Wednesday, December 28, 2005, 07:04 PM EST
[General]
The year was 1992. I was 13 years old. It was my dad's weekend, so this meant I'd be cooped up in the dark, in front of the TV, watching sports all weekend. It could've been worse. I liked sports. He had a never-ending supply of otter-pops. (He also had Playboys lying around everywhere, but that's another story). He didn't have cable then, so we were forced to watch whatever the local networks decided. The only sporting event, a mediocre NCAA basketball game, was the consensus choice. Halftime featured a young player out of USC, who led the Pac-10 in scoring, and had a nickname worthy of a halftime feature. The feature didn't focus on the nickname. Or the scoring average. You see, he used to lick his fingers and then swipe the bottom of his kicks about fifteen times a game. Almost like a nervous tic. His nickname was Baby Jordan. Maybe that's why he was nervous. My entire basketball-craving generation idolized Michael Jordan. I was no different. In fact, I ended up idolizing his potential-offspring even more. Harold Miner was the kid's name. He was going to be The Next.
The Miami Heat drafted him #12 in the 1992 draft. He didn't get a lot of playing time, but he did alright in his limited role. I checked his box score every day, wondering why 11 points in 8 minutes didn't earn him more PT. All-star weekend in Salt Lake City, my hometown. The Slam Dunk Competition, my favorite event before it was ruined by superstars refusing to participate. My man ran away with the trophy. He had his own Nike commercial. Sadly, it would be as high as Harold Miner would ever get.
He never did get any consistent playing time. He spot-started a few times, but didn't impress his coach enough to stay off the bench. He continued to score despite limited opportunities. He even won another Slam Dunk competition (1995), but even that wasn't as great as his rookie year. He had to use some of the same dunks. He tried a jersey number change, going from 32 to 4. He grew a goatee. Anything to change his luck. He was relegated to the bench, and nothing positive was on the horizon. After three uninspiring years with the Heat and one more with the Cavs, he tried out for the Toronto Raptors. Pre-season went by and he was cut. He would never play in the NBA again.
I could perpetuate nine credible rumors about where he is today. He's either in the witness-protection program, playing ball in Japan, coaching in Las Vegas, living with his mom in L.A., running an insurance company in Florida, building homes in South Dakota, hooked on crack, writing for an online blogging competition, or dead. Nobody knows for sure just where Harold Miner is today. His career was a disappointment. His potential never realized. His greatness only a distant memory.
But I'd like to thank Mr. Miner. Because of him, I've learned the greatest lesson to be taught by sports. The lesson of failure. We're all destined to fail. No matter what we do. At one time or another, we'll have to deal with it. Some of us deal better than others. Some of us complain when life doesn't give us what we want. Some of us laugh. Some of us commit suicide.
I told everyone Harold Miner was coming back. He was going to be somebody. He was just taking a break. He was just hiding. Maybe he was with Tupac. But he never did come back. Year after year I would search for his name, for some inkling to his whereabouts. For some hint of his resurrection. It never happened. Even when Mike came back and won three more consecutive championships, including two in my hometown, I felt empty. My favorite player was nowhere to be found.
Despite having heard nothing from him in nearly a decade, I still look up to Harold Miner. I think maybe I'm obsessed with failure. I'm fascinated with those who don't reach their potential. I've written poetry, essays, and full-length plays on the subject. This lesson could not have been taught by Michael Jordan. The biggest disappointment in MJ's career was being cut from the varsity team in high school...as a freshman! Or not winning a championship in his first six years. Are you serious? That's no hero. What am I supposed to learn from him? I've learned to keep my tongue in my mouth. Except when I'm licking my fingers to swipe my kicks.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005, 03:38 PM EST
[General]
Christmas Day
I love ignoring my family as much as the next guy. But c'mon...two NBA games and two NFL games on Christmas day? Are you trying to ruin me? I'm surprised there wasn't a special, Sunday morning Tiger vs. Phil head-to-head golf-off. Or a congressional hearing rematch with Palmeiro, Big Mac, and the politicians. Heaven forbid I spend my Holiday morning talking to my wife or playing with my son. Heaven forbid I catch up with the old man, or tell my mom how much I appreciate her. Heaven forbid I give my grandparents the update on how much school I have left and why it's taking me so long to graduate. Heaven forbid I exchange small talk with the in-laws and distant relatives whose names I've forgotten. You know what, never mind. Thanks. And congratulations to Gary Payton for hitting that three against his old team.
