Oakland University won't be going to the NCAA hoops tourney this year. Despite the local hype, hype, hype, it was always a long shot. Just to make it official, the Grizzlies got bounced in their own conference tournament.
Perhaps they will get an invite to the much lesser NIT tourney for the also-rans, but maybe not.
Thing is, amid much fanfare, Oakland U decided to make the jump to Division 1 basketball a while back. Was it a smart move? Yes and no. Yes, because it bumped them up in status where they could occasionally face serious competition, and also forced them to build a semi-respectable arena for their team to play in. The little bubble dome they had in years past was a laughingstock.
But no when one looks at the results. OU has "graduated" from the Summit League to the Horizon. Pundits have called the Summit League "plankton" -- perhaps an appropriate term in the hierarchy of college hoops. But it all remains relative. If the Summit League was plankton, the Horizon League could likely be considered smelt. A little bit higher up the food chain, but in the whole scheme of things still meant to serve as nothing more than chow for superior creatures.
It's probably just as well OU didn't make the "big dance". I mean, what's the point? As likely a 15-16 seed they would have got blasted by a 1-2 seed in the first game anyway. Sure, the school would have got a payday, but the players don't get any of that dough. And is this the way they really wanted their season to come to an end? By having their team humiliated on national TV? They need to know their place, and it ain't with the big boys just yet.
That in itself seems odd. Oakland University has been around for well over half a century and sits in one of the wealthiest counties in the entire United States. Their student enrollment is well over 20,000, much larger than some smaller private schools that have perennially fared well in big time NCAA hoops. Think of Duke. So how is it the Dukies have rose to such prominence while the Griz remains mired in a "who cares" lower echelon of college basketball?
Yours truly is an alum of OU. It was a beautiful campus when I went there long ago, and has grown spectacularly in the meantime. Hundred of acres of available prime real estate (even a golf course!!) and money definitely isn't a problem. OU has it coming out of their ears, though their administration keeps trying to sell the "we're barely keeping our heads above water financially" scam to any that would believe it. They will whine about how state funding has been cut and raise student tuition by exorbitant amounts -- but you never see them cutting back on the preposterous salaries they pay the top administrative brass.
When it comes to hoops, OU is located about halfway between Flint and Detroit, two prep basketball hotbeds. But they can't seem to attract any blue chip players. Granted, college recruiting these days, especially among the elite programs, is a national undertaking. But you'd think with all OU has to offer on campus, and the vast variety of fields of study available at a first class academic institution -- a few of the local hot-shot boys would at least give them a look. But it hasn't worked out like that.
True, every few years OU lands a pretty good player -- and they'll put up impressive stats. But in order to ever escape also-ran status, somehow OU needs to land a crop of recruits that can grow into being capable of big-boy basketball and open the eyes of others to come. Success breeds success. Alas, that seems to be Oakland's glass ceiling. And identity. A quaint university in the high rent district that can't seem to make it into the big time of college sports. They don't even HAVE a football team.
The big star of the Grizzlies this year is one Kay Felder. He's leading the entire country in scoring and is right up there in a few other stats. But Mr. Felder has a problem. Actually two of them.
First, he's from a school that plays in a second-tier at best conference, and couldn't even win that.
And second, despite all his talents, he only stands 5 foot 9. His chances of making it in the NBA? Slim, at best.
Crunch the numbers. There are 30 NBA teams and the draft consists of only two rounds. That means 60 guys are going to get a shot. The top 20 in any given year are likely locks. After that it gets a little dicey. Late first round picks don't always pan out, let alone the second rounders, and not all these picks will go to American college players. We've definitely seen an influx of players from abroad in recent years who have some serious game.
The odds are stacked against Kay Felder having his name called on draft day. Sure, he could wind up in the NBA's development league or play abroad himself -- maybe. But five foot nine is what it is. He'd be going up against much taller and stronger players, including opposing point guards that have faced stiffer competition all along.
And professional leagues, be it the NBA or another on a different continent, have one thing in common. They're a far cry from the Horizon League.
Here's wishing Kay Felder the best in whatever comes next, but count me skeptical he can make his living as a professional basketball player in the future. He may have been all that at OU in the smelt league, but jumping in with the big fish might be hazardous to his mere survival -- quickly. We shall see.
Hope he finished his degree. He might very well need it.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Maria Sharapova. The flip side
Alas. Another well known athlete has been busted by the dope cops. Ms. Sharapova tested positive for a drug known as meldonium at the Australian Open a few months back. Ever heard of it? Me neither. But nowadays "banned substances" in the athletic world are about as plentiful as stupid laws still on the books in the real world.
Many would claim it's an athlete's responsibility to KNOW these things. Similarly, it has long been said by cops and prosecutors that ignorance of the law is no excuse. Who knew you still couldn't legally spit on the sidewalk on Tuesdays in one community? And why will we get ticketed for backing into a library parking space in some others? Should it make any difference which way our vehicle is pointed in a parking lot? I was once in a Michigan town on a Sunday having dinner with my daughter at a restaurant. I ordered a draft beer. Oops, that's not allowed, said the waitress. But you can have a mixed drink. Huh? How does that work? She explained a local ordinance stated no beer could be sold on Sunday but hard liquor was OK. So I asked her -- you mean I can't get a 12 ounce glass of beer but I can get hammered on Jackie D or tequila? Really? What kind of stupid law is that? She didn't know, but the rules were the rules. I settled for a Coke, but the colossal archaic ignorance of some statutes still on the books is mind-boggling.
In Sharapova's case, it was totally understandable. With her doctor's blessing and a totally above board prescription, she had been taking this very legal medication for 10 years to help with her diabetes. What could possibly be wrong with that?
But no, the ruling tennis authorities decided this particular med would no longer be allowed as of Jan. 1, 2016. Sharapova didn't know. And now she's busted and her tennis future in danger. The bureaucrats were quick to announce Maria would be suspended pending "further investigation".
It's an outrage. How the hell can they ban something they have accepted as a legal medication for the last 10 years or more? That would lead to further questions. What might come next?
Could insulin make the list? After all, it's definitely a performance enhancing drug when it comes to diabetics. As in, without it, they will cease to perform at all. As in die.
How about taking the inhalers away from asthmatics? Those things are chock full of all kinds of goodies, even, gasp!! steroids. But it's been a long accepted medical theory that continuing to breathe was a far better choice than the alternative.
Maybe they should outlaw Ben-Gay and ace bandages. They both help to soothe injuries and improve performance. For that matter, why not just have all the players play naked? Those pesky sports bras and athletic cups are a luxury they don't need.
And leave it to Nike to quickly back away from its sponsorship of Sharapova. Aren't these the same folks that have child laborers in Asian countries assembling their products for a few cents an hour, then turn around and sell them in the States for hundreds of dollars a pop? THOSE guys?
Like so many others, Maria Sharapova fell on the sword. She has publicly apologized, taken full responsibility, and appears to be almost in begging mode when it comes to ever playing tennis again on the pro tour.
Well I say -- screw that. If I was Sharapova I would have stated the following at the news conference:
[I'm not about to suck up to the nitwits that keep changing the drug rules every 5 minutes. They banned my meldonium under another generic name and didn't even bother to tell me. How was I to know?
