Once upon a time, there was a man named Bill Davidson. Like many uber-rich guys of old (see Joe Kennedy, Sam Walton, the Rockefellers, etc.) he'd made his fortune through what now might be called unsavory business practices.
Regardless, old Willie was loaded. So he bought an NBA basketball team, which we now know as the Detroit Pistons. After spending many years at Cobo Hall in Detroit, a sorry venue in an even sorrier town, they relocated to play in -- wait for it -- a football stadium. This was known as the Silverdome, which the city of Pontiac, in their infinite wisdom, turned down a $20 million dollar offer for after the Pistons had left -- to settle for $583 thousand. Roughly a fortieth of what they could have had. But Pontiac hasn't exactly been known as the land of financial geniuses over the years either.
To his credit, Davidson built a brand new state of the art arena for his basketball team which he dubbed the Palace. This was all out of his own money -- no taxpayer dollars required, like most other arenas these days. And in a place where hundreds/thousands of people didn't get thrown out of their own homes via the dreaded "eminent domain" to make room for it. Easy in and out access to the Palace with major highways very close by for fans and their automobiles. What could go wrong?
Answer -- Mr. Davidson dying. Which left his estate to his daughter Karen. Apparently not interested in the hassle of such business, she decided to "cash out". The team, the arena, a concert facility nearby, and a few other goodies. Big bucks and no worries. Can't blame her.
Enter Tom Gores, a former Michigan native who had struck it rich in California maneuvering other people's money around via something called equity funds. Let's just say Mr. Gores was loaded himself, and he wanted in on the professional sports team ownership club.
So a mega-deal was struck. Nobody's heard much of Karen Davidson since. She's probably off to a tropical paradise with man and maidservants galore, living in the proverbial lap of luxury for ever after. This is what can happen when your daddy is rich, gets old and dies, and you inherit the works. More power to her. You go girl.
It should be noted that after a period of sustained success, including an NBA championship, the Pistons were obviously headed into a decline. So Karen got Tom to bite on a high price, and walked away with a smile on her face.
But dear Mr. Gores had to hire some people to actually run the basketball team. And this is where it started to get ridiculous. For the last few years a guy named Stan Van Gundy has been both the president and head coach of the Pistons -- with not one -- but two general managers in between. So who's in charge of whom? The president can typically hire/fire a general manager, and the GM can typically hire/fire a head coach. Unless he happens to also be the president, which he reports to. In other words, the Pistons chain of command is a colossal cluster****. It's like the classic Abbott and Costello "who's on first", etc. routine that never seems to end.
Which might have been okay, had the Pistons returned to NBA relevance, as in even semi-contenders. But they haven't. Worse, they're in the worst position possible. Finishing just out of the playoffs, but not a bottom feeder with a decent chance of getting a high lottery draft pick. Not that it would make much of a difference with what they've become over the last few years -- which is ugly. As in, they can't seem to get many people to show up for their games, even with cheap trick promotions.
And here's the kicker. With the Palace totally bought and paid for by the above-mentioned Bill Davidson, still a world class facility by any measure, with the also above-mentioned easy access, Tom Gores decided to move them back to Detroit. To an arena built for a hockey team (Detroit Red Wings) where he has to pay rent. Where it's a nightmare getting to and from. An oasis in a town still chock full of drugs, gangs, murderers, thieves, car-jackers, and urban blight pretty much everywhere else. In what magical financial world does that make sense?
Unlike the Palace, n the peaceful prospering community it's always been located in, which now sits empty awaiting bids. Perhaps even the dreaded demolition balls, implosives, and front end loaders/garbage trucks to scoop it up and haul it away to a land fill, as if it never existed.
This would not only be a colossal waste, but equally colossal stupidity at work. Alas, it's too late to remedy those obvious bone-headed missteps.
Does Stan Van Gundy need to go? That's like asking if you want to stick with your regular lawn maintenance guy when the grass is a foot high and chock full of weeds. All the BS he might offer for explanations doesn't change what's really been going on. It is what it is -- and it ain't pretty.
While Tom Gores is no doubt in quest of his next billion, he's obviously lost sight of -- if he ever had it -- the plight of the Detroit Pistons. They're not only bad, but will probably get worse in the short term.
And somewhere Karen Davidson likely sips from fancy cocktails with umbrellas and chuckles.
Sucker.
Did I mention -- you go girl?
Friday, April 13, 2018
Saturday, April 7, 2018
OK, I'm an idiot
After my last posting (see "Tiger Woods, the madness" -- stage right), a friend pointed out I had made a blunder. (Yes, believe it or not, even a low-life such as myself has a few friends.)
