It's been quite a long time, FoxSports blog brethren--in fact, it has been over six months since my last post, following my runner-up finish in the "Next Great Sportswriter II" contest. And since NGS 2, as some of you may be aware from my conversations with Ty Hildenbrandt (aka Quick Slants and first NGS winner), I have been writing for a local newspaper in Johnson County, Indiana.
However, I recently accepted a position as Assistant Editor and Writer for a new publication, which will service the central Indiana area, High School Sports The Magazine. If you are interested, you'll be able to read my writing online beginning at the end of March.
Many thanks for all the support...and more importantly, know that blogging DOES lead somewhere, as long as you want it to. Perhaps our paths will cross again, but until then, good luck and best wishes!
Thanks…
Just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who voted for Brandon (HiPlains), myself and the other finalists during the NGS II competition.
Thanks for all the comments and support I received throughout the course of the contest, as well as the constructive criticism, which can all go to helping me become a better writer, I really appreciate it.
Also, I wanted to thank the judges for the opportunity to compete in the Final 16. It was an experience I’ll never forget.
My wife deserves special kudos, as she listened to me ramble on for hours about this thing, listened to me type on those keys for hours at a time and supported me without a word the entire time.
And special thanks to my editor and confidant who kept me sane and focused throughout the competition.
Thoughts…
—Last night, for the first time in nearly three months, I didn’t turn on the computer at home. I went to dinner with my family, watch my son’s new favorite movie, The Mummy Returns (don’t ask), and watched the NBA Draft. It felt strange to not have an assignment about it—but also relieving at the same time.
—It was a lot of fun, yet crazy for me personally. Three days after the early part of the contest began; my wife and I had a baby girl to compliment the four-year old son I write about occasionally. Three weeks ago, we bought our first house (which caused me to split my time between painting and writing—needless to say, my fingers hurt like the grandmother on Happy Gilmore.
—It may sound clichéd, but there are so many wonderful and talented writers on this site, it was really a privilege to be selected to the Top 16. I’m sure there will be more NGS competitions, so good luck to all of you in your future endeavors.
—Not sure where I’ll go from here. Currently, I’m searching for a paid writing gig, which would be the next logical step. I’m a writing mercenary for hire, as are so many of us out here, just looking for a start and to make a name for ourselves.
Congrats…
Heartfelt congratulations to HiPlainsDrifter on a job well done. He’s a talented writer who should serve FoxSports.com well. They’ve done a great job finding talent like Ty Hildenbrandt and Brandon Vogel.
Brandon and I had several e-mail conversations over the course of the past week and he’s a great guy, who I’m now jealous of twice over—first, because he won the contest and secondly, because he works so close to Fenway Park he could probably have a hot dog for lunch there each day.
Finally, congrats to the other finalists in this competition. You all did a great job and should be proud of your work.
Last August, my wife and I relaxed by the pool at a luxurious resort in Cancun. We were on our honeymoon, surrounded by a hundred other couples with the same wedding date as us, which was really all we had in common. That was, of course, until I noticed the guy in the Red Sox hat. While everyone else sat virtually silent with nothing relevant to say to each other, we talked for over an hour about our beloved Sox—the comeback, Schilling’s bloody sock and that painful game seven of the 2003 ALCS.
Despite the fun we had, and aside from the “you’re really talking about sports right now?” look on my wife’s face, I’ll always remember that guy, that conversation and the way that sports brought us together.
That is what sports provides us with—they create a commonality between strangers, making us feel like we all are connected in a way that distance and time make impossible. For some reason, sports are more than just a bunch of kid games played by adults. They hold an intrinsic emotional value to us, providing a medium that allows everyone to relate as if we’d known each other for years. Sports are the temperature gauge of our society.
It’s incredible but true: as a country, we argue and get more worked up about issues like steroids, the NBA MVP and the importance of U.S. soccer on the global stage than we do issues that really affect our lives like, say, rising gas prices and our need to find alternative energy sources.
