Let me break the news because it’s huge and hot of the presses—Kobe Bryant scored 61 points last night. He set a new Madison Square Garden record by dropping a Roger Maris on the New York Knickerbockers. Loose the doves and let the angels sing for the basketball messiah is upon us!
**crickets chirping**
I don’t get it. I’ve seen a flurry of articles heralding the Next Coming just because Kobe went off. Just because he did it in Madison Square Garden. This is a guy who’s scored 81 points before. He’s dropped another 60+ in three quarters.
What’s the big deal about Kobe scoring 61 on the Knicks in a full game? I understand it was in MSG, so what? Does the building play defense? Is the crowd allowed to throw projectiles at opposing players? To block shots at the hoop?
Aren’t the Knicks terrible? Aren’t they selling off assets for spare/broken/expiring parts in preparation for the Great Free Agent Sales Event of 2010?
Isn’t their coach (Mike D’Antoni) notorious for a system that runs and guns without body armor, cover, or even pants? Don’t they try to score you into submission with defensive abandon? Am I missing something?
D’Antoni’s Phoenix Suns never played any defense and they had much better players than this version of the Knicks. Furthermore, Bryant could probably score 61 any night of the week, even against good defensive squads. He may very well drop 70 on the Boston Celtics if he’s feeling his oats—now THAT would be something to get excited about.
Ooooh, he grabbed yet another one of Michael Jordan’s records (single-game scoring total in MSG).
Again, so what?
First, Jordan was playing a far superior Knick team that was known for its defense—hardly Big Apples to Big Apples. Second, and more importantly, someone will grab that record away from Kobe and it won’t make that cager any better than Bryant just as this game doesn’t mean Kobe’s any closer to His Airness. Records are made to be broken and stats are pretty, but often lack substance—neither is why the great players compete.
I don’t think the Lakers earned an extra win on the evening.
Do you honestly believe LeBron James couldn’t put up 61 against the Knicks? What about Carmelo Anthony? Dwayne Wade? Any of the other uber-scorers?
Who’s gonna stop them? David Lee? Ronaldo Balkman (is he even still on the team)? Nate Robinson? The best defender I can think of is Cuttino Mobley and that’s taking into consideration the fact that he’s not playing. Even more significant is the fact that one player can’t stop those guys (nor Kobe) and that means the team must defend.
Except we established that D’Antoni’s teams don’t D up; he doesn’t even expect them to apparently.
Let me tap the breaks a little because it sounds like I’m dismissing him—Kobe Bryant is amazing.
I don’t particularly like the guy especially because he dominates for a team hailing from Los Angeles and I’m a Northern Cali guy. BUT he is slowly winning me over—I can never resist truly great players, flaws and all.
And Kobe is certainly a great player, one of the all-time best and getting better.
I actually expected the Lakers to grab the National Basketball Association Championship this year due largely to Bryant. Having seen LeBron make another leap and then Andrew Bynum go down yet again (didn’t know they made guys that big out of wicker), I’m no longer so sure.
That doesn’t change my stance on Kobe Bryant, though.
I still think he’ll put up a year the likes of which we’ve never seen. For instance, I think lots of guys could drop 61 in Madison Square Garden if that was the goal. I don’t think for a second that a lot of guys could do it in the same, efficiently-effortless way.
That is part of what makes Kobe special.
And special he definitely is.
So special, in fact, that there is no reason to get so excited about scoring 61 points against a bad team that plays no defense.
Even one from New York.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
LeBron James Walks on Water in Madison Square Garden
A couple nights ago, Kobe Bryant hung 61 points on the New York Knickerbockers in Madison Square Garden. In the process, he carried the Los Angeles Lakers to a victory; oh and Pau Gasol carried their luggage. Kobe also broke Michael Jordan's all-time scoring record—the famed Double-Nickel Game less than a week removed from his first retirement.
Quick digression—maybe we can blame Brett Favre's case of retirementitis on MJ? Nah...
Afterwards, the heavens opened and praise for Kobe poured forth. I didn't understand it at the time and I'm still a little skeptical as to why there was such a huge fuss. The feat was spectacular to be sure, but we knew Kobe Bryant was a spectacular basketball player before the game.
Dropping 62 in three quarters against the Dallas Mavericks the year they went—and subsequently coughed up—the National Basketball Association Finals told us that. Remember, their defense was much improved and lauded that year.
Putting 81 on anyone screamed it loud and clear.
This was less impressive than either of those feats because the Knicks play zero defense and, in my opinion, are worse than their record indicates. I'd argue they're bad, but that's open for discussion.
In the linked article and subsequent comments, I argued that any great player could put up 61 points on a given night if necessary to win or it was his desire. Maybe not against the good defensive fives in the NBA, but certainly against the lesser ones.
Fast-forward to tonight.
LeBron James just posted the following line on that hallowed hardwood of Madison Square Garden: 52 points, 11 assists, 10 rebounds, and two blocks with only three turnovers plus a foul in the Cleveland Cavaliers' 107-102 victory.
And you know what the most surprising thing about that line is?
King James didn't even register a single steal. Seriously, he's in the fifth-leading thief in the NBA and he bagel'd the category. That's weird.
The second most surprising thing is that the Cavs only won by five in a game that LBJ clearly dominated against a vastly inferior opponent.
OK, obviously I'm kidding.
A triple double is something to sit up and take notice of regardless of whether the guy has 10 points or 25. When he has 52? And his team wins? Holy Moses.
On top of that, LeBron has only been 24 years old for about a month. Kobe's been in the league for 13 years. That means he's been in the NBA longer than James has been able to get into a PG-13 rated movie without a chaperon.
Kobe's been hoopin' at the pro level for over half King James' life.
So, not only is he six years younger than Kobe Bryant, those six years amount to double LBJ's NBA-experience. Even if James had merely matched Kobe, it would have been more impressive because of the youth and relative inexperience.
But a triple double with 52 points is way more impressive than what Kobe did.
You can think that James directly orchestrated at least 74 of Cleveland's 107 points while also contributing more rebounds and blocks. Or you can just revel in the majesty of the simpler line: 52, 11, and 10.
It's got a nice, poetic lilt to it.
The Kobe Homers will say that Kobe doesn't get assists because Kobe doesn't have anyone to pass the Kobe to. Sorry, ball.
That may be true. But LeBron James scored 52 points and dropped 11 dimes. Threw in 10 rebounds to boot. Furthermore, can we stop doubting this kid? You think he'd keep mindlessly passing to teammates if they weren't making shots? No, he'd stop passing and put up even more points.
And who says the player on the passing end has nothing to do with whether the guys on the receiving end make it? I'm not saying that's always the case, but you can only get lucky (or unlucky) so many times before it becomes a knack.
Just in case your mind hasn't boggled yet, I'll add one more flourish to King James' handiwork: it was the second game of a back-to-back and third in four days.
In the NBA's version of a double-header, LeBron James posted 85 points, 17 boards, and 15 helpers as his team won both nights.
Since our sports world is relative, there should be even more heraldic lines penned about bearing Witness. I mean, if Kobe's game announced his greatness, what the hell does this one say about Bron-Bron?
Except I wasn't totally kidding way back near the top.
The same logic holds true for LeBron James as it does for Kobe Bryant. There's less of a sample size by comparison, but there are still six years worth of NBA data. And if you've been paying attention to basketball even casually, you've been hearing about him for roughly the last decade.
This stuff shouldn't be that surprising anymore because, in all that time, has LeBron James failed to deliver? If you've expected him have landed a title this early in his career sans substantial help, you're man-crush on James is even worse than mine.
And mine's pretty damned undignified.