When comparing Tiger Woods' scores to the leader, and how far back he was after the first two rounds, I screwed up the numbers. That's odd, given that math was one of the few things I did well at in school. Trig, analytic geometry, even four semesters of calculus in college while pursuing my engineering degree-- no prob.
[Idle thought. Is it just me, or have you never used algebra even once since you got out of school? So what's the point of teaching how to solve those silly equations?]
But evidently I never got simple addition down pat.
After the second round of the Masters, I looked at leader Patrick Reed's score of nine under par, compared it to Woods' score of four over par, and....
Only a doofus like me could add nine to four and come up with Eldrick being fifteen shots behind. So yeah. I'm an idiot. I'll own that.
Thing is, after now three rounds having been played, Tiger is yet to break par on the course -- for any of them. After an even par 72 today, he remains at four over.
Meanwhile, many others have been killing it. Fifty four hole leader Reed shot a very impressive five under 67 in the third round, to zoom to 14 under par. He's three shots clear of...
Rory McIlroy, who who blistered the course with a 7-under 65. (The Masters is the only "major" the young Irishman has yet to win to accomplish the career "grand slam". And he's certainly in contention for this one.)
As did Ricky Fowler.
Jon Rahm, the young Spaniard that has taken the tour by storm of late, fired a 66.
As did Tommy Fleetwood, another up and coming star.
This, while dear Tiger could only manage a ho-hum round of even par 72, his best so far, as he watched so many others basically lap him.
So, here we go with the math again. Given Reed is at 14 under, and Woods is at 4 over, my colossal Jethro brain does the ciphering and comes up with -- an eighteen shot differential. That's the equivalent of losing by a whopping six strokes every day so far.
Further, out of the 53 players to make the cut, Eldrick Tont has only been able to stay ahead of eleven of them. He's mired in a tie for 40th place, and will be getting an early Sunday tee-off time, so he'll be out of the way before the contenders come marching through. That is, if I can count correctly, no given (see the title of this post above).
For those that wanted, NEEDED Tiger to come roaring back as a force on tour, that ought to pretty much put to rest any such delusions.
All along, the hype has been growing. Tiger this, and Tiger that. See him building towards this year's Masters. See his legions of faithful, if hopelessly naive, fans and media eagerly anticipating this would be a re-coronation of King Tiger back on his throne.
Well, maybe another type of "throne" is where he more appropriately belongs. The kind with the handle you reach around with your right hand to flush when you're done doing your business every day. There he can ponder how and why, at what was supposed to be the apex of his latest "comeback", he's floundering around a whopping 18 shots behind.
And it will probably get a lot worse by the time the final round is over. Could he go for 25? Or maybe he'll pull out again, citing a mysterious injury, to avoid the embarrassment.
This is what happens when the young stud "big boys" show up with their A game at a course like Augusta National, and an aging has-been tries to compete with them.
It can get ugly.
And so it has, at least for Eldrick. How much uglier before it's all over remains to be seen.
When comparing Tiger Woods' scores to the leader, and how far back he was after the first two rounds, I screwed up the numbers. That's odd, given that math was one of the few things I did well at in school. Trig, analytic geometry, even four semesters of calculus in college while pursuing my engineering degree-- no prob.
[Idle thought. Is it just me, or have you never used algebra even once since you got out of school? So what's the point of teaching how to solve those silly equations?]
But evidently I never got simple addition down pat.
After the second round of the Masters, I looked at leader Patrick Reed's score of nine under par, compared it to Woods' score of four over par, and....
Only a doofus like me could add nine to four and come up with Eldrick being fifteen shots behind. So yeah. I'm an idiot. I'll own that.
Thing is, after now three rounds having been played, Tiger is yet to break par on the course -- for any of them. After an even par 72 today, he remains at four over.
Meanwhile, many others have been killing it. Fifty four hole leader Reed shot a very impressive five under 67 in the third round, to zoom to 14 under par. He's three shots clear of...
Rory McIlroy, who who blistered the course with a 7-under 65. (The Masters is the only "major" the young Irishman has yet to win to accomplish the career "grand slam". And he's certainly in contention for this one.)
As did Ricky Fowler.
Jon Rahm, the young Spaniard that has taken the tour by storm of late, fired a 66.
As did Tommy Fleetwood, another up and coming star.
This, while dear Tiger could only manage a ho-hum round of even par 72, his best so far, as he watched so many others basically lap him.
So, here we go with the math again. Given Reed is at 14 under, and Woods is at 4 over, my colossal Jethro brain does the ciphering and comes up with -- an eighteen shot differential. That's the equivalent of losing by a whopping six strokes every day so far.
