It's happening all around us, yet many are still blind to the fact. You can't find it on any calendar, although it should be formally recognized in some fashion. It's not a single event per se, but more like the dawn of a new day.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen - fantasy football season is upon us once again.
As you're reading this, the first fantasy guides are hitting shelves at a bookstore near you. Mock drafts are available all over the Internet. Even the sports shows are running the occasional piece on fantasy sleepers and studs. For diehards such as myself, it doesn't get much better than this.
I'm married to this game they call fantasy football. I started playing during my high school days, settling down in homeroom with the Monday edition of the Philadelphia Daily News and calculating the scores by hand. At some point after that, Al Gore invented the Internet and the various online leagues kept the stats automatically. My friends and I have since graduated to the Web sites with the slick interfaces and live stat-tracking. But since we're scattered throughout North America, we've never been able to get together in a single room for a draft.
The ultimate plan is for us to meet up in Vegas one late August weekend, rent out one of those high-roller suites in the MGM Grand, hook the laptop up to the TV and project our picks onto the plasma screen. After which, we'll lose ourselves in a Red Bull-and-vodka-induced haze as we make our way across The Strip for a late-night Fatburger run. But that's a few years off. There are more pressing matters at hand, namely, this year's draft.
When it comes to fantasy football, I'm that guy. You know who I'm talking about. Every league has a guy who not only groups the players at each position into separate tiers, but also charts it out in a color-coded Excel spreadsheet. The guy who does more pre-draft research than anyone else, yet still winds up frantically searching through one of the three fantasy football magazines lying in front of him when it's his turn to pick. A guy who talks more trash than anyone on the league's message board, yet consistently finishes out of the money. Yeah... that's me.
According to an MSN/FoxSports press release from last summer, about 12 million Americans participate in fantasy football leagues. If you were to rank those 12 million in terms of skill level, I would probably come in at about the 11 million mark. To be honest, I'm probably overstating the case somewhat - last year, I actually won a Yahoo! public league for the first time ever. But in my primary league, with actual money on the table, I come up smaller than Nick Anderson in the '95 Finals. But I still do it anyway.
There's something about a draft - whether it be the NBA draft, a fantasy draft, or draft beer - that appeals to the inner player personnel director in all of us. Nearly everyone has second-guessed a draft pick of their favorite team at one point or another. Most sports fans have sat around a bar and concocted wild trade scenarios that actual general managers would never agree to. A good number have even called/written/accosted the GM of their local team and asked why he didn't sign a particular free agent.
While the majority of us haven't been blessed with superior athletic ability, every sports fan has an opinion on whether or not one player is better than another. But you know what they say about opinions - everybody has one. And all of us are geniuses until the games start...
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Last year, I was the Elgin Baylor of fantasy football. My #1 RB was Deuce McAllister. My starting WRs were Andre Johnson and Darrell Jackson. My QBs were Aaron Brooks and Brian Griese. In case you were wondering, our draft occurred AFTER Hurricane Katrina - I actually defended the McAllister and Brooks picks by saying that the Saints would rally together in the midst of the crisis.
Needless to say, I only won four games.
A 4-9 record last year means the second selection in my league's draft this year. Which poses a dilemma. Which member of the beastly RB triumvirate do I take with that #2 pick? Larry Johnson is ridiculously good, but he has a new coach with a new offensive philosophy. Shaun Alexander set the NFL single-season TD record last year, but one would think that losing a Pro Bowl guard in Steve Hutchinson would mean a hit to his numbers. LaDainian Tomlinson is a do-everything back, but with Philip Rivers under center, defenses could very well stack the box against LT.
Truth be told, I probably shouldn't be fretting all that much over which stud RB to take at that spot. But there are decisions like that all over the board this season. Is Carson Palmer going to be 100% going into the season? Is Mike Shanahan going to pick one running back and stick with him for an entire year? Is Adam Vinatieri even more automatic now that he plays in a dome? And how many games will T.O. get through before he starts doing bicep curls on his front lawn?
These are just some of the issues that will cause millions of aspiring GM much distress as they're pressed to make their picks come draft day. And they'll love every minute of it.
There's no mistake about it - if you're a fantasy football player, life as you know it is now over.
Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me; Other times I can barely see. Lately it occurs to me What a long, strange trip it's been.
