Finally, the end of the trial appears to be in sight. Supposedly, the defense is going to wrap up its case in the next few days. Then will come closing arguments, deliberation, and hopefully, mercifully, a verdict will be rendered. This has gone on way too long.
The shooting itself happened on Feb. 14, 2013. The very next day, Pistorius was taken into custody and charges were filed. It would take over a full year before the trial finally started on March 3, 2014. It's understandable that it takes some time to gather and process evidence, analyze forensics, round up and depose any relevant witnesses, and for both sides to properly prepare their cases. But over a year?
And once the trial was finally underway, they adjourned it for a month so Pistorius could be examined by psychiatric experts, even though neither side disputed his sanity from the beginning? If it wasn't so pitiful, it would be funny.
This was/is hardly a case where some sort of massive conspiracy has to be sorted out layer by layer as to culpability. Actually, the entire premise of the Pistorius case is quite simple.
All agree that Pistorius fatally shot his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp through a bathroom door in his own home.
It doesn't matter whether he was on his "stumps" or wearing his prosthetic legs.
It doesn't matter what he did immediately following the gunshots.
It doesn't matter what neighbors a few hundred yards away thought they may have heard prior to the shooting.
Along that line, it doesn't matter whether Oscar and Reeva had been getting along fine or recently been arguing.
The prosecution will typically hypothesize various evil scenarios they can't prove, while the defense will trot out "character witnesses" saying what a nice guy their client is. None of it matters.
Seventeen months and counting after the actual shooting happened, only two things matter.
Did Oscar actually believe his life was in danger, mistaking his girlfriend for an intruder in crime-ridden South Africa? Or did he know it was Reeva behind that door all along? The answer to those questions is both obvious and baffling. Only Oscar knows for sure. One is free to believe his version of what was going through his mind at the time -- or one can believe prosecutor Gerrie Nel's theory. The first is a tragic accident, and the latter a deliberate cold-blooded murder. But regardless of the eventual verdict, up or down, doubts will forever remain amongst objective minds. What was he REALLY thinking when he pulled that trigger? We'll likely never know to any degree of certainty.
But in the end, it all boils down to just one thing that matters the most. A lone woman's opinion. Despite their fanciful rhetoric and, yes, smoke and mirrors, there is not a jury of Oscar's peers to be persuaded one way or the other by the prosecution and defense. In South Africa, there are no juries in such trials. Just a judge, who will eventually make the call. So all the world-wide media, especially the talking heads, pro and con, trying to plead this case to their hordes of knee-jerking armchair viewers matters not one whit.
A lady named Thokozile Masipa, the judge, will make the decision as to what will happen to Oscar Pistorius. If she determines it an accident, and Ocar is found innocent, he likely walks, no pun intended. If she determines him guilty of pre-meditated murder, he could be looking at a very long time in prison.
Either way, this has gone on way too long already. What little evidence there was isn't going to change. Either she believes Oscar or she doesn't.
So Masipa should quit screwing around and make the call, while we're still young. Well, sort of.....
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Futbol by continents
It's interesting how the World Cup has worked out. No team from the continent of Africa remains. Or Asia. Or Australia. Pretty sure they don't play much soccer in Antarctica and, even if they could have fielded a team, I'm also fairly confident they would have been eliminated by now. Penguin-esque folks typically don't fare very well running around in 90 degree heat.
North America has been kicked to the curb though, to be fair, that continent only consists of two countries. The United States and Canada. Well OK, Costa Rica lies in "central" America, which is technically part of north America, I think, but the Netherlands squad gave them the boot in the Elite Eight round. For whatever reason, it would appear windmills trump bananas. Somewhere, Don Quixote is smiling, while Miss Chiquita is likely not amused. Sorry. Ahem.
So now we're down to the heavyweights. Two European countries versus two South American countries. Argentina will take on the Netherlands in one semi-final, while host Brazil tangles with Germany in the other.
Argentina will be favored over Holland. Tulips are great and wooden shoes have their place -- though I wouldn't recommend them to play soccer in -- but Argentina's futbol team is just flat-out good. Plus, it's highly likely Argentina will enjoy somewhat of a home field advantage with the fans that will be in attendance for that game. It's a heck of a lot easier, shorter, and cheaper to get from Argentina to Brazil, than it is from the Netherlands.
Brazil vs Germany presents an interesting match-up. Obviously, the Brazilians, playing in their own futbol fanatical fiefdom, will enjoy a huge advantage with the fans that are lucky enough to make their way into the stadium.
But Germany's no slouch. They've been there, done that, just like Brazil, in years past. Normally, one would still think Brazil would be the favorite -- and they might well be -- but in their last game against Colombia, Brazil lost their best player, Neymar, to a fractured vertebrae. Will that hurt their chances, or inspire his teammates to play even harder? Unknown.
But here's the thing. At this level, despite or because both teams are so highly skilled, the games themselves often get very boring. That's because very few goals will be scored. They will run back and forth for countless miles kicking the ball around over the course of a few hours while thwarting each other, but typical scoring chances will be rare, and actual goals rarer yet. A single goal (notice the scores in the quarter-finals) might well provide the margin of victory. And 0-0 games after regulation and "extra time" are not unusual. Some three hours may have transpired without a single goal. I'm sorry, but while I definitely appreciate the skill level of all the players -- a few hours without a score translates into being boring. It's little wonder the announcers and fans go berserk when the ball actually finds its way into the back of a net. Clean-shaven guys can grow beards, grandmas can knit a few sweaters, and adolescents can grow six inches while waiting for a damn goal to be scored.
So remembering I'm usually wrong -- here's the picks.....
Argentina sends the Netherlands back into, well, the netherlands.
Even without Neymar, Brazil holds their home court and the Germans have a long flight back to Deutschland.
And in the finals?
The Brazilians are amped up to the max in carnival spirit anticipating yet another World Cup championship.
But they don't get it.
Argentina wins.
Just a guess....