Besides, I'm 29 years old, getting up there for a tennis player, and had been contemplating retirement anyway. And it's not like I need the money anymore. If you look it up you'll find I made more dough than Serena Williams and Danica Patrick combined last year. Serena has won a lot of stuff, but she'll never win the Grand Slam. I have won all four of those tournaments. Danica's never won anything. She's only famous because she's a woman (sort of) in a man's sport. She's wrecked more race cars than I've gone through tennis rackets. Plus, they both have serious attitude problems when it comes to ego.
As for Nike, they can kiss my ass. Any sponsor that bails that fast -- long before the full story has been told -- was never worthy in the first place. But what would you expect of a company with such a long sordid history of exploitation? Good riddance. And hey, how about giving those kids in the China sweatshops a raise to -- you know -- minimum wage level?]
Personally, as much as I admired her tennis skills, yours truly always found Maria Sharapova difficult to watch play. Something about her incessant screaming on every shot. If the tennis authorities are going to ban anything -- ban THAT. Let them have their needed meds, but put muzzles on the shriekers and grunters.
Please.
Many would claim it's an athlete's responsibility to KNOW these things. Similarly, it has long been said by cops and prosecutors that ignorance of the law is no excuse. Who knew you still couldn't legally spit on the sidewalk on Tuesdays in one community? And why will we get ticketed for backing into a library parking space in some others? Should it make any difference which way our vehicle is pointed in a parking lot? I was once in a Michigan town on a Sunday having dinner with my daughter at a restaurant. I ordered a draft beer. Oops, that's not allowed, said the waitress. But you can have a mixed drink. Huh? How does that work? She explained a local ordinance stated no beer could be sold on Sunday but hard liquor was OK. So I asked her -- you mean I can't get a 12 ounce glass of beer but I can get hammered on Jackie D or tequila? Really? What kind of stupid law is that? She didn't know, but the rules were the rules. I settled for a Coke, but the colossal archaic ignorance of some statutes still on the books is mind-boggling.
In Sharapova's case, it was totally understandable. With her doctor's blessing and a totally above board prescription, she had been taking this very legal medication for 10 years to help with her diabetes. What could possibly be wrong with that?
But no, the ruling tennis authorities decided this particular med would no longer be allowed as of Jan. 1, 2016. Sharapova didn't know. And now she's busted and her tennis future in danger. The bureaucrats were quick to announce Maria would be suspended pending "further investigation".
It's an outrage. How the hell can they ban something they have accepted as a legal medication for the last 10 years or more? That would lead to further questions. What might come next?
Could insulin make the list? After all, it's definitely a performance enhancing drug when it comes to diabetics. As in, without it, they will cease to perform at all. As in die.
How about taking the inhalers away from asthmatics? Those things are chock full of all kinds of goodies, even, gasp!! steroids. But it's been a long accepted medical theory that continuing to breathe was a far better choice than the alternative.
Maybe they should outlaw Ben-Gay and ace bandages. They both help to soothe injuries and improve performance. For that matter, why not just have all the players play naked? Those pesky sports bras and athletic cups are a luxury they don't need.
And leave it to Nike to quickly back away from its sponsorship of Sharapova. Aren't these the same folks that have child laborers in Asian countries assembling their products for a few cents an hour, then turn around and sell them in the States for hundreds of dollars a pop? THOSE guys?
Like so many others, Maria Sharapova fell on the sword. She has publicly apologized, taken full responsibility, and appears to be almost in begging mode when it comes to ever playing tennis again on the pro tour.
Well I say -- screw that. If I was Sharapova I would have stated the following at the news conference:
[I'm not about to suck up to the nitwits that keep changing the drug rules every 5 minutes. They banned my meldonium under another generic name and didn't even bother to tell me. How was I to know?
Besides, I'm 29 years old, getting up there for a tennis player, and had been contemplating retirement anyway. And it's not like I need the money anymore. If you look it up you'll find I made more dough than Serena Williams and Danica Patrick combined last year. Serena has won a lot of stuff, but she'll never win the Grand Slam. I have won all four of those tournaments. Danica's never won anything. She's only famous because she's a woman (sort of) in a man's sport. She's wrecked more race cars than I've gone through tennis rackets. Plus, they both have serious attitude problems when it comes to ego.
As for Nike, they can kiss my ass. Any sponsor that bails that fast -- long before the full story has been told -- was never worthy in the first place. But what would you expect of a company with such a long sordid history of exploitation? Good riddance. And hey, how about giving those kids in the China sweatshops a raise to -- you know -- minimum wage level?]
Personally, as much as I admired her tennis skills, yours truly always found Maria Sharapova difficult to watch play. Something about her incessant screaming on every shot. If the tennis authorities are going to ban anything -- ban THAT. Let them have their needed meds, but put muzzles on the shriekers and grunters.
Please.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Peyton Manning's retirement and BS stories
So Peyton has decided to hang it up, eh? This surprises absolutely nobody. It was time. And despite what GM/Prez John Elway may have said, no way did the Denver Broncos want to have to pony up another $19 million guaranteed bucks for a guy that was obviously on his last legs.
Hey, the dude's 40 years old. Young for maybe a surgeon or Supreme Court justice, but definitely long in the tooth when it comes to playing in the NFL. Like Tiger Woods of the PGA, also 40, Manning was just another injury waiting to happen. Just one small difference. Eldrick got to stroll along on magnificent golf courses with somebody else carrying his golf bag, while Peyton could get blasted on any given play by a 250-300 pound defender. The worst shot Tiger ever took was in divorce court.
To his credit, old chicken neck went out on top, winning Super Bowl 50 not long ago. But he didn't really win it. He just didn't lose it. The awesome defense of the Denver Broncos stifled the Carolina Panthers all game long. THEY were the true MVPs of the game.
Peyton set a lot of records during his long tenure in the league, but he's always played for a team that had immense talent around him. Both in Indy and Denver, there were superb offensive lines to give him "all day" to throw. And a bevy of world class wide receivers to throw to. Combine that with a couple really good running backs along the way and the light's out defense he found in Denver, and this guy has fell into rose gardens throughout his career.
But let's face it. Last year Manning threw 7 TD passes and 18 interceptions. This is the kind of ratio that often leads to a QB being cut, or at least demoted to second or third string. Especially one that has a history of serious health problems. Yet that didn't apply to Peyton. He was a "legend".
As mentioned above, Manning indeed put up some gaudy stats over his career, but mostly due to pure longevity. Hang around long enough, almost 20 years in his case, unheard of for most NFL players, and the numbers will eventually accumulate.
Is he the best ever? Not even close. His record against Tom Brady and the Patriots is 6-11, including playoff games. Peyton has won two Super Bowls. Brady four. Remember Terry Bradshaw and Joe Montana? They both won more Super Bowls. Good grief, even Peyton's goofier little brother Eli won two as well. So did Bart Starr. So if greatness is about championships, Peyton Manning's record hardly puts him at the head of the list.
But there are two stats where Peyton Manning stands out from the rest. Over his career, he has likely made more money as an NFL player than anybody else before. Hundreds of millions of dollars.
