I mean, I like broccoli as much as the next guy, but really…?

This, via Sports Illustrated, is probably the lede of the month:

A PETA-produced commercial designed to promote vegetarianism that features sexy, lingerie-clad models stroking various fresh-from-the-garden edibles has been deemed too suggestive by NBC and will not be shown during Sunday’s game.

I thought they were joking… until I watched the actual commercial (be warned, NBC’s label of “suggestive” was apt):

VTech who? Wake hands Duke its first ACC defeat of the season…

It looks like Wake Forest has has once again asserted its ACC superiority, defeating Duke 70-68 in Winston-Salem Wednesday night, in what was both a dominating Deacon performance and a terrifyingly close call. Wake controlled the game throughout, leading by five at halftime and by as many as 13 late in the second half, but allowed Duke to creep back in the last five minutes, culminating in Gerald Henderson’s  jumper with 11 seconds left to tie the game. For the Blue Devils, 11 seconds proved to be too much time. Sprung by an ingeniously designed Wake inbounds play, James Johnson’s layup with 2.6 seconds to go provided the winning margin, ending Duke’s ten-game winning streak and essentially propelling Wake into the ACC’s top slot.

The pattern of Wake’s victory prompts a question: as a fan, is it better to win when your team… 1) dominates the game, chokes in the last three minutes, and then comes up with a big play to win, or 2) storms back from almost certain defeat for a miraculous, last-second victory?

After having personally experienced both variations in the last five days (Arizona’s comeback win vs. Houston on Saturday; Wake’s win over Duke tonight) I’ve come up with a defininitive answer: who the heck cares!? A win is a win, and they all feel good!

Torre strikes back

As you might have gleaned by now, I am not a New York Yankees insider. Nor, in fact, do I happen to be sportswriter Tom Verducci. Given these two facts, I must confess that I know altogether too little about the Joe Torre-Yankee soap opera to write with any credibility on the matter, even following the plentiful press surrounding Torre and Verducci’s new book about Joe’s years as manager in the Bronx. However, there was one nugget of reporting, quite independent of Torre’s beef with his old club (which, incidentally, is a beef I have a great deal of sympathy for), that quite simply freaked me the hell out. Here it is, via the New York Post:

The book also reveals that, during spring training in 1999, team doctors revealed to owner George Steinbrenner that Torre had prostate cancer – even before informing the manager himself.

If that doesn’t tell you all you need to know about Steinbrenner’s leadership, what ever will?

Joy, pain, and the fear of both

For all you Arizona basketball fans out there, yesterday’s game against Houston was a surprising and invigorating turn of events in a season that has been mired, more often than not, in the frustrations of missed opportunity. The ‘Cats, outplayed by the Cougars for almost the entire game, exploded with 52 seconds left in regulation to erase a nine-point deficit, forcing overtime and leading to an eventual Arizona victory. Suffice it to say that McKale’s postgame atmosphere was filled with an unvarnished joy that harkened to the golden years of a team which, for almost a quarter-century, has been a fixture of NCAA postseason play. Wildcat players leapt happily across mid-court, gesturing to fans and high-fiving reporters and coaches alike; fans, for our part, were equally ebullient, filling McKale with hearty cheers and hand-clapping. The only tempering observation was that the game’s excitement was enjoyed by significantly less than a sold-out arena, due to the departure of many who prematurely assumed a Wildcat defeat. And herein lies a rant – propelled as much by the joy of victory as by my own crankiness — that has long festered in my sports-loving soul: 

To all those who leave sporting events before the final horn has sounded, before the final out is made, before the last runner has crossed the finish line – let the fact that Arizona stormed to improbable and exhilirating victory after you left with two minutes to go reveal the shallowness of your commitment to your team. Ask yourself what kind of a fan you are, and whether or not you are worthy of the attachment you have to your team, player, city or school. Because it is precisely these moments of darkness — the moments when exiting the arena becomes a matter of self-preservation – which true fans must suffer through in order to experience the deep happiness that accompanies athletic success. The joy of sports is inextricably tied to the pain of failure, and in the case of yesterday’s game, the torture of the first 39 minutes, teetering on the brink of defeat at the hands of mid-major conference member Houston, served only to augment the joy of unexpected redemption, given to us by a Nic Wise three point shot with 19 seconds to go. Winning like that, feeling like that, means you stay ’til the end. It also means you have to hurt when the game doesn’t end well. Those who left early, those who leave early, are simply running away from any feeling at all.