North America has been kicked to the curb though, to be fair, that continent only consists of two countries. The United States and Canada. Well OK, Costa Rica lies in "central" America, which is technically part of north America, I think, but the Netherlands squad gave them the boot in the Elite Eight round. For whatever reason, it would appear windmills trump bananas. Somewhere, Don Quixote is smiling, while Miss Chiquita is likely not amused. Sorry. Ahem.
So now we're down to the heavyweights. Two European countries versus two South American countries. Argentina will take on the Netherlands in one semi-final, while host Brazil tangles with Germany in the other.
Argentina will be favored over Holland. Tulips are great and wooden shoes have their place -- though I wouldn't recommend them to play soccer in -- but Argentina's futbol team is just flat-out good. Plus, it's highly likely Argentina will enjoy somewhat of a home field advantage with the fans that will be in attendance for that game. It's a heck of a lot easier, shorter, and cheaper to get from Argentina to Brazil, than it is from the Netherlands.
Brazil vs Germany presents an interesting match-up. Obviously, the Brazilians, playing in their own futbol fanatical fiefdom, will enjoy a huge advantage with the fans that are lucky enough to make their way into the stadium.
But Germany's no slouch. They've been there, done that, just like Brazil, in years past. Normally, one would still think Brazil would be the favorite -- and they might well be -- but in their last game against Colombia, Brazil lost their best player, Neymar, to a fractured vertebrae. Will that hurt their chances, or inspire his teammates to play even harder? Unknown.
But here's the thing. At this level, despite or because both teams are so highly skilled, the games themselves often get very boring. That's because very few goals will be scored. They will run back and forth for countless miles kicking the ball around over the course of a few hours while thwarting each other, but typical scoring chances will be rare, and actual goals rarer yet. A single goal (notice the scores in the quarter-finals) might well provide the margin of victory. And 0-0 games after regulation and "extra time" are not unusual. Some three hours may have transpired without a single goal. I'm sorry, but while I definitely appreciate the skill level of all the players -- a few hours without a score translates into being boring. It's little wonder the announcers and fans go berserk when the ball actually finds its way into the back of a net. Clean-shaven guys can grow beards, grandmas can knit a few sweaters, and adolescents can grow six inches while waiting for a damn goal to be scored.
So remembering I'm usually wrong -- here's the picks.....
Argentina sends the Netherlands back into, well, the netherlands.
Even without Neymar, Brazil holds their home court and the Germans have a long flight back to Deutschland.
And in the finals?
The Brazilians are amped up to the max in carnival spirit anticipating yet another World Cup championship.
But they don't get it.
Argentina wins.
Just a guess....
Saturday, July 5, 2014
NBA insanity
As any pro hoops fan knows, a lot is being made these days over a few "free agents" that have hit the open market. "Analysts" are analyzing. Talking heads are blathering on. Scribes are furiously writing. The Net stories change every 5 minutes with the latest developments or, more properly put -- rumors.
Though many NBA players have become free agents, it's likely fair to say just two of them are garnering the most attention. Lebron James and Carmelo Anthony. Both could have made upward of $20 million per year staying with their latest teams -- the Miami Heat and New York Knicks, respectively. That's a whole lot of green. To put that in perspective, $20 mill a year, grossly speaking (double entendre intended), averages out to about $55,000 a day, EVERY day, 365. For playing basketball. Excuse me, but there's something grotesque about those numbers. Fifty five grand a day is more than a typical firefighter makes for a whole year. And those folks might save your life and/or home one day, at the risk of their own, while basketball players offer nothing more than entertainment. One is a necessity for all, while the other is merely a source of amusement for those so inclined. Draw your own conclusions as to the inequity.
Yet there seems to be no end to the madness surrounding James and Anthony. In Miami, fellow players Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh have opted out of their contracts as well, but are apparently waiting to see what Lebron does. Where will he go? How much will he sign for? OMG, what are we to do? It's actually somewhere between laughable and pitiful that these grown men, and NBA veterans, still can't seem to think for themselves.
The Carmelo Anthony dog and pony show is even worse. He wants to talk to the Chicago Bulls, and the Houston Rockets, and the Dallas Mavericks, and holy la-la loser land, even the Los Angeles Lakers. Here's a clue. The Lakers don't even have a head coach right now. So how would Mello know if he would fit into their system until they hire one? Hello?
One thing for sure. Lebron's going to demand a max contract wherever he goes. He's the Moe (alpha male) of the Miami Big 3. Larry and Curly (Wade and Bosh) will fall in line depending on what Moe does. It's comical.
In the end, here's the deal. Who cares where Lebron Jimmy and Carmel Tony wind up? They'll make an obscene amount of money, but they're still just basketball players. For that matter, if neither one of them ever played another game, would it really make that big a difference in the overall scheme of things? Despite what the pundits would have us believe, I'm fairly certain the NBA will continue to thrive regardless, and I'm positive planet earth isn't in danger of self-destructing depending on how all this free agency nonsense works out with a few basketball players.
We were fine before they arrived, and we'll be fine after they're gone. All the current stuff is just hype for the suckers. And if you're forking over $500-600 to take your significant other and couple kids to sit in the cheap seats at an NBA game, so you can be a part of paying these dudes $55,000 a day, then you are a sucker indeed.
Though many NBA players have become free agents, it's likely fair to say just two of them are garnering the most attention. Lebron James and Carmelo Anthony. Both could have made upward of $20 million per year staying with their latest teams -- the Miami Heat and New York Knicks, respectively. That's a whole lot of green. To put that in perspective, $20 mill a year, grossly speaking (double entendre intended), averages out to about $55,000 a day, EVERY day, 365. For playing basketball. Excuse me, but there's something grotesque about those numbers. Fifty five grand a day is more than a typical firefighter makes for a whole year. And those folks might save your life and/or home one day, at the risk of their own, while basketball players offer nothing more than entertainment. One is a necessity for all, while the other is merely a source of amusement for those so inclined. Draw your own conclusions as to the inequity.