Further, out of the 53 players to make the cut, Eldrick Tont has only been able to stay ahead of eleven of them. He's mired in a tie for 40th place, and will be getting an early Sunday tee-off time, so he'll be out of the way before the contenders come marching through. That is, if I can count correctly, no given (see the title of this post above).
For those that wanted, NEEDED Tiger to come roaring back as a force on tour, that ought to pretty much put to rest any such delusions.
All along, the hype has been growing. Tiger this, and Tiger that. See him building towards this year's Masters. See his legions of faithful, if hopelessly naive, fans and media eagerly anticipating this would be a re-coronation of King Tiger back on his throne.
Well, maybe another type of "throne" is where he more appropriately belongs. The kind with the handle you reach around with your right hand to flush when you're done doing your business every day. There he can ponder how and why, at what was supposed to be the apex of his latest "comeback", he's floundering around a whopping 18 shots behind.
And it will probably get a lot worse by the time the final round is over. Could he go for 25? Or maybe he'll pull out again, citing a mysterious injury, to avoid the embarrassment.
This is what happens when the young stud "big boys" show up with their A game at a course like Augusta National, and an aging has-been tries to compete with them.
It can get ugly.
And so it has, at least for Eldrick. How much uglier before it's all over remains to be seen.
Friday, April 6, 2018
Tiger Woods. The madness
In the weeks leading up to this year's Master's Tournament, there was no getting away from it. On-line, talking TV heads, newspapers, EVERYBODY was talking about Tiger Woods. Could he be -- sound the trumpets -- OMG -- BACK?
You know, the golf god he once was to those that adopted him as their hero of heroes, sometimes known as suckers?
It would appear not. After the first round of the Masters, see dear Eldrick seven shots behind the leader. That's a bunch for 18 holes of golf. Yet with a couple late birdies, Tiger said he was right back in the tourney. Right, and his groupies flogged themselves with ecstasy.
After round two, see Eldrick a whopping fifteen shots behind. Strangely enough, he barely, BARELY made the cut. This was because one small herd of players had separated itself from a much larger herd of those floundering on the very difficult Augusta National course. Typically, only those within 10 shots of the lead after two rounds of play make the cut.
Yet his unwavering, if hopelessly naive faithful, think he has a shot of actually winning. These people are delusional. Their hopes were no doubt buoyed by his showings in a couple other recent tournaments where he finished in a respectable position. No wins, mind you, but in the Top Ten. It should be noted that many of the world's top ranked players didn't bother to show up to play in these lesser tournaments.
No, he will not win this year's Masters.
No, he will not win another major this year or any other year in the future.
Forget that -- ain't gonna happen. These days he's lucky to make a cut when the big boys show up.
And they are many. Depending on whose ratings one wants to believe, Eldrick Tont Woods isn't generally regarded as among the top 100 players in the world anymore. The constant attention and hype given to such an also-ran is baffling indeed. What is the MATTER with these people? They can wish and root all they want, but NO, Tiger is never going to be #1 in the world again either.
Forget that too. That's like thinking aging Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers might win another Triple Crown in the Major Leagues. Or Brett Favre will come out of retirement -- again -- and lead a team to a Super Bowl victory.
Did I mention forget that, ain't gonna happen?
One should remember that even during Woods' decade of dominance, now well over a decade past, he came along at the right time -- for himself.
Gone or hopelessly past their primes was the "old guard", consisting of names like Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, Trevino, Watson, Kite, Floyd, and a few others.
But it was before the emergence of current stars, consisting of names like Johnson, Stenson, Bubba Watson, Fowler, Day, Spieth, Rahm, Rose, Thomas, and many others.
It seems like new golf studs are popping up from all over the world every day, and it's likely to continue.
Put them all together on the same course for the same tournament, and Tiger (and his fans) is way over his head thinking he can possibly prevail after 72 holes of golf. That ain't gonna happen again either.
So let the suckers continue to worship him, and the media try to resurrect another "hero" of their making. They can delude themselves into believing whatever they want, but it isn't going to work.
Eldrick Tont Woods is past his prime, WAY past his prime. And all the other young guns on tour these days may give him homage for PR reasons, but they know he poses little, if any threat. Not over the course of an entire tournament. Let him have his throngs of lemming followers, the TV folks cover his every move - while missing so much other action around the course - and the post match interviews, evidently mandated from the media powers that be.
Tiger this, Tiger that. Tiger everywhere. It's going to be about Tiger. At least for now.
But he's done. Stick a fork in him. He had his great decade of golf, perhaps the best ever, but that's far in the rear view mirror.