So I'll say it again—the New York Knicks are not very good. Add a little dash of one-upmanship because of what Kobe Bryant did and voila.
Special players have that ability. Yes, in a way, it's sad because you start to expect it and that diminishes your reaction to what they've done. That's okay; novelty wears off of everything. It doesn't diminish what they've done.
Kobe Bryant has proven, once again, that his talent is transcendent and cannot be contained by mere professional teams. Only a good one has a chance and, sometimes, not even then.
LeBron James did the same by answering Kobe's supernatural performance with one of his own.
In their latest game of one-upmanship, King James reigns supreme.
Let's just hope that's what it was. And not an audition.
Quick digression—maybe we can blame Brett Favre's case of retirementitis on MJ? Nah...
Afterwards, the heavens opened and praise for Kobe poured forth. I didn't understand it at the time and I'm still a little skeptical as to why there was such a huge fuss. The feat was spectacular to be sure, but we knew Kobe Bryant was a spectacular basketball player before the game.
Dropping 62 in three quarters against the Dallas Mavericks the year they went—and subsequently coughed up—the National Basketball Association Finals told us that. Remember, their defense was much improved and lauded that year.
Putting 81 on anyone screamed it loud and clear.
This was less impressive than either of those feats because the Knicks play zero defense and, in my opinion, are worse than their record indicates. I'd argue they're bad, but that's open for discussion.
In the linked article and subsequent comments, I argued that any great player could put up 61 points on a given night if necessary to win or it was his desire. Maybe not against the good defensive fives in the NBA, but certainly against the lesser ones.
Fast-forward to tonight.
LeBron James just posted the following line on that hallowed hardwood of Madison Square Garden: 52 points, 11 assists, 10 rebounds, and two blocks with only three turnovers plus a foul in the Cleveland Cavaliers' 107-102 victory.
And you know what the most surprising thing about that line is?
King James didn't even register a single steal. Seriously, he's in the fifth-leading thief in the NBA and he bagel'd the category. That's weird.
The second most surprising thing is that the Cavs only won by five in a game that LBJ clearly dominated against a vastly inferior opponent.
OK, obviously I'm kidding.
A triple double is something to sit up and take notice of regardless of whether the guy has 10 points or 25. When he has 52? And his team wins? Holy Moses.
On top of that, LeBron has only been 24 years old for about a month. Kobe's been in the league for 13 years. That means he's been in the NBA longer than James has been able to get into a PG-13 rated movie without a chaperon.
Kobe's been hoopin' at the pro level for over half King James' life.
So, not only is he six years younger than Kobe Bryant, those six years amount to double LBJ's NBA-experience. Even if James had merely matched Kobe, it would have been more impressive because of the youth and relative inexperience.
But a triple double with 52 points is way more impressive than what Kobe did.
You can think that James directly orchestrated at least 74 of Cleveland's 107 points while also contributing more rebounds and blocks. Or you can just revel in the majesty of the simpler line: 52, 11, and 10.
It's got a nice, poetic lilt to it.
The Kobe Homers will say that Kobe doesn't get assists because Kobe doesn't have anyone to pass the Kobe to. Sorry, ball.
That may be true. But LeBron James scored 52 points and dropped 11 dimes. Threw in 10 rebounds to boot. Furthermore, can we stop doubting this kid? You think he'd keep mindlessly passing to teammates if they weren't making shots? No, he'd stop passing and put up even more points.
And who says the player on the passing end has nothing to do with whether the guys on the receiving end make it? I'm not saying that's always the case, but you can only get lucky (or unlucky) so many times before it becomes a knack.
Just in case your mind hasn't boggled yet, I'll add one more flourish to King James' handiwork: it was the second game of a back-to-back and third in four days.
In the NBA's version of a double-header, LeBron James posted 85 points, 17 boards, and 15 helpers as his team won both nights.
Since our sports world is relative, there should be even more heraldic lines penned about bearing Witness. I mean, if Kobe's game announced his greatness, what the hell does this one say about Bron-Bron?
Except I wasn't totally kidding way back near the top.
The same logic holds true for LeBron James as it does for Kobe Bryant. There's less of a sample size by comparison, but there are still six years worth of NBA data. And if you've been paying attention to basketball even casually, you've been hearing about him for roughly the last decade.
This stuff shouldn't be that surprising anymore because, in all that time, has LeBron James failed to deliver? If you've expected him have landed a title this early in his career sans substantial help, you're man-crush on James is even worse than mine.
And mine's pretty damned undignified.
So I'll say it again—the New York Knicks are not very good. Add a little dash of one-upmanship because of what Kobe Bryant did and voila.
Special players have that ability. Yes, in a way, it's sad because you start to expect it and that diminishes your reaction to what they've done. That's okay; novelty wears off of everything. It doesn't diminish what they've done.
Kobe Bryant has proven, once again, that his talent is transcendent and cannot be contained by mere professional teams. Only a good one has a chance and, sometimes, not even then.
LeBron James did the same by answering Kobe's supernatural performance with one of his own.
In their latest game of one-upmanship, King James reigns supreme.
Let's just hope that's what it was. And not an audition.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Forget Arizona, the Golden State Warriors Have a Legitimate Officiating Gripe
Damn. I was on the brink of simultaneously getting really excited about the Golden State Warriors and really worried about saying their season was over a couple days ago. Monta Ellis had just thrown in a circus finish, Stephen Jackson had just drained one of those pure shots that barely moves the net, and the Warriors were up by four on the mighty, mighty San Antonio Spurs.
And they were at home. That's Oakland home-cookin' is gooood, so the boys were sitting pretty.
Even the two free-throws by Manu Manu Ginobili and subsequent miss by Jacks didn't really bother me. After all, there were only 17 seconds left and Golden State was shockingly playing solid defense. So I was still thinking that miraculous finish that would be necessary to propel them into the playoffs might not be as unlikely as I thought.
I'm of the opinion that you cannot underestimate the significance of beating an elite team in a close game. Especially when that team has the championship pedigree of the Spurs. And the Warriors still had that two-point lead.
Did I mention they were at home?
Because that's when all hell broke loose. Manu Manu drove desperately to the hoop with less than 10 seconds left. Deploying the latest in a series of unfortunate National Basketball Association trends, Ginobili flop-flung himself into Ronny Turiaf's legs and drew a "foul."
Of course he made the two charity tosses because Ginobili is one of the most clutch players in the game of basketball (NBA or otherwise). If you're a Warrior fan, the tied game degenerated from there.
Jacks whiled away too much time at the top of the key, couldn't finish off his drive, and then no bail-out came from the refs as the horn sounded. Make no mistake—any foul called on that shot would've been a make-up because there just wasn't an infraction to be seen.
Bruce Bowen blanketed Jackson (as Bowen's prone to do) and Stephen didn't leave himself enough time to ad lib. Plain, simple, and fatal.
San Antonio took over in overtime, stretched out to a lead, and cruised to victory in a totally deflated Oracle Arena. To add literal injury to insult, Monta went down in the extra period with an apparent sprained ankle. Obviously, that's exponentially worse if it's the same ankle he hurt moped'ing.
But it's bad either way because he relies on explosion. If it's the other ankle, that means he'll be working on two bum wheels when he comes back. Not good for Golden State. Not good for us fans. And really not good for poor Monta Ellis.
I love the kid. Let's hope for many, many reasons that he bounces back no worse for wear.
But let me rewind and go back to that pathetic foul called on Turiaf that sent Manu Manu to the line for the tying buckets.
I'm not one to blame losses on officiating and this game is no different. Jackson blew a pretty good chance to win the game by inexplicably dribbling away precious seconds, the Warriors waved the white flag in OT, and Corey Maggette missed two free-throws a couple possessions earlier that could've padded the lead. None of that happened so Golden State has to look in the mirror for the ultimate blame.