-- "Truckin'", The Grateful Dead
The NBA Finals begin tonight, but the first step on the road to basketball's most coveted prize was taken long before the first ball was rolled out in training camp. As recently as last July, Pat Riley was still the president of the Miami Heat, the Mavericks' Avery Johnson was only 31 games into his coaching career, and Antoine Walker had yet to bring his shimmy to South Beach. It almost goes without saying, but much has changed in the past 12 months.
After nearly 200 games and countless hours of practice, the year-long journey of two teams making their first-ever NBA Finals appearances is a story unto itself. Two stories, to be exact.
Don't believe the hype. This is not about vindication. And it is definitely not about cementing his already storied legacy as an NBA coach.
At the age of 60, Pat Riley merely got the itch to coach basketball again. The allure of leading a team that boasts both Shaquille O'Neal and Dwyane Wade was too much for Riley to pass up. Even now, the competitive fire still burns inside a man who has already won more NBA titles than all but two men who have ever picked up a whistle.
Believe the stories about Stan Van Gundy stepping down to spend more time with his family all you want. If that were the case, then why has the Heat front office imposed a gag order on its deposed coach?
Why would Riley - three months before the season - remake the team in his own image? In August, the Heat were the focal point of a three-team, 13-player deal that netted it two playoff-tested guards (Gary Payton and Jason Williams), a complementary scorer (Antoine Walker) and a talented swingman (James Posey). History will also show that this was not the first time Riles took over the reins of a team primed for a run at the Finals.
Make no mistake: Riley's return to the sidelines was a calculated maneuver, and nearly flawless in its execution. To take it a step further, if the Heat had not made a coaching change in December, a different team would probably be representing the Eastern Conference in the NBA Finals. All due respect to Van Gundy, but there is a certain unalienable truth that governs today's NBA landscape.
Players respect success. Or, to borrow a streetball phrase, "game recognize game."
If the players don't believe that their coach knows what it takes to reach the mountaintop, then how much will they buy in to his philosophy? That alone explains why the Kobe/Shaq marriage didn't flourish until Phil Jackson brought his six rings to Hollywood. It is the reason that the Pistons endured Larry Brown's "play the right way" coachspeak for two seasons, and the same reason Flip Saunders' words fell on deaf ears in this year's playoffs.
Simply put, Stan Van Gundy was the grad assistant whose class you didn't feel guilty skipping. Pat Riley is the tenure-track professor who also happens to be your faculty advisor. And when your faculty advisor talks, you don't just listen, you take notes.
The numbers tell the story. With Shaq out of the lineup for 18 of the Heat's first 21 games, Van Gundy guided the Heat to an 11-10 mark. Pat Riley took over at that point, and the team would win 41 of their final 61 contests.
The upgrade has been so dramatic that it led O'Neal to state recently that Riley is the best coach he has ever played for. Four games short of the NBA championship, Shaq is giving Riles more respect than a coach who personally led him to three NBA titles.
Game recognize game.
15 months ago, Avery Johnson was handed the keys to an offense-driven, defense-optional Mavericks' unit that had consistently wound up on the doorstep of the NBA Finals. At the time, departing head coach Don Nelson merely stated that the team responded better to Johnson, who had previously filled in for Nelson on several occasions. That may have been the case, but the barely existent coaching resume of Johnson gave skeptics plenty of fodder for their argument that the Mavericks' assistant wasn't quite ready for prime time.
In the weeks and months that have followed, Johnson - an energetic soul with an unmistakeable Louisiana twang - has proven to be more than capable of leading his recently adopted charges to the promised land.
Since taking over at the end of the 2004-05 season, Johnson has compiled a 94-36 record (including the playoffs), while at the same time imposing his will upon the team. Johnson was a fiery, scrappy point guard for 16 seasons in the NBA, and he has infected the Dallas roster with that same attitude.
Under Nelson, offense was the order of the day. The 2003-04 iteration of the Mavericks - a group that included Steve Nash, Dirk Nowitzki, Michael Finley, Antwan Jamison and Antoine Walker - averaged more than 112 points per game. The Mavs' frenetic pace excited the team's fans, including "everyman" owner Mark Cuban. But while scoring 112 points per game is sexy, giving up nearly that many on the defensive end is going to catch up to you. And each year, it caught up to the Mavericks well short of the NBA Finals.
