The NBA season is just two months old and already we’ve been subjected to a pair of grumpy former superstars. Who would’ve thought Shaq, despite playing a career-low 23 minutes per night, wouldn’t be one of them?
Allen Iverson and Tracy McGrady, a combined 64 years of age with 27 NBA seasons, 6 scoring titles and 0 NBA championships, have gone about their separate battles the same way — by leaving their teams.
Iverson left the Memphis Grizzlies because he was irritated at coming off the pine even though he had played just three games. The fact that he was returning from a hamstring injury that can become lingering for even the Cal Ripkin of players didn’t seem to matter to him. Instead of maturely working out the circumstances with the team, he stormed away. Then he re-signed with his old 76ers, who were desperate for any kind of attention boost.
McGrady left the Houston Rockets because they wouldn’t promise to increase his minutes AFTER he pigeon-holed them by gabbing to the media that he expected more minutes in his comeback from microfracture surgery on his right knee. Mind you, it’s the surgery he underwent last February allegedly behind the team’s back and just before the trade deadline, sapping the Rockets’ ability to move him and the $20 million-plus per year contract that’s almost as bloated as his ego. Media reports say the sides mutually agreed to part ways and that T-Mac even was willing to stay. Yet he still will leave the team, which is an odd move from a guy who just last week described himself as a “hungry” player. Maybe he was insinuating selective hunger.
While I didn’t blame Iverson entirely for attempting to change his future, I can’t stop thinking about what a wimp McGrady is. I’m confident that viewpoint is shared by many other hard-core NBA fans.
Here’s the difference between the two: Iverson is a known “tough” guy who, despite his obvious on-court selfishness, has busted his ass for most of his NBA career. He has a reputation for being a gamer. Iverson sparked the 76ers to a NBA Finals appearance.
Meanwhile, the first time one of McGrady’s eight playoff teams made it past the first round was last year — when he was sitting on the bench with a microfracture’d right knee. McGrady has lazy body language and hasn’t seemed all that willing to gut himself through injuries during his career. He famously boasted in 2003 that the Magic, with a 3-1 lead over the Pistons in the first round, were already looking forward to the next series. The Pistons won the next three games and T-Mac wore egg on his face.
This is what hustle and the appearance — if not the actual act — of hard play can earn an athlete. Iverson is forgiven for his selfish acts out of pity. I want to see AI succeed because I feel like he’s been knocked down so much during his career, which is technically true according to his style of play.
McGrady, on the other hand, can rot. He has all the talent in the world but has never seemed convinced that he should utilize all of it. He holds himself back by not backing up his words.
I once thought he was a weenie because I read in a magazine that he couldn’t even bench the plates (135 pounds) when he entered the NBA as a scrawny 18-year-old. Now, I’ve taken a different perspective. It’s not about what he can or can’t do externally. For T-Mac, his downfall is driven by his apathy.
First, I hope you note the irony of this post’s title. There are “only” 19 videos here. I simply couldn’t think of a 20th. Maybe someone who reads this could suggest one.
Second, there are perhaps games or plays I enjoyed or thought were monumental that couldn’t reasonably be found on YouTube. I had to work through that.
Finally, these aren’t the greatest plays or anything. These videos represent a collaboration of NFL-related moments that I’ll think of when I remember the NFL from the past decade.
While this Super Bowl was technically apart of the 1999 season, it happened in 2000. That’s good enough for me to count it in this decade. Who could have thought at the time that an arguably better Super Bowl would be played in the last year of the same decade? (We’ll get to that later)
I have no idea if this occurred in the 2000s or in ’99, since that’s when Culpepper was drafted. All I know is Randy Moss is the best wide receiver of this decade, so he deserves one of his catches to be noted. Plus, I love Pat Summerall. He always sounded like he just polished off a bottle of Jameson right before the broadcast.
I’m calling this the greatest game of the 2000s for several reasons: It reminds us of how strong the Raiders were in the early part of this decade. Now look at ‘em; when someone thinks of a NFL playoff game being played in the elements, this is probably what comes to mind; perhaps the NFL’s most talked-about rule this decade, the Tuck Rule, stemmed from this game; furthermore, this contest eventually launched the dynasty of the greatest franchise in this decade and started Boston’s run as the best sports city in the 2000s.