That said, that call was one of the most horrendously disgusting examples of excruciatingly bad refereeing that I have even had the misfortune of witnessing. If you think the refs were bad in the Super Bowl, stay FAR away from the NBA because there are some real stinkers in stripes roaming the hardwood.
Seriously, every single thing that could've been bad about this call was that and more.
First, there was barely any contact. Second, all the contact was initiated by the offensive player. Third, Turiaf was moving in the same plane as Ginobili so any contact shouldn't have mattered. Fourth, Ginobili had almost zero chance to finish the shot regardless of what the defense was doing because he wasn't shooting—he was flop-fishing for a trip to the charity stripe. Fifth (and this was the most blatant), the ref who called it was totally blocked from the play by Tim Duncan and Maggette.
The zebra had no business blowing that whistle. Especially considering there was another ref along the baseline with a much better shot of the play. Incidentally, that ref never even flinched at the play—he was having none of Manu Manu's theatrics.
Too bad the guy who couldn't see anything anyway was such a sucker.
Like I said, Golden State had plenty of chances to show some resilience and win that game so you can't hang it on the official. He was garbage and the Warriors still had control of the game.
But, for a league fresh off a refereeing scandal the likes of which I'd never seen, calls like that really make you wonder whether the problem was actually ripped out by the roots.
Or was it just pruned a bit?
And they were at home. That's Oakland home-cookin' is gooood, so the boys were sitting pretty.
Even the two free-throws by Manu Manu Ginobili and subsequent miss by Jacks didn't really bother me. After all, there were only 17 seconds left and Golden State was shockingly playing solid defense. So I was still thinking that miraculous finish that would be necessary to propel them into the playoffs might not be as unlikely as I thought.
I'm of the opinion that you cannot underestimate the significance of beating an elite team in a close game. Especially when that team has the championship pedigree of the Spurs. And the Warriors still had that two-point lead.
Did I mention they were at home?
Because that's when all hell broke loose. Manu Manu drove desperately to the hoop with less than 10 seconds left. Deploying the latest in a series of unfortunate National Basketball Association trends, Ginobili flop-flung himself into Ronny Turiaf's legs and drew a "foul."
Of course he made the two charity tosses because Ginobili is one of the most clutch players in the game of basketball (NBA or otherwise). If you're a Warrior fan, the tied game degenerated from there.
Jacks whiled away too much time at the top of the key, couldn't finish off his drive, and then no bail-out came from the refs as the horn sounded. Make no mistake—any foul called on that shot would've been a make-up because there just wasn't an infraction to be seen.
Bruce Bowen blanketed Jackson (as Bowen's prone to do) and Stephen didn't leave himself enough time to ad lib. Plain, simple, and fatal.
San Antonio took over in overtime, stretched out to a lead, and cruised to victory in a totally deflated Oracle Arena. To add literal injury to insult, Monta went down in the extra period with an apparent sprained ankle. Obviously, that's exponentially worse if it's the same ankle he hurt moped'ing.
But it's bad either way because he relies on explosion. If it's the other ankle, that means he'll be working on two bum wheels when he comes back. Not good for Golden State. Not good for us fans. And really not good for poor Monta Ellis.
I love the kid. Let's hope for many, many reasons that he bounces back no worse for wear.
But let me rewind and go back to that pathetic foul called on Turiaf that sent Manu Manu to the line for the tying buckets.
I'm not one to blame losses on officiating and this game is no different. Jackson blew a pretty good chance to win the game by inexplicably dribbling away precious seconds, the Warriors waved the white flag in OT, and Corey Maggette missed two free-throws a couple possessions earlier that could've padded the lead. None of that happened so Golden State has to look in the mirror for the ultimate blame.
That said, that call was one of the most horrendously disgusting examples of excruciatingly bad refereeing that I have even had the misfortune of witnessing. If you think the refs were bad in the Super Bowl, stay FAR away from the NBA because there are some real stinkers in stripes roaming the hardwood.
Seriously, every single thing that could've been bad about this call was that and more.
First, there was barely any contact. Second, all the contact was initiated by the offensive player. Third, Turiaf was moving in the same plane as Ginobili so any contact shouldn't have mattered. Fourth, Ginobili had almost zero chance to finish the shot regardless of what the defense was doing because he wasn't shooting—he was flop-fishing for a trip to the charity stripe. Fifth (and this was the most blatant), the ref who called it was totally blocked from the play by Tim Duncan and Maggette.
The zebra had no business blowing that whistle. Especially considering there was another ref along the baseline with a much better shot of the play. Incidentally, that ref never even flinched at the play—he was having none of Manu Manu's theatrics.
Too bad the guy who couldn't see anything anyway was such a sucker.
Like I said, Golden State had plenty of chances to show some resilience and win that game so you can't hang it on the official. He was garbage and the Warriors still had control of the game.
But, for a league fresh off a refereeing scandal the likes of which I'd never seen, calls like that really make you wonder whether the problem was actually ripped out by the roots.
Or was it just pruned a bit?
Kurt Warner for Super Bowl MVP? Not According to the Man of La Mancha
One of my favorite words is quixotic. It's not something that accurately applies to me, but sometimes I wish it did. It embodies a kind of noble determination and sad valor that I can respect. The irony is also appealing since I always thought Don Quixote was more a buffoon than anything else.
Plus, it looks cool and sounds even cooler.
So I don't mind admitting that, on occasion, I tilt at one windmill in particular: the importance of winning over any other achievement in sports.
I've done it several other times, but restricted my argument to Major League Baseball (once here and another time here). In my opinion, baseball is the most vulnerable major team sport to an attack in favor of personal stats/achievements as the appropriate measure of a player's greatness. Since it's a team game assembled from individual performances, I can see dismissing whether or not his teams were winners. I just strongly disagree.
And that goes double for the National Basketball Association; several more orders of magnitude for the National Football League.
In fact, the main reason I'm particularly brutal on Tony Romo, Peyton Manning, and Brett Favre is because I think all three personify the other side of the debate. I've got nothing against them personally except that Tony plays for Dallas and Bert beat up on my Niners back when Steve Young was at the helm—did I say nothing? Well even so, far more significant is the fact that each quarterback (to date) has put up gorgeous numbers and, by virtue of the statistical bling, has become incredibly overrated.
If I'm perfectly honest, I don't sincerely expect to change anyone's mind on the question since it goes to the fundamental filter through which an individual sees athletics (possibly life). That's not usually something people let a random blogger change. But I'm not gonna stop tryin'. Again. Right now.
See, I keep reading articles and arguments in favor of Kurt Warner as the "real" Super Bowl Most Valuable Player. Now, I've really come around on Warner and will readily admit that, when it looked like the Arizona Cardinals might win late, I came as close as I think I'll ever come to adopting an organized religion. And that's saying something because I'm no great fan of such institutions—I've got absolutely no problem with most of the individuals inside them though.
Still, even if I were to concede that Kurt Warner was the best player on the field last night, his team LOST. How in the hell could he be the MVP of a football game that his team lost?
Let me a try a quick and clumsy analogy:
Let's say we could reduce the value of winning and losing down to dollars and cents. Not as in the value of a fight purse or a bowl game or a World Series winner's share versus that of the loser. I'm talking the intangible value of winning and what it means to competitors. It's something that's impossible to actually do, but it's a hypothetical so we can pretend.
Say winning in the NFL is "worth" $1000. Then, say winning is 10 times as valuable as losing to the combatant. I'd say the multiple's closer to infinity for any true athlete (or at least any I'd want on my team as a coach or teammate); certainly in the thousands, but we'll error on the side of caution. That makes losing "worth" $100.