Seahawks vs. Colts
If any of you actually thought this was a preview of the Super Bowl, you're crazy. Sure, the teams might match up in Detroit for Super Bowl XL, but not these two teams. The Colts weren't even playing. They had nothing to play for. The Seahawks still had home field advantage to clinch, and know they've gotten no respect around the league...so they had something to prove. No Marvin Harrison, no Dwight Freeney, no Tony Dungy, and half-hearted efforts from many Colts left this match-up very one-sided. But I promise if they meet on February 6th, game two will have a much different feel than game one.
(And the winner for the most obvious observation goes to....ME!)
Bush...it's what's for dinner.
What a horrible title. I'm sorry. But I can't get Reggie off my mind. Whichever team gets him will be the next big thing. I don't usually feel that way. The #1 pick hasn't been as valuable as it should be (ask the 49ers). But no matter who gets the first pick in 2006 (the Texans, Jets, Packers, Saints, or the 49ers), they will be happy selecting Reggie Bush. I wonder if Bush will stay with #5 in the NFL or go to #21 like L.T. I wonder if Bush will return kicks in the NFL or if he will be considered too valuable as an RB. I wonder if Bush's jersey will be the most popular in his first year or his second. I wonder if Reggie has any time for a new friend. I like Reggie. I think he seems like a nice guy. I would would play playstation with him if he asked me to.
Speaking of being pathetic, in Madden I traded a few of my Vikes to get the #5 overall pick. To the delight of my fans, I selected Reggie Bush. My first season with Bush as my RB just ended. He led the league in TDs and finished 2nd in MVP voting. The Vikings won the Super Bowl... This means absolutely nothing. I just thought maybe if Reggie was reading this he would laugh and contact me and fly me out to Pasadena to watch the Rose Bowl. I totally don't have to work that day.
Reggie, Reggie, Reggie.
Final Thought
Am I considered a bad person if I went to Church on Sunday but mostly thought of being home opening my presents?
p.s Harold. Did you get the Christmas present I sent you? Oh. Right. I didn't send one. That's because I don't have your address you sneaky son-of-a...
Thursday, December 22, 2005, 11:39 AM EST
[General]
...then I don't want to be right.
I've tried, but I just don't enjoy watching the news. I wish I were a good citizen, but I guess I'm not. I hate the sound of the 10 o'clock news introduction. I seldom read the front page of the paper, or the local section. And I despise the weather. All I want is sports.
Responsible adults are convinced that I should involve myself more with the world around me. They're convinced I should vote. They're convinced that the nightly news is an important program to watch. I just can't make myself do it.
To me, the news is just as much entertainment as sports. Who cares about a flood in Nebraska? Really, a 24-pound baby was just born in Russia? The stocks are down 3%? I don't care. Maybe one day I will. But right now, Tony Dungy's son being found dead, and how it will affect the best team in the NFL, is just more interesting to me. Kobe Bryant scored 30 points in one quarter? Where are the highlights? Is using steriods cheating? Let us debate.
...then I don't want to grow up.
When I was 8, all I cared about was sports. My parents got divorced that year. (Cry me a river, right?) And my passion was okay. My mom just laughed about it. "What can I say? He's a real sports nut." I was just like my father.
But now if I ask for a pack of baseball cards for Christmas, people tell me to grow up. "Don't you want a coffee-maker? Or a set of wrenches?" No! I want to see if I can get an Andruw Jones hologram card. I want some excitement. When I ask for a Harold Miner throwback jersey, people think I'm joking. "Dress your age." Now I can't wear jerseys? My favorite players wear 'em. My favorite rappers wear 'em. What's next, you gonna tell me I can't wear wristbands?
...then my wife should leave me.
My future mother-in-law wrote me a letter before I married her daughter. She gave me a bunch of advice, but the only thing I remember is that she told me not to put sports ahead of my family. What can I say? Mother-in-laws are never happy.
I try to include my family in my passion for sports. I've already chosen my son's favorite team for him. (His name is Cy and the 'C' on his Cubs hat looks like it was made for him). Our son-in-the-oven, Bo, will be a Red Sox fan. (Although when they lost Mr. Damon, I started to have doubts).
I encourage my wife to find attractive sports stars. It helps her watch the games. She used to have a thing for Bryon Russell, but then the Jazz got rid of him. And now that Brett Favre is retiring, I'm getting desperate. I try to have her watch games when Mark Mulder pitches (he's my man-crush too). But she thinks he has a weird nose.