And this officially kicked off the Patriots dynasty. You have to love the commentary from Madden and Summerall. Not only do we get ‘before they were famous’ shots of Lovie Smith and Charlie Weis, we get Madden ultra-excited. He started littering compliments on the Patriots, especially Weis, whom he said was “letting it all hang out.” Pretty sure that comment and a picture of Fat Charlie Weis should never be included in the same sentence. That goes for Madden, too.
Before Devin Hester and Josh Cribbs, admittedly very cool muthafuckas, we had Dante Hall. What he did to the Broncos on this play is what every NFLer should strive to do to that crappy team every chance he gets. Is it even possible to pull off this move on Madden?
This symbolizes Philly’s relationship with McNabb for the entire decade.
I was a 49ers fan once upon a time before becoming a NFL fan free agent. Montana, Young, Rice, Craig, Waters, Taylor, Merton, Stubblefield, Hearst…I love ‘em all. Even T.O. We 49ers fans at the time of this game, in 2003, were clinging onto the fading dynasty. The seams had already burst apart, but we still had room for one more playoff memory. (This season would represent the 49ers’ most recent playoff win and their most recent winning season. Yikes.)
I remember being in London at the time of this game. I was with a couple friends over college Winter Break, and I was watching this from roughly 2-5 in the morning, England-time. I couldn’t sleep at all after the game (far too much adrenaline) and ended up finally passing out the following night — after a full day of touristy stuff — during the opening moments of Les Miserables at some famous theatre in London.
Anyway, this game had tons of crazy moments, especially toward the end. Chris Collinsworth sounded like he was gonna try to run on the field and punch somebody. Plus, nobody could replicate Jim Fassel’s look at the end - just completely sedated. Okay, maybe Art Shell could pull it off. Actually, I’m certain he could pull it off.
I hate recognizing Vick for anything, but I can’t deny I’ll remember him as the guy who was supposed to change the QB position forever. This was the greatest glimpse at the player we all hoped he’d become.
Bad copy of this Harrison catch. We never knew much about Harrison beyond the field, which is why it seemed so odd for him to be linked to a murder in Philadelphia a year or so ago. Then we learned that he still hangs out at the same crappy bar in Philly’s projects, even acting as a roughneck at times. Hopefully he doesn’t end up dead before 45. In any case, we’ll remember him for catches like this and his chemistry with Peyton Manning.
Speak of the devil. Peyton is to be remembered for so much this decade. Incredible statistics; initial failures in the playoffs that led to A-Rod and Bonds comparisons of ‘great players who couldn’t get it done when it counted’ arguments; surprisingly funny commercials; a dominating Super Bowl win; his position as a Top 5 QB of all-time. Somehow, I want to remember him for this. He’s a leader, a whiner, a protagonist and a slob all in one moment.
Probably the funniest clip of the decade. I remember watching this game and admiring Hasselbeck for his tenacity to predict a win. Then he threw this INT on, I believe, the first or second play of OT and I was reminded how vital it is to shut the hell up before accomplishing something. Hasselbeck, you big mouth!
Marion the Barbarian was definitely my favorite runner of the decade. He might have been my favorite player, come to think of it. The rush against the Patriots at the 1:08 mark is one of the all-time great ‘effort’ plays in the history of sports.
Nike made some great NFL commercials during the decade. None got the hair raising on my arms as much as this one. The theme song from Last of the Mohicans was a great touch. The graphics and transitions are even better. Just an all-around great commercial.
This hit sums up the decade’s rivalry between the Steelers and Ravens pretty well.
One of those plays that you might watch happen live and still not believe happened even after it did. Like everyone else at this moment, I was certain Eli would be dragged down. Frankly, I was rooting for the Pats. Nothing gets me into sports more than a great player or a great team working towards a particular milestone. Alas, those pesky New Yorkers had to finish first.
I don’t know what’s worse — that Orlovsky was so scared by Jared Allen’s mullet that he forgot endzones are just 10 yards deep, or that the color guy on this telecast had previously described Orlovsky as being ‘savvy.’ And if you’re gonna admit that stuff on-air, shouldn’t that be grounds for your network to fire your ass? Why admit to viewers that you previously called a guy ‘savvy’ moments after he made perhaps the goofiest play of the decade?