And I, for one, have become thoroughly sick and tired of being bombarded with Tiger mania. By devoting so much attention to Eldrick, those that should know better are missing out on the true golf stories of the day.
Again, if he isn't even ranked in the top 100 in the world, where is the sense and/or logic in paying so much attention to him, while it detracts from others far more deserving?
And that's not even to mention his less than admirable qualities involving Tiger as a person over the years. In these times of political correctness and women's rights, how does it come to be a serial wife-cheater has been exalted to the heavens? It makes no sense whatsoever.
So yes, like every other year, yours truly will be tuned into the Masters as well.
But my fondest wish is that someday soon, this guy will just go away. Better yet, the media and lemmings will come to their senses and realize they've long been worshiping a false god.
Could it be that because Eldrick is a half-black man playing in predominantly a white man's sport is why so many cheer for him? Perhaps.
But I don't care about that. Win something, anything, which he hasn't done in several years, or shut up. Tiger is like Danica Patrick in that regard of late. All kinds of press coverage making them into heroes, but can't seem to win anything.
At least Danica finally, mercifully, retired. Or couldn't find anybody else to keep building her $400,000 race cars to keep wrecking.
I eagerly await the day when Eldrick finally bows out as well.
Enough is enough of this guy, and lately it's been WAY too much.
You know, the golf god he once was to those that adopted him as their hero of heroes, sometimes known as suckers?
It would appear not. After the first round of the Masters, see dear Eldrick seven shots behind the leader. That's a bunch for 18 holes of golf. Yet with a couple late birdies, Tiger said he was right back in the tourney. Right, and his groupies flogged themselves with ecstasy.
After round two, see Eldrick a whopping fifteen shots behind. Strangely enough, he barely, BARELY made the cut. This was because one small herd of players had separated itself from a much larger herd of those floundering on the very difficult Augusta National course. Typically, only those within 10 shots of the lead after two rounds of play make the cut.
Yet his unwavering, if hopelessly naive faithful, think he has a shot of actually winning. These people are delusional. Their hopes were no doubt buoyed by his showings in a couple other recent tournaments where he finished in a respectable position. No wins, mind you, but in the Top Ten. It should be noted that many of the world's top ranked players didn't bother to show up to play in these lesser tournaments.
No, he will not win this year's Masters.
No, he will not win another major this year or any other year in the future.
Forget that -- ain't gonna happen. These days he's lucky to make a cut when the big boys show up.
And they are many. Depending on whose ratings one wants to believe, Eldrick Tont Woods isn't generally regarded as among the top 100 players in the world anymore. The constant attention and hype given to such an also-ran is baffling indeed. What is the MATTER with these people? They can wish and root all they want, but NO, Tiger is never going to be #1 in the world again either.
Forget that too. That's like thinking aging Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers might win another Triple Crown in the Major Leagues. Or Brett Favre will come out of retirement -- again -- and lead a team to a Super Bowl victory.
Did I mention forget that, ain't gonna happen?
One should remember that even during Woods' decade of dominance, now well over a decade past, he came along at the right time -- for himself.
Gone or hopelessly past their primes was the "old guard", consisting of names like Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, Trevino, Watson, Kite, Floyd, and a few others.
But it was before the emergence of current stars, consisting of names like Johnson, Stenson, Bubba Watson, Fowler, Day, Spieth, Rahm, Rose, Thomas, and many others.
It seems like new golf studs are popping up from all over the world every day, and it's likely to continue.
Put them all together on the same course for the same tournament, and Tiger (and his fans) is way over his head thinking he can possibly prevail after 72 holes of golf. That ain't gonna happen again either.
So let the suckers continue to worship him, and the media try to resurrect another "hero" of their making. They can delude themselves into believing whatever they want, but it isn't going to work.
Eldrick Tont Woods is past his prime, WAY past his prime. And all the other young guns on tour these days may give him homage for PR reasons, but they know he poses little, if any threat. Not over the course of an entire tournament. Let him have his throngs of lemming followers, the TV folks cover his every move - while missing so much other action around the course - and the post match interviews, evidently mandated from the media powers that be.
Tiger this, Tiger that. Tiger everywhere. It's going to be about Tiger. At least for now.
But he's done. Stick a fork in him. He had his great decade of golf, perhaps the best ever, but that's far in the rear view mirror.
And I, for one, have become thoroughly sick and tired of being bombarded with Tiger mania. By devoting so much attention to Eldrick, those that should know better are missing out on the true golf stories of the day.
Again, if he isn't even ranked in the top 100 in the world, where is the sense and/or logic in paying so much attention to him, while it detracts from others far more deserving?
