ESPN's Bill Simmons, whom I used to like back when he was the Boston Sports Guy with his own site but now has gotten incredibly annoying, nonetheless can still have the occasional flash of insight. Recently he wrote an interesting column in ESPN The Magazine concerning the demise of tennis as a popular TV sport. I'm not that much older than Bill so we do have sort of the same points of reference, and with Wimbledon currently going on a lot of what he said made sense.
Tennis was never on a par with baseball or football, but when I was growing up it was considered an important sport. It was groundbreaking in a lot of ways as well--I was six when Billie Jean King played the famous match against Bobby Riggs and beat him at a time when women's rights were very much in the forefront of the American consciousness, and Arthur Ashe and Althea Gibson broke the color barrier. It was a sport of finesse, the great players being able to drop the ball precisely where it needed to go. It was a primarily English/American/Australian sport, but then the Iron Curtain parted to let through Martina Navratilova and Ilie Nastase. Martina definitely paved the way for players like the Williams sisters--she didn't finesse the ball so much as pounded it at her opponent. She and Chris Evert fought it out on numerous occasions, and there was a definite changing of the guard once Martina got in stride. Nastase was nicknamed Nasty for good reason--he had a devastating serve (once clocked at the fastest in the Guinness Book of World Records in the seventies) and a vicious temper. Then came Bjorn Borg, the expressionless Swede who dominated tennis in the late seventies and early eighties.
Two of the best sporting events I ever saw were the Wimbledon finals between Borg and John McEnroe in 1980 and 1981. NBC, who broadcast Wimbledon at the time, always had "Breakfast at Wimbledon" where coverage would start at six in the morning with Dick Enberg doing the play-by-play. My brother and I would set ourselves up in front of the TV with cereal and toast and watch tennis. The first final was epic, going five sets with a 20 minute fourth-set tiebreaker that had my brother and I yelling at the TV so loudly (we were both rooting for McEnroe) that we woke my father up. Borg ended up winning but not before leaving everything on the court. The next year's was just as epic, with McEnroe winning and dropping to his knees exhausted afterwards. You see that frequently now, but McEnroe was really the first to bring that sort of emotion to the court.
Today, tennis is no longer a game of finesse. With monstrous graphite rackets and players much bigger, stronger and faster (come on, Venus Williams is 6'2" and probably goes about 170, she could kick McEnroe's ass without breaking a sweat), it's turned into a smashfest. You rarely see volleys or touch plays or matches lasting more than two hours. It doesn't help that the current king of men's tennis, Roger Federer, has about as much personality as grass and Maria Sharapova, while good, gets more press for her outfits and model looks than for her tennis. It's also turned into a young person's sport, where players frequently retire in their early twenties. You won't see another player like Jimmy Connors making it into the semis at a Grand Slam event in his late thirties. Now you burn out and fade away and take your millions with you when you're barely old enough to drink.
You know how Americans (and I am totally generalizing here, but after enduring that piece of shit soccer match, I'm allowed to generalize) hate soccer because no one ever scores and it's boring?
Here's what happened in the Germany/Spain final: Nobody scored. It was boring. Outside of a fluky goal by Spain's Fernando Torres and his tragic, tragic hair during which every single person in my basement screamed, in unison, 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, LEHMANN?' (I also got a pair of text messages and an instant message demanding the exact same valuable piece of information.) Lehmann was overmatched, out of place, and it was a whole big stupid mess and Lahm (the pocket defender) has a lot of explaining to do as to why Torres could get past him like that.
But that was it. That was the only goal. Torres had a shot later, and missed. The most hilarious whiff of the tourney, however, goes to Spain's Marcos Senna who had a perfect shot lined up and instead, tripped over his own feet and went sliding to the ground...backwards, while the ball sailed off helplessly.
Germany never showed up. There were questions as to whether or not German midfielder Michael Ballack would even start and, well, I'll be honest. Outside of suddenly becoming mindblowingly hot when he came away from a collision with blood streaming down his face, he....didn't really do much of anything. At all. Well, except get himself a yellowcard and unloading on the ref, which was also, um, hot. Bastian Schweinsteiger tried, but when no one else (Podolski, where the hell were you?) on his team showed up to help him out, there was only so much he could do.
When it boils down to it, both teams played some pretty atrocious football, but Germany just couldn't break through Spain's first line of defense, and so the final remains Spain 1-0 Germany. Blech.
Great, Spain. Go lift your racist-ass coach over your head some more. I really, really hope that you drop him, and that he takes out a chunk of Sergio Ramos' hair on the way down. (Yeah, I don't so much like Spain. Or Aragones.)
Before I get to the aftermath of the NBA Draft (naturally late, too...I've managed to be late to school every day this week, and it looks even worse considering my classmates are goody-two-shoes nut jobs who show up like, 45 minutes early. People suck.), I have to have a good laugh at this gem:
"I decided the best thing for myself would be to go back to school, get my degree and have something to fall back on," he said. "Become a man. My mom always preached about getting a degree and stuff like that, so I definitely wanted to do that for my mother. Just becoming a Pitt alumni, that's priceless."