And for every one of those bucks, we have to have seen at least a dozen showings of his long list of shameless commercial endorsements. This guy will hawk anything for a buck. Billions and billions of the same stupid ads being foisted upon us.
So now Peyton Manning will officially be eligible for the NFL Hall of Fame in 2021. Of course he'll get inducted on the first ballot. And the pizza guy Papa John might just be the one that presides over his enshrinement. Or maybe a rep from that insurance company. Or whoever was cutting that meat before Peyton arrived at the fast food joint. The least Buick could do would be providing him with a limo. Do they make stretch Skylarks?
On to the BS stories. As we have heard in recent weeks, an investigation is ongoing as to whether Peyton Manning can be tied to HGH (human growth hormone). Allegedly, years ago, some claim Manning's wife received some of those goodies. The logical inference would be that they wound up in Peyton's body. He has absolutely denied it, of course.
But the whole argument is colossally stupid. Even if evidence could prove Mrs. Manning, and hence her husband were at one point involved in such hanky-panky -- then what? Peyton's on his way out the door. What could Commissioner Roger Goodell and his merry band of "zero tolerance" police possibly do? Suspend him when he doesn't play any more? Fine him? Good luck trying to collect it. His pension is off-limits. So what's the point in pursuing this?
On an equal BS footing is the whole current brouhaha over what may or may not have happened regarding "sexual harassment" at Tennessee when Manning was the college QB there -- way back in the middle of Bill Clinton's administration. Peyton did this and Peyton did that, women have claimed. Well guess what? Any relevant statutes of limitations have long since run and expired over 20 years later. Trying to go after Manning now is like trying to re-open the Watergate or Iran-Contra affairs. Hire all the high priced lawyers one wants, but it just - ain't - gonna - work.
Sure, UTenn may have run roughshod over the provisions of Title IX in the meantime, and may still be doing the same. Depending on how it shakes out, the university (particularly the alpha male-dominated athletic department) could find itself with it's feet being held to the fire. And that's fine if the evidence proves it to be so. Should that happen -- bang them hard. Fire some people, and perhaps even prosecute others that were complicit.
But this has nothing to do with Peyton Manning. He's been in Indianapolis and Denver for the last 20 years -- remember?
That, and making countless stupid commercials in TV studios. If he deserves to be sued for some kind of misconduct -- let it start there. Charge him with felonious greed. Or aggravated Gomer Pyle-ishness being forced on the viewing sporting public. Maybe even nail him with a few counts of nauseating habitual self-promotion. That's not a crime? Well, it should be. And BTW, scoop up Kobe as a co-conspirator in the world of total shamelessness. Isn't he retiring too? Good. See ya. With any luck Eldrick Tont Woods will take the hint and follow suit.
Hey, the dude's 40 years old. Young for maybe a surgeon or Supreme Court justice, but definitely long in the tooth when it comes to playing in the NFL. Like Tiger Woods of the PGA, also 40, Manning was just another injury waiting to happen. Just one small difference. Eldrick got to stroll along on magnificent golf courses with somebody else carrying his golf bag, while Peyton could get blasted on any given play by a 250-300 pound defender. The worst shot Tiger ever took was in divorce court.
To his credit, old chicken neck went out on top, winning Super Bowl 50 not long ago. But he didn't really win it. He just didn't lose it. The awesome defense of the Denver Broncos stifled the Carolina Panthers all game long. THEY were the true MVPs of the game.
Peyton set a lot of records during his long tenure in the league, but he's always played for a team that had immense talent around him. Both in Indy and Denver, there were superb offensive lines to give him "all day" to throw. And a bevy of world class wide receivers to throw to. Combine that with a couple really good running backs along the way and the light's out defense he found in Denver, and this guy has fell into rose gardens throughout his career.
But let's face it. Last year Manning threw 7 TD passes and 18 interceptions. This is the kind of ratio that often leads to a QB being cut, or at least demoted to second or third string. Especially one that has a history of serious health problems. Yet that didn't apply to Peyton. He was a "legend".
As mentioned above, Manning indeed put up some gaudy stats over his career, but mostly due to pure longevity. Hang around long enough, almost 20 years in his case, unheard of for most NFL players, and the numbers will eventually accumulate.
Is he the best ever? Not even close. His record against Tom Brady and the Patriots is 6-11, including playoff games. Peyton has won two Super Bowls. Brady four. Remember Terry Bradshaw and Joe Montana? They both won more Super Bowls. Good grief, even Peyton's goofier little brother Eli won two as well. So did Bart Starr. So if greatness is about championships, Peyton Manning's record hardly puts him at the head of the list.
But there are two stats where Peyton Manning stands out from the rest. Over his career, he has likely made more money as an NFL player than anybody else before. Hundreds of millions of dollars.
And for every one of those bucks, we have to have seen at least a dozen showings of his long list of shameless commercial endorsements. This guy will hawk anything for a buck. Billions and billions of the same stupid ads being foisted upon us.
So now Peyton Manning will officially be eligible for the NFL Hall of Fame in 2021. Of course he'll get inducted on the first ballot. And the pizza guy Papa John might just be the one that presides over his enshrinement. Or maybe a rep from that insurance company. Or whoever was cutting that meat before Peyton arrived at the fast food joint. The least Buick could do would be providing him with a limo. Do they make stretch Skylarks?
On to the BS stories. As we have heard in recent weeks, an investigation is ongoing as to whether Peyton Manning can be tied to HGH (human growth hormone). Allegedly, years ago, some claim Manning's wife received some of those goodies. The logical inference would be that they wound up in Peyton's body. He has absolutely denied it, of course.
But the whole argument is colossally stupid. Even if evidence could prove Mrs. Manning, and hence her husband were at one point involved in such hanky-panky -- then what? Peyton's on his way out the door. What could Commissioner Roger Goodell and his merry band of "zero tolerance" police possibly do? Suspend him when he doesn't play any more? Fine him? Good luck trying to collect it. His pension is off-limits. So what's the point in pursuing this?
On an equal BS footing is the whole current brouhaha over what may or may not have happened regarding "sexual harassment" at Tennessee when Manning was the college QB there -- way back in the middle of Bill Clinton's administration. Peyton did this and Peyton did that, women have claimed. Well guess what? Any relevant statutes of limitations have long since run and expired over 20 years later. Trying to go after Manning now is like trying to re-open the Watergate or Iran-Contra affairs. Hire all the high priced lawyers one wants, but it just - ain't - gonna - work.
Sure, UTenn may have run roughshod over the provisions of Title IX in the meantime, and may still be doing the same. Depending on how it shakes out, the university (particularly the alpha male-dominated athletic department) could find itself with it's feet being held to the fire. And that's fine if the evidence proves it to be so. Should that happen -- bang them hard. Fire some people, and perhaps even prosecute others that were complicit.
But this has nothing to do with Peyton Manning. He's been in Indianapolis and Denver for the last 20 years -- remember?
That, and making countless stupid commercials in TV studios. If he deserves to be sued for some kind of misconduct -- let it start there. Charge him with felonious greed. Or aggravated Gomer Pyle-ishness being forced on the viewing sporting public. Maybe even nail him with a few counts of nauseating habitual self-promotion. That's not a crime? Well, it should be. And BTW, scoop up Kobe as a co-conspirator in the world of total shamelessness. Isn't he retiring too? Good. See ya. With any luck Eldrick Tont Woods will take the hint and follow suit.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
UFC 196
You'd think I'd learn. As has been noted in the space before, every time yours truly roots for somebody or some team -- they're going down.