Yet there seems to be no end to the madness surrounding James and Anthony. In Miami, fellow players Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh have opted out of their contracts as well, but are apparently waiting to see what Lebron does. Where will he go? How much will he sign for? OMG, what are we to do? It's actually somewhere between laughable and pitiful that these grown men, and NBA veterans, still can't seem to think for themselves.
The Carmelo Anthony dog and pony show is even worse. He wants to talk to the Chicago Bulls, and the Houston Rockets, and the Dallas Mavericks, and holy la-la loser land, even the Los Angeles Lakers. Here's a clue. The Lakers don't even have a head coach right now. So how would Mello know if he would fit into their system until they hire one? Hello?
One thing for sure. Lebron's going to demand a max contract wherever he goes. He's the Moe (alpha male) of the Miami Big 3. Larry and Curly (Wade and Bosh) will fall in line depending on what Moe does. It's comical.
In the end, here's the deal. Who cares where Lebron Jimmy and Carmel Tony wind up? They'll make an obscene amount of money, but they're still just basketball players. For that matter, if neither one of them ever played another game, would it really make that big a difference in the overall scheme of things? Despite what the pundits would have us believe, I'm fairly certain the NBA will continue to thrive regardless, and I'm positive planet earth isn't in danger of self-destructing depending on how all this free agency nonsense works out with a few basketball players.
We were fine before they arrived, and we'll be fine after they're gone. All the current stuff is just hype for the suckers. And if you're forking over $500-600 to take your significant other and couple kids to sit in the cheap seats at an NBA game, so you can be a part of paying these dudes $55,000 a day, then you are a sucker indeed.
Friday, July 4, 2014
Joey Chestnut, hot dogs and engagements
Well OK, Joey Chestnut won the hot-dog eating contest at Nathan's Coney Island again. No big surprise there. The San Jose dude can put away some serious chow in a hurry. Kind of like one of those chippers/shredding machines tree trimmers feed small branches and foliage into.
What WAS a bit of a surprise was Chestnut taking a knee and proposing to his girlfriend Neslie Ricasa on stage just prior to the feeding frenzy. Of course, Nathan's was in on it and one of their shills had a microphone handy to capture such a touching, tender moment for posterity. No doubt, it will be archived in the immortal annals of competitive eating for all future generations of mega-gluttons to revere with awe. It kind of gets you right, urp, there, ya know?
Nevertheless, it's probably a good thing Neslie accepted. Had she declined, hard telling what Joey might have done. Eat the microphone and start gnawing on the carnival barker's leg as appetizers? That could have become ugly.
Turns out, Ms. Ricasa can polish off some grub too. Fifty nine dumplings in 10 minutes is pretty impressive stuff. Here's wishing the future Mr. and Mrs. Jaws the best, and may the blessed couple garner many lucrative endorsements. Why? To pay for their grocery bill. And with apologies to Mr. T, I pity the fool that offers to treat them to dinner at a fine restaurant.
At that, there likely wasn't much pre-nuptial romantic bliss going on between Joey and Neslie as other fireworks were going off that night. Hey, the dude just ate 61 hot dogs and buns. Quite a performance. Expecting another one in the sack a few hours later might be asking a bit much.
On a related note, it was interesting that a little guy named Stonie came in second to Chestnut. He downed 56. Stonie is a good name for a dude like this. Never underestimate the power of the munchies.....
What WAS a bit of a surprise was Chestnut taking a knee and proposing to his girlfriend Neslie Ricasa on stage just prior to the feeding frenzy. Of course, Nathan's was in on it and one of their shills had a microphone handy to capture such a touching, tender moment for posterity. No doubt, it will be archived in the immortal annals of competitive eating for all future generations of mega-gluttons to revere with awe. It kind of gets you right, urp, there, ya know?
Nevertheless, it's probably a good thing Neslie accepted. Had she declined, hard telling what Joey might have done. Eat the microphone and start gnawing on the carnival barker's leg as appetizers? That could have become ugly.
Turns out, Ms. Ricasa can polish off some grub too. Fifty nine dumplings in 10 minutes is pretty impressive stuff. Here's wishing the future Mr. and Mrs. Jaws the best, and may the blessed couple garner many lucrative endorsements. Why? To pay for their grocery bill. And with apologies to Mr. T, I pity the fool that offers to treat them to dinner at a fine restaurant.
At that, there likely wasn't much pre-nuptial romantic bliss going on between Joey and Neslie as other fireworks were going off that night. Hey, the dude just ate 61 hot dogs and buns. Quite a performance. Expecting another one in the sack a few hours later might be asking a bit much.
On a related note, it was interesting that a little guy named Stonie came in second to Chestnut. He downed 56. Stonie is a good name for a dude like this. Never underestimate the power of the munchies.....
Thursday, July 3, 2014
USA World Cup aftermath
Most in the United States that followed their national soccer team continue to think they were a rousing success, despite the fact they were eliminated by Belgium in the first knock-out game. Though only losing 2-1, it was apparent throughout the Belgian team was vastly superior to the Americans. One thing, and one thing only kept the score respectable. The spectacular, if a bit lucky at times, goaltending of Tim Howard.
Howard made 16 saves, which wouldn't be a whole for a goaltender in a typical NHL game, but it's a ton in World Cup soccer, given how wide the net is. The Belgians out-shot the Americans 38-14, nearly a 3-1 margin. The glass half full scenario for the US squad was they were "oh-so-close". A break here or there, and who knows? The half empty scenario was that Belgium could have scored 5, 7, even 10 goals, and totally routed the Americans had the breaks went their way.
Tim Howard (no relation to Ron, Dwight, Moe, Curly, and Shemp -- to my knowledge) deserves major kudos for even keeping the game close. All in all, the Belgians were vastly superior to the Yanks. Some neutral analysts even suggested the Belgians had the luxury of bringing players off the bench that were better than any of the starters the Americans had. While the final score was close, there is little doubt the Belgians carried the play throughout most of the game. For once, in the end, everybody appears to be happy. The Belgians are glad to be moving on, while the Americans are proud of their showing on the world futbol stage.
