Some Love for AI

One of my favorite things in the entire world is late night sports. Whether it's football, basketball, or baseball (even hockey sometimes), college or pro, if the game is on after 10 (preferrably 11 or 12!) I'm there. I'll watch just about any game and if I have an actual routing interest it's all the better.

So tonight I have been blessed with an ESPN NBA Double Header. I got to watch my Mavs start what is to be a historic comeback from an equally historic flop with a THUMPING of Lebron James and the Cavs. (Note to Lebron: this isn't the preseason, chief. This game actually counted in the standings. I thought I'd let you know because the absolute lack of effort or interest you showed tonight led me to believe you thought this was still part of your vacation. Way to step it up on National TV.) The second game tonight was between the Denver Nuggets and the Seattle Supersonics, two teams I could care less about. However, there is one player that I do in fact care a great deal about.

Most casual fans who tuned in tonight did so to see rookie phenom Kevin Durant who is destined to be the next big thing. But for me, the real treat to watch is Allen Iverson. This is AI's first full season with the Nuggets and I'm pretty excited about that because it means he'll be on national TV a lot as ESPN and TNT use Denver as one of their primary late night locations. There are a lot of great players in the league and a lot of guys who are worth the price of admission. Lebron, Kobe, Dirk, DWade, KG, and Nash are a few. But for my money there isn't a single player that I enjoy watching more than Allen Iverson.

For one thing, AI is an AMAZING scorer. There are only a very small handful of players that I have ever seen that have a nose for scoring the way AI does. He scores from the outside, he scores from the inside, he scores on the break, and he scores in traffic. His field goal percentage is terrible but if you catch him on one of those nights when he really has it locked in, you feel like you're watching a great movie - something spectacular is about to happen.

In addition, I have never seen anyone dictate the entire game the way Iverson does. The dude is TINY. He's no more than 5-10 and I have a hard time believing he weights a buck 80 soaking wet. Yet he dominates the court - he's the man on offense and his teammates know it; the opponents know that all eyes are on AI and if they're not he's going to do something that quickly rectifies the situation; and the refs know that when AI is on the court, they better watch what they call because after all, he OWNS the arena and everything in it. No one in the league does this better than Iverson. When he walks onto the court, it is HIS court and he knows it, and you better figure it out quick too or else you're in for a rude awakening. He has a look about it him that makes you think "This dude is just a little crazy." I have literally seen refs swallow their whistles on OBVIOUS calls because Iverson just glances at them with a look that says "If you blow that thing you'll be choking on it."

But the thing I love most about Iverson is the fact that no one, NO ONE, works harder than him. If championships were based on effort alone he'd have about 10. The guy takes an absolute beating night in and night out and never complains (and more importantly, never allows the beating to stop him from playing his game and getting to the bucket). The guy has played with broken fingers, broken toes, a stress fracture in his foot, a stress fracture in his arm, and broken ribs. And throughout most of his career he has literally been surrounded by a cast of SPARES. Go to a local YMCA on a Tuesday night and you'll find 5 guys who could have played on some of Philly's teams over the last few years. But despite the lack of quality teammates Iverson never once complained in public. Even when he was consistently being RAILED ON in the media about how many shots he was taken, not once did he come out and say "Of course I took a ton of shots, did you see who's on the floor with me? I have a middle school JV team out there with me!" He took the criticism and kept his mouth shut and like a good soldier went out the next time and dropped 50. And then he did it again. And then he did it again.

We're in an era of basketball premadonnas in which the normal thing to do is get your big money then pout and cry to get yourself traded to a contender. This dude was legitimately sad to leave Philly last year despite the fact that he knew he was moving on to a much better situation. (Note to Kobe: See? You're not the only one to ever play with crappy teammates. I seem to remember Michael winning 3 championships with Will Perdue as his center. WILL PERDUE!) Iverson is the ultimate competitor and as tough a guy as you will find in any sport.

So you can have Lebron, you can have Kobe, you can have Vince Carter and Dwyane Wade and Carmelo Anthony and whoever else. In my mind, there is no more exciting player in the NBA today than AI and it's about time he gets some of the respect he deserves.

P.S. Final stat line for Iverson tonight: 25 points, 14 assists, 5 rebounds, and 7 steals. Amazing.

This Week's Sign of the Apocalypse

The NBA regular season (also known as God's way of making up for 4 months of nothing but baseball) opened tonight. I have never been so happy to see the start of the season as I am this year. There are a lot of factors why, the big ones being the Mavs exited so early last year and left a bad taste in my mouth and then I was treated to several months of some of the worst Rangers baseball in team history (and that's saying a lot!). But that's not the purpose of this blog. No, the purpose of this particular blog entry is to warn my 3 readers of their impending doom.