Plug Kurt Warner and last night's Super Bowl into that hypo.
Say Warner was 100 percent responsible for the Cardinal's close-but-no-cigar performance. That makes him "worth" $100. Now let's say Santonio Holmes' performance was only a quarter of the reason for the Pittsburgh Steelers' victory.
That makes him "worth" $250 in the hypo.
Obviously, that is clumsy and very vulnerable to technicalities, etc. But I'm trying to illustrate a point—the MVP is given from the perspective of value to the team. Since the goal is to win, any player who played a more crucial role in that win is going to be considered more valuable than another. Even if that player outperformed him in the individual sense while toiling for the losing side.
Is that fair? Absolutely because the award is not called the Best Player Award or Most Outstanding Individual Achievement Award. It is the MVP and it's about winning.
In a team sport, the team is always the most valuable component to that ultimate goal. Yet the award exists and must go to an individual. Since winning is what it's all about, the team that wins naturally has more "value" to go around.
And that's proven out by the fact that, in the history of the Super Bowl, only one player from a losing team has won the game's MVP award. That was in 1971, roughly 40 years ago. Plus it went to a Dallas Cowboy, which obviously means it was a conspiracy (just kidding Robert/James).
So forget the fact that Warner's interception may have cost Arizona the game. Forget the fumble (I can't put that on him anyway). Forget every single, little thing that Kurt Warner did wrong. He still couldn't win MVP unless the Steelers had NOBODY distinguish himself.
And Pittsburgh had two worthy candidates—Holmes and Ben Roethlisberger.
I would've gone with Big Ben because he had to make perfect throws and keep the drives alive with his mobility before Santonio could even get those balls. But Holmes still had to catch them—sort of a chicken-and-egg deal so I can't gripe too much.
Regardless Kurt Warner was not the MVP. And he'd tell you that himself. In fact, I bet he'd've rejected the award. He'll get over that pick, but he'll see it in his dreams sporadically until the day he dies. You think he feels right today? No way.
The only way it could've been worse is if the interception had been later in the game or Larry Fitzgerald had blown out a knee while trying to tackle that thug and given Anquan Boldin a concussion in the process.
MAN, the Arizona Cardinals were about to take the lead going into halftime of the Super Bowl. This after 30 minutes of being thoroughly dominated and as the recipient of the second half kick-off. At the VERY least, the Cardinals would've been tied. Ooooooof.
Kurt Warner is clearly a warrior (that statement is so obvious is looks ludicrous in print). He's suffered worse and he'll bounce back. He doesn't need pity or consolation prizes. Especially ones he doesn't deserve.
But enough hollow words, my dear Sancho. We are men of action; we must charge!
Plus, it looks cool and sounds even cooler.
So I don't mind admitting that, on occasion, I tilt at one windmill in particular: the importance of winning over any other achievement in sports.
I've done it several other times, but restricted my argument to Major League Baseball (once here and another time here). In my opinion, baseball is the most vulnerable major team sport to an attack in favor of personal stats/achievements as the appropriate measure of a player's greatness. Since it's a team game assembled from individual performances, I can see dismissing whether or not his teams were winners. I just strongly disagree.
And that goes double for the National Basketball Association; several more orders of magnitude for the National Football League.
In fact, the main reason I'm particularly brutal on Tony Romo, Peyton Manning, and Brett Favre is because I think all three personify the other side of the debate. I've got nothing against them personally except that Tony plays for Dallas and Bert beat up on my Niners back when Steve Young was at the helm—did I say nothing? Well even so, far more significant is the fact that each quarterback (to date) has put up gorgeous numbers and, by virtue of the statistical bling, has become incredibly overrated.
If I'm perfectly honest, I don't sincerely expect to change anyone's mind on the question since it goes to the fundamental filter through which an individual sees athletics (possibly life). That's not usually something people let a random blogger change. But I'm not gonna stop tryin'. Again. Right now.
See, I keep reading articles and arguments in favor of Kurt Warner as the "real" Super Bowl Most Valuable Player. Now, I've really come around on Warner and will readily admit that, when it looked like the Arizona Cardinals might win late, I came as close as I think I'll ever come to adopting an organized religion. And that's saying something because I'm no great fan of such institutions—I've got absolutely no problem with most of the individuals inside them though.
Still, even if I were to concede that Kurt Warner was the best player on the field last night, his team LOST. How in the hell could he be the MVP of a football game that his team lost?
Let me a try a quick and clumsy analogy:
Let's say we could reduce the value of winning and losing down to dollars and cents. Not as in the value of a fight purse or a bowl game or a World Series winner's share versus that of the loser. I'm talking the intangible value of winning and what it means to competitors. It's something that's impossible to actually do, but it's a hypothetical so we can pretend.
Say winning in the NFL is "worth" $1000. Then, say winning is 10 times as valuable as losing to the combatant. I'd say the multiple's closer to infinity for any true athlete (or at least any I'd want on my team as a coach or teammate); certainly in the thousands, but we'll error on the side of caution. That makes losing "worth" $100.
Plug Kurt Warner and last night's Super Bowl into that hypo.
Say Warner was 100 percent responsible for the Cardinal's close-but-no-cigar performance. That makes him "worth" $100. Now let's say Santonio Holmes' performance was only a quarter of the reason for the Pittsburgh Steelers' victory.
That makes him "worth" $250 in the hypo.
Obviously, that is clumsy and very vulnerable to technicalities, etc. But I'm trying to illustrate a point—the MVP is given from the perspective of value to the team. Since the goal is to win, any player who played a more crucial role in that win is going to be considered more valuable than another. Even if that player outperformed him in the individual sense while toiling for the losing side.
Is that fair? Absolutely because the award is not called the Best Player Award or Most Outstanding Individual Achievement Award. It is the MVP and it's about winning.
In a team sport, the team is always the most valuable component to that ultimate goal. Yet the award exists and must go to an individual. Since winning is what it's all about, the team that wins naturally has more "value" to go around.
And that's proven out by the fact that, in the history of the Super Bowl, only one player from a losing team has won the game's MVP award. That was in 1971, roughly 40 years ago. Plus it went to a Dallas Cowboy, which obviously means it was a conspiracy (just kidding Robert/James).
So forget the fact that Warner's interception may have cost Arizona the game. Forget the fumble (I can't put that on him anyway). Forget every single, little thing that Kurt Warner did wrong. He still couldn't win MVP unless the Steelers had NOBODY distinguish himself.
And Pittsburgh had two worthy candidates—Holmes and Ben Roethlisberger.
I would've gone with Big Ben because he had to make perfect throws and keep the drives alive with his mobility before Santonio could even get those balls. But Holmes still had to catch them—sort of a chicken-and-egg deal so I can't gripe too much.
Regardless Kurt Warner was not the MVP. And he'd tell you that himself. In fact, I bet he'd've rejected the award. He'll get over that pick, but he'll see it in his dreams sporadically until the day he dies. You think he feels right today? No way.
The only way it could've been worse is if the interception had been later in the game or Larry Fitzgerald had blown out a knee while trying to tackle that thug and given Anquan Boldin a concussion in the process.
MAN, the Arizona Cardinals were about to take the lead going into halftime of the Super Bowl. This after 30 minutes of being thoroughly dominated and as the recipient of the second half kick-off. At the VERY least, the Cardinals would've been tied. Ooooooof.
Kurt Warner is clearly a warrior (that statement is so obvious is looks ludicrous in print). He's suffered worse and he'll bounce back. He doesn't need pity or consolation prizes. Especially ones he doesn't deserve.