Enter Avery Johnson.
Contest shots. Rebound. Deny the basketball. These are just some of the tenets of Johnson's philosophy. In one year, he took a team that had previously seemed allergic to playing defense and molded them into a solid unit.
Under Johnson, who received the 2005-06 NBA Coach of the Year award, the Mavericks have kicked their intensity up a few notches on the defensive end. Last season, Dallas allowed nearly 107 points per game in the playoffs - this year, they have reduced that to slightly less than 97 points per contest. While the Mavs will never be mistaken for the Pistons of the Bad Boy era, the team has made a noticeable improvement on defense.
The offense has not missed a beat, either. Dallas led the league in scoring with 112 points per game. This, despite the fact that four of the top eight players in the rotation missed significant time this year because of injuries (Jerry Stackhouse, Josh Howard, Devin Harris and Marquis Daniels).
Typically, it takes time for a team to buy into a coach's vision. But the Mavericks players not only bought into Johnson's concepts, they asked for a second helping. It was clear to anyone paying attention - the one thing the Dallas Mavericks were lacking was toughness. Avery Johnson has provided that in spades.
Tonight, the Mavericks sit four wins away from an NBA title. Four wins away from Johnson erasing all of the doubts that he was not ready to be a head coach. If that happens, a celebration is sure to follow. Even the non-believers are invited.
While the Mavericks are actually favored, it seems as though they are the forgotten team in this series. That's the price you pay when the other team boasts two larger-than-life figures in Riley and O'Neal. Honestly, Dallas is pretty much an afterthought in its own city due to the recent arrival of a tempermental wide receiver who has a penchant for destroying football teams. Yet, when looking at it objectively, the Heat and the Mavericks are not all that different.
Even with a handful of rings from his days of coaching the Lakers, Pat Riley isn't markedly better than Avery Johnson. The Mavericks are not going to shut down Wade and O'Neal, just like the Heat are not going to hold Nowitzki in check for an entire series. The great players will get theirs - they always do.
As with most NBA Finals, the superstars will receive all of the accolades, while the role players will actually define who wins and who loses. Yet regardless of what team hoists the Larry O'Brien trophy at the conclusion of the series, you can't help but realize what a long, strange trip it has been.
The Big Hurt. The Crime Dog. The Glove. Prime Time. Just some of the nicknames that helped shape my formative years. Aliases of athletes that I attempted to mimic on the streets and playgrounds of West Philadelphia.
Make no mistake: these names aren't cute Bermanisms spouted in the midst of a SportsCenter highlight - these are handles that defined superstars for the better part of a generation.
Which is why it bothers me that people are getting lazy with the nicknames these days. Some of the greatest athletes of this era are referred to as D-Wade, T-Mac and A-Rod. Or LT, TO and AI. Anyone can take elements of a name and mash them together - the best nicknames characterize who you are.
Two of the best nicknames of the '90s came from the Pacific Northwest. Shawn Kemp spent eight years igniting the Seattle crowd with his thunderous dunks as the de facto leader of the Sonics - calling him the "Reignman" was a stroke of unadulterated genius. 16 years after his major league debut, Ken Griffey, Jr. continues to display that youthful exuberance of "The Kid", which I guess makes him the oldest kid in the history of mankind.
Griffey reminds me of another point: the good nicknames have that stickiness factor. Jevon Kearse will now and forever be known as "The Freak" - a tag that goes back to his days at the University of Florida. Ray Allen is permanently married to the "Jesus Shuttlesworth" moniker due to his turn in Spike Lee's He Got Game. And if I ever happen to run into Hakeem Olajuwon on the street, please believe that I will refer to him as "Dream" incessantly.
When it comes to aliases, TNT's Kenny Smith doesn't quite get the credit he deserves for handing out quality tags. He anointed Shawn Marion "The Matrix" for his gravity-defying abilities. Smith also dubbed Vince Carter "Air Canada", which is an incredible nickname, but should probably be decommissioned because: A) Vince no longer plays north of the border and B) he really isn't worthy of a witty moniker.
Which brings me to the next rule: you should be able to lose your nickname due to your poor play/attitude. And on the flip side, you have to put in work to earn one as well. If Rudy Gay showed any kind of consistency, then he'd be perfect for a name like "The Prototype." We'll have to wait and see on that one.