Now the debate rages on. Has soccer at its highest levels finally "arrived" in the USA? The short answer would be -- probably not. Like the Olympics, the World Cup is a big deal every 4 years. National pride swells as people wrap themselves in their country's colors to root on their heroes in various events. But when it's over, it's over. Nobody cares about bob-sledding, speed skating, the 100 meter dash, various swimming events, etc., etc., until they come around 4 years later with usually a new cast of characters.
And yours truly suspects much the same will befall big time soccer in the USA now that the World Cup is over. Sure, Major League Soccer in America is a little more popular than it was, say, 10 years ago, but it still doesn't even register a blip on the radar compared to the Big Four (baseball, basketball, football, hockey) in the USA. Look around. MLS gets little to no TV coverage or ink in newspapers. The current US national team getting bounced in the World Cup version of the Sweet Sixteen isn't likely to change that. There are, and will continue to be rabid soccer fans, but most American sports fans will likely turn their attention elsewhere now that the Brazil bash is over.
But in the aftermath of the World Cup, the American soccer proselytizers are out in full force. There's is the purest game, they say. The action is non-stop. And, after all, the whole rest of the world is ga-ga over futbol. How can one not become a soccer sappy after this World Cup? You have to like it. You WILL like it, evidently whether you want to or not.
My answer? Hey, do what you gotta do, but don't tell me I have to like soccer, because I personally find it boring. Further, I would tell the phubol phanatics that's it's OK for them not to like baseball, football, etc. The rest of us understand. It's still a free country, sort of, and fans are supposed to be allowed to choose what sports and teams they want to devote their attention, dollars, and loyalties to. Enjoy your soccer and be happy, but get off this elitist crap that fans of other sports are somehow mentally inferior.
Sure, most of us are idiots, else we wouldn't pay the ridiculous prices to go to games to subsidize the outrageous salaries of a lot of guys that couldn't spell "cat" if you spotted them two consonants -- but dammit, they can shoot a basketball, sack a quarterback, or hit home runs. And most times we don't have to wait hours for somebody to actually, you know, score. Watching a typical soccer game is like watching a NASCAR or Indy race with no wrecks or pit stops needed. Though it's exciting to begin with, after a while, the roundy-rounds have a way of causing brain-lock, AKA boredom, and people wander off to do other things. They'll come back to check out the last few laps, or "extra time" in soccer. At that, only one person on the planet knows how much time is left. The on-field referee. It's a secret to everybody else. Why don't they have a clock on the scoreboard like every other game so the players and fans alike know what's going on? Seems almost as silly as pro boxing, when nobody knows how the judges scored each round until it's all over. Much like nothing prevents a boxing judge from going back and changing his/her score on an earlier round, a soccer ref has sole discretion as to how long the game will go on. And nobody else knows anything. It's an invitation for corruption. What could be more in the interest of fair play than putting it all up on the scoreboard for everybody to see?
Much the same is true with soccer. Exciting to begin with, but who wants to sit around for 3-4 hours watching them run back and forth kicking a ball (and oh my -- the whining and flopping) when actual scores are rarer than steak tartare?
Here's wishing the phutbolphiles the best and may the force (and more goals) be with them. But stop telling the rest of us how great your game is. It either catches on in America or it doesn't, but as long as the other Big Four are around for fans to choose from, it ain't exactly looking good. See ya in 4 years when they start kicking it around in Russia for the next World Cup.
In the meantime, please stop with the propaganda. It makes you look insecure.
Howard made 16 saves, which wouldn't be a whole for a goaltender in a typical NHL game, but it's a ton in World Cup soccer, given how wide the net is. The Belgians out-shot the Americans 38-14, nearly a 3-1 margin. The glass half full scenario for the US squad was they were "oh-so-close". A break here or there, and who knows? The half empty scenario was that Belgium could have scored 5, 7, even 10 goals, and totally routed the Americans had the breaks went their way.
Tim Howard (no relation to Ron, Dwight, Moe, Curly, and Shemp -- to my knowledge) deserves major kudos for even keeping the game close. All in all, the Belgians were vastly superior to the Yanks. Some neutral analysts even suggested the Belgians had the luxury of bringing players off the bench that were better than any of the starters the Americans had. While the final score was close, there is little doubt the Belgians carried the play throughout most of the game. For once, in the end, everybody appears to be happy. The Belgians are glad to be moving on, while the Americans are proud of their showing on the world futbol stage.
Now the debate rages on. Has soccer at its highest levels finally "arrived" in the USA? The short answer would be -- probably not. Like the Olympics, the World Cup is a big deal every 4 years. National pride swells as people wrap themselves in their country's colors to root on their heroes in various events. But when it's over, it's over. Nobody cares about bob-sledding, speed skating, the 100 meter dash, various swimming events, etc., etc., until they come around 4 years later with usually a new cast of characters.
And yours truly suspects much the same will befall big time soccer in the USA now that the World Cup is over. Sure, Major League Soccer in America is a little more popular than it was, say, 10 years ago, but it still doesn't even register a blip on the radar compared to the Big Four (baseball, basketball, football, hockey) in the USA. Look around. MLS gets little to no TV coverage or ink in newspapers. The current US national team getting bounced in the World Cup version of the Sweet Sixteen isn't likely to change that. There are, and will continue to be rabid soccer fans, but most American sports fans will likely turn their attention elsewhere now that the Brazil bash is over.
But in the aftermath of the World Cup, the American soccer proselytizers are out in full force. There's is the purest game, they say. The action is non-stop. And, after all, the whole rest of the world is ga-ga over futbol. How can one not become a soccer sappy after this World Cup? You have to like it. You WILL like it, evidently whether you want to or not.