I had the Carolina Panthers in an even up bet in the recent Super Bowl.
I rooted for the Detroit Lions for 30 years before finally seeing the folly of it all.
I've been a closet Chicago Cubs fan for decades.
I had George Foreman easily dispatching that loud-mouthed Mohammed Ali in the rumble in the jungle.
And the mighty Red Army hockey team was going to make mince meat out of that rag-tag bunch of American college kids in the 1980 Olympics.
How did all that work out?
It's a trait I inherited from my late father. Old dad could sure pick the losers, especially when it came to Friday night at the fights. He just KNEW this boxer or another would win. Then, BAM, down he'd go. When that would happen, it was a good idea to remain very quiet while sitting in the same room. Get Dad another Pfeiffer, or maybe that was E and B, and go back to my chair like a good little droid. But do not, repeat, DO NOT smile, much less chuckle. Such an insubordinate act could have painful consequences -- quickly.
But now I'm an adult, at least age-wise, and get to carry on picking my own losers. Enter UFC 196.
In the preliminary bouts, I had no idea who these combatants were. But you know how it is -- when you're watching a sporting contest with no particular loyalty to either side -- somewhere along the line you decide who you're going to root for. There's no logic or sense to it, just a feeling one gets for no apparent reason.
Given Amanda Nunes against Valentina Shevchenko, I rooted for the latter. She got beat.
Then came Corey Anderson vs Tom Lawlor. Never heard of either, but picked Lawlor as my guy. He got whupped too.
Enter Ilir Latifi against Gian Villante. Who? But I liked the taller combatant Villante to get the better of the beefy brute Latifi. Guess who won?
Well OK then. On to the main events. This is what I ponied up $60 to see in the first place.
No way did Miesha Tate have a chance against Holly Holm. Tate had been beaten by Ronda Rousy twice and Holm had recently demolished her. Knocked her out cold. What could go wrong? A choke hold in the fifth round. Holly got put to sleep. Dammit!
One last chance for salvation. The super-duper main event itself. Irish terror Conor McGregor taking on Nick (who?) Diaz. Good grief, in his last fight McGregor had dispatched Jose Aldo in a mere 13 seconds. The same Aldo that hadn't lost a fight in 10 years and was considered the best pound for pound fighter on the planet. THIRTEEN SECONDS!!.
And Diaz had a pedestrian record of 18-10 going in. This was a lock. Even the bookies said so.
See Conor tearing up Nick's face. See the blood everywhere. All is going according to plan. This will be over soon. Sure enough, it was.
See Diaz take down McGregor and get him in the same choke hold that cost Holly Holm her belt. See Conor tap out. Gadzooks!!!
This -- was -- not -- supposed -- to -- happen.
But it did.
So I picked my 5 favorites, and every one of them lost. Two in huge upsets.
And somewhere dad is looking down and thinking -- that's my boy. Do they have Drewry's in heaven?
Yep, a chip off the old block to be sure. Complete with the bald spot on the back of my head. Thanks for that too dad.
Another sure thing is the cable bill next month. It will have an extra $60 bucks added on so I could experience the dubious pleasure of picking my five favorites in five fights and watching them all get trashed. Alas.
But hey, this just might be the Cubbies' year.
I had the Carolina Panthers in an even up bet in the recent Super Bowl.
I rooted for the Detroit Lions for 30 years before finally seeing the folly of it all.
I've been a closet Chicago Cubs fan for decades.
I had George Foreman easily dispatching that loud-mouthed Mohammed Ali in the rumble in the jungle.
And the mighty Red Army hockey team was going to make mince meat out of that rag-tag bunch of American college kids in the 1980 Olympics.
How did all that work out?
It's a trait I inherited from my late father. Old dad could sure pick the losers, especially when it came to Friday night at the fights. He just KNEW this boxer or another would win. Then, BAM, down he'd go. When that would happen, it was a good idea to remain very quiet while sitting in the same room. Get Dad another Pfeiffer, or maybe that was E and B, and go back to my chair like a good little droid. But do not, repeat, DO NOT smile, much less chuckle. Such an insubordinate act could have painful consequences -- quickly.
But now I'm an adult, at least age-wise, and get to carry on picking my own losers. Enter UFC 196.
In the preliminary bouts, I had no idea who these combatants were. But you know how it is -- when you're watching a sporting contest with no particular loyalty to either side -- somewhere along the line you decide who you're going to root for. There's no logic or sense to it, just a feeling one gets for no apparent reason.
Given Amanda Nunes against Valentina Shevchenko, I rooted for the latter. She got beat.
Then came Corey Anderson vs Tom Lawlor. Never heard of either, but picked Lawlor as my guy. He got whupped too.
Enter Ilir Latifi against Gian Villante. Who? But I liked the taller combatant Villante to get the better of the beefy brute Latifi. Guess who won?
Well OK then. On to the main events. This is what I ponied up $60 to see in the first place.
No way did Miesha Tate have a chance against Holly Holm. Tate had been beaten by Ronda Rousy twice and Holm had recently demolished her. Knocked her out cold. What could go wrong? A choke hold in the fifth round. Holly got put to sleep. Dammit!
One last chance for salvation. The super-duper main event itself. Irish terror Conor McGregor taking on Nick (who?) Diaz. Good grief, in his last fight McGregor had dispatched Jose Aldo in a mere 13 seconds. The same Aldo that hadn't lost a fight in 10 years and was considered the best pound for pound fighter on the planet. THIRTEEN SECONDS!!.
And Diaz had a pedestrian record of 18-10 going in. This was a lock. Even the bookies said so.
See Conor tearing up Nick's face. See the blood everywhere. All is going according to plan. This will be over soon. Sure enough, it was.
See Diaz take down McGregor and get him in the same choke hold that cost Holly Holm her belt. See Conor tap out. Gadzooks!!!
This -- was -- not -- supposed -- to -- happen.
But it did.
So I picked my 5 favorites, and every one of them lost. Two in huge upsets.
And somewhere dad is looking down and thinking -- that's my boy. Do they have Drewry's in heaven?
Yep, a chip off the old block to be sure. Complete with the bald spot on the back of my head. Thanks for that too dad.
Another sure thing is the cable bill next month. It will have an extra $60 bucks added on so I could experience the dubious pleasure of picking my five favorites in five fights and watching them all get trashed. Alas.
But hey, this just might be the Cubbies' year.
Friday, March 4, 2016
OJ Simpson and the latest debacle
It truly is hard to figure out which is worse. The hypocrisy, misguided vengeance, or flat-out stupidity of some folks that should know better.
Enter Orenthal James Simpson -- again. Or at least his long over murder trial. Now it appears a knife has been turned over to the authorities for inspection and forensics, by a cop who had it in his possession all along, no less. Said knife was supposedly discovered buried on OJ's long since demolished estate many years ago. Could it have been the murder weapon the authorities never found way back in 1995? Of course that's assuming the deaths of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman were indeed homicides. Granted, if otherwise, said scenario would have likely been the worst case of double suicide in the history of America, so for the sake of argument let's assume the coroner at least got that part right.
