"Who's officiating tonight?"

Am I excited about the start of the NBA season? Of course. But the reservations abound. (And it has nothing to do with crotchety arguments why the NBA doesn't seem as magical as it did when you were in fourth fucking grade.)

No, I'm not all that concerned with the Donaghy thing, though I highly doubt that the every other ref is on the up-and-up as the recent round of NBA interrogations asserts. But that isn't the root of the problem. That goes back either to a) the dawn of the league or b) the beginning of superstardom in the NBA.

I'm mildly worried that another official on the take is going to impact a game or a playoff series. Who couldn't be? But it's one official--one official with limited chances to screw a certain team in over the course of a game.

My problem, as it's always been, is with the officials in general and their indelible impact on the game. Basketball may be the toughest sport to officiate. It's judgment call upon judgment call upon judgment non-call. The standards are necessarily vague, and thus, the power of the officiating crew is immense. And yet, the overlords aren't entirely powerless, but they sure do act like it.

I'm not sure I will ever take either of the last two NBA Finals seriously. I don't think any honest man can. In retrospect, the same might be true of the Bulls' fifth and sixth titles.

Tell me--What good is a championship when the officials give it to you? Or, to a lesser extent, the chance to play for one? Others may disagree, but I don't see that as much of an achievement.

Listen--I think Dwyane Wade is a great, stupendous, awesome guy like everyone does (especially those of us who went to Marquette). I'm also endlessly impressed with what LeBron has been able to do coming into the league as a freaking child and keeping his head so much better than any of the rest of us could and immediately becoming the most chirismatic man in professional sports.

But they've gotten help. Did they earn 99.5% of what they've returned on sheer talent and commitment? Absolutely. But neither deserved the pinnacle moments that have thus far defined their careers.

The Dallas-Miami finals in 2006 were a travesty. As was last year's Pistons-Cavs series. Neither Wade nor LeBron could do any wrong. No wait--They could. But they'd always have the stripes to pretend otherwise.

It's rare that I don't agree 100% with Rasheed Wallace, and this was no exception:

"There's a lot of people out here who think they really beat us," Wallace said. "It was ourselves. We beat ourselves. We fell victim to the little, personal NBA thing where they're trying to make it a world game and get ratings and all that. They wanted to put their darling (LeBron James) in there, and they did put him in there. Look what ended up happening.

"So this game, this ain't basketball no more, it's entertainment. It's like WWF. Ain't no more real wrestling. All the days of Ric Flair and Rick Rude and Jake the Snake. Right now, the (expletive) is all so fake. Just like this game. It's so fake."

How are people okay with this? How do people watch LeBron pile up points in overtime of a conference finals game with free throws that he didn't earn and not get frustrated?

People rip 'Sheed for overreacting late in Game 6 of that series, but if I were him, I doubt I've even been that civil. The Pistons had just endured a fuckover of a series like I've never seen, and yet they managed to neither attack anyone nor destroy any expensive equipment on the court. I don't think I'd have had such control.

Why does the NBA have to be like this? The black sheeps will never get a fair shake in the public eye or marketing world, but shouldn't the basketball court be the one place they can? It's bullshit--just pure fucking bullshit.

And I don't see it changing. Ever. And what's worse is that we're only at the start of a very long era of NBA superstar culture. Wade and LeBron have many, many years ahead of them. Duncan's not done either.

I still love the NBA. But yeah, it's gotten hard. I usually embrace the adaptations of a league and tell people to come off it when they try to say, "It's not like it used to be." But this is different. It's not progress; it's regression. It's not a natural adaptation; it's the blatant stiffling of natural adaptation. And it pisses me off.

I hope this season can prove me wrong. But my faith is dwindling.

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Here's to a Former Legend

Robert Goulet passed away tonight...a moment of silence for "The Man, The Myth, and The Legend"

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The Eleven Stages in the Life-Cycle of a Sports Fanbase

This one reads like a bad Bill Simmons column, but bear with me.

Hearing the Rockies fans kick ass til their dying hour Sunday night--screaming through the ninth inning as if they were the ones just outs away from a title--had me wondering: What makes them so positive? They were down 3-0 in the series and trailing in the game, facing the almost-hopeless prospect of rallying against Papelbon.