Breaking news! Mark McGwire might’ve taken steroids!

First, the selfless obligation to expose performance-enhancing drug usage in professional sports fell to Jose Canseco. Now, it seems that the mantle has passed to Jay McGwire, younger brother of former MLB first-baseman Mark McGwire, who has taken up the cross. Reports surfaced yesterday indicating that Jay is looking to publish a mud-slinging tell-all aimed at his much-more-famous bro, alleging – among other things – that Jay was the one who introduced the drugs to Mark in the first place.

You’ve read my take on Canseco, and without getting too worked up, I’ll simply say that my feelings with regards to this particular story are similar. My hunch is that Jay’s a bit strapped for cash, and assumed that a public, ever-hungry for pro-athlete/celebrity dirt would eat up his story.  Unfortunately for him, the difference here is that we’ve heard the McGwire story too many times. With the exception that it’s his own brother selling him out, which does add a vaguely tragic, familial dimension to the story, there is no shocking scoop that Jay offers us. Mark was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion the moment he declined to answer Henry Waxman’s “Did you take steroids?” question in the midst of his Congressional inquiry. Nobody doubts anymore that the source of the man’s power went beyond his hard work in the weight room. So, keeping that in mind, my main reaction is that I find this attempt pathetic. Especially pathetic considering the fact that, when examining the writing itself, it becomes obvious that Jay really, really, really needs to go back to English class. Via Deadspin, an excerpt from the book:

Shortly after I won the Contra Costa Bodybuilding Championships in May of 1994, Mark took the plunge. I accompanied him to Sacramento where we met with my supplier and trainer, who explained to him how the different drugs would work on his body and answered a myriad of questions from Mark. Given Mark’s curiosity and lack of knowledge about steroids I saw from Mark, I would be shocked if Mark did something like what Jose Canseco claimed happened back in the early years….[M]ark began to use, but in low dosages so he wouldn’t lift his way out of baseball. Deca-Durabolin helped with his joint problems and recovery, while growth hormone helped his strength, making him leaner in the process. I became the first person to inject him, like most first-timers he couldn’t plunge in the needle himself. Later a girlfriend injected him. 

So yeah, judge for yourself. It makes me kinda sad…

Well, somebody’s got Jamelle’s back.

After reading the sports section of yesterday’s Daily Wildcat, I’m forced to go back on my promise to ignore Jamelle Horne’s second installment of the Foul Heard ‘Round the World.

For those of you who did not see the Arizona-USC game this  Saturday past, let me fill you in on the relevant information: With less than five seconds to go in regulation, and the score tied at 64, Jamelle Horne – the same Jamelle Horne who gave UAB a win over Uof A in November with a mid-court, last-second foul (also when the score was tied) — stepped in front of a USC guard, a full 45 feet from the basket, and fouled him, resulting in a made free throw and a Trojan win. This was not a cheap foul, which might be chalked up to petty officiating. No, this was a hard, obvious hack, completely devoid of reason or strategy, which cost Arizona the game. Keep in mind that what I just described are the simple facts, which are not, as far as I can tell, having watched the game and read multiple reports, in dispute.

Now, as I alluded to earlier, what galvanized this entry was a column in the Daily Wildcat written by Lance Madden, the paper’s assistant sports editor, in which he attempts to defend Horne. Not wishing to misquote or mischaracterize Madden’s remarks, here is the gist of his piece:

[Directed at those people who have criticized Horne for the foul]: …Did you miss the first 39 minutes of the game, or better yet, the first 18 games of this season? On Nov. 18, did you notice the game was tied, then you saw Horne dive to foul Paul Delaney III with .8 seconds left? I bet you forgot the fact that the game wouldn’t be tied if Nic Wise made his final shot just seconds before.