Each year the NBA has a free preview of their NBA League Pass package for the first week of the season. You can watch every single NBA game for a week as cable programmers hope to suck you into paying $150 for the rest of the season (for the record, if I had $150 bucks, you could bet I'd be sucked in each and every year). Tonight there was only one game opposite the national broadcasts so I tuned into the Utah Jazz (a team I have a slight routing interest in because of all the ex-Dallas area players) and the Golden State Warriors (a team I hate with the fire of a thousand burning suns). The thing I like about the League Pass is that each game is called by the home team's announcers. So instead of being subjected to Bill Walton's pot-riddled brain try to form complete sentences, John Saunders pretend he knows something about basketball (hockey player!), or Kevin Harlan getting overly excited about a 12 foot jumper, I get to hear local commentators who really care about their team and always provide actual insight into the team instead of filler.

During a routine report, the Warriors sideline reporter (whose name I missed due to my heart attack) casually mentioned that Stephen Jackson was one of the team's captains this year. Yes, you read correctly (I know because I had to rewind the Tivo to make sure). STEPHEN JACKSON is a CAPTAIN of an NBA team. In case you're wondering this is the same Stephen Jackson who once did this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQomnCawBQM
Jackson would be the one throwing hay makers on a fan (a kid really) during the worst brawl in NBA history. Jackson is also the same classy guy who was ejected from 2 out of 6 games in the playoff series against the Mavs last year, has at least twice been fined for flipping off fans, and was suspended last year for illegal discharge of a firearm outside a strip club at 2 in the morning. A worse ambassador of the sport you could not find. Even Dennis Rodman looks like a choir boy compared to Jackson.

And yet the Warriors players and coaches, in all their good judgement, found it appropriate to make this moron a captain, a representative of the team. I'm sure David Stern is throwing a well articulated fit right now and wondering how in the heck his league became a such a circus act. The moral of the story is, gather the family, take a nice trip, get right with the Lord, because this has to be a SURE sign of the End of Days.

I Hate Tom Hicks

On a quick-hit side note, I would like to mention that my DISDAIN for Tom Hicks has been doubled by the Red Sox World Series win.

Two years ago the Rangers had the opportunity to add Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell in a trade with the Marlins. The cost would have been Hank Blaylock and a minor league pitcher. But because the team's owner is a complete moron who has no intention of ever putting the money he so undeservedly makes off the team back into said team, the deal fizzled. The Rangers allowed the Red Sox to get involved and of course The Sox, a team that knows how to get things done, swooped in with a better offer and closed the deal.

Josh Beckett is THE premier post season pitcher in Major League Baseball. He is dominating on the mound. He will win the Cy Young this season and won all 4 of his playoff starts. Josh is a truly amazing pitcher who is still young and developing.

In exchange the Rangers would have given up Blaylock, who is completely and totally a product of the steroid era, and a minor league pitcher who has since had Tommy John's surgery and may never make it to the Majors. That's it. An overpaid, underperforming third baseball who has strangely been unable to hit since MLB started testing for steroids and a completely unproven minor league arm.

"The catch", as it was described, was that part of the deal was taking on the contract of "aging" third basemen Mike Lowell. Lowell has been a solid, quality, major league player for 15 years. He defends the position as well or better than anyone in the league, he hits for contact and for power, and he is an amazing leader in the clubhouse. Oh and did I mention he just won the freaking World Series MVP. This is "a catch"? Seriously? An all star position player does not constitute a "catch". A "catch" is something like "Ya you can have this Cy Young caliber pitcher but you have to take on this three legged dog that we gave a contract to as a favor to his agent. He makes 10 mil a year but he does provide comic relief in the clubhouse." And truth be told, if that was what it took to get Josh Beckett, you do it and you don't even think twice. Instead of the three legged dog, you get an EXCELLENT player AND you get to get rid of one of the most overrated players in baseball! That's a Win-Win-WIN situation.

But in true Ranger fashion, the team sat around, twiddling their thumbs and posturing about how they really want to make the team better but not at the cost of their future and blah blah blah. And so as the Rangers finish up yet another last place finish in which Blaylock spent 5 months on the DL while the Red Sox are winning their second championship in 4 years led by the two players the Rangers couldn't make a trade for. Just another AWFUL move to add to the list of screwups that has plagued the Tom Hicks era in Texas. Kudos to the Red Sox for making a GREAT move and may you continue to throw egg in the face of Hicks as long as he owns the Rangers.

(On a side note, I am seriously considering launching a website called www.TomHicksistheAntiChrist.com. Check back later for further details.)

Red Sox

A quick shoutout of congratulations to the World Series champion Boston Red Sox. Though the Colorado Rockies were a nice Cinderella story, Boston was clearly the best team in baseball this season. From start to finish, the Sox looked like a force to be reckoned with and proved it, once again, in October.

Three years ago the Red Sox captured the attention of sports fans nation wide as they made a remarkable championship run after an 85 year championship drought. Even casual sports fans grabbed hold of "The Idiots" as they made the most improbable comeback in history against the hated Yankees and ran right through the Cardinals in the World Series. That team was easy to rally around. They were dirty, scruffy, average looking dudes. They lacked the pretty boy image that seems to follow the Yankees. They banded together and played AS A TEAM. That was a refreshing change from the "Spend Money Now, Worry About Chemestry Later" mentality that has overrun Major League Baseball. (Not that plenty of Red Sox weren't making tons of money but nothing compared to the Yankees and anyway, it was easy to overlook the money they made when they all looked like Hobos or Cavemen.) Red Sox Nation, which was already about 10 million strong, grew as fast as finger slammed in a car door.