Nevertheless, recent developments not only raise some interesting questions, but call into play the very foundation of the American jurisprudence system. What the hell is going on?
An LAPD police captain held a press conference and stated the OJ murder case, like all other violent crimes, remains "open" until and unless a conviction is secured. Translation? The cops will keep investigating.
Question. What's the point? It doesn't matter if OJ himself confesses to the crime -- good luck with that -- or if this mysterious knife turns out to be the murder weapon. And good luck with forensics and establishing a chain of custody that goes back to Simpson himself after over 20 years.
No doubt, most Americans still think OJ did the crime. It is their right to believe whatever they wish. But most Americans weren't on the jury either. Cops investigate and gather evidence. Sometimes they lie and hide things, especially when it comes to one of their own. The evidence is turned over to the prosecuting authorities. They can bring charges -- or not. In OJ's case, it was a no-brainer. Of COURSE there was going to be charges and a trial.
But it doesn't matter what most Americans think now, or even thought then. They weren't on the jury and the opinion of the jury is the bottom line in ANY trial. In the end, they said "not guilty". It should have been case closed.
So what part of "case closed" doesn't this LAPD captain understand? There can be no re-trial. Our Founding Fathers specifically forbade "double jeopardy" in the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution for the same crime. To waste time and resources (see taxpayer money) trying to determine whether this knife was involved in the crime is totally stupid.
Which raises another point that has long gone unnoticed in criminal trials. Whatever happened to "innocent"? A basic tenet of the American jurisprudence system is one is presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Yet once accused, one is never innocent again. They may be acquitted or found "not guilty" for a crime they didn't commit in the first place -- but somewhere along the line "innocent" got lost in the Big Brother propaganda shuffle. It doesn't matter if a defendant can prove they were 100 miles away when the crime happened -- they will never be "innocent" again. They have a "not guilty" on their record -- forever. And that's just wrong. On that note, the system has been so bastardized over the years in favor of the prosecution, that the burden of proof seems to now lie with the defendant to show they DIDN'T do it, rather than the prosecution proving they DID. It's bass-ackwards. Further yet, name the crime and legions of arm-chair prosecutors at home, along with being goaded on by the media, automatically assume someone is guilty. They know nothing about the actual evidence or lack thereof. Some guy/gal got accused of whatever? Must be guilty. The prosecutors and cops love how this has evolved over the years. But it's a travesty of justice. more often than not resulting in tainted jury pools. When the "court of public opinion" has already issued its verdict -- guilty -- good luck getting 12 unbiased and objective people to sit in the box.
And what about the cop that finally "surrendered" the knife to his superiors two decades after the incident and after he'd retired? He knew damn good and well where that blade came from way back in the day, but kept it as a souvenir. How corrupt was HE all along? But nothing will happen to him. The above mentioned Captain finds himself in a bind. Any normal citizen would be getting raked over the coals for obstructing justice. But this is one of the LAPD's own. They'll close ranks like they always do and the cop will ride merrily off into the sunset to collect his hefty pension. Just more hypocrisy and double standards.
If one harkens back, they will recall OJ Simpson was found "not-guilty" of murdering Nicole and Ron, by a jury of his peers. Whether or not I, you, or anybody else agreed or disagreed with that verdict is irrelevant. The jury spoke. Period. Again, it should have been case closed.
But no. As we know, a civil trial followed. Incredibly, that jury found OJ liable for a crime he officially didn't commit. So they tried to take all his money and possessions away, and basically did, though his NFL pension was off-limits. And somewhere, our Founding Fathers twitched. Though many thought of this as a small measure of retribution, it still flew in the face of the basic principles of the Fifth Amendment.
Yet we see the end runs all the time. If the folks at the state level can't make a violent crime charge stick and the jury comes back with an acquittal, the feds will jump in full force saying the "innocent" party violated the "victim's" civil rights. And another trial will happen, this time with a more favorable jury for the prosecution. It's not right and again flies in the face of double jeopardy.
True, OJ himself turned out to be his own worst enemy. After being acquitted on the murder thing, and even the results of the double standard civil case notwithstanding, Simpson still pretty much had it made. All he had to do was stay in Florida. Nobody could touch him there. He was home free in a warm climate state and could golf every day year round on beautiful courses. Having narrowly escaped a murder conviction, most people would think they died and went to heaven to wind up in such utopian circumstances. What could go wrong?
Turned out, it was OJ's own stupidity. It wasn't good enough to live the life of ease in the Sunshine State. No, he just had to go back to Vegas chasing some memorabilia he thought rightfully belonged to him. So a hotel incident occurred, a gun was supposedly involved (though nobody got shot), and the Nevada authorities quickly scooped him up.
Any John or Jane Doe that was involved in a similar incident would have been treated far differently than OJ Simpson. It was a border-line felony and Mr./Ms. Doe likely would have been fined, perhaps served a little jail time, and put on probation for a year or two.
But Orenthal James Simpson was not your average John Doe. The authorities had been lying in wait just hoping for a chance to nail him on something -- ANYTHING -- and he gave it to them. The so-called wheels of justice came crashing down on his head. OJ got over 30 years in the pen, basically a life sentence, for what amounted to a minor crime in the whole scheme of things. People rejoiced, but taken objectively -- this was also a travesty of justice. It's no big secret that this was vengeance for the Brown/Goldman incident -- that he was originally found not culpable of.
Whether true justice was done in the end is a matter of speculation. People are free to believe whatever they wish.
But there can be little doubt the "system", as it has become over the years, is not only flawed, but is driven and controlled by forces that make a mockery out of honesty, integrity, remaining impartial, and violate the basic principles of fairness. In short, it's not about who's truly innocent or guilty any more, it's about which side can win in the end. And no dirty trick is off-limits.
I dare say this is not what the Founding Fathers had in mind.
Yet for now, all this re-hashed OJ nonsense is just that. He's still in the penitentiary outside of Vegas and not getting out any time soon.
So what, exactly, is the big deal about some knife showing up 20 years later? While it may give a nitwit LAPD police captain an excuse to call another lame press conference, and provide fodder for the talking heads, -- it changes absolutely nothing.
Enter Orenthal James Simpson -- again. Or at least his long over murder trial. Now it appears a knife has been turned over to the authorities for inspection and forensics, by a cop who had it in his possession all along, no less. Said knife was supposedly discovered buried on OJ's long since demolished estate many years ago. Could it have been the murder weapon the authorities never found way back in 1995? Of course that's assuming the deaths of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman were indeed homicides. Granted, if otherwise, said scenario would have likely been the worst case of double suicide in the history of America, so for the sake of argument let's assume the coroner at least got that part right.
Nevertheless, recent developments not only raise some interesting questions, but call into play the very foundation of the American jurisprudence system. What the hell is going on?
An LAPD police captain held a press conference and stated the OJ murder case, like all other violent crimes, remains "open" until and unless a conviction is secured. Translation? The cops will keep investigating.