So why were they so boisterous when so many other fans might have given up?

Well, out of this line of thinking, I came up with a hair-brained theory. I think all sports fanbases cycle through these following eleven phases from the birth of their franchise to its indefinitude. Teams fluctuate between these phases as success or failure dictates, sometimes moving up the scale, other times moving down.

Of course, these are totally made up and mostly written during my lunch break at work, so don't hold me to any standards of coherence or intelligence, please.

1. Infancy

During infancy, the fanbase had that childlike sense of wonder--not knowing what's to come, not really caring. They have no expectations because they don't know what to expect or when to expect it. This stage lasts through the first couple years of a franchise (or a new league) before superstars emerge or major free-agent agent signings take place.

Going with the example of the Rockies, even though they acquired Andres Galarraga prior to the inaugural season, they didn't expect much out of him. (They certainly didn't expect his mind-blowing '93 production.) Their first real free-agent score was Bill Swift prior to '95, which, incidentally, panned out pretty well.

2. Optimism

The fanbase moves into optimism at the first tangible sign of improvement, whether this be the first winning season or the rectification of the team's early flaws.

Again in terms of the Rockies, the '95 season fits this description on both accounts. Not only did they win the Wild Card, but they overcame their pitching woes of '93-'94. Ostensibly, the '95 season was no better, with the Rocks ranking last in the NL in ERA. But adjusted for park factors (i.e. being in way higher altitude), they ranked second.

3. Gratitude

You didn't get the miracle that optimism conjures up with that first whiff of success. But you're grateful nonetheless. Your boys didn't go all the way this year, but you still applaud their effort as they leave the field for the last time on the season.

This stage may be the most wholesome and heartwarming of them all, but it's also the most fleeting.

4. Disappointment

After that initial stride of improvement, you're convinced that better things are ahead. So when the team regresses or treads water the next year, disappointment sets in.

Of course, disappointment is all relative to where the bar's been set. For a team coming off its first winning season, disappointment is missing the playoffs. For a team that's lost in the first round a few times, disappointment is falling short of the championship. And so on.

This phase is sometimes passed over because the team does, in fact, take that next leap immediately. But this is not very typcial.

5. Fatalism / Self-pity

After a few years, disappointment turns into fatalism and self-pity. "We'll never win!" "Why do we always get the bad breaks?" "When do we get our year?" "Why does God hate me?"

Once a fanbase hits this stage, it's hard for them to leave it. Just ask the Cubs or every Philadelphia team. Even when things go right, the fatalistic mind only sees the hardships. And the longer this phase lasts, the harder it is to escape.

6. Guarded optimism

This is the old, "We've seen this before. Well, I'm not getting sucked into believing this time!"

As opposed to plain old optimism, which is positive and forward-minded, guarded optimism is mostly governed by expectations of failure.

7. Belief

The team is finally nearing the pinnacle, and the fanbase finally believes. The longer the fanbase has been mired in fatalism, the later this stage hits. It might not kick in until there's two out in the ninth inning of the World Series clinching game with the home team holding a ten-run lead for some fanbases. For others, it might start with a great first-half of the season.

8. Euphoria

Just as fleeting as gratitude but far more dangerous, euphoria is reserved for the title clinch. It usally carries through the first month or two following the championship, if not longer. Arguably, this should be called the "schmalz phase," since this is the period during which every player's biography comes out in paperback and every fan buys a championship license plate holder.

9. Skepticism / Disbelief

Once the initial euphoria wears off, the fanbase turns its thoughts to what might-not-have-been. As the focus turns toward the next seasons, the definicies that the previous year's team overcame are picked apart and belabored. No one is entirely convinced that last year's team was "for real," nor that they can reproduce their results in the years to come. The pressure to buttress and/or maintain the already talented roster is immense, and management usually obliges.

10. Expectation

This is the ugliest of all the phases. It marks the destruction of innocence, the beginning of the end. Euphoria warps its way to greed, and greed leads to delusion. The championship is no longer an aspiration or a prize; it's manifest destiny. The fans forget that each new season brings new players and a new set of circumstances and fail to see past the uniform colors. Expectation is where sport devolves from object of enjoyment to ugly obsession.