And that's not even to mention his less than admirable qualities involving Tiger as a person over the years. In these times of political correctness and women's rights, how does it come to be a serial wife-cheater has been exalted to the heavens? It makes no sense whatsoever.
So yes, like every other year, yours truly will be tuned into the Masters as well.
But my fondest wish is that someday soon, this guy will just go away. Better yet, the media and lemmings will come to their senses and realize they've long been worshiping a false god.
Could it be that because Eldrick is a half-black man playing in predominantly a white man's sport is why so many cheer for him? Perhaps.
But I don't care about that. Win something, anything, which he hasn't done in several years, or shut up. Tiger is like Danica Patrick in that regard of late. All kinds of press coverage making them into heroes, but can't seem to win anything.
At least Danica finally, mercifully, retired. Or couldn't find anybody else to keep building her $400,000 race cars to keep wrecking.
I eagerly await the day when Eldrick finally bows out as well.
Enough is enough of this guy, and lately it's been WAY too much.
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Pennsylvania. On a roll
With the crowning of Villanova as the NCAA men's basketball champions, the state of Pennsylvania has racked up another one. I'm pretty sure Villanova is a suburb of Philadelphia, and even more sure Philly is located in Pennsylvania.
Speaking of Philly, the Eagles recently won Super Bowl LII. Chalk up another one for the Keystone State. Ever wonder how it got its nickname? Because Pennsylvania was in the middle of the 13 original colonies, it was deemed to be the "keystone". That, and the US Constitution, Declaration of Independence, and even Lincoln's Gettysburg Address were written there. That's a fairly impressive trifecta.
Not be outdone, guess who the reigning Stanley Cup champs of the NHL are? Yep, the Pittsburgh Penguins. If memory serves, Pittsburgh is also in Pennsylvania. So okay, the Phillies and Pirates pretty well suck, but you can't have everything.
All in all, the state of Pennsylvania has a whole lot to be proud of these days when it comes to sports.
Then again, most Americans are aware of the childish behavior and otherwise dysfunctional things that have come out of Pennsylvania Ave. of late. Particularly the house with the address 1600.
Thing is, Pennsylvania Ave. isn't even located in Pennsylvania. Go figure.
No wonder things are so screwed up.
Speaking of Philly, the Eagles recently won Super Bowl LII. Chalk up another one for the Keystone State. Ever wonder how it got its nickname? Because Pennsylvania was in the middle of the 13 original colonies, it was deemed to be the "keystone". That, and the US Constitution, Declaration of Independence, and even Lincoln's Gettysburg Address were written there. That's a fairly impressive trifecta.
Not be outdone, guess who the reigning Stanley Cup champs of the NHL are? Yep, the Pittsburgh Penguins. If memory serves, Pittsburgh is also in Pennsylvania. So okay, the Phillies and Pirates pretty well suck, but you can't have everything.
All in all, the state of Pennsylvania has a whole lot to be proud of these days when it comes to sports.
Then again, most Americans are aware of the childish behavior and otherwise dysfunctional things that have come out of Pennsylvania Ave. of late. Particularly the house with the address 1600.
Thing is, Pennsylvania Ave. isn't even located in Pennsylvania. Go figure.
No wonder things are so screwed up.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
Donte DiVincenzo and the PC zealots
Relatively heretofore unknown Donte DiVincenzo of Villanova has suddenly been thrust into the proverbial limelight.
This is what happens when a player comes off the bench, scores a whopping 31 points, and leads his team to the national championship. A very impressive showing indeed.
But such fame inevitably has its downside as well. It will always bring the muck-rakers out from under their rocks, trying to find some kind of "dirt" they can smear him with.
Now his old twitter account, unused for many years, is being pored over.
Apparently DiVincenzo had some disparaging words to say regarding a minority or two ----
When he was 14 years old.
C'mon people. Get a life. Who didn't say and do dumb things when they were that age? To try and hold it against him now is the epitome of pettiness.
For that matter, as far as yours truly is concerned, whatever he said (I'm not privy and don't want to be) so long ago wouldn't faze me in the least. Even if he said the exact same thing or things today.
He had and has a right to his opinions, and can use whatever words he darn well feels like. If one is following such a person's tweets and doesn't like it, stop following. Pretty simple. But you don't get to tell him what he can say and not say. That's ridiculous.
And believe it or not, it doesn't matter what he tweeted. There will be those that agree with him. Guaranteed. It takes all kinds, and they're out there.
So leave the kid alone already. He said what he said and so what? People always have and always will say disparaging things to and about each other. To pretend otherwise is nonsense.