My answer? Hey, do what you gotta do, but don't tell me I have to like soccer, because I personally find it boring. Further, I would tell the phubol phanatics that's it's OK for them not to like baseball, football, etc. The rest of us understand. It's still a free country, sort of, and fans are supposed to be allowed to choose what sports and teams they want to devote their attention, dollars, and loyalties to. Enjoy your soccer and be happy, but get off this elitist crap that fans of other sports are somehow mentally inferior.
Sure, most of us are idiots, else we wouldn't pay the ridiculous prices to go to games to subsidize the outrageous salaries of a lot of guys that couldn't spell "cat" if you spotted them two consonants -- but dammit, they can shoot a basketball, sack a quarterback, or hit home runs. And most times we don't have to wait hours for somebody to actually, you know, score. Watching a typical soccer game is like watching a NASCAR or Indy race with no wrecks or pit stops needed. Though it's exciting to begin with, after a while, the roundy-rounds have a way of causing brain-lock, AKA boredom, and people wander off to do other things. They'll come back to check out the last few laps, or "extra time" in soccer. At that, only one person on the planet knows how much time is left. The on-field referee. It's a secret to everybody else. Why don't they have a clock on the scoreboard like every other game so the players and fans alike know what's going on? Seems almost as silly as pro boxing, when nobody knows how the judges scored each round until it's all over. Much like nothing prevents a boxing judge from going back and changing his/her score on an earlier round, a soccer ref has sole discretion as to how long the game will go on. And nobody else knows anything. It's an invitation for corruption. What could be more in the interest of fair play than putting it all up on the scoreboard for everybody to see?
Much the same is true with soccer. Exciting to begin with, but who wants to sit around for 3-4 hours watching them run back and forth kicking a ball (and oh my -- the whining and flopping) when actual scores are rarer than steak tartare?
Here's wishing the phutbolphiles the best and may the force (and more goals) be with them. But stop telling the rest of us how great your game is. It either catches on in America or it doesn't, but as long as the other Big Four are around for fans to choose from, it ain't exactly looking good. See ya in 4 years when they start kicking it around in Russia for the next World Cup.
In the meantime, please stop with the propaganda. It makes you look insecure.
The 1984 Detroit Tigers
It's pretty cool that many of the 1984 Tigers came back to Detroit to be honored at the ballpark for what they accomplished 30 years ago. World Series champs. Sadly, the Tigers haven't won one since. Three decades is quite a dry spell. Then again, it pales in comparison to the Detroit Lions who play right across the street from the Tigers. The Honolulu blue and silver puddy-tats are one of only four teams to have never even reached the Super Bowl, the other 3 being the Jacksonville Jaguars, Houston Texans, and Cleveland Browns -- all "expansion" teams, while the Lions have been around since 1934. In that respect, maybe 30 years isn't so bad after all, and the Tigers are pretty good these days. The Lions? Well.....
Idle thought: OMG, what happened to Lou Whitaker? He doesn't look anything like the Sweet Lou of yore. Yeah, 30 years will take its toll on anybody, but Whitaker looks like he's turned into Gates Brown. Remember him?
It's interesting that some Detroit area sports writers still lament the likes of Alan Trammell, Jack Morris, and Lou Whitaker not getting elected into the Hall of Fame. Yet it might just be that each has doomed their chances in their own ways. Let's look a little closer.
Jack Morris. He was arguably the best pitcher in the game during the entire decade of the 1980's. Jack would wind up with a career record of 254-186 over 18 years. Winning percentage? Check. Longevity? Definitely. His ERA of 3.90 was a bit high, but not too shabby. So where did he go wrong? Morris was known to be a bit flippant, perhaps even cocky with reporters back in his heyday. Let's remember that the folks that vote on Hall of Fame inductees must have at least 10 years tenure in the BBWAA (Baseball Writers Association of America). And of all sports, the baseball geeks have the longest memories of them all. Plus, towards the end of his career, Morris became a bit of a mercenary. After 14 years with the Tigers, Morris would spend one with the Minnesota Twins, two with the Toronto Blue Jays, and his last as a Cleveland Indian. Right or wrong, the BBWAA electors have always placed great value on not only stats and longevity, but also humility and loyalty. Had Morris been a little more humble and remained with the Tigers for his last 4 years in the majors, he might well have a plaque in Cooperstown today. Just a thought.
Lou Whitaker was a bit of an enigma. Nobody ever really seemed to know what was going on with him. Sure, he was a superb second baseman for 19 years, and a pretty good hitter to boot. But like Morris, the media could never really get close to him. Some perceived Sweet Lou as being a bit aloof as well. In his first year of Hall eligibility, Whitaker would only get 2.9% of the vote, far short of the minimum 5% to remain on the ballot in future years. Given his outstanding performance for almost two decades with the Tigers, that seems strange. Yet somehow, some way, the BBWAA voters quickly tuned him out. Even today, nobody seems to know what Whitaker is doing. He shows up at Tigers spring training in Florida here and there, but other than that he remains a mystery man. Did I mention he looks like Gates Brown?
The case of Alan Trammell is a bit easier to figure out. Yes, he put up some mighty fine numbers over his 19 year career with Tigers, both offensively and defensively. He was a hitting shortstop with a slick glove. He's been on the ballot for 13 years now, and never come close to being inducted. Two more, and he's out, unless the "old-timers" committee votes him in many years down the road. To date, the highest percentage of votes Trammell has received from the BBWAA was 36.8% in 2012. That's not even half of the 75% required for induction. His name will stay on the ballot until 2016, as long as he garners at least 5% every year, which is likely. But after that, he'll be put on hold for another six years until 2022 before the old-timers committee can even consider him. Oddly enough, Trammell was voted into the polish Hall of Fame back in 1998. Dang, I never knew he was into detailing cars in the offseason. He must have been really good at that wax on, wax off stuff. Ahem.