Those fine words are courtesy of Greg Oden's little brother, Pitt forward Sam Young. Many things come to my mind reading this, some of which are highly inappropriate to post even for this blog, but...I guess Sam "Old" Young realizes the chances of a 6'5" forward who can't do much besides dunk making it to the NBA are slim, so he needs to network with those Pitt alums to land himself a J-O-B. Hey, it's worked out well for Maggie and I. I just never really thought to call my 4 years at Pitt "priceless". By the way, I graduated 2 months ago and still don't have a degree.
Also, the article that this comes from is also amusing since they're making it seem like the 3 people who will be seniors in college ball next year are going to make the year SO thrilling. I like Tyrese Rice as much as the next ball fan, but uh, he's not exactly a superstar. As the first section basically slobbers and states...it's really more about the Carolina seniors AND juniors returning, because at this point, nobody else has any hope.
So, anyways, some late thoughts on the draft and its aftermath:
1. I've already expressed my issue with coaches being obsessed with converting combo/2 guards into pure point guards. It can work, yes...but how often? And when you have a good point guard available, why aren't you taking him? People knock DJ Augustin, but he CAN be a good NBA point guard if he just CALMS DOWN with his shot. He's a damn pitbull with the ball though. His size doesn't matter. I watched him crash the lane for 2 years in the Big 12.
But then something INSANE happens like Russell Westbrook going fourth. Now I love that kid, and it's more than his charming smile and the fact that he looks 12. BUT HE IS NOT AN NBA POINT GUARD RIGHT NOW. He played what, a couple games at the point when Collison was out? He led his team in assists? SO WHAT?! He's a slasher, and he had Kevin Love down low...of course he gets easy dimes. He can dish it off to Love under the basket or kick out to Josh Shipp. I'd average 4-5 assists a game too if I was a Bruin.
And even better, now the Sonics have a 2 guard who they're making a point, and a power forward who should play small forward who's playing the 2. Thanks for ruining Kevin Durant's career further.
2. Since we're discussing Bruins...can I buy the Grizzlies like, yesterday? I still can't believe they ruined their entire team about 4 hours after making a decision that would have made them playoff-caliber. This is another thing I blogged about weeks ago...HOW ARE RUDY GAY AND OJ MAYO GOING TO COEXIST?!?! Even worse, they damn near are playing similar positions. If you're gonna bring in another superstar, you should have pulled the trigger on that proposed Miami trade and sacrificed Mike Conley and co for Lil' Mike. At least he's a big man. Well, according to Kansas State. In real life, he's a midget.
What kills me is that Kevin Love was THE perfect fit for the Grizz. He's not gonna score like he did in college, but he's going to be a VERY effective big man (an anomaly in the NBA these days). For the Grizz, it works out because he will take up space on the low block, freeing Hakim Warrick to play a little looser down low. Warrick can be great offensively, but he's never going to be strong enough at the power forward spot to be effective if all big man defensive pressure is on him. He's a skinny, weak dude. It's reality. But Love would have relieved that pressure, opened things up for him, and the rest of the team too. Outlet pass, blah, blah, blah...now we'll watch Rudy and Orange Juice fight all season. It's hard out here for a pimp.
3. CDR, Super Mario, Lil' Mike's possibly gay lover DeAndre Jordan...man, y'all look dumb right now. Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't...but I love it when early entries who SWORE they were first rounders fall to the second. Especially you first 2...you were a year away from your degree. And CDR might have gotten redemption and a ring. Oh well!
4. My favorite moment of the night was Eric Gordon's mismatched suit and Jay Bilas' draft analysis of him, which was essentially, "He can't run, he can't rebound, he can't defend...he can score?" Gordon and the Clips are a marriage of epic failure. Now there's a guy who should have fell in the draft. Yes, a one-dimensional guard who had an emotional meltdown once his coach was fired will be awesome in the NBA! The second the Clips screw up the whole season in October, he'll start crying and average 0.4 ppg. I love freshmen.
5. Yes, I did cry with Darrell Arthur. I laughed at Brook Lopez. And the Knicks. Mafia payoffs are funny.
6. People who weren't in the lottery who might still turn out alright or awesome: Bill Walker (duh), Sean Singletary (A REAL POINT GUARD), Darrell Arthur (yeah, I never knew what to expect of him either at Kansas, but why not? I feel the same about Brandon Rush.), Courtney Lee, Joey Dorsey (the next Ben Wallace)
7. People who shouldn't have even been drafted (aka a group of big men who are either stiffs or too skinny): Roy Hibbert, Kosta Koufos, Donte Green, Anthony Randolph, DeAndre Jordan, DJ White
8. People who I will always want to punch in the face: Deron Washington, the crying Lopez twins, Eric Gordon
I don't even know what a Blood Elf is. You'd have to ask my husband, since our marriage has room for but one WarCraft geek. That's not my point.
My point is this: after publicly fighting the Red Sox and the team's doctors about the necessity of shoulder surgery at the beginning of the season (They thought he'd be fine with rehab. He and his doctors disagreed. We have all wasted a whole lot of time and money on this silly little rehab project.), Curt from the Car announced today that he'll be undergoing 'season ending' surgery next week.
Absolutely no one should be surprised that the...opinionated and vocal, shall we say, Schilling announced his surgery plans on his blog, 38 pitches.