If you’re reading this, then guaranteed, you know sports is the only thing that would cause a normally rational person to lose his cool in a restaurant after overhearing the conversation at another table, about Mario Williams being a better pick than Reggie Bush. After all, some things can’t go unnoticed; they just instinctively grab your attention. Never mind if your child has poured the entire bottle of ketchup onto his plate. How can anyone side with Charlie Casserly?
Think about how we interact with each other as a society—it isn’t through larger social issues, it’s through sports.
We don’t sit at a bar and talk about environmental statistics, we talk baseball statistics. We don’t have parties where we get together and watch the crop report; we get together and watch the Super Bowl. Kids don’t play “Global Investment Strategies” in their room at night, they play Nerf basketball. And I certainly don’t get together with my wife’s family to have a Social Security discussion; we go to a Triple-A baseball games and share $5 beers.
Sports have an influence on our lives that can only be pinpointed when we examine our actions. It drives us to do crazy things and shift our priorities. Take me for example: I’ve decided it’s more important for my four-year old to learn to taunt his Yankee-loving grandfather mercilessly about their pitching woes than it is for him to learn to read. He’s only got a few more years before he starts attending games with me, and he needs to be ready. You have to prepare them for it. Reading will come with time—they have schools for that.
Sports can even inject reason and logic into unrelated situations. A high-ranking government official makes a harmful and derogatory remark about a subsection of society? Fine ‘em like the NBA does Mark Cuban. That’s right, give the Supreme Court the right to levy fines on these poor representatives of the American people. Just as it’s bad for professional sports as a business when an owner, manager or player acts out in an inappropriate way, it’s bad when our elected officials do the same. But I digress.
Though our seemingly ridiculous obsession with sports comes at a price of time and emotion, there’s always a return on our investment. Maybe it’s playing golf with your dad or your brother-in-law. Perhaps it can come from watching your favorite team win a championship so you can experience a little bit of the purest form of joy in life, which is in the moments after a team or player wins a title. Or it could be getting an autographed picture of a childhood hero for Christmas, which will, under no circumstances—even the threat of bankruptcy—be sold for personal gain.
The point is that sports has crept into nearly every aspect of our lives, often manifesting itself when we least expect it—whether in a restaurant or on a honeymoon in Mexico. And even if my wife still has that look on her face, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For the Miami Heat to win its first NBA Championship, it needed the man who built the franchise into a contender over a decade ago. The Heat needed a monumental effort and a rainmaker to take over during the season and lead the troops to victory.
It needed Pat Riley. It needed him to fine tune his coaching, managerial and motivational skills, and to show that the old dog had the foresight to know he needed new tricks to win in this era of the NBA.
While Dwyane Wade stamped his name on the MVP trophy and became one of the best players in Finals history, Riley was the puppeteer pulling the strings on Wade’s supporting cast. By blending in fading superstars, a rising megastar, role players and cast-offs, he not only brought them together, but managed to finally bring a victory parade down Biscayne Boulevard.
And it was perhaps one of the best coaching jobs in NBA history. This championship wasn’t like the four Riley won as head coach of the Los Angeles Lakers, which boasted one of the greatest lineups ever with Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and James Worthy—this was a true challenge. From bringing in Shaq, Jason Williams, Gary Payton and Antoine Walker to controversially replacing Stan Van Gundy, the pressure to succeed in South Beach grew with each passing game over the past seven months.
This championship wasn’t about redemption for Pat Riley—he doesn’t need it with his resume. It was about proving that who’s coaching still matters.
Just look at some of his work—getting Walker to play defense and not just jog three-point line to three-point line, and convincing Gary Payton to play more like a role player than “the player”, as well as come off the bench and contribute to a total team effort.
Riley got Jason Williams to play less like White Chocolate and more like a Starbucks decaf latte. He tapped Alonzo Mourning’s one kidney for more production than anyone thought possible. He managed the ego of a declining Shaquille O’Neal. And most importantly, he convinced a group of savvy veterans that Dwyane Wade should be the captain of the ship, not just a passenger.