Yet since he retired as a player, he hasn't exactly enhanced his reputation in the grand scheme of baseball. From 2003-2005, Tram was the manager of the same Tigers he once played for. His teams went a collective 186-300 for a winning percentage of .383. Former 1984 teammate Kirk Gibson served as his bench coach. Just exactly what a "bench" coach does other than hang out and draw a fat salary seems to be another one of those mysteries like the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot, what happened to Amelia Earhart, and the on-going adventures of the Kardashians that will never be truly solved. Some things are just meant to be beyond normal human comprehension. And sorry, but 3 years of .383 will typically get a manager canned. And Trammell was, along with his buddy Gibson.
Lo and behold, a few years later, what do we see? Kirk Gibson has incredibly become the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks. And guess who his bench coach is? Yep, in an ironic role reversal from their time spent as the Tiger dugout "brain trust", Gibby hired Tram as HIS bench coach way out in Arizona.
And guess what? The Diamondbacks are currently the worst team in all of major league baseball. Gibby as a manager? Really? What's next? Pete Rose replacing Bud Selig as Commissioner and hiring A-Rod as his underboss (bench coach)? Hmm. On second thought, that would be very interesting and definitely liven up the game. In the meantime, Trammell, fairly or not, is being associated with another big time loser. And somewhere in the dark recesses of the brilliant minds of the people that vote on Hall of Fame induction, another not-so-good stat has been added to the memory banks.
Funny thing is, Trammell was far and away a much better overall shortstop than Ozzie Smith of the St. Louis Cardinals. His hitting stats were vastly superior, and Tram could do everything Oz did defensively, but Oz was a showman, while Tram made it look routine. Evidently, back flips go a long ways towards getting one a plaque in Cooperstown. Smith has one. That's forever. Trammell does not, and he likely never will.
He never should have taken the Tigers' manager job, and he sure as hell shouldn't have gone to Arizona to sit on the bench next to Gibby. Both were great players in their day, but neither ever had a clue how to manage a ball club.
Oh yeah, one more thing. Did I mention Lou Whitaker looks like Gates Brown these days?
Idle thought: OMG, what happened to Lou Whitaker? He doesn't look anything like the Sweet Lou of yore. Yeah, 30 years will take its toll on anybody, but Whitaker looks like he's turned into Gates Brown. Remember him?
It's interesting that some Detroit area sports writers still lament the likes of Alan Trammell, Jack Morris, and Lou Whitaker not getting elected into the Hall of Fame. Yet it might just be that each has doomed their chances in their own ways. Let's look a little closer.
Jack Morris. He was arguably the best pitcher in the game during the entire decade of the 1980's. Jack would wind up with a career record of 254-186 over 18 years. Winning percentage? Check. Longevity? Definitely. His ERA of 3.90 was a bit high, but not too shabby. So where did he go wrong? Morris was known to be a bit flippant, perhaps even cocky with reporters back in his heyday. Let's remember that the folks that vote on Hall of Fame inductees must have at least 10 years tenure in the BBWAA (Baseball Writers Association of America). And of all sports, the baseball geeks have the longest memories of them all. Plus, towards the end of his career, Morris became a bit of a mercenary. After 14 years with the Tigers, Morris would spend one with the Minnesota Twins, two with the Toronto Blue Jays, and his last as a Cleveland Indian. Right or wrong, the BBWAA electors have always placed great value on not only stats and longevity, but also humility and loyalty. Had Morris been a little more humble and remained with the Tigers for his last 4 years in the majors, he might well have a plaque in Cooperstown today. Just a thought.
Lou Whitaker was a bit of an enigma. Nobody ever really seemed to know what was going on with him. Sure, he was a superb second baseman for 19 years, and a pretty good hitter to boot. But like Morris, the media could never really get close to him. Some perceived Sweet Lou as being a bit aloof as well. In his first year of Hall eligibility, Whitaker would only get 2.9% of the vote, far short of the minimum 5% to remain on the ballot in future years. Given his outstanding performance for almost two decades with the Tigers, that seems strange. Yet somehow, some way, the BBWAA voters quickly tuned him out. Even today, nobody seems to know what Whitaker is doing. He shows up at Tigers spring training in Florida here and there, but other than that he remains a mystery man. Did I mention he looks like Gates Brown?
The case of Alan Trammell is a bit easier to figure out. Yes, he put up some mighty fine numbers over his 19 year career with Tigers, both offensively and defensively. He was a hitting shortstop with a slick glove. He's been on the ballot for 13 years now, and never come close to being inducted. Two more, and he's out, unless the "old-timers" committee votes him in many years down the road. To date, the highest percentage of votes Trammell has received from the BBWAA was 36.8% in 2012. That's not even half of the 75% required for induction. His name will stay on the ballot until 2016, as long as he garners at least 5% every year, which is likely. But after that, he'll be put on hold for another six years until 2022 before the old-timers committee can even consider him. Oddly enough, Trammell was voted into the polish Hall of Fame back in 1998. Dang, I never knew he was into detailing cars in the offseason. He must have been really good at that wax on, wax off stuff. Ahem.
Yet since he retired as a player, he hasn't exactly enhanced his reputation in the grand scheme of baseball. From 2003-2005, Tram was the manager of the same Tigers he once played for. His teams went a collective 186-300 for a winning percentage of .383. Former 1984 teammate Kirk Gibson served as his bench coach. Just exactly what a "bench" coach does other than hang out and draw a fat salary seems to be another one of those mysteries like the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot, what happened to Amelia Earhart, and the on-going adventures of the Kardashians that will never be truly solved. Some things are just meant to be beyond normal human comprehension. And sorry, but 3 years of .383 will typically get a manager canned. And Trammell was, along with his buddy Gibson.
Lo and behold, a few years later, what do we see? Kirk Gibson has incredibly become the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks. And guess who his bench coach is? Yep, in an ironic role reversal from their time spent as the Tiger dugout "brain trust", Gibby hired Tram as HIS bench coach way out in Arizona.
And guess what? The Diamondbacks are currently the worst team in all of major league baseball. Gibby as a manager? Really? What's next? Pete Rose replacing Bud Selig as Commissioner and hiring A-Rod as his underboss (bench coach)? Hmm. On second thought, that would be very interesting and definitely liven up the game. In the meantime, Trammell, fairly or not, is being associated with another big time loser. And somewhere in the dark recesses of the brilliant minds of the people that vote on Hall of Fame induction, another not-so-good stat has been added to the memory banks.