The obligatory Brett Favre video. I felt this was more symbolic of Favre than anything else. And to tell you the truth, it was the first vid that popped up when I searched for him, so I went with it. He somehow avoids the sack and fires a laser beam to the back of the end zone, placing it perfectly within reach of his receiver and out of reach of any defensive back. Great play from a great quarterback. Too bad the question posed on Favre’s career will be whether he was more legendary for his on-field ability or off-field drama.
It’s safe to call Adrian Peterson the best rusher of the decade. LaDanian Tomlinson and Chris Johnson could provide varying arguments. However, Tomlinson can’t play through injuries and Johnson has only speed, not power. Larry Johnson, Shaun Alexander, Clinton Portis and others didn’t have AP’s magic. Marshall Faulk in his prime was pretty magical, but he didn’t have the ability to ‘Jim Brown’ defenders like AP does. Or is he called AD, for All Day? We need a nickname for the guy.
We began the decade with a fantastic Super Bowl and we ended it just the same. Big Ben’s and Santonio’s pitch and catch essentially concluded the last Super Bowl of the 2000s, making it perhaps the greatest of all-time. (I obviously didn’t include James Harrison’s 100-yard INT TD return.) Love the throw, love the catch, love the feet, love the concentration. Love the NFL in the 2000s.
As always, the Knicks continue to be at the front and center of the NBA news. The return of Jonathan Bender has been one of the feel-good stories of the first quarter of the NBA season. Mike Lupica has some positively optimistic quotes from a source in his Christmas Day story regarding LeBron James signing with the Knicks this summer. Here are some of my thoughts on the Knicks:
Nate Robinson
Good for Mike D’Antoni in his mission to sit Nate Robinson as long as humanly possible. Robinson is a preening, selfish player who lacks self awareness. The fact Knicks fans were chanting “We Want Nate” in their Christmas Day game vs. the Heat speaks to their desperation for any kind of entertainment from their team, since he is a decent scorer. Problem is, they’ve won 7 of 11 with Nate saddled on the bench.
Frankly, I appreciate any coach with the balls to sit a guy who’s pissed him off one too many times. So often we see primma donna athletes who piss all over the concept of ‘team’ because they become too absorbed in making sure the spotlight doesn’t move off them. Robinson is one of those guys. If a team which won 3 of 12 games in which a guy played now wins 7 of 11 in which he hasn’t, wouldn’t you say it’s a good bet the team should continue to go without that player? Common sense should always win out.
Danilo Gallinari
While common sense is the theme of this post, let’s talk about a 21-year-old with back problems. Any Knicks fan reading this might want to hack into my blog and post really mean things after reading these next couple paragraphs. I’m about to tear apart the one player on the roster who has more than a 10 percent chance of becoming a future star.
Let’s face the facts with Gallinari. I say we even get the nice stuff out of the way first, so as to focus on his drawbacks: he’s a very good outside shooter; he’s tied for the league lead in 3′s with 75; he has a positive attitude on the court and seems to play hard; he speaks very nice Italian.
Now the drawbacks, or really drawback, since he has one negative characteristic that absolutely can’t be overlooked: he has a bad back. He’s 21 with a bad back. You can see it just in the way he walks. He has very proper posture, drawing his shoulders back so that his shoulder blades nearly touch. This can’t be for any reason other than to ease whatever bad vibes his back has been giving him.
He had back surgery last spring for a bulging disc. Medical experts claimed there wouldn’t be any chronic issues related to the injury. While I can’t dispute that, and I didn’t go to medical school, I’d say one look at the guy running the court should make any Knicks fan squirm. He already looks like one of those rickety 48-year-old YMCA guys who wear knee braces and take roughly 12 minutes to tie their shoes. He moves with a stiffness that could be replicated only by an old man getting up from a bleacher seat after a three-hour baseball game. In other words, it’s time to trade Gallinari.