While they were handing out awards in the post-game, they should have given Riley an honorary PhD in motivational psychology. In a sports world where so many struggle mentally with the game they play, his psychological management of this team and his motivational tactics proved that he always believes and never doubts.
There was the bowl that had been sitting in the middle of the Heat locker room throughout the playoffs, covered by a shroud of mystery. Only the players and coaches knew what was inside—and it wasn’t Stan Van Gundy’s head. Riley revealed that the bowl included over 150,000 small cut-out cards of the Larry O’Brien trophy. They signified the end goal of the team and that the Heat were composed of “15 strong”.
“People don’t know how much they wanted to win. Every day, I would bring in a bunch, dump them in, Shaq would bring them in. It was about 15 strong, the Heat, the players and their wives, after all we’d heard about team chemistry and guys not working together...it was about faith,” Riley said.
In making them believe, he convinced an eclectic group of players with varying backgrounds and ages in a cynical league of selfish athletes to come together for the ultimate goal—a championship.
The players said Riley offered all of his rings so they could win this one. Who wouldn’t want to play for that guy? How many coaches can pinpoint to their teams which day they’ll win the title?
“The great Pat Riley told me we were going to win today. He told us on 6/8 that we would win it on 6/20…Pat Riley is the best coach I ever had,” Shaquille O’Neal said amidst the celebration.
He earned the respect of his players and got them to buy into his system—perhaps the most difficult thing for a coach to do in professional sports. It showed on the court as they played defense, jumped on loose balls and consistently out rebounded Dallas—something that hadn’t been done against the Mavericks in the entire playoffs. And it showed after the final buzzer, when each Heat player individually hugged Riley to show their appreciation.
It took Riley’s kind of toughness to become only the third team in NBA history to win the Finals after being down 0-2. When the series shifted to Miami after two bad losses in Dallas, Riley changed the team’s mentality. For the next four games, the Heat played like Rambo: aggressive on defense, attacking on offense and physical on both ends, relentless and driven. In contrast, the Mavericks played back on its heels, almost trying to solve a mystery like Colombo: attempting to figure out all the angles, but running out of time at the end of the show.
In many ways, the Heat are the embodiment of Pat Riley, realizing as a group that the window of opportunity was closing, that they needed and wanted a championship more than they wanted the individual recognition. Even when it appeared the Heat couldn’t find themselves, their leader knew who they were and what they could do.
For the first time in 18 years, Pat Riley tasted championship champagne Tuesday night. And it never tasted so sweet. Maybe Pat Riley needed this, but the Heat needed him more.
“It’s not over,” said Dwyane Wade after Game 4 of the NBA Finals.
“It’s a different series now, 2-2,” Shaquille O’Neal said of the Miami Heat’s 98-74 blowout win over the Dallas Mavericks Thursday night.
Both statements ooze arrogance and confidence, spurred by the sudden and dramatic momentum swing which could be seen in nearly every aspect of Game 4. My friends used to call it “Uncle Mo” before any big game—and they’d say he was coming for a visit.
During the first two games in Dallas, it appeared that Miami was overwhelmed and wouldn’t be seeing Uncle Mo anytime soon. The Heat were stagnant on offense and defense. Shaq looked like he was closer to Dunkin' Donuts than to dunking the ball. Pat Riley looked out of his element and outwitted by Avery Johnson. The Heat bench was reduced to a cheerleading section—except there wasn’t much to cheer about.
The shift that began at the end of Game 3, the balance of power, the momentum and the confidence so desperately needed in a seven game series of this magnitude, was officially Miami’s at the end of Game 4.
The evidence of this was everywhere last night. Wade put in 36 points, giving him a total of 78 in the past two games, while playing on an strained knee—which could've just as easily been due to him carrying the Heat to the Game 3 win as it could have from Shaq falling into his legs. Without his ability to penetrate and explode to the basket, he took advantage of Dallas’ sagging perimeter defense and drilled jump shots all night as if he were shooting in an empty gym. In fact, sometimes he was that open—like the inbounds play he took with one second on the shot clock early in the fourth quarter and banked the ball in as the buzzer sounded.