I applaud him for his masterful performance in the title game, and only hope he has the cajones not to whimper, cry, and beg for forgiveness for stating his mind.
When he was 14.
Or even now.
This is what happens when a player comes off the bench, scores a whopping 31 points, and leads his team to the national championship. A very impressive showing indeed.
But such fame inevitably has its downside as well. It will always bring the muck-rakers out from under their rocks, trying to find some kind of "dirt" they can smear him with.
Now his old twitter account, unused for many years, is being pored over.
Apparently DiVincenzo had some disparaging words to say regarding a minority or two ----
When he was 14 years old.
C'mon people. Get a life. Who didn't say and do dumb things when they were that age? To try and hold it against him now is the epitome of pettiness.
For that matter, as far as yours truly is concerned, whatever he said (I'm not privy and don't want to be) so long ago wouldn't faze me in the least. Even if he said the exact same thing or things today.
He had and has a right to his opinions, and can use whatever words he darn well feels like. If one is following such a person's tweets and doesn't like it, stop following. Pretty simple. But you don't get to tell him what he can say and not say. That's ridiculous.
And believe it or not, it doesn't matter what he tweeted. There will be those that agree with him. Guaranteed. It takes all kinds, and they're out there.
So leave the kid alone already. He said what he said and so what? People always have and always will say disparaging things to and about each other. To pretend otherwise is nonsense.
I applaud him for his masterful performance in the title game, and only hope he has the cajones not to whimper, cry, and beg for forgiveness for stating his mind.
When he was 14.
Or even now.
Monday, April 2, 2018
Villanova. Champions!!
Much credit to the Michigan Wolverines. Few thought they would get as far as they did. All the way to the national Finals. They were riding a 14 game winning streak to boot.
Yet it always seemed like the proverbial shoe was waiting to drop.
Granted, Michigan has a vastly improved defense from years past, is well coached, and has a few sharp-shooters of their own. But it should be noted that throughout the tournament, at least until the Finals, everything had pretty much fallen their way. UM, a #3 seed themselves going in, hadn't faced an opponent ranked higher than a #6 seed.
In the semis, they faced dear Sister Jean and her #11 seed Loyola/Chicago. The latter was the true Cinderella of the tournament, until they were rather easily dispatched by Michigan. No big surprise there.
But then came Villanova. If memory serves, the Wildcats were ranked as the #1 overall team in the country before the season even started. Come Monday night in San Antonio, it was Michigan that became the Cinderella, to the tune of 6-7 point underdogs. That's a bunch as basketball games go. 'Nova, justifiably a #1 seed, was supposed to roll over the Wolverines.
And so they did. After an early feeling out process in the game, it quickly became apparent which team was far superior.
This is what happens when a team has better ball handlers, better rebounders, and a better team defense than their opponents. That's not even to mention always having five guys on the floor that can bomb away from 3-point range.
Indeed, the Wildcats set several records for 3-point shooting. Most in a single NCAA tournament game. Most for the tournament. Most for the entire season. Not by a little, but smashing the previous records. And they lit up the Wolverines as well.
So it likely should have come as no big surprise they wound up walloping UM by a whopping 17 points in the NCAA Final.
In the latter stages of the game, UM had pretty much thrown team play out the window. It was one-on-one street hoops. Who can put on the best move, drive to the basket, and either make it or get fouled?
But that was hardly a recipe for success. Throw in a few missed free-throws, a bane of Michigan throughout the year, and the final result was rather predictable.
Yes, Villanova is just.... that.... good. If these teams played ten times, it's highly likely 'Nova would win all of them.
In a politically correct world, many would say Michigan deserves a lot of credit for accomplishing what they did. Indeed they do. They went further than most thought they would.
But in the real world, their magical little "run" not only came to an end, but they got stomped, thrashed, taken to the woodshed, and otherwise beaten to a pulp by the Wildcats. Men against boys. A beat down.
So here's to the Villanova Wildcats and head coach Jay Wright. The 2018 collegiate men's national basketball champions.
And they earned every bit of it.
The pounding they put on a #1 seed Kansas team in the semis should have been an omen of things to come.
Michigan turned out to be little more than cannon fodder.
They were a nice feel good story while it lasted, but c'mon. Is anybody really surprised on how it turned out when all the marbles were at stake?
Against a talent galore steamroller like Villanova?
The right team won, and for all the right reasons.
They were just better.
By a lot.
Period.
Congrats to Villanova, and enjoy.
Yet it always seemed like the proverbial shoe was waiting to drop.
Granted, Michigan has a vastly improved defense from years past, is well coached, and has a few sharp-shooters of their own. But it should be noted that throughout the tournament, at least until the Finals, everything had pretty much fallen their way. UM, a #3 seed themselves going in, hadn't faced an opponent ranked higher than a #6 seed.