Question. What's the point? It doesn't matter if OJ himself confesses to the crime -- good luck with that -- or if this mysterious knife turns out to be the murder weapon. And good luck with forensics and establishing a chain of custody that goes back to Simpson himself after over 20 years.
No doubt, most Americans still think OJ did the crime. It is their right to believe whatever they wish. But most Americans weren't on the jury either. Cops investigate and gather evidence. Sometimes they lie and hide things, especially when it comes to one of their own. The evidence is turned over to the prosecuting authorities. They can bring charges -- or not. In OJ's case, it was a no-brainer. Of COURSE there was going to be charges and a trial.
But it doesn't matter what most Americans think now, or even thought then. They weren't on the jury and the opinion of the jury is the bottom line in ANY trial. In the end, they said "not guilty". It should have been case closed.
So what part of "case closed" doesn't this LAPD captain understand? There can be no re-trial. Our Founding Fathers specifically forbade "double jeopardy" in the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution for the same crime. To waste time and resources (see taxpayer money) trying to determine whether this knife was involved in the crime is totally stupid.
Which raises another point that has long gone unnoticed in criminal trials. Whatever happened to "innocent"? A basic tenet of the American jurisprudence system is one is presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Yet once accused, one is never innocent again. They may be acquitted or found "not guilty" for a crime they didn't commit in the first place -- but somewhere along the line "innocent" got lost in the Big Brother propaganda shuffle. It doesn't matter if a defendant can prove they were 100 miles away when the crime happened -- they will never be "innocent" again. They have a "not guilty" on their record -- forever. And that's just wrong. On that note, the system has been so bastardized over the years in favor of the prosecution, that the burden of proof seems to now lie with the defendant to show they DIDN'T do it, rather than the prosecution proving they DID. It's bass-ackwards. Further yet, name the crime and legions of arm-chair prosecutors at home, along with being goaded on by the media, automatically assume someone is guilty. They know nothing about the actual evidence or lack thereof. Some guy/gal got accused of whatever? Must be guilty. The prosecutors and cops love how this has evolved over the years. But it's a travesty of justice. more often than not resulting in tainted jury pools. When the "court of public opinion" has already issued its verdict -- guilty -- good luck getting 12 unbiased and objective people to sit in the box.
And what about the cop that finally "surrendered" the knife to his superiors two decades after the incident and after he'd retired? He knew damn good and well where that blade came from way back in the day, but kept it as a souvenir. How corrupt was HE all along? But nothing will happen to him. The above mentioned Captain finds himself in a bind. Any normal citizen would be getting raked over the coals for obstructing justice. But this is one of the LAPD's own. They'll close ranks like they always do and the cop will ride merrily off into the sunset to collect his hefty pension. Just more hypocrisy and double standards.
If one harkens back, they will recall OJ Simpson was found "not-guilty" of murdering Nicole and Ron, by a jury of his peers. Whether or not I, you, or anybody else agreed or disagreed with that verdict is irrelevant. The jury spoke. Period. Again, it should have been case closed.
But no. As we know, a civil trial followed. Incredibly, that jury found OJ liable for a crime he officially didn't commit. So they tried to take all his money and possessions away, and basically did, though his NFL pension was off-limits. And somewhere, our Founding Fathers twitched. Though many thought of this as a small measure of retribution, it still flew in the face of the basic principles of the Fifth Amendment.
Yet we see the end runs all the time. If the folks at the state level can't make a violent crime charge stick and the jury comes back with an acquittal, the feds will jump in full force saying the "innocent" party violated the "victim's" civil rights. And another trial will happen, this time with a more favorable jury for the prosecution. It's not right and again flies in the face of double jeopardy.
True, OJ himself turned out to be his own worst enemy. After being acquitted on the murder thing, and even the results of the double standard civil case notwithstanding, Simpson still pretty much had it made. All he had to do was stay in Florida. Nobody could touch him there. He was home free in a warm climate state and could golf every day year round on beautiful courses. Having narrowly escaped a murder conviction, most people would think they died and went to heaven to wind up in such utopian circumstances. What could go wrong?
Turned out, it was OJ's own stupidity. It wasn't good enough to live the life of ease in the Sunshine State. No, he just had to go back to Vegas chasing some memorabilia he thought rightfully belonged to him. So a hotel incident occurred, a gun was supposedly involved (though nobody got shot), and the Nevada authorities quickly scooped him up.
Any John or Jane Doe that was involved in a similar incident would have been treated far differently than OJ Simpson. It was a border-line felony and Mr./Ms. Doe likely would have been fined, perhaps served a little jail time, and put on probation for a year or two.
But Orenthal James Simpson was not your average John Doe. The authorities had been lying in wait just hoping for a chance to nail him on something -- ANYTHING -- and he gave it to them. The so-called wheels of justice came crashing down on his head. OJ got over 30 years in the pen, basically a life sentence, for what amounted to a minor crime in the whole scheme of things. People rejoiced, but taken objectively -- this was also a travesty of justice. It's no big secret that this was vengeance for the Brown/Goldman incident -- that he was originally found not culpable of.
Whether true justice was done in the end is a matter of speculation. People are free to believe whatever they wish.
But there can be little doubt the "system", as it has become over the years, is not only flawed, but is driven and controlled by forces that make a mockery out of honesty, integrity, remaining impartial, and violate the basic principles of fairness. In short, it's not about who's truly innocent or guilty any more, it's about which side can win in the end. And no dirty trick is off-limits.
I dare say this is not what the Founding Fathers had in mind.
Yet for now, all this re-hashed OJ nonsense is just that. He's still in the penitentiary outside of Vegas and not getting out any time soon.
So what, exactly, is the big deal about some knife showing up 20 years later? While it may give a nitwit LAPD police captain an excuse to call another lame press conference, and provide fodder for the talking heads, -- it changes absolutely nothing.
Okla City Thunder. Folding?
No doubt the Oklahoma City Thunder remain a very good team in the NBA. A 42-19 record says so. But of late, they seem to be teetering, having lost 6 of their last 8. And a few of those losses came from late game collapses. Consider---
At home, about a week ago, the Thunder had the mighty Golden State Warriors on the ropes for the majority of the game. They had them, they had them -- and then they didn't have them. The Thunder totally botched the waning seconds of regulation time allowing GS to send it into overtime, which the Warriors would win 121-118 on a last-second bomb from -- who else? -- Steph Curry. A loss that should have been a win.
Then the lowly Sacramento Kings. A win.
Off to LA to face the Clippers. The Thunder had them all but put away as well. They led by 17 points late in the third quarter. Then they folded like a house of cards allowing the Clips to storm back and win 103-98. Another almost sure win turned into another loss.
Just last night, @ Golden State, a formidable place for a visiting team to play (the Warriors are undefeated at home so far this year), the Thunder had the champs on the ropes again. Up by 9 late in the third quarter. Then another El Foldo. GS would win 121-106. That's a 24 point swing in a little over one quarter of action. It seems as if, at this point in the long NBA season, the Thunder run out of gas after three quarters of play against good teams.
Perhaps that shouldn't be totally surprising. After all, superstars Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook have played a ton of minutes. Sure, they're both fantastic talents, but they have limitations as well. Said limitations, in turn, affect the whole team as the season heads down the stretch. This manifests itself in a couple different ways.