If I’m a Knicks fan, then I’m not trusting our main attraction for future free agent superstars, e.g. LeBron, Amare, D-Wade, Bosh, to be a 21-year-old who runs slower than Charles Barkley and already has him beat in the Back Surgery department 1-0. It’s not as if Gallinari will become more athletic over time. His back won’t become less susceptible to injury. The more he plays, the more pounding his back takes from running the floor. It’s not unrealistic to think his trade value might be higher than it’ll ever be.
If there’s any way the Knicks can pry Anthony Randolph from Oakland, they should make that trade before they can say “Doh!” What’s the Italian translation for that?
Year after year, coaches from all corners of the sports world are fired well before their time is due. Impatience reigns down from all areas — ownership, fans, management, players, media.
However, for every few justifications for a coach getting the axe, there always seems to be one example of why it can pay off to stick with a coach through thick and thin. Jeff Fisher, for probably the fourth or fifth time in his career, is that latest example.
The Tennessee Titans opened the 2009 season with six straight losses, culminating with a 59-0 rout at the hands of the New England Patriots. Lo and behold, the Titans are 7-1 since then to put themselves into the AFC Wild Card race.
Fisher has had an interesting career with the Titans, who were formerly the Houston Oilers until they moved to Tennessee before the 1997 campaign. He went through four mediocre seasons in his first four full years as a coach before turning in two 13-win campaigns and a Super Bowl appearance. Then Tennessee had a 7-win year before reeling off two more double-digit win seasons.
Those were followed by three more subpar to mediocre years in which they won 17 games before another two-year run of double-digit wins. Then came this year, when fans were calling for Fisher’s head on a stick as Tennessee looked utterly lost at 0-6.
A 7-7 record never felt so good, and Tennessee’s only loss during their past eight games came against the undefeated Indianapolis Colts. Devil’s advocates could make the point that players begin to tune out coaches after a certain amount of time. Good thing for NFL coaches that most rosters experience vast turnovers within just two or three years. If there’s ever a sport — and a league — that warrants keeping one coach for a long stretch of time, it’s football — and the NFL.
Fisher has created a “never say die” attitude in Tennessee, and his teams usually seem to play sound defense while effectively running the football. His message stays the same, even if the players change. Think of him as the David Wooderson of NFL coaches. (That’s Matthew McConaughey’s character from Dazed and Confused.)
Look at other examples of teams who benefited from staying with their man in charge:
The Boston Celtics kept Doc Rivers around after 33 and 24 wins over two seasons from 2005-07, including an epic 17-game losing streak in the spring of ’07. That following summer, Boston traded for Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen and won the NBA title with Doc developing a special team kinship around the African-influenced concept of Ubuntu, some sort of philosophy that inspires togetherness. Whatever it was, it worked for the Celts that year.
Mack Brown had won 70 games, including four bowls, in his first seven seasons at Texas from 1998-2004. Yet he couldn’t shake the tag as the coach who couldn’t win the big game. Many other colleges might have axed Brown after his sixth or seventh year for the mistaken belief that he wasn’t a championship-caliber coach. Yet in his eighth season, he led Texas to an undefeated year, capped by their upset victory against Southern Cal in the national title game.
Finally, we have Bill Cowher as an extreme example of a team holding onto its guy through peaks and valleys. He enjoyed eight double-digit win seasons and 10 winning campaigns overall after 13 years as the Pittsburgh Steelers head coach. Of course, he had gone just 1-4 in the AFC Championship Game and lost his lone Super Bowl appearance. .
Some Steelers fans might have wondered why they couldn’t get a coach who was a true winner. And, of course, Cowher broke through to win that Super Bowl in 2005, certifying himself as a Steelers legend and giving justice to the mindset that success is worth the wait.
No matter how many times Titans fans might have been frustrated by the team’s play over the years, they should be comforted by the notion that Fisher is able to steer a ship no matter how topsy-turvy it might seem. Therefore, some coaches deserve much longer leashes than others.
It seems that whenever controversy looms over a famous person in this country, we always end up hearing that the person will be forgiven. The reason for that is we’re considered a society tolerant of mistakes and of the belief that people deserve second (and third, and fourth) chances.
That’s why I feel that Tiger Woods will regain most, if not all, his popularity within a few years. For those who claim Tiger is screwed for life after he screwed his way through half of Las Vegas’ female population, there are numerous examples of athletes who’ve regained their stature after ominous criminal charges.