But getting Shaq more involved was an important key if Miami truly wanted to get back into the series. He finally had a solid game in the Finals with a 17-point, 13-rebound double-double. Along with those numbers, Shaq dished out 3 assists by passing out of double teams to find an open man. For whatever reason, whether it was the hard foul by Jerry Stackhouse (to which Shaq said in the post-game press conference, “My impression was my daughters tackle me harder when I come home”) or his reborn ability to execute a quick baseline spin move, for O’Neal Game 4 was “The Big Motivator”.
Aside from its two superstars, Miami got nice contributions from its bench. Reserve guard/forward James Posey had 15 points and 10 rebounds in 26 stellar minutes that featured a back-breaking three-pointer with a little over seven minutes to go that pushed the Heat lead to 15. Alonzo Mourning chipped in 4 points, 6 rebounds—but his most important stat was three intimidating blocks.
Somehow Pat Riley convinced Antoine Walker to play intelligently, play defense and not hoist so many shots (he didn’t even attempt his first three-pointer until the opening moments of the second half). Seeing Walker breaking up passes and tallying two steals and a block is nothing short of miraculous—like watching a lazy friend with bad pick-up lines get a job, a haircut and a girlfriend in one day.
Even the “White Hot” Miami crowd came to the arena with a purpose, taunting Mavericks star Dirk Nowitzki with cutouts of David Hasselhoff’s face and chanting the singer/actor’s name every time Nowitzki shot a free throw. For all we know, that could have been the psychological ploy that forced Dirk to shoot just 2-14 from the field.
With its confidence rising, Miami is taking full advantage of the Mavs misfortunes. Because as quickly as Dallas built that momentum in the first two games of the series, it has been lost in the last two. Everything’s flipped. Its superstar has a case of the shooting shanks, as Shaq did in Dallas. Its coach looks confused, as Pat Riley early on in the series. And its young team appears as though they have stage fright.
The overall energy and attitude of the Heat seemed to intimidate the Mavs in Game 4. Miami’s zone defense appeared to affect Dallas nearly every time Pat Riley ran it—and the constant switching from man to zone left the Mavs scorers’ unable to get into rhythm. Due to this, the Mavericks appeared flustered and edgy; it shot just 31% from the field—including just 3-22 from three-point land.
And the Mavericks certainly won’t enter Game 5 on a high note after setting the record for lowest points in the 4th quarter in NBA Finals history with 7.
Momentum does funny things: it has Dallas licking its wounds, trying to figure out what went wrong; while it has Jason Kapono in the last minute of the game because Miami’s up by so many there’s no way the scrubs can blow it.
Momentum doesn’t care about Miami’s continued troubling pattern of turnovers, offensive fouls and overall lack of transition defense. But it does care about Dallas getting four offensive rebounds in one possession, coming away with nothing and looking intimidated.
It cares about who wants it most; not who tries to hold onto it. Momentum loves to be pursued.
The past several seasons we tried to pretend the NBA Finals were important because it was The Finals. Except it wasn’t the Finals anymore—it was like watching a balloon go flat. Pretending the NBA Finals mattered was just something we became accustomed to; it was like a chore to watch, instead of an event that we had to see.
With the Dallas Mavericks and Miami Heat advancing to the Finals, this is a series that the league and the fans can care about again. Nobody has to pretend anymore. To the league, it’s about ratings. To the fans, it’s about the entertaining ride two compelling teams can take us on. And for both, it’s about Shaq.
For the first time in a long time, the NBA Finals matter again.
If TV ratings are any indication, NBA fandom dreaded another Pistons-Spurs Championship slowdown—er, showdown. The TV ratings tell the story. In 2005, Game 1—which along with Game 7, should be the most watched games of the series-- drew a rating just under 9.
Historically, the Finals have always been a ratings draw for the NBA, roughly averaging somewhere in the neighborhood of 12-14 million viewers per series over the past 25 years. Until 2003, which drew a 6.5 rating for the Spurs and Nets, the last Finals to receive a rating under 10 was 1981—when the series drew a 6.7 rating and were shown on late night tape delay.