First, 82 games is a lot. Throw in the incredible amount of travel any NBA player endures on road trips, sometimes including coast to coast and back to back games, and they need a break once in a while. Especially during the course of the games themselves.
Second, while many "experts" will say the Thunder is loaded with talent on their roster, it oftentimes doesn't look that way. For lack of a better word, Durant and Westbrook are basically ballhogs. They take the majority of the shots and score the majority of the points. That's fine -- to a point. And then it becomes counter-productive.
Oftentimes when either has the ball, their teammates stop moving, expecting the "star" to make yet another superb play. This is not good team basketball at the highest level. Two guys, no matter how good they are, cannot carry a team for a whole season, let alone deep into the playoffs, much less become champions, without sufficient help from their supporting cast. We often hear about the stars and their stats, and see endless replay highlights of their feats, but what we don't hear much about is the other 7-8 guys on the team that are plugging away to make it all possible.
Like Kobe Bryant over the years, Durant and Westbrook all to often revert back to "street hoops". All kinds of moves against single, double, even triple coverage, but you just know they're going to find a way to either shoot or drive to the basket eventually. They want to be showmen rather than team players for the greater good of the club. Hey, if the Thunder indeed has all this other talent on their roster -- then why not utilize it more than they do?
It was interesting to read the lips of Thunder head coach Billy Donovan after a failed play late in the game against the Warriors. Coming out of a time-out, he had drawn up the play he wanted. In went the ball. Out went Donovan's plan. Back to street hoops. Donovan yelled, "That's not what I drew up on the board!!!". As in, what the hell is going on with you guys?
Sure, the Thunder are a lock to make the playoffs. They might even enjoy home court advantage for the first couple rounds. And again, they're pretty damn good.
But it will be interesting to see how they play in the final month of the regular season. Their schedule isn't exactly a cakewalk. They have a couple more games against the Clips, a couple with the Trailblazers (no slouches), a couple with Houston (ditto), three against the San Antonio Spurs, and a game at Toronto. The Raptors are quietly leading their own division and just might be the best team in the East (with Cleveland experiencing some turmoil lately).
Plus, 7 out of the Thunder's final 9 regular season games will be on the road, where they've shown a propensity to fold late in games recently. It's going to be a tough month leading up to the playoffs.
How they will fare is anybody's guess. Will they right their ship, get on a roll and storm into the playoffs? Maybe.
Or are their fades of late an omen of a total collapse down the road? We'll see.
Yours truly has maintained all along the Thunder made a fatal error when it came to the possibility of winning a championship by letting point guard supreme James Hardin get away to the Houston Rockets in free agency not long ago.
Yeah, Hardin's a younger version dead ringer for Grady of the old Sanford and Son sitcom, but the dude's got some serious game on the hardwood. What were they thinking in Thunderville to allow that to happen?
Then again, maybe Grady, sorry, James got tired of watching the Kevin and Russell show too. And if you're NOT going to win a championship, the booming metropolis of Houston probably looks a whole lot more attractive than his former home. All kinds of things going on. And what do they do back in Okie land when the Thunder bows out again? Watch for tornadoes? Plant the crops? Hope another one of those pesky droughts doesn't happen?
Hmm. Yeah, I can see his point.
At home, about a week ago, the Thunder had the mighty Golden State Warriors on the ropes for the majority of the game. They had them, they had them -- and then they didn't have them. The Thunder totally botched the waning seconds of regulation time allowing GS to send it into overtime, which the Warriors would win 121-118 on a last-second bomb from -- who else? -- Steph Curry. A loss that should have been a win.
Then the lowly Sacramento Kings. A win.
Off to LA to face the Clippers. The Thunder had them all but put away as well. They led by 17 points late in the third quarter. Then they folded like a house of cards allowing the Clips to storm back and win 103-98. Another almost sure win turned into another loss.
Just last night, @ Golden State, a formidable place for a visiting team to play (the Warriors are undefeated at home so far this year), the Thunder had the champs on the ropes again. Up by 9 late in the third quarter. Then another El Foldo. GS would win 121-106. That's a 24 point swing in a little over one quarter of action. It seems as if, at this point in the long NBA season, the Thunder run out of gas after three quarters of play against good teams.
Perhaps that shouldn't be totally surprising. After all, superstars Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook have played a ton of minutes. Sure, they're both fantastic talents, but they have limitations as well. Said limitations, in turn, affect the whole team as the season heads down the stretch. This manifests itself in a couple different ways.
First, 82 games is a lot. Throw in the incredible amount of travel any NBA player endures on road trips, sometimes including coast to coast and back to back games, and they need a break once in a while. Especially during the course of the games themselves.
Second, while many "experts" will say the Thunder is loaded with talent on their roster, it oftentimes doesn't look that way. For lack of a better word, Durant and Westbrook are basically ballhogs. They take the majority of the shots and score the majority of the points. That's fine -- to a point. And then it becomes counter-productive.
Oftentimes when either has the ball, their teammates stop moving, expecting the "star" to make yet another superb play. This is not good team basketball at the highest level. Two guys, no matter how good they are, cannot carry a team for a whole season, let alone deep into the playoffs, much less become champions, without sufficient help from their supporting cast. We often hear about the stars and their stats, and see endless replay highlights of their feats, but what we don't hear much about is the other 7-8 guys on the team that are plugging away to make it all possible.
Like Kobe Bryant over the years, Durant and Westbrook all to often revert back to "street hoops". All kinds of moves against single, double, even triple coverage, but you just know they're going to find a way to either shoot or drive to the basket eventually. They want to be showmen rather than team players for the greater good of the club. Hey, if the Thunder indeed has all this other talent on their roster -- then why not utilize it more than they do?
It was interesting to read the lips of Thunder head coach Billy Donovan after a failed play late in the game against the Warriors. Coming out of a time-out, he had drawn up the play he wanted. In went the ball. Out went Donovan's plan. Back to street hoops. Donovan yelled, "That's not what I drew up on the board!!!". As in, what the hell is going on with you guys?
Sure, the Thunder are a lock to make the playoffs. They might even enjoy home court advantage for the first couple rounds. And again, they're pretty damn good.
But it will be interesting to see how they play in the final month of the regular season. Their schedule isn't exactly a cakewalk. They have a couple more games against the Clips, a couple with the Trailblazers (no slouches), a couple with Houston (ditto), three against the San Antonio Spurs, and a game at Toronto. The Raptors are quietly leading their own division and just might be the best team in the East (with Cleveland experiencing some turmoil lately).
Plus, 7 out of the Thunder's final 9 regular season games will be on the road, where they've shown a propensity to fold late in games recently. It's going to be a tough month leading up to the playoffs.
How they will fare is anybody's guess. Will they right their ship, get on a roll and storm into the playoffs? Maybe.
Or are their fades of late an omen of a total collapse down the road? We'll see.
Yours truly has maintained all along the Thunder made a fatal error when it came to the possibility of winning a championship by letting point guard supreme James Hardin get away to the Houston Rockets in free agency not long ago.
Yeah, Hardin's a younger version dead ringer for Grady of the old Sanford and Son sitcom, but the dude's got some serious game on the hardwood. What were they thinking in Thunderville to allow that to happen?