In the semis, they faced dear Sister Jean and her #11 seed Loyola/Chicago. The latter was the true Cinderella of the tournament, until they were rather easily dispatched by Michigan. No big surprise there.
But then came Villanova. If memory serves, the Wildcats were ranked as the #1 overall team in the country before the season even started. Come Monday night in San Antonio, it was Michigan that became the Cinderella, to the tune of 6-7 point underdogs. That's a bunch as basketball games go. 'Nova, justifiably a #1 seed, was supposed to roll over the Wolverines.
And so they did. After an early feeling out process in the game, it quickly became apparent which team was far superior.
This is what happens when a team has better ball handlers, better rebounders, and a better team defense than their opponents. That's not even to mention always having five guys on the floor that can bomb away from 3-point range.
Indeed, the Wildcats set several records for 3-point shooting. Most in a single NCAA tournament game. Most for the tournament. Most for the entire season. Not by a little, but smashing the previous records. And they lit up the Wolverines as well.
So it likely should have come as no big surprise they wound up walloping UM by a whopping 17 points in the NCAA Final.
In the latter stages of the game, UM had pretty much thrown team play out the window. It was one-on-one street hoops. Who can put on the best move, drive to the basket, and either make it or get fouled?
But that was hardly a recipe for success. Throw in a few missed free-throws, a bane of Michigan throughout the year, and the final result was rather predictable.
Yes, Villanova is just.... that.... good. If these teams played ten times, it's highly likely 'Nova would win all of them.
In a politically correct world, many would say Michigan deserves a lot of credit for accomplishing what they did. Indeed they do. They went further than most thought they would.
But in the real world, their magical little "run" not only came to an end, but they got stomped, thrashed, taken to the woodshed, and otherwise beaten to a pulp by the Wildcats. Men against boys. A beat down.
So here's to the Villanova Wildcats and head coach Jay Wright. The 2018 collegiate men's national basketball champions.
And they earned every bit of it.
The pounding they put on a #1 seed Kansas team in the semis should have been an omen of things to come.
Michigan turned out to be little more than cannon fodder.
They were a nice feel good story while it lasted, but c'mon. Is anybody really surprised on how it turned out when all the marbles were at stake?
Against a talent galore steamroller like Villanova?
The right team won, and for all the right reasons.
They were just better.
By a lot.
Period.
Congrats to Villanova, and enjoy.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
Ladies basketball champions and hating
Poor Mississippi State. Just last year they slew the mighty dragon (UConn, breaking the longest winning streak of all time) in the semi-finals, only to come up short to South Carolina for all the marbles.
This year they got past a favored Louisville team in the semis, and then watched it all go away during the Finals again. They had Notre Dame. And then they didn't.
Bridesmaids again.
In this day of political correctness, which yours truly continues to scoff at, no doubt the "feel good" stories will be about how Notre Dame rose to the proverbial occasion.
And while that has merit, the flip side is just as real. Miss St. would have won that game, and their first national championship, if one Teaira McCowan hadn't choked at the worst possible time. With the game clock winding down to its last final seconds, the 6'7" junior blew a lay-up. Lay-ups are to basketball players what six inch putts are to golfers. Only a spaz, or one experiencing a colossal choke can possibly miss them.
On that note, things probably aren't good for Ms. McCowan right about now. She has to live with the fact she cost her teammates, coaches, school, and fans a national championship. Ack!!!
Of course, that's assuming she has the mental faculties to process this in the first place. By her expressions, or lack thereof, shortly after the game, it's hard to tell. Maybe she just doesn't get it. Who knows?
Nevertheless, Notre Dame is now the ladies' national champions.
And that's tough for someone such as myself to acknowledge. That's because I never did like Notre Dame, or ever will.
Long ago I became fed up with their smugness and sense of self-entitlement. And I've had it up to my eyeballs with shamrocks, leprechauns, and their infernal fight song blaring every two minutes during a game.
Good grief. Even their team name is laughable. The real Notre Dame is a cathedral in Paris -- as in France. So why do they call themselves the Fighting Irish? Could it be because the "Fighting French" doesn't sound exactly fearsome?
Over the years, there have been those that have called me a "hater". I hate this, or I hate that. They've pretty much been wrong. The only thing I truly hate is liver, and I don't care how it's cooked -- I hate it, period. Get that foul smelling animal oil filter away from me. Yet I certainly reserve the right to root for -- and AGAINST -- whoever I damn well choose.