What these ratings say is “who cares about Tim Duncan and his fundamentals”? As impressive as he is, as good of a team as the Spurs are, no one wants to watch them isolate Duncan on the low block while the rest of his teammates stand around waiting for him to be double-teamed. And as much as we praise the team chemistry of the Pistons, no one wants to see them play hard-nosed defense and win games 80-75.
If we really wanted to watch these things, we’d check out a high-school game. But this is the NBA. This is the Finals. We want dunks. We want Magic skyhooks in the lane with five seconds left and finding out the Mailman truly doesn’t deliver on Sundays. We want coaches adjusting game plans and playing mind games with one another, working the sidelines with flair.
TV ratings are a reflection of how interested people are in who’s playing, not the NBA. By all indications, fans want to see something entertaining—not just NBA basketball. David Stern has always talked about the NBA as an entertainment product. Well, the product has been as entertaining as watching a Chia pet grow the past few years.
But all that changes on Thursday. The Dallas Mavericks and Miami Heat are anything but boring. Each of these teams is making its first appearance ever in the Finals.
It almost feels like the next week or two won’t be nearly enough time to discuss all the terrific subplots to this series—like Pat Riley’s return to the NBA’s definitive event by taking his third team to the Finals. Somewhere, Stan Van Gundy is on vacation, with his family, silently stewing. How about Mark Cuban taking the Mavericks to the NBA Finals with his new brand of ownership—let’s at least hope the Heat don’t win a Game 7 based on a foul call; Cuban will review the tape for three months before sending in a lengthy review to the league and be fined $75,000 for criticizing the officials.
Furthermore, do we realize that all seven games will be played in an arena named after American Airlines, but in two different cities? Or about the possibility of Dwyane Wade being the first superstar from the 2003 Draft Class to win a title? Or that Dirk Nowitzki had to lose his two best friends, Steve Nash and Michael Finley before going to the Finals? What are the odds Dirk is seen holding the Larry O’Brien trophy with a “We are all Nowitnesses” t-shirt on?
There is an actual possibility that Antoine Walker, Jason Williams, Gary Payton or Jerry Stackhouse and Keith Van Horn could all win an NBA title. Just think about that for a moment.
Above all else the NBA Finals are reborn this year because of Shaquille O’Neal. Consider that Shaq is attempting to cement his status as one of the best centers ever. Or that he’s playing in the NBA Finals for a sixth time with his third team. Or that he’s trying to win his first championship without Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant.
Plus, Shaq is one of the last connections the NBA has with its most famous players of the past. One day O’Neal will retire to a life of law enforcement and intimidating people pulled over for a speeding ticket. Until then, he’s remains a link between the NBA past of Bird, Jordan, Magic, the Dream Team and the NBA future of Wade, Dirk, LeBron and Kobe.
To bridge the gap between now and when the young stars take over completely, the NBA needs Shaq in the Finals. To help get through the growing pains of the young stars taking over, the fans need Shaq in the Finals. The Finals and the NBA are just better when Shaq is involved.
For the past several seasons, the NBA’s fans have been largely dissatisfied by a series that had lost its character. The indiscernible personality of the Finals hurt the league, its ratings and its fans. Instead of looking forward to the NBA Finals, we’d grown tired of it. The culmination of professional basketball was not only unwatchable—it wasn’t even interesting.
The Basketball Gods have rewarded us with these Playoffs and this Finals match-up as a gift for putting up with so much. New blood, more entertaining teams, more personality and more Shaq.
The NBA Finals have returned. But this year, it’s really back.
In the NBA’s post-Jordan hangover, the collective argument has been that the NBA is lost and missing the special qualities it once had. Well, it isn’t true.
The NBA’s not missing anything. The league is merely traveling through its Space-Time Continuum. Yes, the same theory brought to you by Doc Brown in the 80’s classic Back to the Future is alive and well in the NBA.
As Doc Brown explains during the film, key events balance the universe and without each one the course of history is altered. The reason Doc and Marty had to get each event perfect is because if they didn’t, the universe would have ceased to exist as they knew it.