Ray Lewis was indicted on murder and aggravated assault in 2000 after a couple people died from stab and gunshot wounds during the 2000 Super Bowl. Lewis took a plea agreement on obstruction of justice, served a year of probation, was named the 2001 Super Bowl MVP and began doing commercials for the NFL within a couple years.
You read that right. The NFL, a league so conservative that it warned Chad Ochocinco it would fine him if he wore No. 15 instead of his usual No. 85 on Sunday to honor his deceased teammate, Chris Henry, (per the league’s obnoxious uniform rules) actually had a player formerly indicted for murder become one of its spokespeople within a few years of the incident.
Remember Kobe Bryant’s 2003 rape case? He was absolved of the charges and settled in a civil suit, but it’s how he rebuilt his image after the event that should be unbelievable. He admittedly cheated on his wife with a drug-using, mentally unstable teenage chick and repaired his image in part by introducing himself as a family man with a wife and two daughters.
The NFL’s Jamal Lewis served time in jail in 2005 for organizing a cocaine deal from his cell phone. But fantasy football players still held him in high regard after the case as he reeled off consecutive 1,100-plus yard, nine-touchdown seasons from 2006-07.
NFL player Leonard Little, the douchebag that he is (he deserves much harsher words to describe him but I’m trying not to cuss on this blog), killed an innocent wife and mother in 1998 after ramming his car into hers at an intersection early one morning. His BAC was twice the legal limit. He served 3 months in jail and went through a bunch of other ‘slap on the wrist’ penalties.
Apparently not satisfied with killing one innocent person and ruining the lives of those that knew her, he was arrested in 2004 on a DWI charge. He was found not guilty and is still on the same Rams team he began his career with in ’98. You hear barely a blip about this poor excuse for a human being.
Look at Michael Vick. He admitted to helping torture and kill dogs stemming from a dog fighting ring. (Vick also funded the ring.) He did his time in jail for a couple years, but despite our country’s reputation for loving dogs, there were plenty of people to cheer him in the stands this year in Philadelphia, Atlanta and elsewhere.
Needless to say, we’re not a society that holds a grudge against a celebrity, especially an athlete. All Tiger will have to do is win a few Majors, admit that he’s sorry for his trangressions, get some photo-ops with his kids and most of us will likely take whatever Tiger news we’ve learned from the past few weeks and sweep it under the rug.
I’ll probably lead that dance. After all, adultry doesn’t rate quite as high on my pecking order of Really Bad Things To Do as does murder, rape, drug trafficking and the killing of animals. But that’s just me.
Today is one of those days when even the simplest of tasks seem to have a roadblock at every turn. It took me 3 1/2 hours and five re-loads to watch the Lakers-Bucks game from Wednesday in its entirety. Long story short, NBA.com needs to drastically improve its player for games. Fast forwarding is not as easy as it should be.
Posting this Maximonline story has proved to be equally time-consuming. When I save the article as a PDF on Firefox, it only saves the first page and doesn’t show the YouTube clips. When I try to save it on Safari, the browser won’t even bring up Maxim.com. So, I’m providing the link at the top which brings you to the Maxim page. Enjoy.
This WeightWatchers.com article takes a look at Glenn Dorsey (Kansas City Chiefs defensive tackle) and Tony Carter (Denver Broncos cornerback). Dorsey and Carter worked with the same performance training team to prepare them for the NFL Draft. (Dorsey was in the ’08 draft and Carter followed a year later.)
Even though they worked with the same team, their training took them in opposite directions. Dorsey was overweight, Carter was underweight. Dorsey had to lower his body fat percentage and ramp up his quickness. Carter needed to pack on a few pounds to ensure he could survive the physical nature of the NFL, but he had to do so while maintaining the speed and quickness that is so vital at his position.
This article recaps how each player was able to meet his weight goal with the help of trainer Tom Shaw and dietitian Rikki Keen.
Jerry Colangelo is one of those old school sports figures who you know has a thousand stories, all of which are probably interesting as hell.
I wish I could’ve chatted it up with Colangelo as he was smoking a cigar after a few glasses of scotch. Instead, I had to settle for a 10-minute Q & A as he signed copies of his new book (about how he assembled the 2008 Olympic men’s basketball team) in a private room inside the NBA Store.