Though the dive probably shouldn’t have happened, you’re chastising a player for actually trying hard, even if it was the wrong move to make? While you’re at it, you should go down to the closest ER and tell the surgeon who just lost a patient to internal bleeding that he sucks at his job and nobody wants him around anymore.

If Jordan Hill didn’t sit with two fouls for the final 9:20 of the first half, and Zane Johnson and Kyle Fogg didn’t foul out of the same game, would Horne still be your verbal punching bag? If the Wildcats didn’t miss five free throws, would you lay off?

Oh, but that’s not you, is it? You’ve got the memory of a fish, and all that sticks out to you is the last foul.

Was it about timing? What if Horne’s fouls were committed during the first play of the game, but the scores remained the same? Would you still have a vendetta for No. 42, or would you finally realize that no player in any game is perfect?

If Arizona won those games, would Horne still be the anti-hero?

I think it’s fair to say that those of us who have pilloried Horne for committing, for the second time this season, a conscious act to foul an opposing player with seconds left to play, more than 40 feet from the basket, during a tied ballgame that directly resulted in the single point that provided the winning margin for USC are grateful to Madden for pointing out that yes, in fact, if an ER doc intentionally chose to slice the wrong organ, in the last seconds of surgery, when the patient’s survival was still in doubt, and if that careless and concious mistake directly resulted in the death of his patient, we would pretty much call for his head. In fact, he’d probably be thrown in jail.

But oh, if the patient survived, everything would be fine, wouldn’t it? Madden reminds us of that possibility, too.

The fact is, Madden is begging us to accept that his argument — which is, basically: if stuff had been different, U of A would have won, and Horne wouldn’t be the goat – passes for logic and compassion. Horne made the foul, and the circumstances surrounding the rest of the game notwithstanding, that’s all that matters. Rarely in this world are we given a sure, concrete cause of loss or failure; this is one of those times. It doesn’t mean Horne is evil, but it does mean that as far as basketball is concerned, I will never trust him in an Arizona uniform ever again.

And NO, I most definitely have NOTHING to say…

…about Jamelle Horne, Russ Pennell, or Arizona basketball in general right now. Too much pain. Too much anger. And way too much stupidity…

Deacons trump Devils, as Wake rises to no. 1

Good news for all Wake Forest fans today comes in the form of a number one national ranking (!), thanks to thrilling victories over top-ten teams UNC and Clemson, and a business-like mid-week thrashing of Boston College (B.C., lest we forget, beat UNC in Chapel Hill earlier this month). As I’ve said before, I think this is the deepest and most athletic team Wake’s ever had, and it’s thrilling to see this potential realized (albeit perhaps too early in the season — Wake fans know our history of hot starts and subsequent floundering come March, so let’s keep everything in perspective, ok?).  What excites me almost as much as the winning and the awesome undefeated-ness (which, by the way, is now exclusively Wake’s honor, after Louisville’s defeat of Pittsburgh over the weekend) is the fact that this team plays defense, and good defense, at that. Over the past three games, Wake opponents have been held to a combined 74-211, or a paltry 35% shooting from the field, as well as only 20-69 (29%) from the three point line. Add to that Wake’s size, quickness, and rebounding ability, and you’ve got a team nobody wants to run plays against (which, to be frank, couldn’t be said about Wake teams of the past decade).

As I say, I’m trying to maintain the proper humility in the face of this success, and as with every great team, it’s only a matter of time until Wake comes down to earth for a game or two. But man, I’m excited. This could be fun come March.

Oh, and while we revel, let’s add a bit of Clemson scorn into the batter of victory. Watch what happens when Wake big man Chas McFarland dives into the Tiger student section after saving a ball. Remember, this is the school that was once renown for having a student section that would put out their lit cigarettes on the calves of opposing players standing on the sidelines. Keep it classy, Clemson, as always…

Well, there’s nowhere to go but up…

It seems the resurrection of the most woeful NFL franchise in history has begun, in the form of relative no-name Jim Schwartz, former defensive coordinator for the Tennessee Titans, and, as of yesterday, current Detroit Lions head coach.