Finally, athletes don't get to pick their own nicknames - it just doesn't work like that. Darius Miles: I don't care how many license plates you want to put "Takeover23" on - you need to take over a box score first before you get to be called anything other than "D-Miles." Worst of all is Kobe's "Black Mamba" - I love Kobe's game, but I have a slight problem with a player who grew up in Italy and Lower Merion, PA naming himself after a venomous snake. Even if he did happen to kill the Lakers.
I'm not a soothsayer, nor did I ever play one on TV. I didn't even stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. But I have come up with what I think is a pretty accurate forecast of what's on the not-so-distant horizon in the world of sports. I can't explain it - it's kind of like that late '90s CBS show Early Edition, except that my newspaper only comes with the sports section. With that being said, I present to you... the best of what's to come.
June 6, 2006: Brown... Out The Larry Brown saga comes to an end when the oft-criticized coach accepts a $30 millon buyout from Knicks' owner James Dolan. When hearing the news of Brown's departure, Stephon Marbury reaffirms his pledge to play like "Starbury" during the upcoming season. At the press conference announcing the buyout, team president Isiah Thomas assumes the role of "interim" coach. In response to reporters' questions about whether or not he will be able to handle the duties of both coach and president, Thomas tells the assembled media that "it's crazy enough that it just might work." June 8, 2006: Even The Nielsens Aren't Watching According to the overnight Nielsen ratings, the second game of the Stanley Cup Finals on OLN is watched by a mere 1.5 million viewers. Coincidentally, that happens to be the exact number of people who, during that same timeslot, tune in to watch Beavis and Butthead Do America on MTV2. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman blames the poor ratings on the summer movie season, saying: "It's unfortunate, but many of our normal viewers are out watching X-Men 3 when our playoff games are on. Everybody should relax. It's going to be fine."
June 21, 2006: Don Dada, Indeed Shaquille O'Neal and Dwyane Wade help the Heat capture the NBA title for the first time in franchise history. Despite a heat index in the upper 90s, Shaq wears a baby blue sweater vest to the team's victory celebration - a not-so-subtle dig at Kobe Bryant's attire on a recent edition of TNT's Inside the NBA.
June 28, 2006: The Cedric Benson of the NBA Gonzaga's Adam Morrison is selected by the Portland Trailblazers with the #4 pick in the 2006 NBA Draft. The excitement of draft day combined with the disappointment of having to play for Portland causes Morrison to have an emotional breakdown on national television. Upon watching the newest Trailblazer's reaction, ESPN's Jay Bilas praises Morrison's intangibles. "You can't coach that," Bilas says. "Adam Morrison is long... on emotion."
October 1, 2006: The Summer of 69 Despite hitting 14 homeruns in the month of September, Cardinals' first baseman Albert Pujols comes up four HRs short of equaling Barry Bonds' mark of 73 set in 2001. Jason Darrow catches home run ball #69, and promptly sells it to Todd MacFarlane (the creator of Spawn) for $2.5 million. The Wachowski Brothers option the movie rights to the Albert Pujols story, but plans for Pujols on Pujols are put on indefinite hiatus.
February 4, 2007: T.O. - Super Bowl XLI MVP In his first season in Big D, Terrell Owens racks up 124 yards and scores two touchdowns in the Dallas Cowboys' 34-16 win over the Pittsburgh Steelers in Super Bowl XLI. During the trophy presentation, Owens - who was named MVP of the game - takes the opportunity to talk about his favorite subject: himself. "Like Joanie loves Chachi, and Vito loved his Johnny Cakes, I love me some me!" Following the post-game press conference, ESPN analyst Michael Irvin volunteers to accompany Owens to Disney World.
February 5, 2007: Just Bury The Hatchet... In His Back In an television interview with Comcast Sportsnet, Donovan McNabb compares the Cowboys' Super Bowl win to black-on-black crime.
May 27, 2007: The Rocket Is Grounded After months of speculation, Roger Clemens officially announces his retirement from baseball. Shortly thereafter, Clemens and his agent begin talks with VH1 to appear on the seventh season of The Surreal Life. Negotiations quickly fall through when the former Astro demands a $22 million appearance fee, an actual rocket ship, and written assurance that his son Koby will be able to visit the house whenever he pleases.