There is new information on some changes he’ll make to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame now that he’s been named Chairman.
I was browsing through sports books at the public library on 40th and 5th the other day when I came upon Johnny Damon’s autobiography. It’s titled Idiot, which I suppose is a reference to the 2004 Red Sox team for which he played, collectively knowns as Idiots for their underdog nature and myriad of outgoing personalities. Little did I know how aptly named the book would be.
If you’ve ever heard Johnny Damon speak in an interview, then your expectations for Johnny Damon the author would already be tempered. But, my goodness, flipping through and reading a passage here or there made me want to poke my eyes out with the corner of the book.
There’s a reason I’ve never enjoyed athlete autobiographies: they all read like the author hasn’t picked up a book since 7th grade. (That actually might be true in some cases.)
Furthermore, athletes aren’t real interesting people. They might have interesting stories, sure. Sexcapades with actresses, stories about creepy girls (my favorite is the one where Troy Aikman came home one day during the Cowboys’ heyday and found a naked blonde waiting for him in his swimming pool) and outlandish claims to bagging tons of women (Michael Irvin, Magic Johnson, Wilt, etc.). They might have especially notable insights into their teammates and opponents. There could be funny stories about pranks they pulled on one guy or another. But they are not interesting people, by and large.
So when I was browsing through Damon’s bio, reading about how everyone thought he was so good as a star athlete growing up in Florida or how his wife didn’t want to move with him to Oakland when he was traded to the Athletics from the Royals before the 2001 season, I was able to pinpoint roughly 93 things I’d rather be doing than reading about his life.
And it was at that moment that I wondered if Damon not only is able to spell ‘ninety-three’, but if he even has the attention span to count that high without a break.
I’m hanging out in the Minneapolis airport, an hour away from taking off for Missoula, seeing my parents and staring at the ugly ‘M’ above Washington-Grizzly Stadium. My day started at, well, yesterday morning. I haven’t really slept, only catching an hour of interrupted sleep on the flight from Newark.
See, my flight from Newark to Minny departed at 6 a.m., all part of my master plan to always arrive in Montana as early in the day as possible. Yet arriving for the 6 a.m. flight works a lot better when you leave the house and head to the airport late the previous night. But not too late, as I did this morning. (Confused? Me too.) I left my apartment at roughly 2:30 this morning and took a cab to Port Authority (41st St. and 8th Ave.). The first leg of my master plan was to take the bus that runs from Port Authority to Newark’s airport. Of course, I didn’t account for two things in this wondrous plan. For one, I’m a guy. And that leads to the second unaccounted characteristic — I’m an idiot.
I neglected to check the running times for the bus. I just figured I’d show up and the bus would be there waiting for me in the tunnel-like street on 41st between 8th and 9th Ave. Why wouldn’t a bus just BE there?
So I get to PA at about 2:45 and stand on the corner of 41 and 8 for roughly 35 minutes before getting the wise idea to ask someone working inside if the bus heading to Newark Airport will actually arrive anytime soon. As in soon enough for me to catch a 6 a.m. flight. I’m told inside that the bus won’t arrive until 5, which with the 40-minute or so ride meant that I failed myself on the first leg of my master plan.
I can’t believe what an idiot I am. I was standing on the corner of 41st and 8th at 3 in the morning with two bags just assuming that a bus would arrive to shuttle me to the airport. Such is one’s attitude after being spoiled by NYC’s generally efficient public transportation services. I got so mad at myself I contemplated asking a passerby to rob me just so I could get some sort of decent experience out of the moment.
I ended up walking to Penn Station (34th and 7th), arriving at 3:45 and waiting 15 minutes for NJ Transit to open. Bought a one-way train ticket to the airport, hopped on the Air Transit train to Terminal B, then eventually made my way to the plane. Oh, what an experience that was. First Class was nearly full but I was one of only seven passengers in Coach, which ran 20 rows deep. Time to RELAX!