Now, this particular Bitch is a Red Sox fan, through and through. I'm feeling pretty okay with this news. I mean, yes, Schill was part of the two most recent World Series Champion teams (nope. That never gets old.) but...okay, I'm going to be frank. He's also sucked. A lot. Like, since 2005, he's done a whole boatload of sucking.
Now, that's not all his fault. He was injured, for one thing, and, well, let's just say it: he's old. He hasn't had a solid fastball in more than three years, and he's had to use his famous studying patterns just to help him fool hitters with a sackful of junk pitches. It hasn't always worked, either. I went from being solidly confident in every Schilling start to mildly concerned to emulating his treatment of Mitch Williams- putting a towel over my head so I didn't have to watch the inevitable horror. Sure, he's thrown some gems in the intervening years, but not that many, and they were few and far between.
But some of it was his fault. The Red Sox were so concerned about his physique that they padded his extension with incentives for showing up to Spring Training at playing weight. He made the decision to hold this surgery off- had he had it back when it was firt suggested, he might be pitching after the All Star break this season.
Now? I'm hard pressed to see any way that this isn't career-ending surgery, rather than simply season-ending. He's a 41 year old pitcher having surgery on his shoulder. That's not something that you just bounce back from, and Curt's had a history of slow returns from injury. Hell, I was surprised that he decided to come back to pitch this season. (Not that he's actually thrown a single pitch for the Sox, but whatever.) It might be unfair, but it wouldn't be untrue to say that he's old, he's fat, and he can't pitch any more, so it's probably time to hang it up.
At this point, I have to say that I think he's done, unless he signs a short-term, Lieberthal-esque deal so he can retire as a Phillie, and I don't even think that's particularly likely- more on Curt's end than on the part of the Phillies. (The Phils are so desperate for solid pitching that I heard they tried to sign Charlie Sheen, provided he remembered to wear his glasses.)
It's the end of an era, sure, but it's just that. The end. Thanks for the rings, Curt. They're kinda pretty.
Yawn, did the NBA Finals or something just happen? As much as everyone likes to get on the Celts for "buying" the ring, it's still not the easiest thing to successfully complete. Just ask their fellow Boston brethren Pats LOL! All kidding aside, it proves what I've been saying for awhile - Kobe's championship career was made by Shaq, and, uh, DON'T BLOW 30 POINT LEADS.
So Andy Katz released his updated pre-season Top 25 for men's college bball, a fairly absurd lovefest with the Big East. I have no problem with people believing that the Big East is awesome or anything, but for someone like me who lived and breathed and worked with Big East basketball for the last 4 years, I can easily spot posers who read a few box scores here and there and assume that means they know everything. And yes, Andy Katz, YOU are a poser.
I have no issue with UNC as #1...it's a legitimate belief that most of the nation shares. They are returning their final 4 team, adding on Larry Drew (who should prove to be just as competent as Quentin Thomas as a backup PG) and some others who will only give a stronger support to the team. Blah blah blah "barring any major injury" or Ty Lawson learning how to hold his liquor, these guys are fine. My wife will finally shut up about Roy not being able to win with players he recruited.
And then it goes downhill. Now, for those that know me, they know I have a deep, unbridled, awful, wretched hatred towards the University of Pittsburgh Panthers men's basketball team. For those that don't know - they made my life miserable for 4 years. You can only watch so many 12-0 starts (with all those victories coming against JV squads), mediocre Big East performances (particularly on the road), Big East Tourney final losses, second round NCAA exits, and 3 pointers given up before you can't take it anymore.
When everyone picked Pitt to suddenly win the national championship after beating Georgetown in the Big East tourney, I was wondering if I was the only person who actually SAW their season - a lukewarm effort that consistently failed against the powers of the Big East. I also wondered had anyone seen Duke or GTown's seasons (ironically, I was probably the only person on Earth without affiliations to either school who correctly knew both would lose in the second round of the NCAAs - awkward big men, or just a lack of them, doesn't bode for much of a run). They couldn't defend after Mike Cook's knee died on national TV (Yeah, running a 2-3 zone that forces Sam Young and DeJuan Blair to become wings when they can barely run is a FANTASTIC idea Jamie! Those other teams are draining 70 3s a game because they're just that awesome!), and well...never could shoot. The only thing I gave the Panthers credit for was getting Blair, a huge improvement on the front-line over Aaron Gray because he could actually MAKE open lay-ups and do other things most normal big men can do.
But Andy, let's think about things. Yes, so apparently, Mike Cook somehow got a 45th season in college ball. I wasn't aware that this was official (I mean, I'm on their athletic dept. mailing list - I get updates that the Wannstache is breathing), but even if it is...okay, their defense should be solid enough again. Cook allows the Panthers defensive flexibility since his quickness and agility and size can guard nearly everyone but the 5, and they can switch between zone and man when necessary.