But enough hollow words, my dear Sancho. We are men of action; we must charge!
Michael Phelps—NOW He's a Real American Hero
Every now and then, when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard.—Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Michael Phelps, meet one of the good doctors, Hunter S. Thompson. Although, judging from that photo with the binger in your hands, you've already met.
I actually wasn't a huge Michael Phelps fan, until now. It's not that I disliked him. How could you dislike someone who has won 14 Gold Medals for the Stars and Bars? Furthermore, Phelps seems like a perfectly likable guy and is obviously an incredible athlete.
I'm just not a avid follower of the Olympics so I was closer to ambivalent than I was to being a fan. Like I said, until now.
Because I have a sneaking suspicion that a picture of everyone's favorite golden boy holding a bong as comfortably as if it were a fork is gonna set off a touch of hysteria (check—anything that can register even a blip on Super Bowl Sunday that isn't relevant to the game qualifies), several soccer kicks to a downed opponent, and then some honest dialogue when the sponsorship fallout doesn't materialize.
Oh, some will walk. Some will most certainly walk. And that's totally reasonable. Certain companies just can't be associated with illegality, drugs, marijuana, substance-abuse, etc.
But if you think this kid is gonna being going door to Madison-Avenue-door begging for alms, you're probably no stranger to the sticky green yourself.
When that happens (or doesn't), a bunch of people will realize the implications—that the advertisers are telling us the American public no longer really cares about weed. That a growing number (possibly majority at this point) lump it in with alcohol and shrug it off just as easily.
And they should.
As you may have guessed, I am no stranger myself. Did I just hear a gasp?
I've spent over 90 percent of my adult life in Northern California (anyone heard of Humboldt?). I went to high school in Marin County and college at Leland Stanford Junior University. Yeah, I've smoke several times and I've inhaled.
Sue me.
I was also an honors student in high school, was homecoming king, played six years of varsity baseball/basketball as a starter, was recruited by several Division-1 baseball programs, was recruited by several D-III (back then, I don't know what the equivalent is now) basketball programs, graduated from Stanford with a 3.3 GPA in industrial engineering, walked out of college into a job in the 2001 tech industry, and just graduated from the University of California at Hastings College of the Law.
Then failed the California Bar the first time around. Eh, nobody's perfect.
Let me drop another "bomb" on you. While I was at Stanford, I was a fraternity president. That means I was legally responsible for the actions of ~45 19-22 year-old men-boys. During my year-long rule, I had about 10 guys who hit the booze hard and often. I probably had an equal number of guys who walked around in a purple haze.
The Purple Hazers were boring as hell at times, but they caused no grief. The 10 boozers?
Dear GOD.
Fights, harassment issues with the opposite gender, property damage, and that's off the top of my head. And some, cough, personal recollection. More significantly, my house was no different than any of the social houses on campus—the Greek system wasn't huge in Palo Alto at the time.
Again, I want to emphasize that this was at, arguably, one of the finest institutions in the country. I don't say that to brag (much); I say it to emphasize this wasn't Party U. and it wasn't isolated. There were a lot of very smart, very accomplished people who did some very crazy drugs and used weed as a chaser.
Think of them as intellectual Michael Phelps's (is that how you pluralize Michael Phelps?).
For instance, while on campus during my sophomore year, I ran into a kid with whom I had partied a little in our freshman dorm. He was an insanely smart dude—I'm talking he had entire books of theoretical physics memorized, like Good Will Hunting. Anyway, he could switch it off and be fun when he wanted, but I hadn't seen him in a while so I asked him where he'd been. He'd switched majors to double in Electrical Engineering and Symbolic Systems—this hybrid between computer programming, linguistics, and complex mathematics where the ultimate goal (as I understand it) is to develop artificial intelligence.
I playfully asked when he found time to have fun and his reply? "I've discovered I don't need to have fun." Well, that blew my mind on several levels, but the upshot is that I saw him smoking bud on several occasions the previous year.
So I'm never surprised when so-and-so is "caught" inhaling. Would I be shocked if I saw Phelps knocking back shooters? Nope. So why would I be shocked to learn he smokes a little dope? I wouldn't be surprised to learn he's a pot-head.
After all, if the National Basketball Association and National Football League have taught us anything, it's that there is nothing mutually exclusive about weed and a supremely conditioned athletic body. And it's obviously not a performance-enhancer.
Judging from the stoners I've known, there is a real danger to your brain and motivation/effort.
But athletes like Phelps and Josh Howard and Ricky Williams don't need their brains in the true sense of the word need—obviously it's always a bad idea to impair your intelligence. And I'd imagine some people can resist a drug's deleterious effects more rigidly than others just like some can push their bodies past extremes that others cannot.
Would it be so surprising to find both in the same body?
And that's the worst-case scenario—that Phelps habitually smokes. We're not there yet; there's no reason to believe he's a stoner just like there's no reason to believe anyone photographed with a beer is an alcoholic. So who cares?
Look, is marijuana bad for you? Of course and so is alcohol. Does marijuana impair your judgment? Of course and so does alcohol. Is it addictive? Of course and so is alcohol.
I'm not trying to be flippant about a potentially dangerous substance. I'm trying to point out that this is another perfect example of our hypocrisy. I mean, Michael Phelps has a DUI from when he was 19—NINETEEN—and that didn't seem to be a huge deal. Why should this?
Shoot, an adolescent drunk driver is a hell of a lot more dangerous than some stoned, 23-year-old swimmer at a house party. Both to himself and to others (some co-eds might feel differently, but I was never a co-ed).
Nor am I trying to defend Phelps completely. But, if you're gonna crucify him, do it for stupidity. How can you think you'll get away with such a stunt especially now that everyone's damn phone is a camera?
That's the thing though—he's an athlete, not a politician or a world leader. We don't love athletes because they're brilliant or because they exercise excellent judgment. We love them because their bodies can do things ours cannot.
So I say again, who cares? Michael Phelps isn't perfect and he isn't the smartest guy in the world. Yawn. Water is wet and babies cry.
I'm betting I'm not alone in this sentiment and the rest of America is about to start getting that message. Courtesy of Michael Phelps. So now I'm a fan.
I've never book-ended an article with quotes—let alone by the same author from the same book. But Hunter S. Thompson knew far more than anyone has ever known or will ever know about demons, drugs, transcendent talent, and how society receives them when they surface in an individual. Why bother trying to beat the master at his own game:
In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught.
Michael Phelps, meet one of the good doctors, Hunter S. Thompson. Although, judging from that photo with the binger in your hands, you've already met.
I actually wasn't a huge Michael Phelps fan, until now. It's not that I disliked him. How could you dislike someone who has won 14 Gold Medals for the Stars and Bars? Furthermore, Phelps seems like a perfectly likable guy and is obviously an incredible athlete.
I'm just not a avid follower of the Olympics so I was closer to ambivalent than I was to being a fan. Like I said, until now.
Because I have a sneaking suspicion that a picture of everyone's favorite golden boy holding a bong as comfortably as if it were a fork is gonna set off a touch of hysteria (check—anything that can register even a blip on Super Bowl Sunday that isn't relevant to the game qualifies), several soccer kicks to a downed opponent, and then some honest dialogue when the sponsorship fallout doesn't materialize.
Oh, some will walk. Some will most certainly walk. And that's totally reasonable. Certain companies just can't be associated with illegality, drugs, marijuana, substance-abuse, etc.
But if you think this kid is gonna being going door to Madison-Avenue-door begging for alms, you're probably no stranger to the sticky green yourself.
When that happens (or doesn't), a bunch of people will realize the implications—that the advertisers are telling us the American public no longer really cares about weed. That a growing number (possibly majority at this point) lump it in with alcohol and shrug it off just as easily.