I'll say this much, though. My family tries. There's nothing better than lying in bed when my alarm goes off and both my wife and I just sit and listen to sports talk together. Mike & Mike. The Herd. When I hear her laugh, I can't help but smile. Though I'm sure my mother-in-law is somewhere shaking her head.
Final Thought
Suicide is selfish.
p.s. Harold. Remember when you used to dribble the ball behind your back twice? I still try that, but I usually get the ball stolen.
...your rec team finishes the season 0-9. Yep. You remember those county rec teams you used to play on. Well, I'm 26 and I'm still playing. And I'm losing. It's not that I suck. I made a basket tonight. And the guys I play with pick me up. We won a few 3-on-3 tourneys in our day. But that was 10 years ago. Now we're matching up against these muscle-bound freaks straight out of high school who are certain that if an NBA scout just happens to stop by, then they won't need to enroll in the community college next fall. And these dudes got energy, man. I forced myself to chug down a SoBe Adrenaline Rush before the game, just to keep up, and it forced me into the bathroom at halftime. It doesn't help that we only have five players on our team. It's not like little league where you have 12 guys on the team and sub someone in after every dead ball. Back then you played your butt off, because if you got caught walking you were on the bench. We only ask 5 guys to play because it costs like $60 a person and we want playing time. If we ever have a 6th, he sits on the bench all game just waiting to come in. He raises his hand during dead balls, but nobody looks over. He asks if anyone needs a breather during time-outs and everyone's fine. Maybe instead of asking a 6th player to show up, we should invest in an oxygen machine for our bench. It couldn't hurt.
AFC vs. NFC
I've always been an NFC guy. My favorite teams growing up were in the NFC. My favorite players were in the NFC. I have a t-shirt with Vince Lombardi on it. (Those old enough to know about the NFL-AFL rivalry might appreciate that one). But I'm starting to believe that the AFC is just plain better. Sure, the NFC has some tough teams. Seattle's strong this year. Carolina looks good. Chicago's tough at home. But seriously, do you think any of those teams could make it versus the AFC's best? The Colts are loaded. 14-0 or 13-1, it doesn't matter. They're loaded. As the Colts now know, the Chargers are for real. The Steelers are putting it back together. And the Patriots are scaring the hell out of some teams. Are you telling me that you think Seattle could beat any of those four teams if they matched up tomorrow? No way! Seattle is soft, I don't care what they did against Philly last week. Did you see them almost lose against the 4-win Titans? And Da Bears got their hats handed to them at Heinz field last week. They can only win if it's a white Christmas at Soldier Field. As much as it pains me to say it, the NFC is the equivalent of the Eastern Conference in the NBA a few years ago, where the conference champ would just be the runner-up to the eventual champion Lakers or Spurs. This year my money's on America.
Monday Night Massacre
The Ravens defeated the Packers 246-3 tonight. I didn't watch the game because I worked late, I had a basketball game, I had to buy a fruit plate for tomorrow's Christmas party. Look, I just didn't want to watch the game, alright? Sure, the Vikes play the Ravens next week, so I guess I could've gotten a preview of what Minnesota will be facing. But I'm not Mike Tice. I won't be preparing my players for what to expect on Christmas night. (I keep sending Zygi Wolf letters with suggestions, but I think he's ignoring me). It all comes down to having something better to do on Monday night. This never used to be the case. September through December was booked every Monday night, no matter what. "Are you ready for some football!?!" Yes, I was. But these days it seems like MNF is about as exciting to watch as UHF. (Remember Weird Al and Kramer before he became Kramer?) I think the execs at ABC or ESPN or Disney or the United Nations should strongly consider changing the scheduling procedure. In the summer, Green Bay at Baltimore with only three games to play seems like a pretty good match-up. Both teams should've been hovering around .500 fighting for a playoff spot. But with a combined 7-19 record, these teams are closer to Leinart than they are to Lombardi. But if the scheduling folks made the schedule let's say, two weeks in advance...San Diego at Indianapolis would've been on Monday night. And I would've had my wife buy the fruit plate.
Final Thought
Hey, did you guys hear that the NBA season has started?
p.s. Harold, tonight I wore number 4 just for you. (I couldn't find my 32 jersey and two guys were already wearing 23). One love.
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