But tell me...HOW IS THIS TEAM SCORING POINTS? I think Mr. Katz needs the memo that Ronald Ramon and Keith Benjamin graduated, and nobody else can drain a shot beyond 10 feet. Unless someone knows something about Brad Wanamaker that I don't...I have no idea who is putting the ball in the basket. Opposing D can just guard Young and Blair. That worked out great for the Celtics against the Kobe. And obviously, Levance Fields THINKS he can drain shots, but he has been attending the Carl Krauser school of PGs, and probably now believes he has a right to take 75 poor outside shots a game. Jermaine Dixon is supposed to be a legit backup PG, but until then, this team is still slow and somehow has even less ball-handling ability, despite losing Butterfingers Ramon. Just press them a bit. There's no hope.
And regardless, it doesn't matter how "great" of a team the Panthers put together. They can't win when it matters. Never have, so I can't believe they ever will. Coach Antigua also left, which is bigger than people may think. Besides his bowties and how he traditionally winked and smiled at me before every game, he was the connecting point between Coach Dixon (who nobody likes) and the players. Yes, a team coached by someone who nobody feels warm and fuzzy about is SURE to second best in the country!
So seriously, watch college basketball before compiling these lists, Andy.
On the flipside, what team from the Big East SHOULD be #2? Try the Louisville Cardinals. I was apparently the only person outside of Kentucky who ever believed in them last season. They lost Derrick Caracter, which is probably best for Coach Pitino's sanity, and David Padgett...but they're replacing him with Samardo Samuels, who, while a bit clunky, is still bound to be a solid big guy. That's all the Cards need...Earl Clark and Terrence Williams (when he's not 3 point happy) are slashers who thrive inside. Samuels just needs to crowd the lane to create spacing for them. But the thing is, he'll still put the ball in the basket, so it's all just bonuses. Edgar Sosa didn't have quite the year people expected, but I saw him KILL Pitt with his shot, and man, when that kid is on...you're dead.
And, because they're coached by my favorite Mafia man, you know they are still, and always will be, a great defensive team. Don't sleep on the Cards. We should easily see a rematch of that Elite 8 UNC/Louisville game.
Other teams that will be dangerous:
1. Tennessee - Bruce Pearl could coach a squad of midgets and I'd pick them to go deep. He's the master at finding the strengths in his players and exploiting them to the utmost. Chris Lofton and 80% of the Smiths are gone, but Scotty Hopson more than enough makes up for that. Hopson has an anger from people not recruiting him strong enough, and can pretty much do anything on the court. More dimensions than Chris Lofton...uhhh, isn't that an improvement? I also think either J.P. Prince or Wayne Chism will be elevating their game to a more elite level, but regardless, you can always count on them for consistent production and a random breakout game.
2. Notre Dame - Every time I watch Luke Harangody, I can't get over how graceful he is for being 400 lbs. As long Kyle McAlarney says no to drugs, they'll be fine in the Big East. Still waiting for them to prove they can win during tourney time, though.
3. Arizona State - Does anyone even know who James Harden is? He easily had the 3rd best year out of the freshman class (behind Lil' Mike and Gummybears Rose), yet was ranked #356 on the most-hyped list. Since you have no clue who he is, just check his first year stat line:
Nearly 18 ppg, 52% from the field, 40% from 3, 5 rpg, 3 apg, 2 spg.
Digest that for a minute. ISN'T THAT A NAISMITH CANDIDATE STAT LINE???? Yet as part of the West Coast Bias, somehow Lil' Mike leading his mediocre school was just THAT much more amazing than Harden leading his mediocre school.
Everyone is on Blake Griffin for leading candidate to be the best of the 4 remaining sophmores in the country, but...JAMES HARDEN. I guarantee you...Arizona State finishes in the top 2 in the Pac-10. Maybe even first, considering there may be a guard meltdown at U-C, L-A. This is a team that SHOULD have made the NCAAs had tornadoes not raped Atlanta and Georgia won the SEC. They swept 'Zona, and also have a pretty sweet big dude with Jeff Pendergraph. But who cares...they have James Harden. He's a star. He should be the #1 pick in next year's draft. And uh...he actually stayed in school to win. Reason #4554 why he's so freakin' awesome.
Otherwise...the rest of the field is contingent on many factors. Villanova can be good...if Scottie Reynolds and Corey Fisher learn what the word "consistent" means. Georgetown might be scary if Greg Monroe actually checks out to be more like Jeff Green than Mr. Stiff himself, Roy Hibbert. Arizona got their star volleyball player back, and Brandon Jennings is easily already the best point guard in America. Kansas lost everyone but Sherron Collins, but I'm excited to see what my Philly boys Markieff and Marcus Morris will do down low for the Jayhawks. Duke will be Duke...I'm waiting on Kyle Singler to take things to the next level, and Gerald Junior at 100% after his wrist surgery should be exciting for his slashing ability and uh, his massive biceps (UM, SRSLY, THEY'RE HYPNOTIZING). Texas might not fall that far...AJ Abrams + Damion James = pretty powerful inside/out duo. Maybe knowing DJ Augustin won't be taking 95% of the Longhorn's shots will make them less nervous.
Blah blah...college basketball has a fairly open field this year with such a huge exodus of players to the NBA. The incoming class is solid, but not packed with superstars like last year. As a result, we get a more even playing field. This isn't last year, where there were 4 great teams (Kansas, Memphis, UNC, UCLA), and a bunch of mediocre crap afterwards. Now...there's 1 great team and a bunch of potentially medicore crap?