And they should.
As you may have guessed, I am no stranger myself. Did I just hear a gasp?
I've spent over 90 percent of my adult life in Northern California (anyone heard of Humboldt?). I went to high school in Marin County and college at Leland Stanford Junior University. Yeah, I've smoke several times and I've inhaled.
Sue me.
I was also an honors student in high school, was homecoming king, played six years of varsity baseball/basketball as a starter, was recruited by several Division-1 baseball programs, was recruited by several D-III (back then, I don't know what the equivalent is now) basketball programs, graduated from Stanford with a 3.3 GPA in industrial engineering, walked out of college into a job in the 2001 tech industry, and just graduated from the University of California at Hastings College of the Law.
Then failed the California Bar the first time around. Eh, nobody's perfect.
Let me drop another "bomb" on you. While I was at Stanford, I was a fraternity president. That means I was legally responsible for the actions of ~45 19-22 year-old men-boys. During my year-long rule, I had about 10 guys who hit the booze hard and often. I probably had an equal number of guys who walked around in a purple haze.
The Purple Hazers were boring as hell at times, but they caused no grief. The 10 boozers?
Dear GOD.
Fights, harassment issues with the opposite gender, property damage, and that's off the top of my head. And some, cough, personal recollection. More significantly, my house was no different than any of the social houses on campus—the Greek system wasn't huge in Palo Alto at the time.
Again, I want to emphasize that this was at, arguably, one of the finest institutions in the country. I don't say that to brag (much); I say it to emphasize this wasn't Party U. and it wasn't isolated. There were a lot of very smart, very accomplished people who did some very crazy drugs and used weed as a chaser.
Think of them as intellectual Michael Phelps's (is that how you pluralize Michael Phelps?).
For instance, while on campus during my sophomore year, I ran into a kid with whom I had partied a little in our freshman dorm. He was an insanely smart dude—I'm talking he had entire books of theoretical physics memorized, like Good Will Hunting. Anyway, he could switch it off and be fun when he wanted, but I hadn't seen him in a while so I asked him where he'd been. He'd switched majors to double in Electrical Engineering and Symbolic Systems—this hybrid between computer programming, linguistics, and complex mathematics where the ultimate goal (as I understand it) is to develop artificial intelligence.
I playfully asked when he found time to have fun and his reply? "I've discovered I don't need to have fun." Well, that blew my mind on several levels, but the upshot is that I saw him smoking bud on several occasions the previous year.
So I'm never surprised when so-and-so is "caught" inhaling. Would I be shocked if I saw Phelps knocking back shooters? Nope. So why would I be shocked to learn he smokes a little dope? I wouldn't be surprised to learn he's a pot-head.
After all, if the National Basketball Association and National Football League have taught us anything, it's that there is nothing mutually exclusive about weed and a supremely conditioned athletic body. And it's obviously not a performance-enhancer.
Judging from the stoners I've known, there is a real danger to your brain and motivation/effort.
But athletes like Phelps and Josh Howard and Ricky Williams don't need their brains in the true sense of the word need—obviously it's always a bad idea to impair your intelligence. And I'd imagine some people can resist a drug's deleterious effects more rigidly than others just like some can push their bodies past extremes that others cannot.
Would it be so surprising to find both in the same body?
And that's the worst-case scenario—that Phelps habitually smokes. We're not there yet; there's no reason to believe he's a stoner just like there's no reason to believe anyone photographed with a beer is an alcoholic. So who cares?
Look, is marijuana bad for you? Of course and so is alcohol. Does marijuana impair your judgment? Of course and so does alcohol. Is it addictive? Of course and so is alcohol.
I'm not trying to be flippant about a potentially dangerous substance. I'm trying to point out that this is another perfect example of our hypocrisy. I mean, Michael Phelps has a DUI from when he was 19—NINETEEN—and that didn't seem to be a huge deal. Why should this?
Shoot, an adolescent drunk driver is a hell of a lot more dangerous than some stoned, 23-year-old swimmer at a house party. Both to himself and to others (some co-eds might feel differently, but I was never a co-ed).
Nor am I trying to defend Phelps completely. But, if you're gonna crucify him, do it for stupidity. How can you think you'll get away with such a stunt especially now that everyone's damn phone is a camera?
That's the thing though—he's an athlete, not a politician or a world leader. We don't love athletes because they're brilliant or because they exercise excellent judgment. We love them because their bodies can do things ours cannot.
So I say again, who cares? Michael Phelps isn't perfect and he isn't the smartest guy in the world. Yawn. Water is wet and babies cry.
I'm betting I'm not alone in this sentiment and the rest of America is about to start getting that message. Courtesy of Michael Phelps. So now I'm a fan.
I've never book-ended an article with quotes—let alone by the same author from the same book. But Hunter S. Thompson knew far more than anyone has ever known or will ever know about demons, drugs, transcendent talent, and how society receives them when they surface in an individual. Why bother trying to beat the master at his own game:
In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Barry Lamar Bonds—Being Fitted for a Cross
Ladies and gentlemen, the witch-hunt is on! The federal government is picking up where Major League Baseball left off. Actually, Bud Selig and (paid-off) friends haven't stopped, but they're no longer significant since Barry Lamar Bonds is facing federal charges. The starting gun was lost in all the pre-Super Bowl, National Football League mania, but it's been fired.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Since I already did it in that article, I won't re-indulge myself in the injustice of holding Bonds responsible for a generation of athletes' "sins." I'll just repeat that abuse of performance-enhancers is a widespread issue in professional athletics. Too endemic to pin on one man, no matter the size of his head (figuratively/literally) or accomplishments.
Or how much of a donkey he was been (and apparently continues to be).
For those haters out there who would argue that the firing squad lining up in front of Barry is preparing for a righteous kill, listen up.
There is nothing righteous about instituting a federal tax invasion against the mother-in-law and wife of Greg Anderson in an effort to get him to roll on Barry Bonds. In fact, it's a pretty damn unconstitutional abuse of process and malicious prosecution if you ask me—not that anyone would or has. Remember, attempts to force Anderson via direct pressure (aka a year in prison) were ineffective and then this little gem pops up.
Yeah, that's pure coincidence.
Don't get me wrong—the time in prison for Anderson was perfectly fair. He was given a chance to explain himself and the court decided he was obstructing justice. Done and done.
This latest maneuver, though, is totally fatuous and ridiculously inefficient to boot.
The economy is crumbling, stalwart companies are dumping jobs like radioactive waste, the Nation is in two wars, and part of the Justice Department has a pro baseball player bent over a barrel. Not only that, it's bending the Sacred Document to do it.
And this has been going on since 2003.
How much money do you think has been wasted? How many man/woman hours? How much brain power and other intangible resources that could have been better spent towards the considerable and real problems facing our Country?
The whole thing is just awesome.
Then, there's the actual perjury charge against Barry.
Again, this one started off totally fair—I don't believe for a second that Bonds would put anything in or on his body without knowing exactly what it was. Nor would he let anyone else. No, you can definitely add perjury to his list of personal accolades. You just will never be able to add a perjury conviction to them.
The bigger issue is that the prosecutors have to know it.
Understand, perjury is almost impossible to convict unless you've got some sort of recording of the individual making a statement like "hey, I perjured myself" or "I knew exactly what I was putting in my body" or something equally incriminating. You need such because you have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the man lied.
That means proving he knew he was using performance-enhancers, not that he was on performance-enhancers.
So you have to prove Barry's subjective state of mind beyond a reasonable doubt. That's pretty freakin' difficult in any sense of the phrase. It's even more brutal doing so when used in the legal sense.