The flight was smooth, the weather in Minny is chilly (-2 F when we arrived at 8:30 a.m. local time) and the Minny airport hasn’t been terrible. Which is all I really ask for from an airport. So far, I’ve refused to buy breakfast from Maui Tacos or Dairy Queen. I saw something at DQ called Super Hashbrowns, which appeared to be potatos smothered in cheese. Pass. My hips and hamstrings are so sore from football on Sunday that I literally don’t think I could walk to any other part of the airport for breakfast. I’m settling on an energy bar, carrots and almonds I swiped from my cupboard. And I bought the $8/day Internet thing since I was gonna be stuck here for three hours. An excellent move when I analyze it.
For whatever reason, I can’t read books or magazines in airports. I can’t settle. It’s probably my anticipation and restlessness of just wanting to get to my destination. Nevertheless, I find catching up on sports/political news passes the time a hell of a lot better than reading a book/mag, which is odd since I love a good book almost as much as the banging fried chicken I had last week.
Hopefully my plane doesn’t crash from Minny to Missoula. I can’t help but think every time I board a plane about what I’ll do if the plane starts to go down. This is too long; gotta check out more news before the plane leaves.
This isn’t so much a pet peeve as it is a curiosity about a question I truly don’t understand. I was sitting at long table inside the reading room of the Humanities and Social Sciences library in midtown yesterday when a guy leaving the table for the bathroom asked a girl sitting next to me if she could watch his stuff. People do this all the time at libraries and cafes and any other environment in which strangers sit around each other and read or do whatever else it is people do at libraries and cafes. But the whole process doesn’t make sense.
Why would someone assume a stranger would watch their stuff? There has to be a decent percentage of people who ask this question, receive a “yes” from a person whom they’ve never seen or spoken to, then walk to the bathroom doubting their request will even be fulfilled. So then why ask the question in the first place? Adding to that thought, there is no doubt in my mind there is a sharp divide between the people who ask this of strangers and those who think it’s an utter waste of time.
People who don’t ask might already assume most people will naturally watch and protect someone’s goods if they sense a robbery is taking place. See, most people are good-hearted in the sense that they have a basic desire to help people. Most people.
I feel that the people who naturally want to help others won’t be any more motivated to watch someone else’s goods just because they’re asked. They naturally take it upon themselves to make sure no harm is done.
On the other hand, someone who truly doesn’t give a shit definitely will not be influenced by a “Can you watch my stuff?” question by someone they’ve never met and probably don’t care to meet. You can call that person an asshole if you want. I just figure that people, at least New Yorkers, are sometimes so busy with their lives that they don’t want to make themselves responsible for a situation every time they’re in contact with another person, even if that contact is as simple as sitting across the table from a stranger. Make sense?
For those of you reading this who ask strangers to watch your stuff when you have to pee, do you really believe that person will watch your stuff? Or do you ask it for your own peace of mind, knowing that you’ve done what you can to ensure your stuff is guarded while you’re away?
I found this video on SI.com’s Extra Mustard section and posted it to Facebook claiming that if aliens were to visit our planet, they could watch this to figure out 90 percent of what the United States of America is all about. I think I’m onto something here. The video provides the following examples of American culture:
Crazed football fans, a big-screen TV, lots of guns, beer, people yelling, pickup trucks, Facebook, gambling references, annoying sports chants, hunting gear, laugh-out-loud Southern accents, a woman with possibly no teeth, an obviously wasted old guy bragging about his Smith & Wesson and people tackling a shot-up TV while their drunk friends cheer them on.
Face it: There is nothing more American than this video. All we need is a Clint Black or Garth Brooks song in the background and those hypothetical aliens could go home fully satisfied that they had us figured out.
If you’re a Yankees fan and know about the Curtis Granderson trade, you probably can’t stop smiling. And rightly so. The Yanks took a very productive step toward upgrading their club for a run at a second straight World Series title.
Pending physicals, the Yankees will receive Granderson from the Tigers and a couple prospects from the Diamondbacks (although you can call them the D-bags). The Tigers will acquire stud right-hander Max Scherzer from the D-backs along with Daniel Schlereth, highly-acclaimed outfield prospect Austin Jackson from the Yanks and a couple other prospects from New York. The D-backs will get Ian Kennedy from the Yanks and Edwin Jackson from the Tigers. Although their desire to be included in this trade is perplexing (back to that in a minute).