But Pitt is NOT the #2 team in the country. Try, like, #20. And falling. Sorry y'all!
(aka I'm still pretty bitter about Duke losing to Pitt in December. Even all that alcohol I drank wasn't enough to numb the pain of that wretched, awful, excruciating night. Merry Christmas, here's Mike Cook blowing out his knee!)
This entire blog post is actually about people blowing out their knees at bad times, but more of that in a second. First, an update on NBA Finals analysis:
The Lakers are the most inept team in the final minutes of games. I don't care if Kobe is 0-76,595...he should probably be the ONLY person touching the ball. Maybe playing defense, too. Oh, wait, he is. Oops. And why were the Grizzlies dumb for trading Gasol, again? Aside from it letting Hakim Warrick flourish offensively, he's clearly proving that he isn't exactly the kinda big man you add to win a championship. He's more passive-aggressive than most Europeans. Yeah numbers numbers...but all I care is what people do in the final minutes. The Lakers haven't really gotten this down yet in the series, and they were just lucky to come out with the W tonight...and in reality, David Stern fixed this series to go to 7, so we needn't be surprised.
Coming up tomorrow (or honestly, whenever I feel like sitting my behind down at my slow ass computer this week) will be my overly early and inaccurate 2008-09 NCAA men's basketball preview, made semi-legit since the NBA Early Entry Withdrawal deadline is tomorrow (today?) at 4pm (aka a great day to laugh at people who think leaving school to be a potential late second round pick is a good idea). At this point, I'm just waiting on the Carolina trio. Joe Alexander officially decided to stay in today, draining WVU's championship hopes. Smart move though...he's coming off a hot tournament where he managed not to look awkward, clunky, lost, or anything else people probably would have associated with him pre-Huggy Bear era. I was just looking forward to the Pitt kids crying another year.
But on the saddest note of the draft, a part that makes me forget how angry I am at 95% of the guys who declared (particularly ones whose first names start with "Mario" and end with "Chalmers"), news was released late tonight that everyone's favorite Kansas State punching bag, William Henry Walker, injured his knee, YET AGAIN. All the details are murky...but it insinuates it's another ACL tear, and that he'll be pulling out of the draft.
I've had issues with Bill all season. I wondered where he disappeared to mentally most games, why he got so fat, how jealous he was of Lil' Mike, blah blah...but I love the kid. LOVE HIM. I've always felt he'd make a better pro than Orange Juice Mayonnaise (less of an arsenal of skills, but lower expectations...Bill would shock people, while Juice would just disappoint). I defend him, his decisions, and his future to the end, even back when everyone else forgot who he ever was.
I wrote the following about Billy as part of my anger-inducing non-fiction piece about why the world sucks for po' folk, and it feels appropriate to share tonight. These are my words, and I will murder you if you try to steal them for your own. Seriously. I will find you! DON'T TEST ME! Yes, it's Really Long, but it's worth it, whether or not you know who Bill or what basketball is. I even made Maggie sniffle a bit over this.
It’s early on a Saturday evening in late March 2008, and the #11 seed Kansas State Wildcats are peeling themselves off the Qwest Center floor that the #3 seed Wisconsin Badgers just stomped them into during the second round of the 2008 NCAAs. As per 2007-08 K-State post-game routine, freshman forward phenom bookends Michael Beasley and Bill Walker are sitting dejectedly in the locker room, mulling over another loss, and getting pummeled with questions as to whether or not they’ll enter the NBA draft.
Though they shake the inquiries off each time with a standard “I’m-not-in-the-mood-to-discuss-this-since -you-already-know-the-answer-anyways” response, nearly everyone who followed this duo – from Manhattan, Kansas to Manhattan, New York – knows the answers (“Yes” and “Yes”), and whether they are the right decisions (“Of course!” to Beasley; a range of “Hell no!”’s and “Uhhhh…”’s to Walker).
The supporting evidence is simple – Beasley is coming off one of the best statistical seasons any single human being has ever had in sports, shattering college basketball and Sportscenter appearance records. He was the leader on a hapless Kansas State team full of scrubs, torn ACLs, guys who would be good someday, and guys who would never contribute at all. With the exception of a 5 point aberration against Xavier, a game where he left his regular playing shoes in Kansas, Beasley’s 33 game college career is an endless highlight reel of powerful breakaway dunks, effortless finger-rolls in traffic, swishing three-pointers, screaming chest thumps, and royal purple flooding the court that made fans and NBA teams at the bottom of the standings smile and swoon. His ever-present electric dimpled smile, sleepy green eyes, and the constant joke on the tip of his tongue will perfectly complement whatever sneaker and sports energy drink he chooses to endorse for millions.
And then there’s Bill Walker. Once a YouTube video dunking deity. Once thought to be the second best high school basketball player in the nation. Once rumored to actually be a better pro prospect than his last superstar teammate at North College Hill High School, OJ Mayo. Once expected to be the savior and star of Kansas State basketball.
Now, just a dude nobody really wants to take a chance on. Someone who people say scowls too much – an angry, scrunched up frown that further darkens his already dark brown face. Someone who is apparently not allowed to emotionally display the frustration that the world and life has caused him.
