has been noted by everyone from Whitman to Gammons. The combination of opening day, and the dawn of spring is been brought up over and over again, but every March, every year around this time, no matter how meaningless or painful the previous October was, always provides the same skip to our collective heart beat.
The season will start Monday in Cleveland (weather permitting) and even if Grady leads off the game with a triple, it won't be as good as last year's start. Even if we put up six runs in the first inning of the year, it won't match last year's first. And even if April is spent atop the AL Central standings, it won't have anything on last year. But somehow, despite the almost impossible expectations established by last year's club, despite the six month, 162 game gauntlet that lies ahead, our optimism will have to defeat our cynicism, our hope will have to counter our bitterness, and hopefully (again, weather permitting) we can prepare ourselves for another summer long adventure back into the somewhat unfamiliar arms of baseball's greatest gift: October.
As the eve of the longest, and often cruelest stretch of sports approaches, we are reminded what it is like to embrace the palpable feeling of freedom and pleasure that baseball can provide. The season is a narrative, beginning in the hot, steamy, multi-field complexes of Florida and Arizona, the season's start is a flighty and loose month of what seems like a never ending circle of stretching and calisthenics. The season is a long and grueling trek through the heart of half of the year that includes "the spring", "the dog days", "the stretch" and "the pennant chase", all culminating in the cold, packed houses of the league's best teams. The season starts when spring is reminding us just how much fun the summer will be and ends amidst the chilly reminder of how important winning can be. The fall reminds us all how lucky we can be to have to endure three series of Tim McCarver, biased media and Frank TV ads. The fall reminds us that as long as there are leaves on the trees, as long as there are enough snowplows, snow blowers and snow shoes in the city, it's still baseball season.
And most of all the fall reminds us of just how perfect the spring can be. When we can sit outside, watch a ballgame, and pray that in six months, we can still be doing just that.
I remember four oh so long months ago last year when we had to endure three straight losses as our championship hopes fell to the same pit where we found Lebron in June, and DA in December, and we were reminded again exactly why Bill Livingston, Paul Hoynes and the rest of the crabby and cantankerous sports writers are even employed.
But again, the pain that was four months ago is being overtaken by this anticipation. To call it "giddy" or "hopeful" would seem so normal, so cliché, and at times, insufficient. This discussion of eternal spring and fervent optimism has been noted by everyone from Whitman to Gammons. The combination of opening day, and the dawn of spring is been brought up over and over again, but every March, every year around this time, no matter how meaningless or painful the previous October was, always provides the same skip to our collective heart beat.
The season will start Monday in Cleveland (weather permitting) and even if Grady leads off the game with a triple, it won't be as good as last year's start. Even if we put up six runs in the first inning of the year, it won't match last year's first. And even if April is spent atop the AL Central standings, it won't have anything on last year. But somehow, despite the almost impossible expectations established by last year's club, despite the six month, 162 game gauntlet that lies ahead, our optimism will have to defeat our cynicism, our hope will have to counter our bitterness, and hopefully (again, weather permitting) we can prepare ourselves for another summer long adventure back into the somewhat unfamiliar arms of baseball's greatest gift: October.
As the eve of the longest, and often cruelest stretch of sports approaches, we are reminded what it is like to embrace the palpable feeling of freedom and pleasure that baseball can provide. The season is a narrative, beginning in the hot, steamy, multi-field complexes of Florida and Arizona, the season's start is a flighty and loose month of what seems like a never ending circle of stretching and calisthenics. The season is a long and grueling trek through the heart of half of the year that includes "the spring", "the dog days", "the stretch" and "the pennant chase", all culminating in the cold, packed houses of the league's best teams. The season starts when spring is reminding us just how much fun the summer will be and ends amidst the chilly reminder of how important winning can be. The fall reminds us all how lucky we can be to have to endure three series of Tim McCarver, biased media and Frank TV ads. The fall reminds us that as long as there are leaves on the trees, as long as there are enough snowplows, snow blowers and snow shoes in the city, it's still baseball season.
And most of all the fall reminds us of just how perfect the spring can be. When we can sit outside, watch a ballgame, and pray that in six months, we can still be doing just that.
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