October 29, 2007: A-Rod is May-Rod No Longer Alex Rodriguez silences the critics with a stellar postseason performance, culminating in a World Series in which he bats .514 with 3 HRs and 8 RBI. Despite A-Rod's heroics, the Yankees would lose the 2007 World Series in six games to the St. Louis Cardinals. Yankees' owner George Steinbrenner blames Rodriguez for not only the Yankees' loss, but for rising gas prices, global warming and the disappointing series' finale of The Sopranos.
December 30, 2007: LJ Is An Angry Record Holder In the Chiefs' final game of the year, running back Larry Johnson breaks the NFL's single-season rushing mark on a 9-yard run early in the second quarter. Johnson will finish the season with 2,271 yards, easily besting Eric Dickerson's previous mark of 2,105 yards. Somewhere, Dick Vermeil begins to cry.
May/June 2008: Conspiracy Theory Rumors of a conspiracy run wild as the New York Knicks win the 2008 NBA Draft Lottery, despite only having the eighth-worst record in the NBA. The Knicks proceed to take Kansas State freshman guard O.J. Mayo with the number #1 overall pick. With the addition of Mayo to the New York backcourt, "Starbury" promises that for the good of the team, he will return to the days of playing like Stephon Marbury.
July 22, 2008: The Emperor's New Clothes LeBron James decides not to re-up with the Cleveland Cavaliers, instead choosing to sign for less money with the New Jersey (soon-to-be Brooklyn) Nets. NBA Commissioner David Stern insists that the NBA's desire to have LeBron play in a major media market had "no effect, whatsoever" on James' decision. Minutes after Stern's declaration, Nike announces that they have re-signed James to a lifetime contract worth $300 million.
August 8, 2008: The Big Undercover
After retiring from the NBA at the end of the 2008 season, Shaquille O'Neal begins to pursue his dream of working as an undercover officer for the Miami Beach Police Department. Few are surprised when, on his very first assignment, the 7'1", 330-pound O'Neal is immediately "made" while attempting a routine drug bust, and is wounded in the resulting shootout. Following the incident, the Miami Beach PD immediately re-assigns O'Neal to its Internet crimes division, where he does battle against hackers on a daily basis.
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After that, the forecast starts to get a little hazy - the Sports Doppler 10,000 is only accurate up to a certain point. But if the next two years are any indication, you might want to bring your raincoat.
Crazydeliciousness I pondered between 714 and 715...
Every weekend there's a PGA event, I wonder where Tiger finished. If there's an IRL race, I wonder where Danica finished. Outside of that, the outcome doesn't matter to me all that much. That said, I am looking forward to the U.S. Open in a few weeks. Can Phil Mickelson make it three in a row? Will Tiger even be in the house? Will David Duval shoot a 90?
I don't watch American Idol, but I don't see how they can "sell" this Taylor Hicks guy. He's a 29-year-old "honky-tonk" singer who looks old enough to be Lawrence Frank's father. Last time I checked, the honky-tonk Billboard charts aren't exactly burning up. He won't wind up in Justin Guariniville, but it'll be pretty close.
Fred Smoot and Bryant McKinnie plead guilty on Friday to two charges: disorderly conduct and being a public nuisance on a watercraft. The two agreed to pay a $1,000 fine and perform 48 hours of community service. "Being a public nuisance on a watercraft" is probably the greatest thing you can be charged with in the history of civilization. I honestly think you can put that in the section of a job application that asks you if you've ever been charged with a crime, and it would actually get you a job. Because anyone who has ever been charged with that is someone who knows how to have a good time, and every office needs a person like that. And if you told me beforehand that I could attend the infamous "Lake Minnetonka" party and only have to pony up a grand and perform a little community service, I not only take that deal, I bring the beer.
The NFL is seriously considering playing two regular season games outside of the U.S. in 2008, with England and Germany as two of the four possible sites. The only way I can see a game in Europe working is if the league picks two teams coming off of a bye and having them play on Thursday or Friday of that next week, after which they could return home and get themselves back on their regular schedule. However it's ultimately done, it's going to seriously throw a team out of their routine, and I can't see any organization volunteering for that.
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The Big Hurt. The Crime Dog. The Glove. Prime Time. Just some of the nicknames that helped shape my formative years. Aliases of athletes that I attempted to mimic on the streets and playgrounds of West Philadelphia.