The person who was once the most athletic, exciting forward to watch play is now watching the most athletic, exciting forward to watch play. After tearing his ACL for the second time in January 2007, Walker has come back as a “has been”, a “never will be”, and only a “maybe” for the risky types. No longer able to rely on those hops that once made him famous, he became an afterthought, another one of the four cheerleaders on the court, as per team basketball regulations, watching Beasley.
Of course, not many afterthoughts average 16 points and 6 rebounds in their first full season after a major knee injury. And anyone who remotely followed K-State basketball understood that most of those 21 wins came from the statistical support Beasley received from Walker – and that a good chunk of their 12 losses were the result of statistical and mental disappearances by him. The defining moment, the moment his NBA future may have finally slipped down a drain, was a 34 minute, 1 point, 0-14 nightmare against the Texas Longhorns on ESPN’s Big Monday – a game attended, watched, and drooled over by NBA scouts for the numerous NBA prospects dribbling a basketball on a court at one time.
He’s still a “maybe” because of moments like his first half of NCAA tournament basketball, while he, not Beasley, pushed the Wildcats to an upset victory over his former superstar teammate OJ Mayo’s #6 seed USC Trojans with 17 first half points. He’s still a “maybe” because while he’s not quite the explosive dunker and slasher he once was, he’s worked on developing his weaknesses, particularly outside shooting, to try to compensate for the fact that he never will be the person everyone expected him to be, and to develop new expectations for who he can be. But most people who have a chance to make a difference in his future don’t have any desire to make him a pro. He is an expired product, and wasn’t consumed while still fresh.
But all of that? Strictly on-court hoops logic, reasons scouts and coaches and blog writers and TV personalities will give when they say why or why not these were good decisions for Mike Beasley and Bill Walker.
Since 1971, the NBA has implemented two very significant rules in determining eligibility for the entering the NBA. The first, the result of a complicated legal battle over young ABA star Spencer Haywood, overturned the original rule that a player couldn’t enter the NBA until his college class graduated. Known simply as the hardship rule, players who clearly had the talent and skills for the NBA level and a need for the NBA paycheck could forego their remaining amateur eligibility and turn pro. Worked great for everyone, too – the league received a quicker influx of exciting talent, often coming from those streets of America’s inner cities. The kids from the streets of America’s inner cities received the rich man’s paycheck for their performances, allowing them to help themselves, their families, and anyone else they could dole their money out to.
The second rule, an attempt to curb a glut of straight-to-the-NBA-from-high-school mistakes in the late 90s and early 2000s, stipulated that a player must be 19 years old by draft year’s end, and his high school class must be one year removed from their graduation. Essentially, everyone has to attend college, or get very creative, for at least a year. Again though, it’s worked great for nearly everyone – college programs are getting at least a year out of guys who probably would have never entered a classroom, the NBA and the potential NBA players are getting a year of maturity and experience that can make huge differences in their career acceleration.
Both of these rules might ruin Bill Walker’s life. Long and complicated story short, Walker found out at the start of the 2006-07 school year that he was no longer eligible to play high school ball, due to some odd and inexplicable school system glitch that never transferred credits he earned years ago at a different school. Any other time prior to that year, no big thing – he’d finish whatever was left so he could graduate early, and then enter the NBA draft and get paid. It was at the prime of hype in his young ball career, and there was no question whichever lucky loser of a lottery team needed a small forward would gladly call his name to come shake David Stern’s hand.
But it was right after the first NBA draft since 1971 that barred high school players from entering, and Walker would have to wait until at least the 2008 NBA draft to even get whiff of the league. He managed to graduate high school early, enroll at Kansas State to be eligible for the winter sports semester, play a couple great games, and blow out his knee in a two month span, thus starting the downward spiral of his once sure-thing NBA career.
Many athletes have suffered similar harsh fates that ended their careers and potential careers early, but for someone who comes from extreme poverty like Walker, this fate is something he can’t accept. He has a single mother working for scraps at hardware stores that he wants to provide for. He grew up in a home so physically distraught by poverty that he writes the address on his shoes every game to remind himself and the world who doesn’t quite understand that he’s refusing to accept this fate because he simply can’t go back. He was supposed to make it out, and everything now sucking him back are forces beyond his control. He is being punished for simply existing, always being in the wrong place at the wrong time despite making all the right decisions.
Walker knows that he is risking never getting a guaranteed contract, risking foregoing his remaining college eligibility and easy chance at a degree to fall back on, risking everything he has on a hunch that somebody still thinks he can be that amazing player he had the potential to be. If he doesn’t do it, he risks tearing another knee ligament or breaking a bone or statistical disappointments that will just send those NBA scouts further away. He risks having to scrap in minor leagues, overseas, working harder than he should have to so that he doesn’t have to go back to that house in West Virginia that he fears more than never making the NBA. He risks continuing to live in the poverty he’s already been in for over 20 years.