11. Jadedness

Jadedness is the end of the line. It can come about either from an overabundance of winning or simply from too many years of repeat results. The jaded fanbase supports their team--often in record numbers--but they do so coldly, lovelessly. Any sense of wonder or mystery have given way entirely to expectation. Adulation has given way to suffocating scrutiny. There is no joy in winning, only relief, and the anger in losing is violent.


So, kids--Now that we've explored these eleven stages that I've completely made up, what stage is youuur favorite team in?????

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Random Thoughts While Eating My Wheaties

1.) Why in the world did Tony Kornheiser try to compare Brett Favre (Fav-er-a) to Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan? I mean, how the hell is it possible. Tiger Woods has won what it seems like thousands of PGA championships (I know it's like 12 or something) and MJ won 6 titles. Brett won one Super Bowl...yes he's good, but come on, it's a no contest.
2.) That said, maybe it is just me maturing, but Brett Favre is sure fun to watch...you never know what is going to happen next.
3.) Speaking of Brett, I have to say while it is disappointing that the Bears decided to take this season off, it is fun seeing the Packers, Lions, and Browns having some fine seasons. I mean, who the hell saw these teams playing as well as they are?
4.) Man, Steve Spurrier really knows how to recruit....I mean his team is a writer's dream having players with names such as Captain, Smelley, and Succup. The puns are endless!
5.) Why the hell wasn't The Ole' Ball Coach wearing a visor Saturday night?
6.) Ben Gordon wants the Bulls to pony up and pay him "Big-Man" money. Apparently 5 - years, $50 millions won't cut it. I think we can officially welcome K-B to Chicago.
7.) A-Rod to the Cubs...Whatever it will take, Cubs management had better sign this guy. Imagine this lineup: Soriano, Theriot, A-Rod, Lee, Ramirez, and DeRosa.
8) Wow, Jeanie Zelasko was looking hot on Sunday...in that "I wouldn't touch her with 10 ft. pole" kind of way
9.) ESPN, or "The Extra Sexual Network" really showcases it's superior knowledge in sports by allowing Patrick McEnroe to talk about why the Patriots will not make the Super Bowl. Now I am not saying the Patriots will certainly make it to Arizona, but McEnroe's reasoning is because they do not have a running game. Um, okay....
10.) Go Ducks!

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A question

What percentage of people watching NFL Countdown would you guess actually know that The Knack wrote "My Sharona"? Ten percent? Five?

Apparently, Chris Berman thinks it's much higher, or he wouldn't keep slipping "the knack" into every highlight of Titans kicker Rob Bironas. Apparently, Chris Berman also thinks "Bironas" sounds like "Sharona." However, he is an idiot.

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Typical f-ing Rockies

Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. But am I surprised?

Hell no. This always happens to us. This is so typical of the Rockies. We finally get close, finally get to the World Series, come in winning 20 of 21 and looking unstopable, and just like that, it's over. We're gonna get swept--fucking SWEPT--in our one big chance. After all this waiting, all the years of heartbreak, they go out and break our hearts.

My dad, my grandad before him, now me--When I think of all the heartache this team has put us through over the years, it makes my heart ache. I want to raise my own kid a Rockie fan, but I feel like it would be cruel to put him through what we've been through. Here me and dad are freezing in the stands tonight, so ecstatic to finally see our Rocks in the Series, and four hours later, we're crying in our Coors. Just typical Rockies.

I remember going to games at old Mile High Stadium with dad as a kid. We stuck with them through thick and thin. I remember one year on opening day it had been snowing like a mother all week. Dad and I used to park in the old McGillicutty Carbide factory on 18th and Federal and hoof it to the stadium to save a few bucks. We were trudging through 16 inches of snow on the walk from the lot to the gate that day. They still had the plows on the field during BP. The guys were sipping bullion in the dugout between innings to keep from stiffening up. Also, that was back in the days when Mile High only had the two concession stands, so they ran out of coffee and cocoa in the thrid inning. To keep us warm, Dad used his flint and some hot dog wrappers to build a bonfire out in the left-field bleachers. Man, I'll never forget that...