Funny thing is, Trammell was far and away a much better overall shortstop than Ozzie Smith of the St. Louis Cardinals. His hitting stats were vastly superior, and Tram could do everything Oz did defensively, but Oz was a showman, while Tram made it look routine. Evidently, back flips go a long ways towards getting one a plaque in Cooperstown. Smith has one. That's forever. Trammell does not, and he likely never will.
He never should have taken the Tigers' manager job, and he sure as hell shouldn't have gone to Arizona to sit on the bench next to Gibby. Both were great players in their day, but neither ever had a clue how to manage a ball club.
Oh yeah, one more thing. Did I mention Lou Whitaker looks like Gates Brown these days?
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Sports. USA vs the World. Good news, bad news
Sports wise, at least professionally, the USA reigns supreme in a few areas. Certainly the NFL is far and away the pinnacle of American style football. But that's just it. For whatever reasons, no other country around the world even bothers to attempt to play such a sport.
Major League Baseball sits on top of their own mountain. Though the Japanese and various "Latin American" countries have their leagues, it appears the ultimate goal of most of their players is to somehow, some way, make it to the "majors". Of course, the ever-present money factor comes into play, but still, few would doubt Bud Selig's bunch represents the highest level of play.
The USA gets a "dream team" together every 4 years for the Olympics in basketball, and they've had great success against international competition. But that's an anomaly because other countries assemble their own version of an All-Star team. Though there are many "regular season" pro leagues abroad, particularly in Europe, from top to bottom the NBA is light years ahead of all of them in talent.
Hockey's a different animal. While most NHL teams are based in America, most of their players are NOT American. Canadians remain prevalent, and countries such as Sweden and Russia might well argue their leagues are every bit as talent-laden and competitive as anything that's going on in the new world. Sure, many of them want to play in the NHL. But again, it's about the money and the perks that go with it.
Soccer? Well, despite the media blitz and uber hype surrounding the USA's venture into the World Cup again, the Americans still aren't that competitive on the world stage. And now that they've been bounced by Belgium in the first "knock-out" game, it's entirely probable all the quadrennial futbol maniacs will go back into hibernation until 2018. Has soccer finally caught on in the United States? Definitely, in ages 5 through maybe 12. The soccer moms and soccer vans are everywhere. Alas, shortly after puberty, the answer is a resounding NO, particularly amongst the boys. Other higher profile sports capture the attention of players talented enough to compete in them. Soccer is good, but being a baseball, basketball, or football stud is much better. Did I mention what human instinct kicks in shortly after puberty? Nevermind. Connect your own dots.
Now for the truly bad news. Tennis. On the world stage, the USA is beyond terrible. They're almost non-existent. Consider the current pro tennis rankings-----
Amongst the men, the US has but one ranked in the top 50. That's John Isner at #11. He was recently bounced at Wimbledon and has never won a major tournament. After Isner, it drops down to Sam Querry at #67, Donald Young at #69, Steve Johnson at #70, and Bradley Klahn at #75. Quick question -- after Isner, have you ever even heard of any of these guys?
The women's side doesn't look much better. Sure, Serena Williams is still #1 in the world, but it appears she might be starting a decline that could become precipitous. In other words, she could go downhill fast. Serena will be 32 next month, and that's getting up there in pro tennis years. Consider her sister Venus, merely a year older. Once a dominating player herself, she apparently hit the wall a while back and is no longer even ranked in the top 30 world-wide. The next generation of screamers is running the poor old gal ragged on the courts. And it's only going to get worse.
Further consider Serena's recent record in the majors. Though she went into the Australian Open with an astounding 22 match winning streak, hence #1, she was eliminated in the 4th round. In tennis, that means she didn't make the Sweet Sixteen. At the French Open a few months later, she was blistered in straight sets by a relatively unknown player in merely the 2nd round.
This time around at Wimbledon, she got knocked out in the 3rd round by yet another relative unknown. Father Time is against her and the young boomers keep on relentlessly coming from all over the world. What her and Venus once did to the established "stars", the young upstarts of today are doing to THEM. They come, they rise, they peak, they fall, and they finally have to quit. Such is the nature of all sports, but time seems to speed up in pro tennis.
On an odd note, though both had already been eliminated from singles competition, Serena and Venus had to "retire" from their doubles match because something was obviously wrong with Serena. She couldn't catch balls that were bounced to her by ball boys/girls to serve, struggled to bend over and pick them up, fumbled them, looked like she was about to fall over while trying to serve, and wound up weakly bouncing -- BOUNCING -- a couple serves into the net. She finally got one over the net, but it looked like a lob serve a fifth grader might offer. Hardly what one would expect from Serena, who typically has one of the fiercest serves in the world. And she wobbled some more.
Finally, the medical people decided to check on her. Her blood pressure was taken while Venus looked anxiously on. No systolic and diastolic numbers were given, but they would determine Serena had some sort of "virus". I never knew a simple blood pressure check could diagnose such a thing.
To yours truly, it looked like she was either seriously drunk or stoned to the max. Forget the blood pressure cuff -- take a blood sample, and let the lab techs determine what's what. Sick people don't act like that. They want to lay down somewhere or maybe need to throw up. But they're not THAT "out of here" disoriented.
Regardless, American ladies' tennis is in much the same plight as their male counterparts. When Serena's inevitable fall comes, and it will be soon, the rest of the landscape is quite bare. Sloan Stephens checks in at #18. Beyond her, Christina McHale is #48, and Coco Vandenweghe is #51 in the world. Ever hear of the latter two? Me neither.
The moral of the story? Americans should appreciate the NFL, MLB, the NBA and NHL. They have much more to choose from in pro sports than any other country.