Meanwhile, Michael Beasley is being handed the world, and he doesn’t even really need it. Sure, his mother embodies a fairly common ghetto story by being a high school dropout with five kids by four different men, but she’s managed to pull herself together to provide a fairly stable, middle-class life for her herd of children, even moving the entire clan out to Kansas when he started school in fall 2007. Beasley himself lives a very cushy life, also calling his very well-to-do former AAU coach Curtis Malone a second father, and living with Malone’s family in their plush suburban Maryland pad during all non-Kansas State time.
Beasley doesn’t really need that NBA paycheck just yet. It’s just being handed to him, and sure, why not, he’ll cash it today. Walker is desperate for it. It may be his last chance at a decent paycheck in life, a paycheck that could revitalize his current family and stabilize his future one.
It’s hard to call Bill Walker’s decision to enter the NBA draft early crazy when it may be his last shot at ending his family’s financial hardships. How many of those scouts and coaches and blog writers and TV personalities who say Beasley would be crazy to stay and Walker crazy to go have any idea what it’s like to be poor, to be blessed with some extraordinary talent that you have a chance to harness and ride out of poverty, to only see your lone opportunity to end your suffering slip away, moment by waking moment?
It’s never crazy to do whatever you have to do to try and provide.
So Bill, we'll hope for better news tomorrow, kid. Nobody wants the enduring image of your career to be you peeing in towels.
After a weekend of staid and expected results (*yawn* Germany beat Poland, Austria embarrassed themselves, the Swiss demonstrated why they really should stay neutral in all international events and Portugal...won. The bitches.) Euro 2008 has managed to go all kinds of crazy over the last two days.
First an upstart Romanian team playing completely out of their heads managed to tie France, one of the favorites. Fine, fine, France didn't lose, exactly, but they couldn't manage to hang a point on Romania- the assumed weakest team in Group C, the Group of Death. But hey. It's Euro 2008. We wouldn't get out of the first round without some wacky-ass tie.
Or, you know. A wacky-ass loss. Because that's what happened when the Oranje (the Netherlands) hung up three goals to Nil on Italy, the defending World Cup Champions. Now. One of those goals, the first from Ruud van Nistelrooy, was, to put it mildly, controversial. (This particular bitch, having spent the entirety of the 2006 World Cup shrieking at the Azzuri for being a bunch of flopping bitches, takes particular delight in recognizing that Italy went down by a goal because Christian Panucci was too busy flopping off the pitch to pay attention to what was happening in the game. Suck it, Azzuri.) In the end, it didn't matter, as Holland scored twice more as the Italians couldn't put a game together. They were sluggish, they were slow, they were old (every member of the team over 30) and it. Was. Beautiful.
In fact, it might have been the craziest thing to happen since this weekend, until this afternoon's first match- Spain v. Russia. Russia lost, of course, because European teams only falter in Russia in the winter, but that's not the news. The news is David Villa's hat trick of goals, the first hat trick in Euro play in eight years. Spain wound up spanking the Russians 4-1 thanks to a head in from My Arsenal Boyfriend Cesc Fabregas.
For his ridiculous performance against the Russians, David Villa gets the honor of today's picture post. Look, people, there are some shallow reasons I watch soccer, too.
No, this isn't a post about pitchers at Georgia Tech (though if we must bring up the subject, really, I'm semi-amused at the idea of this kid trekking into the ghettos of the ATL Shawty to get his herron fix). This is about me. That's what it's always about. Me, me, me.
I've been quiet lately, mainly because I'm starting a new job after my month of doing nothing except meeting guys who installed my cable and hanging out with pigeons and homeless people at the harbor. Man, I love Baltimore. But there's another caveat to this.
I've officially overdosed on basketball.
"Really? At the start of the most marquee finals match-up since...the Lakers and Celtics last met? And you really call yourself a basketball junkie?" I'm sure that's what you're saying as you read this. And yes, it makes me feel guilty. Or like a girl. Whatever. You win.
Yes, my friends and enemies, I have overdosed. I am tired. I have had enough. I can only take so much more of Jesus Shuttleworth suddenly losing the fundamental ability that carried his entire career, and putting odds on which 7 footer will drive to the basket less - KG or Gasol, and watching Kobe grow that disgusted look on his face as he realizes what his teammates capabilities are, and staged knee injury dramatics, and former Lakers/Celtics references, and blah blah blah...
The last minute of Game 2 solidified that I'm through. I tuned in, just at that point, after deciding that packing in my 100+ degree apartment was more enthralling. Lakers down 4, 22 seconds remaining. Kobe inbounding. Classic play, something I saw even those inept Pittsburgh Panthers run on a thousand occasions - inbound ball, inbounder immediately pops unnoticed off a backscreen, gets the ball, drains the shot. It's the simplest play ever that utilizes weak side defenses and speed and the stupidity of the opposing defense and blah blah blah...with the setting of NBA Finals, chance of going down 0-2, and the time/score situations, Kobe Bryant was made (MADE!) for this situation.
Ball inbounded to the top of the key. 21 seconds. Kobe's coming off the screen, open on the opposite wing. 19 seconds. Scramble at the top of the key, ARMS FLAILING ZOMG WHAT WILL WE DO, 14 seconds, one of those 30 Eastern Europeans on the Lakers launches up a shot (if, by launches up a shot, you mean presents the ball in Paul Pierce's face for him to block), EPIC FAIL, ball rolls out of bounds in slow motion before the Lakers get a foul, and the game is basically over. And Kobe touched the ball just once, in a place where he wasn't legally allowed to launch the ball at the basket, on a game-deciding situation.