You've gotta prove that NO reasonable person could doubt that Bonds lied. But the legal reasonable person can't have any preconceived notions about Barry until they're proven in court—he/she can't consider what a dick Bonds is or any of the other skeletons in his closet since most aren't relevant. The reasonable person would be able to look at whether Bonds has a deceitful character or a reputation for being fastidious about what goes into his body if such can be shown.
But look at the evidence:
A statement by a jilted lover, leaked grand jury testimony (that's pretty egregious by itself), positive urine tests, testimony by Bobby Estalella and the Brothers Giambi that they had juice schedules prepared for them by Anderson as well as the juice itself, and other circumstantial tripe like BALCO documents with his first name and last initial on it.
That's all really conclusive for proving that Barry Lamar Bonds was on steroids or human growth hormone or whatever. It also makes him look really bad in the court of public opinion.
Unfortunately, it just won't float a conviction in federal court for the serious felony of perjury (at least it shouldn't as I understand things). None of the above shows Barry has a history of lying or making sure he knows exactly what's going into his body. All it shows is that an ex-girlfriend may or may not be exacting revenge and that his trainer gave steroids to other people as well as Barry.
Again, the issue is whether Bonds knew anything.
Our courts don't like to hand out serious punishment when there is a shred of legal doubt and none of that really proves anything legally about Barry's knowledge of the situation. That's the key—it's ultimately a legal decision controlled by the courts. Even if the jury decides the factual issue against Bonds this time around, I promise you Bonds' legal team already has the appeal typed up.
Maybe the prosecution has an ace up its sleeve except it doesn't. The prison time and tax investigation prove that the ace is Greg Anderson. If the prosecution had anything else, we'd have seen it in the last five (going on six) years.
No, the ace is Anderson and the ace is not talking.
And the longer he stays silent, the louder the witch-hunt becomes. People are already beginning to notice and that's good news for Barry Lamar Bonds.
Because everyone love a martyr, even if it's Barry.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Since I already did it in that article, I won't re-indulge myself in the injustice of holding Bonds responsible for a generation of athletes' "sins." I'll just repeat that abuse of performance-enhancers is a widespread issue in professional athletics. Too endemic to pin on one man, no matter the size of his head (figuratively/literally) or accomplishments.
Or how much of a donkey he was been (and apparently continues to be).
For those haters out there who would argue that the firing squad lining up in front of Barry is preparing for a righteous kill, listen up.
There is nothing righteous about instituting a federal tax invasion against the mother-in-law and wife of Greg Anderson in an effort to get him to roll on Barry Bonds. In fact, it's a pretty damn unconstitutional abuse of process and malicious prosecution if you ask me—not that anyone would or has. Remember, attempts to force Anderson via direct pressure (aka a year in prison) were ineffective and then this little gem pops up.
Yeah, that's pure coincidence.
Don't get me wrong—the time in prison for Anderson was perfectly fair. He was given a chance to explain himself and the court decided he was obstructing justice. Done and done.
This latest maneuver, though, is totally fatuous and ridiculously inefficient to boot.
The economy is crumbling, stalwart companies are dumping jobs like radioactive waste, the Nation is in two wars, and part of the Justice Department has a pro baseball player bent over a barrel. Not only that, it's bending the Sacred Document to do it.
And this has been going on since 2003.
How much money do you think has been wasted? How many man/woman hours? How much brain power and other intangible resources that could have been better spent towards the considerable and real problems facing our Country?
The whole thing is just awesome.
Then, there's the actual perjury charge against Barry.
Again, this one started off totally fair—I don't believe for a second that Bonds would put anything in or on his body without knowing exactly what it was. Nor would he let anyone else. No, you can definitely add perjury to his list of personal accolades. You just will never be able to add a perjury conviction to them.
The bigger issue is that the prosecutors have to know it.
Understand, perjury is almost impossible to convict unless you've got some sort of recording of the individual making a statement like "hey, I perjured myself" or "I knew exactly what I was putting in my body" or something equally incriminating. You need such because you have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the man lied.
That means proving he knew he was using performance-enhancers, not that he was on performance-enhancers.
So you have to prove Barry's subjective state of mind beyond a reasonable doubt. That's pretty freakin' difficult in any sense of the phrase. It's even more brutal doing so when used in the legal sense.
You've gotta prove that NO reasonable person could doubt that Bonds lied. But the legal reasonable person can't have any preconceived notions about Barry until they're proven in court—he/she can't consider what a dick Bonds is or any of the other skeletons in his closet since most aren't relevant. The reasonable person would be able to look at whether Bonds has a deceitful character or a reputation for being fastidious about what goes into his body if such can be shown.
But look at the evidence:
A statement by a jilted lover, leaked grand jury testimony (that's pretty egregious by itself), positive urine tests, testimony by Bobby Estalella and the Brothers Giambi that they had juice schedules prepared for them by Anderson as well as the juice itself, and other circumstantial tripe like BALCO documents with his first name and last initial on it.
That's all really conclusive for proving that Barry Lamar Bonds was on steroids or human growth hormone or whatever. It also makes him look really bad in the court of public opinion.
Unfortunately, it just won't float a conviction in federal court for the serious felony of perjury (at least it shouldn't as I understand things). None of the above shows Barry has a history of lying or making sure he knows exactly what's going into his body. All it shows is that an ex-girlfriend may or may not be exacting revenge and that his trainer gave steroids to other people as well as Barry.
Again, the issue is whether Bonds knew anything.
Our courts don't like to hand out serious punishment when there is a shred of legal doubt and none of that really proves anything legally about Barry's knowledge of the situation. That's the key—it's ultimately a legal decision controlled by the courts. Even if the jury decides the factual issue against Bonds this time around, I promise you Bonds' legal team already has the appeal typed up.
Maybe the prosecution has an ace up its sleeve except it doesn't. The prison time and tax investigation prove that the ace is Greg Anderson. If the prosecution had anything else, we'd have seen it in the last five (going on six) years.
No, the ace is Anderson and the ace is not talking.
And the longer he stays silent, the louder the witch-hunt becomes. People are already beginning to notice and that's good news for Barry Lamar Bonds.
Because everyone love a martyr, even if it's Barry.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The Golden State Road Warriors? Only with Monte Ellis
With the National Basketball Association heading into its All-Star Game, it's about time for me to start picking up the scent of the season's developing storylines. The 2008-2009 campaign has several very interesting ones going—will the Boston Celtics repeat, will LeBron James essentially deliver the Cleveland Cavaliers to the promise land single-handedly, will Kobe Bryant finally get his ring-sans-Shaq, are the Orlando Magic for real, and many others.
I'm gonna focus on one closer to home: what might have been if the Golden State Warriors had Monte Ellis for all 82 games?
That might seem like an odd question to ask after one of Monte's less-than-stellar games. During last night's win over the New Orleans Hornets in the Big Easy, Ellis put up the following: 6-12 for 15 points, five fouls, four turnovers, three rebounds, two steals, two assists, and a block in a pear tree. That doesn't tell the whole story, though, because he also played pretty nice defense on Peja Stojakovic.
Not a bad game and we shouldn't dismiss D'ing up Peja even though he's getting older so he's lost a step that he probably didn't have to begin with. But it's not great for a Monte Ellis who's hitting on all cylinders (obviously, Monte isn't yet).
Except I'm not a stat guy.
The most significant thing I see is a 15-32 Warrior squad who just went into New Orleans and hung a loss on a 28-15 team that currently sits comfortably in the playoffs with home court in its first round. A team that would be leading the NBA's Northwest Division and features one of the brightest young stars in the game (Chris Paul). I know, Tyson Chandler was in street clothes.