Just as we experience things in life that impact our future, without four key events, the NBA would be completely different than the league we know today. And it is because of the league’s Space-Time Continuum that we can pinpoint the “Best Things to Happen to the NBA.” Take away an event, the league as we know it would begin to disappear like Marty’s hand at the ‘Enchantment under the Sea’ dance.
David Stern
According to Ask Men.com, when Stern became Commissioner of the NBA in 1984, nearly 80% of its teams were losing money and fan interest was at an all-time low. Hard to believe, but the classic 42-point performance in the 1980 Finals by Magic Johnson, as he filled in for Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to lead the Lakers to the NBA title, was shown on tape delay at 11:30 p.m.
It was Stern’s implementation of a revolutionary salary cap—which altered the economic structure of the NBA, along with changing the relationship between teams and players—that gave the league the financial flexibility it needed to become a global force.
Perhaps the NBA and its premier players would have been successful without Stern, but his marketing prowess of the league and its superstars allows us to enjoy NBA Live video games, custom made jerseys and the famous player-caricature championship t-shirt. If there were no David Stern, we might have an NBA ran by Biff Tannen.
The 3-point shot
While it began as a gimmick to create interest in the league, the 3-point shot has become the most dynamic part of the game. From revolutionizing the modern player prototype to giving new meaning to the phrase “from downtown”, the 3-point shot forever changed the face of the NBA. Who would have thought a 7-footer would be draining a 25-foot shot on one possession, then posting up on the next?
Imagine where the NBA would be without it; how drastically altered our historical perspective of the league would be: no Robert Horry prayer against the Kings in the 2002 Western Conference Finals. Reggie Miller would have never been able to single-handedly bring back the Pacers against the Knicks in the ’95 Playoffs. And we never would have seen Jordan’s famous shrug of the shoulders against Portland in the ’92 Finals without the 3-point shot.
Magic, Larry & Michael
Separately, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird and Michael Jordan all became the face of the NBA—Magic as the personality of the league, Larry as it’s hard-working core and Michael as its most talented player ever.
Together they gave us three of the most memorable teams in the history of sports. Without Magic’s Lakers, Bird’s Celtics, and Jordan’s Bulls, we would have missed one of the most compelling rivalries in the history of sports. By combining for 14 NBA Championships in 19 seasons, they ushered in a new era of basketball and reintroduced us to the term “dynasty”.
Michael Jordan was the ultimate “event” or “experience” for the league and the fans. Where would we be without Air Jordan’s, “Like Mike” commercials, Hanes, the Bulls, the clutch shots, the championships, the tongue-wagging and Space Jam? Well, all but the last one, anyway.
Portland, Phoenix and Utah may have won NBA Championships had there been no Jordan. He became the standard for which all NBA superstars are measured.
Phil Jackson and the Triangle
Jackson may not have won his record tying 9 NBA Championships if it were not for Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant, but at last check, none of them have ever won a title without him either.
While tough, no non-sense coaches like Pat Riley and Chuck Daly had always thrived in the NBA, Jackson used philosophy to motivate and relate to his players.
His attached-at-the-hip assistant, Tex Winter, developed an offense called the Triangle that relied on passing and movement to create easy scoring opportunities. The Triangle brought balance to a league run amuck by one-on-one and without it we’d be watching games made up of ‘And 1’ mixtapes.
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Every event, while independent of each other, is interconnected in the NBA’s Space-Time Continuum. The NBA’s success didn’t just occur; it materialized as a byproduct of these events happening the way they did. It’s hard to imagine the league without David Stern, the 3-point shot, its biggest superstars and its most famous coach.
Be glad that we had each of these four things, or we might be in need of a time-traveling DeLorean, Doc Brown and 1.21 gigawatts of electricity.
You know that annoying ride at Disney World, where all the little mechanical children sing “It’s a small world” over and over, until you get off the ride and it’s stuck in your head for two days?