Just don't get your hopes up for being a soccer or tennis power anytime soon, OK? Cuz it ain't gonna happen. And now that Tiger appears to be on the back side of his bell curve, pro golf has become a free-for-all as well. Also much more interesting in my humble opinion. The endless replays of Tiger highlights have almost, but not quite, gone away. They will in time.
Maybe it's better that way. When one country, team, or individual starts thinking they're above it all -- bad things happening usually aren't far behind. Need I remind you of what havoc such tyrants as Hitler, Stalin, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Congress, editors, and your typical ex can wreak in your life?
Better to stick with what you know. Only a couple months until the NFL swings into full gear again. Bring it on.....
Major League Baseball sits on top of their own mountain. Though the Japanese and various "Latin American" countries have their leagues, it appears the ultimate goal of most of their players is to somehow, some way, make it to the "majors". Of course, the ever-present money factor comes into play, but still, few would doubt Bud Selig's bunch represents the highest level of play.
The USA gets a "dream team" together every 4 years for the Olympics in basketball, and they've had great success against international competition. But that's an anomaly because other countries assemble their own version of an All-Star team. Though there are many "regular season" pro leagues abroad, particularly in Europe, from top to bottom the NBA is light years ahead of all of them in talent.
Hockey's a different animal. While most NHL teams are based in America, most of their players are NOT American. Canadians remain prevalent, and countries such as Sweden and Russia might well argue their leagues are every bit as talent-laden and competitive as anything that's going on in the new world. Sure, many of them want to play in the NHL. But again, it's about the money and the perks that go with it.
Soccer? Well, despite the media blitz and uber hype surrounding the USA's venture into the World Cup again, the Americans still aren't that competitive on the world stage. And now that they've been bounced by Belgium in the first "knock-out" game, it's entirely probable all the quadrennial futbol maniacs will go back into hibernation until 2018. Has soccer finally caught on in the United States? Definitely, in ages 5 through maybe 12. The soccer moms and soccer vans are everywhere. Alas, shortly after puberty, the answer is a resounding NO, particularly amongst the boys. Other higher profile sports capture the attention of players talented enough to compete in them. Soccer is good, but being a baseball, basketball, or football stud is much better. Did I mention what human instinct kicks in shortly after puberty? Nevermind. Connect your own dots.
Now for the truly bad news. Tennis. On the world stage, the USA is beyond terrible. They're almost non-existent. Consider the current pro tennis rankings-----
Amongst the men, the US has but one ranked in the top 50. That's John Isner at #11. He was recently bounced at Wimbledon and has never won a major tournament. After Isner, it drops down to Sam Querry at #67, Donald Young at #69, Steve Johnson at #70, and Bradley Klahn at #75. Quick question -- after Isner, have you ever even heard of any of these guys?
The women's side doesn't look much better. Sure, Serena Williams is still #1 in the world, but it appears she might be starting a decline that could become precipitous. In other words, she could go downhill fast. Serena will be 32 next month, and that's getting up there in pro tennis years. Consider her sister Venus, merely a year older. Once a dominating player herself, she apparently hit the wall a while back and is no longer even ranked in the top 30 world-wide. The next generation of screamers is running the poor old gal ragged on the courts. And it's only going to get worse.
Further consider Serena's recent record in the majors. Though she went into the Australian Open with an astounding 22 match winning streak, hence #1, she was eliminated in the 4th round. In tennis, that means she didn't make the Sweet Sixteen. At the French Open a few months later, she was blistered in straight sets by a relatively unknown player in merely the 2nd round.
This time around at Wimbledon, she got knocked out in the 3rd round by yet another relative unknown. Father Time is against her and the young boomers keep on relentlessly coming from all over the world. What her and Venus once did to the established "stars", the young upstarts of today are doing to THEM. They come, they rise, they peak, they fall, and they finally have to quit. Such is the nature of all sports, but time seems to speed up in pro tennis.
On an odd note, though both had already been eliminated from singles competition, Serena and Venus had to "retire" from their doubles match because something was obviously wrong with Serena. She couldn't catch balls that were bounced to her by ball boys/girls to serve, struggled to bend over and pick them up, fumbled them, looked like she was about to fall over while trying to serve, and wound up weakly bouncing -- BOUNCING -- a couple serves into the net. She finally got one over the net, but it looked like a lob serve a fifth grader might offer. Hardly what one would expect from Serena, who typically has one of the fiercest serves in the world. And she wobbled some more.
Finally, the medical people decided to check on her. Her blood pressure was taken while Venus looked anxiously on. No systolic and diastolic numbers were given, but they would determine Serena had some sort of "virus". I never knew a simple blood pressure check could diagnose such a thing.
To yours truly, it looked like she was either seriously drunk or stoned to the max. Forget the blood pressure cuff -- take a blood sample, and let the lab techs determine what's what. Sick people don't act like that. They want to lay down somewhere or maybe need to throw up. But they're not THAT "out of here" disoriented.
Regardless, American ladies' tennis is in much the same plight as their male counterparts. When Serena's inevitable fall comes, and it will be soon, the rest of the landscape is quite bare. Sloan Stephens checks in at #18. Beyond her, Christina McHale is #48, and Coco Vandenweghe is #51 in the world. Ever hear of the latter two? Me neither.
The moral of the story? Americans should appreciate the NFL, MLB, the NBA and NHL. They have much more to choose from in pro sports than any other country.
Just don't get your hopes up for being a soccer or tennis power anytime soon, OK? Cuz it ain't gonna happen. And now that Tiger appears to be on the back side of his bell curve, pro golf has become a free-for-all as well. Also much more interesting in my humble opinion. The endless replays of Tiger highlights have almost, but not quite, gone away. They will in time.
Maybe it's better that way. When one country, team, or individual starts thinking they're above it all -- bad things happening usually aren't far behind. Need I remind you of what havoc such tyrants as Hitler, Stalin, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Congress, editors, and your typical ex can wreak in your life?
Better to stick with what you know. Only a couple months until the NFL swings into full gear again. Bring it on.....
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