Now, I'm not a Kobe fan by any means. I respect the hell out of the guy, but I think Shaq was his championship, team-winning career. It's nice that he managed to get the Lakers back to the Finals without Shaq, and that he's been trying so hard to shed his "ball-hog" image. But is this about image, or a championship? Because if championship (which IS the image he's trying to create now, that he can win without Shaq) is it, then Kobe should have basically told his teammates to hand him the ball or he'd have them killed in their sleep.
And even if he doesn't, it's a teammates' instinct to know who needs the ball when. It's also a teammates' instinct to know what their role is, and how much room they have to screw up. I know I mention the National Championship game very frequently, but look how that played out for the Jayhawks - about 2 minutes to go, Sherron Collins drives to the basket on a STUPID, selfish play, throwing up a wild shot in traffic with most of the shot clock remaining. He wanted to be the hero, and nearly killed it for Kansas. But then game-tying situation with less than 10, he wants to drive and kick back out, knowing MARIO CHALMERS is your guy to have the ball in these situations...and well, it didn't go QUITE according to plan, but he got Super Mario the ball, and well, the rest is history, ROCK CHALK JAYHAWKKKKKKKK!!!!!!
So, yawn. NBA Finals. Whatever. Wake me up for the NBA Draft - which even that has lost its luster. Call me when something crazy happens, like Sunday comes and Russell Westbrook still hasn't hired an agent. I'm looking forward to seeing UCLA run a 5 guard set next year.
However, what DOES have me excited on the basketball front is the premier of "Gunnin' For That #1 Spot", a streetball documentary made by Adam Yauch (of Beastie Boys fame), coming out in select cities (INCLUDING MINE!) on Friday, June 27. It's received great reviews as is, but you know me + streetball = THERE, but add in a certain someone named Michael Paul Beasley to the list and, well, yeah...
(Actually, I'm most pumped to see Brandon Jennings, whose game, hair, and attitude I have a huge crush on already...I'm SO not sad to see Jerryd Bayless leave after one year. Speaking of which, I've been watching reruns of Pac-10 play on FSN Pacific - yeah, no wonder I'm ODing, right? - and MAN, that conference was awful this year. I kinda knew it all along, the few times I saw U-C, L-A and USC play, but ugh...it was like Big East back in the day bad, with those low scoring, bad offense games.)
Anyways, point is, have a trailer, see the awesomeness, and maybe next time we speak, I'll be a bit more positive about the basketballs again.
So Los Bitches are having an email summit on the fact that we, uh, have kind of sucked at posting lately. Like, we have sucked at posting like Tony Romo sucks in the playoffs, or like Julio Lugo sucks in the infield. (That means we suck a lot.) That's going to change, rest assured.
Anyway, my point is this: As we're all talking, I'm watching the Portugal/Turkey Euro 2008 match that I taped earlier today and further injuring my already-on-fire-due-to-the-zombie-death-flu throat screaming at Portugal that I hope certain anatomically impossible things happen to them or to their grandmothers.
Most of my ire, though, has been aimed squarely at His Bitchiness Cristiano Ronaldo. Here's something you need to understand before we really get into the tournament: I. Motherfucking. Loathe. Cristiano Ronaldo. I hate him. I hate his stupid face. I hate his stupid half-mullet fauxhawk hairdo (Jackass in the Front, Douuuuuchebag in the back). I hate that he puts enough gel in his stupid hair to equip most of the Bleacher Creature contingent in Yankee Stadium for a week solid. I hatehatehate his stupid fucking stutterstep. (Although I loved it when he tried to pull one on a PK in the Champions League final, fooling exactly no one least of all Cesc in goal, and leading to missing the shot, which damn near killed his team's shot at repeating. It would have, too, had John Terry not slipped on the wet grass and missed HIS kick, a fact that made this Arsenal supporter's heart grow three sizes that day.)
I can't even watch him. I can't. Really. I know that he's going to pull off at least one ridiculous maneuver during every game that will leave everyone staring slackjawed at their screen trying to figure out HOW IN THE HELL HE DID THAT, and I'll still be punching a couch pillow in fury hoping that he dies painfully in a fire or develops some horrible genetic mutation, the result of which inivolves both kneecaps spontaneously shooting off his body mid-game and blinding him. Hate.
In short: Welcome to Euro 2008. Fuck Ronaldo, and fuck Portugal. Know those two things, abide by them, and we'll get along just fine this month.
So we've been a little remiss about updating. Apologies. This bitch was on vacation in Texas.
That said, today, I blew off some steam after work by going out after work for some drinks. Unfortunately, that means that I missed a basebrawl.
I missed a basebrawl involving my own team. I should have known better- I've been angling for a Sox/Rays fight since the beginning of the season. For some inexplicable reason, these teams get into it at least once a season, and it's usually a benches-clearing, crazy-suspensions debacle.
And I missed it. THERE WAS A FUCKING FIGHT AND I MISSED IT.