And I have long chose to root against all things Notre Dame. And Tiger Woods for that matter. Never did like that guy. Still don't, and likely never will. Throw in the Dallas Cowboys, LA Dodgers, and Montreal Canadiens while we're at it. Don't like them and their uppity ways.
But it's not "hate". I don't even hate my ex, and she ripped me off something terrible.
Yet things have a way of changing. The non-stop wall-to-wall coverage and hero worship of Eldrick Tont Woods, not even in the top 100 golfers in the world, is definitely grating on me more. So are any moronic advertising spots featuring the big ugly, sometimes known as Shaq, hawking a product. If he's selling it -- I ain't buying it. Period.
The "most interesting man in the world". A duck, a lizard, and some homely twit named Flo trying to push insurance policies. A few more replays of Lebron James' dunks force fed to the public as supposed "highlights". And the list keeps growing.
Keep jamming it down my throat and, yeah, I might just develop out and out hate for these things and people. But it would have been their fault. Enough is enough. Quit it already. I WANT to like ducks, even homely women, though I'm not sure about lizards.
But at the end of the day, I begrudgingly give a shout out to Notre Dame. They're the, urp, national champions, gag, of the ladies college basketball world this year. Barf.
Here's to them.
Yet overriding their feat are the immortal words of the late Glen "Bo" Schembechler, long of Michigan football fame.
"To hell with Notre Dame".
Always did like that guy.....
This year they got past a favored Louisville team in the semis, and then watched it all go away during the Finals again. They had Notre Dame. And then they didn't.
Bridesmaids again.
In this day of political correctness, which yours truly continues to scoff at, no doubt the "feel good" stories will be about how Notre Dame rose to the proverbial occasion.
And while that has merit, the flip side is just as real. Miss St. would have won that game, and their first national championship, if one Teaira McCowan hadn't choked at the worst possible time. With the game clock winding down to its last final seconds, the 6'7" junior blew a lay-up. Lay-ups are to basketball players what six inch putts are to golfers. Only a spaz, or one experiencing a colossal choke can possibly miss them.
On that note, things probably aren't good for Ms. McCowan right about now. She has to live with the fact she cost her teammates, coaches, school, and fans a national championship. Ack!!!
Of course, that's assuming she has the mental faculties to process this in the first place. By her expressions, or lack thereof, shortly after the game, it's hard to tell. Maybe she just doesn't get it. Who knows?
Nevertheless, Notre Dame is now the ladies' national champions.
And that's tough for someone such as myself to acknowledge. That's because I never did like Notre Dame, or ever will.
Long ago I became fed up with their smugness and sense of self-entitlement. And I've had it up to my eyeballs with shamrocks, leprechauns, and their infernal fight song blaring every two minutes during a game.
Good grief. Even their team name is laughable. The real Notre Dame is a cathedral in Paris -- as in France. So why do they call themselves the Fighting Irish? Could it be because the "Fighting French" doesn't sound exactly fearsome?
Over the years, there have been those that have called me a "hater". I hate this, or I hate that. They've pretty much been wrong. The only thing I truly hate is liver, and I don't care how it's cooked -- I hate it, period. Get that foul smelling animal oil filter away from me. Yet I certainly reserve the right to root for -- and AGAINST -- whoever I damn well choose.
And I have long chose to root against all things Notre Dame. And Tiger Woods for that matter. Never did like that guy. Still don't, and likely never will. Throw in the Dallas Cowboys, LA Dodgers, and Montreal Canadiens while we're at it. Don't like them and their uppity ways.
But it's not "hate". I don't even hate my ex, and she ripped me off something terrible.
Yet things have a way of changing. The non-stop wall-to-wall coverage and hero worship of Eldrick Tont Woods, not even in the top 100 golfers in the world, is definitely grating on me more. So are any moronic advertising spots featuring the big ugly, sometimes known as Shaq, hawking a product. If he's selling it -- I ain't buying it. Period.
The "most interesting man in the world". A duck, a lizard, and some homely twit named Flo trying to push insurance policies. A few more replays of Lebron James' dunks force fed to the public as supposed "highlights". And the list keeps growing.
Keep jamming it down my throat and, yeah, I might just develop out and out hate for these things and people. But it would have been their fault. Enough is enough. Quit it already. I WANT to like ducks, even homely women, though I'm not sure about lizards.
But at the end of the day, I begrudgingly give a shout out to Notre Dame. They're the, urp, national champions, gag, of the ladies college basketball world this year. Barf.
Here's to them.
Yet overriding their feat are the immortal words of the late Glen "Bo" Schembechler, long of Michigan football fame.
"To hell with Notre Dame".
Always did like that guy.....
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