Well, that’s Barry Bonds right now, annoyingly stuck in my head. Just when I think he’s out of sight and out of mind, suddenly, there he is, like the aforementioned song. That concept, in itself is why Bonds has also finally given me reason to acknowledge his greatness, tip my cap, stand and applaud.
It isn’t because he will pass Babe Ruth. It isn’t because I’m overly compelled to believe he knowingly didn’t take steroids. It isn’t because of him overcoming adversity, race issues or Father Time.
It is because of the stark realization that Barry Bonds is one of the greatest entertainers of all-time. He’s changed the face of sports, entertainment, television and dramatic theater. Bonds is smart, crafty and about ten steps ahead of everyone else.
And I’m a fool because it took me so long to figure it out.
Forget baseball, forget records. Forget your own personal feelings on the man and whether he did or didn’t cheat. Focus simply on the idea that we follow the man’s every single move, day after day, month after month.
What we’re witnessing is exactly what Barry wants us to see. It’s all a part of the show—right down to the things he can’t even control.
To understand this, we must understand Barry. An enigma of a personality and a baseball player, Bonds is anything but transparent. But if there is one thing we can be certain of throughout his baseball career, it is this: Barry Bonds wants to be remembered. He wants to be a legend—and it doesn’t matter how that happens.
It is that truth—the human desire of wanting to be remembered—that has motivated Barry Bonds for the past decade.
Books say that Bonds was upset that Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were breaking records by using steroids, so to prove he was better on or off the juice, Barry did it too. Rumors say Barry was a poor teammate in college and in the pros. Reporters have said Bonds is a jerk in the clubhouse.
Has Barry ever really confirmed or denied anything? No, he hasn’t—and it doesn’t matter whether any of it is true or not, because we’re missing the point.
By not knowing anything, by not knowing what to believe, we become more and more intrigued. And the intrigue feeds our desire as sports fans and humans to know and to believe. It doesn’t matter what we believe or know, as long as it’s something.
Barry Bonds knows this—he captures us by using the natural human desire of wanting to know.
Think about it: what better way to sway and manipulate the opinions of the people who dislike you than by doing a reality show? Because at the end of last season, it didn’t matter what the truth was—if Barry had taken steroids or not, if he would break the record, if he really was as bad as the reporters made him sound—public opinion was all that mattered. And public opinion is hard to change.
Some may never watch, but most will. Because we can’t not watch, we have a compulsive need to. The more confused and uncertain we are, the more we watch, the more we try and find little pieces of the Bonds puzzle in order to form our truth of him.
All the time between 713 and 714 did was fan the flames and pique our interest. When will it happen?!? Where will it happen?!? How will fans react?!? How will Barry react?!? Will baseball celebrate?!?
It’s just part of the show. Though ‘Bonds on Bonds’ is on a “break” from filming, I fully expect Bonds to come up with a new way to hold our attention. Even when we’re not paying attention to Bonds or his show, we’re still paying attention to the story.
Bonds is the ultimate drama in sports and has a sweeps period every week. Who needs an end of the season cliffhanger like The O.C., The Office or 24? We’ve got the equivalent of a season finale practically every day with Bonds.
Bonds is the legend he always wanted to be. Maybe not in the way he wanted—or we wanted—but he transcends baseball and sports. Few have ever done that. He’s polarizing and engaging; despised and cheered.
And he’s not going away anytime soon. Like the Disney ride, you experience Bonds once and it stays with you for life, which is exactly what he wanted all along.
After a wild weekend, which saw my wife and I buy our first home, my newborn daughter baptized, followed by Monday’s announcement and the subsequent turn of events in NGS II, I haven’t had time to collect my thoughts and put out an actual post about the NBA Playoffs.
In the spirit of that, here’s a bunch of things I’ve been collecting on an internal notepad the past few days and need to get them out. I’m fearful that if I don’t, I’m going to turn into a sports version of Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect.