Then again, maybe Grady, sorry, James got tired of watching the Kevin and Russell show too. And if you're NOT going to win a championship, the booming metropolis of Houston probably looks a whole lot more attractive than his former home. All kinds of things going on. And what do they do back in Okie land when the Thunder bows out again? Watch for tornadoes? Plant the crops? Hope another one of those pesky droughts doesn't happen?
Hmm. Yeah, I can see his point.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Fan night? For who?
It was quite the busy day. After accepting my Presidential Medal of Freedom from BO, straightening out that little dust-up in the Middle East once and for all, snorkeling with Nessie in her Loch, and knocking out that pesky Irishman Conor McGregor in 4 seconds flat -- I finally made my way home for some well-deserved R & R.
What better way to relax than to nuke some lasagna leftovers, pop a cold one, and watch some hoops on TV? Better yet, the cable station said it was "fan night". Cool. Must be something special in the works. Then again, isn't every night supposed to be fan night? I mean, where would the games be if nobody attended or watched?
It was the Atlanta Hawks visiting the Golden State Warriors. But then things took a decided turn for the worse.
Steph Curry wouldn't be playing due to a minor injury. Nor would Andre Iguodala. That likely took a little fun out of the fans' experience at Oracle Arena in Oakland -- as well as the viewers watching it on TV.
The uniforms of both teams seemed perplexing. It was Los Warriors against Los Hawks. Evidently, the NBA is trying to cater to their hordes of Latino fans. That is -- if they HAD hordes of Latino fans -- which they don't. So what's the point in the espanol uniforms? It's bad enough we have to listen to that nonsense every time we call a customer service number. Who's running this country anyway?
A quick Google search revealed that Oracle Arena, home of the Warriors, ranks 26th out of the 30 NBA teams in home attendance so far this year. That seems odd. Aren't these guys the defending champs? And haven't they posted by far the best record in the entire league to date? Granted, the city of Oakland (I've been there a few times) more closely resembles an armpit than a posh tourist destination, but they and their basketball team aren't doing themselves any favors with these south of the border come-ons. It's likely a pretty safe bet to say the amigos, hombres and senoritas headed north -- and Oakland's quite a ways north -- as in several hundred miles -- aren't making the trek to watch a basketball game they can't afford to get into in the first place. So on "fan night", what gives with the Spanish unis? It's a slap in the face to the vast majority of American hoops fans as well.
Of course watching a game on TV means there's going to be commercials. Lots of them. Some are clever, others pitch worthwhile products, but some are just insulting.
Enter Lebron Raymone James. He would have us believe he drives around in a Kia. Please. The dude's making over $20 million a year playing basketball alone. No NBA player would be caught dead tooling around town in a Kia, let alone one at the max end of the pay scale. It's reminiscent of the old commercials when Wilt Chamberlain -- all 7 foot 1 of him -- was cramming himself into a VW Beetle. Again -- pah-leeze. What fool would believe such nonsense?
But I suppose there's another way of looking at it. Once upon a time, the late James Brown was dubbed the "King of Soul".
Seeing as how Kias are a South Korean export, perhaps Lebron James could now be rightfully called the "King of Seoul".
C'mon Raymone. You make your colossal dough every year courtesy of the American people. If you just have to hawk a car for more money that you obviously don't need -- how about a Chevy or a Ford? Cadillac's probably off the table any more. Once their execs saw your phony Kia bit, chances are they wouldn't even consider talking to you.
At least somebody still has some class in this country. Lord knows, the Presidential wannabes abandoned decorum and threw themselves into a mud-wrestling pit long ago.
Perhaps I'll go back on the road in the near future and rightfully slap them all silly until they come to their senses. Or at least tell the truth.
But that's a job for another day. Trying to keep up with and comprehend this NBA fan day nonsense has flat wore me out.
For now, yours truly grows weary and needs a little rest. I'll return the Pope's calls later.
And if he starts up with that esperanto gibberish again, I'm clicking him too.
What better way to relax than to nuke some lasagna leftovers, pop a cold one, and watch some hoops on TV? Better yet, the cable station said it was "fan night". Cool. Must be something special in the works. Then again, isn't every night supposed to be fan night? I mean, where would the games be if nobody attended or watched?
It was the Atlanta Hawks visiting the Golden State Warriors. But then things took a decided turn for the worse.
Steph Curry wouldn't be playing due to a minor injury. Nor would Andre Iguodala. That likely took a little fun out of the fans' experience at Oracle Arena in Oakland -- as well as the viewers watching it on TV.
The uniforms of both teams seemed perplexing. It was Los Warriors against Los Hawks. Evidently, the NBA is trying to cater to their hordes of Latino fans. That is -- if they HAD hordes of Latino fans -- which they don't. So what's the point in the espanol uniforms? It's bad enough we have to listen to that nonsense every time we call a customer service number. Who's running this country anyway?
A quick Google search revealed that Oracle Arena, home of the Warriors, ranks 26th out of the 30 NBA teams in home attendance so far this year. That seems odd. Aren't these guys the defending champs? And haven't they posted by far the best record in the entire league to date? Granted, the city of Oakland (I've been there a few times) more closely resembles an armpit than a posh tourist destination, but they and their basketball team aren't doing themselves any favors with these south of the border come-ons. It's likely a pretty safe bet to say the amigos, hombres and senoritas headed north -- and Oakland's quite a ways north -- as in several hundred miles -- aren't making the trek to watch a basketball game they can't afford to get into in the first place. So on "fan night", what gives with the Spanish unis? It's a slap in the face to the vast majority of American hoops fans as well.
Of course watching a game on TV means there's going to be commercials. Lots of them. Some are clever, others pitch worthwhile products, but some are just insulting.
Enter Lebron Raymone James. He would have us believe he drives around in a Kia. Please. The dude's making over $20 million a year playing basketball alone. No NBA player would be caught dead tooling around town in a Kia, let alone one at the max end of the pay scale. It's reminiscent of the old commercials when Wilt Chamberlain -- all 7 foot 1 of him -- was cramming himself into a VW Beetle. Again -- pah-leeze. What fool would believe such nonsense?
But I suppose there's another way of looking at it. Once upon a time, the late James Brown was dubbed the "King of Soul".
Seeing as how Kias are a South Korean export, perhaps Lebron James could now be rightfully called the "King of Seoul".
C'mon Raymone. You make your colossal dough every year courtesy of the American people. If you just have to hawk a car for more money that you obviously don't need -- how about a Chevy or a Ford? Cadillac's probably off the table any more. Once their execs saw your phony Kia bit, chances are they wouldn't even consider talking to you.
At least somebody still has some class in this country. Lord knows, the Presidential wannabes abandoned decorum and threw themselves into a mud-wrestling pit long ago.
Perhaps I'll go back on the road in the near future and rightfully slap them all silly until they come to their senses. Or at least tell the truth.
But that's a job for another day. Trying to keep up with and comprehend this NBA fan day nonsense has flat wore me out.
For now, yours truly grows weary and needs a little rest. I'll return the Pope's calls later.
And if he starts up with that esperanto gibberish again, I'm clicking him too.
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