So what? Golden State didn't have Marco Belinelli.
Nah, just kidding. Chandler is a good player and much more important to the Hornets' chemistry set than Belinelli is to the Warriors'. However, it's not like the guy is an unstoppable force of nature who is known for putting the squad on his shoulders and carrying it to victory.
He's still just Tyson Chandler—maybe he would've helped on Andris Biedrins, but maybe not. Maybe the presence of a big name guy would have spurred Andris on to even greater numbers (6-7, 12 points, nine rebounds). Andris might've been even more engaged. If you don't know about Biedrins, you better learn because the 22-year-old kid is going to be a monster. Kinda already is.
But back to Monte.
I saw his mere presence (even showing considerable rust) open the floor for the other weapons on the team. Guys like Stephen Jackson, Jamal Crawford, Corey Maggette, C.J. Watson, and Biedrins had plenty of room to operate/shoot because of Monte's ability to slice and dice a single defender. That said, I saw the miss a lot.
I saw the Warriors defeat a very good team at home by shooting poorly, playing solid defense, and hitting big shots down the stretch. Hmmmm.
And don't forget, the victory in New Orleans was just Monte's fourth game back and second on the road.
In Ellis' season debut, the Warriors were a LeBron buzzer-beater away from taking down one of the NBA's best teams in Oakland. In his second game, the Warriors beat the Los Angeles Clippers in Oak-town. In his third (and first road game of the year), Golden State got trounced by the Dallas Mavericks (a playoff team at the moment).
In those four games, Golden State has shown more life than in any of the previous games I've seen this year (admittedly, not a lot to date). They've given arguably one of the three best teams in the entire league a run for its money, taken care of business against a bottom-feeder, suffered humiliation at the hands of good-but-not-great Mavs five, and taken down one of the best teams in the Western Conference in its own building.
That ain't too shabby especially when you consider where the Warriors have been. And where they've been is listlessly lingering around the depths of the NBA's nether regions.
It all makes me wonder what could've been had Monte not suffered a stupid, selfish, yet serious injury in the offseason. Where would the Golden State Warriors be right now had they started from the jump with Monte alongside Jacks, Biedrins, and Maggette before adding Crawford via trade?
Because the Warriors' season has a fork in it that only a miracle would remove.
Golden State sits in 11th place, which doesn't sound too bad considering the top eight make it. Of course, the Warriors trail the eighth place Phoenix Suns by 11.5 games with less than 40 to play. They also sit 11 games behind the ninth place Utah Jazz and must hop the 10th place Minnesota Timberwolves to boot.
That's not impossible nor is it even remotely probable.
It would take a celestial finish by Golden State and—not one—but two awful finishes by teams who haven't exactly shown terrible weakness to date. In fact, you could argue both are only as low as they are by virtue of injuries and acclimation to new moving parts.
That makes the prospect of Phoenix and Utah going limp in the second half considerably more unlikely—the worst-case scenario might just be both teams treading water.
Too bad because these Golden State Warriors are really fun to watch. And they're dangerous, too. Watching them in the postseason would be a treat.
Unfortunately, it looks like the return to form will be too little, too late.
Let's just hope our guys have learned from Monte Ellis unfortunate example. Let's hope they can resist that intoxicatingly-sexy siren song of the moped.
The 2010 NBA Playoffs may just ride on it.
I'm gonna focus on one closer to home: what might have been if the Golden State Warriors had Monte Ellis for all 82 games?
That might seem like an odd question to ask after one of Monte's less-than-stellar games. During last night's win over the New Orleans Hornets in the Big Easy, Ellis put up the following: 6-12 for 15 points, five fouls, four turnovers, three rebounds, two steals, two assists, and a block in a pear tree. That doesn't tell the whole story, though, because he also played pretty nice defense on Peja Stojakovic.
Not a bad game and we shouldn't dismiss D'ing up Peja even though he's getting older so he's lost a step that he probably didn't have to begin with. But it's not great for a Monte Ellis who's hitting on all cylinders (obviously, Monte isn't yet).
Except I'm not a stat guy.
The most significant thing I see is a 15-32 Warrior squad who just went into New Orleans and hung a loss on a 28-15 team that currently sits comfortably in the playoffs with home court in its first round. A team that would be leading the NBA's Northwest Division and features one of the brightest young stars in the game (Chris Paul). I know, Tyson Chandler was in street clothes.
So what? Golden State didn't have Marco Belinelli.
Nah, just kidding. Chandler is a good player and much more important to the Hornets' chemistry set than Belinelli is to the Warriors'. However, it's not like the guy is an unstoppable force of nature who is known for putting the squad on his shoulders and carrying it to victory.
He's still just Tyson Chandler—maybe he would've helped on Andris Biedrins, but maybe not. Maybe the presence of a big name guy would have spurred Andris on to even greater numbers (6-7, 12 points, nine rebounds). Andris might've been even more engaged. If you don't know about Biedrins, you better learn because the 22-year-old kid is going to be a monster. Kinda already is.
But back to Monte.
I saw his mere presence (even showing considerable rust) open the floor for the other weapons on the team. Guys like Stephen Jackson, Jamal Crawford, Corey Maggette, C.J. Watson, and Biedrins had plenty of room to operate/shoot because of Monte's ability to slice and dice a single defender. That said, I saw the miss a lot.
I saw the Warriors defeat a very good team at home by shooting poorly, playing solid defense, and hitting big shots down the stretch. Hmmmm.
And don't forget, the victory in New Orleans was just Monte's fourth game back and second on the road.
In Ellis' season debut, the Warriors were a LeBron buzzer-beater away from taking down one of the NBA's best teams in Oakland. In his second game, the Warriors beat the Los Angeles Clippers in Oak-town. In his third (and first road game of the year), Golden State got trounced by the Dallas Mavericks (a playoff team at the moment).
In those four games, Golden State has shown more life than in any of the previous games I've seen this year (admittedly, not a lot to date). They've given arguably one of the three best teams in the entire league a run for its money, taken care of business against a bottom-feeder, suffered humiliation at the hands of good-but-not-great Mavs five, and taken down one of the best teams in the Western Conference in its own building.
That ain't too shabby especially when you consider where the Warriors have been. And where they've been is listlessly lingering around the depths of the NBA's nether regions.
It all makes me wonder what could've been had Monte not suffered a stupid, selfish, yet serious injury in the offseason. Where would the Golden State Warriors be right now had they started from the jump with Monte alongside Jacks, Biedrins, and Maggette before adding Crawford via trade?
Because the Warriors' season has a fork in it that only a miracle would remove.
Golden State sits in 11th place, which doesn't sound too bad considering the top eight make it. Of course, the Warriors trail the eighth place Phoenix Suns by 11.5 games with less than 40 to play. They also sit 11 games behind the ninth place Utah Jazz and must hop the 10th place Minnesota Timberwolves to boot.
That's not impossible nor is it even remotely probable.
It would take a celestial finish by Golden State and—not one—but two awful finishes by teams who haven't exactly shown terrible weakness to date. In fact, you could argue both are only as low as they are by virtue of injuries and acclimation to new moving parts.
That makes the prospect of Phoenix and Utah going limp in the second half considerably more unlikely—the worst-case scenario might just be both teams treading water.
Too bad because these Golden State Warriors are really fun to watch. And they're dangerous, too. Watching them in the postseason would be a treat.
Unfortunately, it looks like the return to form will be too little, too late.
Let's just hope our guys have learned from Monte Ellis unfortunate example. Let's hope they can resist that intoxicatingly-sexy siren song of the moped.
The 2010 NBA Playoffs may just ride on it.
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