Mavs-Spurs
–It was clear to from the first quarter of the Mavs-Spurs game who was should win. You just never know with the officiating these days if the right team will win. Don’t get me wrong, had the Spurs won, they would have semi-deserved it with that amazing run in the third and fourth quarter, but I was beginning to believe that David Stern, seated just rows away from Mark Cuban, really did have it in for him. Stern almost smiled at times (at least it seemed that way on TV) as the Spurs made their run back from 20 down. Cuban was glaring out the corner of his eye in Stern’s direction. Can we get a Stern-Cuban match as the main event at Wrestle Mania next year?
—Is there anyone who gets more calls, but complains more in big spots than Tim Duncan? Where were the fouls that they called on Dampier and Van Horn? Even when TNT was bold enough to show the replays, they weren’t there. The call on Van Horn in the 4th quarter, where his hands are straight up and Duncan moves into him is incredible. I must have rewound TiVo five times. I was speechless (probably because my wife, four year old son and baby daughter were all asleep). When Duncan commits the same fouls that are called on these guys, he complains every time. This reminds me…
—If this career in basketball doesn’t pan out, Duncan could always teach lessons to the Hollywood crowd on how to act surprised at their name being called during awards season with his “Who me?!? No…It..Can’t..Be…Me” Face.
—The Mavs first half was a thing of beauty, more impressive because it was the Dallas Mavericks of all teams, on the road, against the Spurs in a Game 7. Scoring on 14 of their first 16 possessions and shooting nearly 77% until about 2 minutes to go in the second quarter, it was one of the best Game 7 starts I’ve ever seen. They were playing in a different gear than San Antonio, from the out-of-bounds plays to defense, to loose balls—that first half set the tone and gave the Mavericks the confidence they needed late in the game.
—Did anyone else see the David Hasselhoff poster in the crowd during the game? Was that a Dirk Nowitzki fan? A family member? Does this in fact prove Norm MacDonald’s theory that Germans, indeed, love David Hasselhoff?
Suns-Clippers
—Just too magical to believe the Clippers could win, I guess. But it doesn’t help your cause when you play differently than you did most of the series. The Clippers had gone with a smaller lineup during their wins; a lineup which could get back down the floor on made shots and defend the perimeter well. Suddenly, Chris Kaman’s back logging significant minutes in Game 7. The Suns made him look like his feet were in concrete (which isn’t a difficult task).
—Where do the Clippers go from here? The ultimate crossroads for a downtrodden franchise is the year after it gets over the hump. So what do the Clippers do? Does Donald Sterling pony up again this summer for a couple key free agents like he did last summer? Does Elgin Baylor keep Cassell? It is conceivable that that Baylor, in a span of about three years could go from one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’ to ‘Executive of the Year’ to one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’. It all depends on the next five months.
—We’ll know everything we need to know about the Suns tonight in Game 1. Nash’s legs, their streaky shooting, their size difference to Dallas and if D’Antoni can match wits with Avery Johnson, because Gregg Popovich couldn’t. Dallas is a much different beast than the two L.A.’s. Now is when Phoenix needs Amare Stoudamire most.
Pistons-Heat
—About two weeks ago, I wrote about how Shaq had lost the 'eye of the tiger'. While I said Shaq wasn’t the dominate force he always was, he could be dominant every other game. I figured with all that rest from taking the Nets out in five games, he’d be a major force last night. But after watching the game, it’s even more clear to me that Dwyane Wade, Jason Williams, Antoine Walker and Co. have to carry this team. He was slow on defense—didn’t move his feet and got into foul trouble, only playing 29 minutes. This was in the face of a Pistons team that was a little tired from their seven-game series with the Cavs. If the Heat are going to win this series and the next, they need more from the Diesel in the games you can count on him at full strength (and to keep him away from guarding Detroit’s high screens.)
—I am anxiously waiting another “guaransheed” win for the Pistons in Game 2. It’s beyond comical.
—Still am not of the opinion that a win in the conference finals or a series win in the conference finals justifies Pat Riley booting out Stan Van Gundy. Not even winning an NBA Championship will do it. You just don’t treat “friends” like that.
There, it feels better to have emptied those thoughts--ready to work on the first finalist assignment now…and pack for the move…and change the baby’s diaper…