Granderson is 28, plays a good center field (and would play an excellent left field), runs well, has underrated power, hits well enough (though not against lefties) and is a “community” guy. In other words, he’s a player a team likes to send into the community as a face of the franchise. He’s articulate, good-tempered and seems like a solid clubhouse presence. His contract runs for three more seasons at $25.75 million, so it’s not like the Yanks have to shell out big-time dough for him. Just a solid all-around move to give the club another elite 20-something player in addition to the Teixeira and Sabathia signings last winter. Yanks fans will love the guy as their leadoff or second hitter.
The Tigers needed an infusion of younger studs after dealing two of their best (Cameron Maybin and Andrew Miller) for Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis a couple years ago. Dealing Granderson hurts (their owner wants to pare down the payroll) and it really was unnecessary had they better managed their finances. Remember, they gave Willis an unfathomable $29 million extension a few years ago even as the lefty was heading into the toilet. Then they let Magglio Ordonez attain enough at-bats last season to activate his $18 million option for 2010. That’s $47 million that could have been freed up had the Tigers done what was reasonable at each instance and not extend Willis or play Mags every day. Now Detroit fans have to pay for it by seeing their second best player and most likable guy on another team. (Cabrera is their most notable player but probably isn’t the most appealing to fans after driving with a .26 BAC and beating up his wife during Detroit’s division title run in October.)
The upside is their 1-2-3 starters go Justin Verlander-Rick Porcello-Scherzer. Holy crap, watch out AL Central. That’s a hell of a collection of flame throwers, all of whom are under 28. They just have to hope Jackson can live up to the billing he had in the Yanks’ farm system.
As for Arizona’s inclusion in this trade, well, nobody gets it. Scherzer is a 25-year-old strikeout pitcher who would be a great third starter next year with Dan Haren and Brandon Webb (assuming he returns fully healthy). Instead, they get Jackson, who’s already at his peak on a club which won’t contend for another couple years, and Kennedy, who failed miserably with the Yankees. It seems like they made only a lateral move while losing one of the best strikeout pitchers in the game without obtaining a high-end prospect. Can’t figure that one out. Maybe they know something about Kennedy no one else does.
Anyway, all my Yankees friends seem to be excited about this and they should be. The top of the batting lineup will go Jeter, Granderson (or vice versa), Teixeira, A-Rod with Posada, Cano, Swisher following them. That’s unreal. Granderson is already a good candidate for 30-plus homers given that he’ll aim for Yankee Stadium’s cheap seats in right field.
An early edition of my fantasy NBA article that appears in tomorrow’s amNew York. Or would that be today’s amNY since it’s 12:19 a.m.? Anyway, it’s a short piece discussing guys to target and avoid at each of the five positions. (I take no responsibility if your team sucks off my advice but ALL credit if it improves.)
Oh, and I just finished The Book of Basketball. Only took me 38 days and two apartments to do it. I’ll have more when I’m more awake.
This came out last week, so it’s already dated by the fact the Red Sox signed Marco Scutaro. That ends their flirtation with moving Dustin Pedroia to shortstop, which makes irrelevant my opinion that they should trade for Brandon Phillips if Pedroia were to move to short.
Fortunately, the other three scenarios I outlined in the story are still possible, although the Dodgers’ move could be classified as “Less likely to happen than for Jamie McCourt to scrape by on $200,000 per month.”
Hi there, I work as a writer/reporter in New York City covering business, health, technology and media in sports. I also spend my work time reporting for a market research publication. This blog serves two purposes: 1) A home for my various stories, 2) A way for me to convey my thoughts on hot topics in the sports world. I hope you enjoy what I have to write, whether you agree, disagree or otherwise.
I moved to New York City from Montana in 2007 – I grew up in L.A. – and I switched careers from landscape design to journalism in 2008.
I sat in the third base camera well with the MLB Productions crew during Game 6 of the 2009 ALCS. John Cena once asked me if I had to cut short our interview to watch Game 3 of the 2010 NBA Finals. Tiger Woods tried showing me how to play his video game with a PlayStation Move controller and I kept screwing up. I almost drilled Harold Reynolds with a whiffle ball while at the plate inside MLB Network's Studio 42. Those are some of my favorite memories from my job.
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