Schwartz’s history in the NFL is somewhat distinguished from fellow head coaching candidates in that his involvement in the league began with a job doing research and statistical analysis for the now-legendary Bill Belichik, back when Belichik was head coach of the Cleveland Browns in the mid-1990s. From there, he moved on to Tennessee, where he’s headed the Titan defensive unit for the past eight seasons. In recent years, he has built the Titan’s defense into one of the best, perennially, in the NFL, helping them clinch a division title and a playoff bye before being eliminated by the Baltimore Ravens in the second round weeks ago.

Schwartz’s reputation seems to turn on his “Moneyball” background in coaching, which touts the supreme importance of statistics in evaluating talent, player rotation, and opposition scouting. Which is, I think, a good thing for the awful Lions, who truly do need at this point a logical and reasoned approach to building a team. And in the sense that the Schwartz selection is a departure from the blind and simplistic ‘toughness’ doctrine of past Lions coaches (you can, as Detroit has proven, be tough as well-done chuck and still, without skill players or a team-building philosophy, go 0-16), the move makes sense. 

I will say, however, that Michael Lewis’ now oft-practiced methods for crafting professional sports teams, if left to its natural conclusion, leaves much to be desired. I’m as obsessed with statistics as the next sports freak, and indeed I’d argue that, even now, not enough credit is given to the importance of numbers as they apply to athletic performance. Unfortunately, I fear that those who’ve devoted their hours to crunching and manipulating numbers often lack the basic understandings that even the most ignorant pro athlete have about competition and the intangible qualities of physical and mental stress as they are manifested on the pitch, field, or arena.

All of this is not to say that Schwartz won’t bring the Lions back to some semblance of dignity. Nor is it to argue that he has become the kind of passionless number freak I describe in the above paragraph. In all likelihood, his long-held role as Tennessee’s defensive coordinator — a job that necessitates constant interaction with players and coaching improvisation without the safety of numerical calculation – has instilled in him the qualifications that led the Lions to hire him. I simply am pointing out that for Lions fans who are revelling in the ostensibly practical and logical benefits of hiring a numbers man, that part of his history fits only a fraction of the job description.

Meeks, it’s time to inherit the Earth.

I think it’s time I stop having to introduce blog entries with excuses as to why I haven’t been writing, so instead of doing that, let me make a vow: never again will I allow 15 days to ellapse without me posting on this blog. Never again. This is way too much fun and there’s too much happening for such long stretches of silence.

Now the focus turns to basketball, and on this topic I have just one question: Did anybody else watch Kentucky play Tennessee on Tuesday? Because I did, and in so doing witnessed the greatest individual performance on a college basketball court I’ve ever seen. Jodie Meeks, sophomore guard for the Wildcats (yes, one of the other Wildcat teams, naturally inferior to my Wildcats of Arizona), scored 54 points on 15-22 shooting, including 10-15 from three and 14-14 from the free throw line. Fifty-four points. Unbelievable, and I can’t say that enough. The young man shattered record after record (as well as the idea that Tennessee can, in any real capacity, play man-to-man defense), including the Kentucky single-game scoring mark.

I’ve seen players go on shooting streaks that defy belief, slash into the lane at will, rebound and pass beyond their talent levels, block every shot that enters the paint. All of that is part of the excitement of college basketball — the idea that on any given night, one player can take it upon himself to single-handedly dominate a game. On the best of nights, that player creates a memory that lives forever within the history of his sport. But I have never seen one player come closer to achieving perfection for an entire game, without allowing the manacles of overconfidence to marr the result. And what’s more, Meek’s game was not limited to offense. His rebounding, defense, and passing were superb as well, which only adding to the magnificence of his achievement. Simply put, the next time this phenom plays, I’ll be sitting eagerly in front of my TV.