...Fuck! Down 0-3. I know crazier things have happened, but... Damn! We fell down 0-2 in Fenway because the boys were rusty. Ok, fine. But tonight we had them back in our house, in the thin air, amidst the magic of Blake Street and the mystique of the Rockie tradition. There's no way we could have lost this game. But then we go out and get beat by Yokozuna and Kamikaze and that damned British kid. Man, the game has really changed.

Well, this is it. I'm done with them. I can't believe I'm even saying that, but I'm done with this team.

Damn it! We've gotta win tomorrow night!

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Left-handed relievers know what it's like to be black

Very few of us really know what it's like to be stereotyped. To be marginalized. To be told what you are and what are not capable of doing. To be expected to do certain things well and other things poorly because of a superficial trait that you had no control over. Few of us know what it's like to be black.

But lefty relievers do.

Tim McCarver thinks it's "surprising" that Hideki Okajima can retire right-handed hitters as well, if not better than, he can retire left-handed hitters.

But tell me--who would ever say, "Surprisingly, he can also get out lefties," about a righty?

Who would ever expect a right-handed reliever to speak for all righties on how to retire a right-handed hitter?

Who would ever pigeonhole a right-handed reliever as a "righty specialist"?

What right-handed reliever would ever be brought on board as an orginazation's token righty?

What right-handed reliever would be expected to perform a particular way or have a certain demeanor on the mound becuase of the structure of his brain?

They wouldn't. Because they are right-handed.

But left-handed relievers... They know what it's like to be black.

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Hey Patty Nikson--Either stop sending us email, or don't come to this site anymore!

This has nothing to do with sports (because, you know, there's nothing important going on in sports right now), but Ithis super-professional-looking piece of spam that ended up in our Gmail struck me as funny:

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I'm no dietician, but I'm pretty sure "calorized fat" is not an actual scientific term and that 99.4% of those statistics are 93.7% bogus.

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Two Many Puns

Headline for Chicago Sun-Times Preview piece for tonight's Fire-DC United playoff series.

"Misfiring Fire needs to finish, or it'll be finished."

Ugh.

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A post for me and maybe Zuch or anyone else who might actually enjoy this

(Scroll down for pictures and videos if you don't like writer-based prose.)

The last couple nights, hopelessly starved for baseball and lamenting the approaching end of the baseball season, I've been surfing YouTube for any MLB and MLB-related videos I could find. And the following was my stand-out favorite. It's a montage that someone put together from home-video of the demolition of Old Comiskey Stadium, set to a sweet Tom Petty song.

Having gone to Old Comiskey once (maybe twice?) in my early childhood thanks to annual Cub Scout outings, I have lingering and somehow vivid memories of walking into the stadium and sitting in the left field bleachers, throwing trash on the warning track (because I was a dumb kid and thought that was fun). It was exotic for me, being from an all-Cub fan family for whom a Sox game was a grudging concession. And I figure there must be a reason that it stuck.

Watching Old Comiskey-set clips of the '77 "South Side Hitmen" and Harry Caray-Jimmy Piersall broadcasts in high shool resurrected those forgotten memories and bridged my Cubs-Sox biases, opening my eyes to the appeal of loving the black sheep. And I guess that's the point of those historical pieces--instilling an intense sense of nostalgia in those who have little or no meomory of that which is commemorated. Well, score one for them.

You might say the video is pretty sappy--and I guess it is--but it should hit a nerve with anyone nostalgic for a demolished stadium, whether it's County Stadium, Boston Garden, or the Madhouse on Madison. In the video's comments, I learned that they're finally putting the wrecking ball to Tiger Stadium, a place I obnoxiously captured in photo after photo after photo during a college service trip in 2005 and wished like hell I'd experienced from the inside before the Tigers moved out.




Yeah, destruction and rebirth is the heart of reality, but I think it's okay not to enjoy it if you so choose.

Anyway, I'm done with the maudlin crap for the night, and I'll leave you with the video and some other funny stuff. Becuase we're funny here. ...Funny, funny guys.

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