Now let me tell you that this year's team is even more spectacular.

"The Idiots" are no more and only seven players from the 2004 team remain. And yet if the 04 team matched up against the 07 team, 07 would dominate them in 4 games.

David Ortiz is still one of the most clutch hitters in the history of the game. Manny Ramirez, for all his quirks, is fantastic to watch at the plate (and amusing to watch in the outfield as he routinely putters to line drives and continually throws to the wrong bag yet still seems to get the job done). The youngsters, Jacoby Ellsberry and Dustin Pedroia, seem to play the game with a passion that many young players lack and more importantly, they stepped up at just the right time. Josh Beckett is the most dominant postseason pitcher in baseball (and Curt Schilling could be considered number 2). Jason Varitek is, in my book, the best game managing catcher in baseball. Jonathan Papelbon has given the 07 Red Sox a SHUTDOWN bullpen presence they badly lacked in 04.

Even the manager, Terry Francona, has gone from fairly unknown to one of the most respected managers in the league. I don't know how many times his moves were questioned over the course of this postseason, but it's safe to say if sports writers were running the Red Sox they would have lost 120 games this season. The man is a genius. And then you have Mike Lowell (who is sure to be the subject of his own blog entry before too long). Old Man Winter, as I've come to call him, provided both an on field spark, with timely hits and incredible defense, along with locker room leadership on his way to World Series MVP. His presence on this team was invaluable (and probably earned him about 10 mil a year!).

The fact that this team cost about 200 million dollars to put together doesn't come to mind the way it does with the Yankees because, just as in 04, this group plays with a sense of workmanship and unity. There are no distractions on this team the way ARod has been in New York. Even Manny Ramirez, who often sticks his foot in his mouth when speaking with the media, comes off as comical ("just Manny being Manny") rather than obnoxious or offensive. The Red Sox are a real TEAM and it shows in the way they have continually fought back against all odds over hte last few years. In 04 they were down to their last out against the Yankees...and proceeded to win 8 straight games to close the season and wrap up the championship. This season they allowed the Yankees to get within 2.5 games of the Division Championship after jumping out to a huge lead. Then after losing 3 straight to Cleveland, the Sox won three straigth elimination games to get back to the Series. This team is NEVER out of it. It's very easy for even the most casual sports fan (or a hardcore sports fan who speaks FERVENTLY against the mortal sin of bandwagonning like me) to latch onto the Sox, to rout for their success.

So congratulations to the Red Sox. It was a joy to watch in 04 and maybe even more a joy to watch in 07. Here's hoping that the Team remains the priority over the individual because the Sox have several more championship banners to raise outside Fenway if they do.

Mo Ager

Maurice Ager is going to be the death of me.

Ager is a second year swingman for the Mavericks. Though he was a late first round pick, the Mavs (and Avery Johnson in particular) had high hopes for him. He started 4 years at Michigan State, one of the premier college basketball programs in the country, and he OOZES athleticism. The thought was with great players around him and an old school coach he could turn into a solid NBA player. Not a star, but a good, contributing player on a good team. Ager can shoot, he finishes with flair when he drives, he has the tools to be a lockdown defender, he even rebounds well.

The problem is he can't put it all together when he gets in the game. At least not on a consitent basis. And the lack of consistency is the problem.

I really, really want to like Ager. I rout for the guy to connect the dots. For one thing the Mavs need a young, athletic swing man. All of the players in the rotation at the shooting guard and small forward spots are grizzled old veterans (minus Josh Howard). A young guy who can contribute would be a huge asset. More importantly, Mo seems like a great guy. He listens intently to the coaches and you can tell he's really TRYING to do what he's supposed to do. He just exemplifies the qualities of a guy you want to like. The fans go crazy when he actually does something because it gives just a little hope that the light is going to go on.

And yet he struggles. He is as streaky from the outside as John Starks ever was. He is extremely effective on the drive but will often go 2 or 3 games without ever seeing the paint. On defense he does well man to man but you can almost guarantee that he will get lost on a screen. His passes are often ill advised. And maybe the most important thing is he doesn't play with INSTINCT. He's thinking far too much.

Yet he shows enough talent, enough will power to keep me thinking "Maybe he does have something worthwhile." And so he leaves me extremely frustrated.

This frustration has been illustrated in the last couple of days. The Mavs have played 2 games in the last 2 nights. Ager started Thursday's game and played only 10 minutes of garbage time on Friday. Against the Rockets he looked TERRIBLE. He was slow coming off screens, gave up 2 three point plays while committing 3 fouls in 5 minutes, and gave almost nothing but missed shots on offense. He looked lost the entire game. Against Detroit, however, he looked AMAZING. 14 points in 15 minutes. He had three MONSTER dunks. He had 3 steals and all of them were just perfect "anticipate and go" plays. His outside shot was flowing and there was no hesitation.

On Thursday I was yelling "Get rid of him right now while we can still trick some team into taking him." On Friday I'm wondering if he just might be the perfect fit as the 8th man on a team that really could use competent athleticism. This, I am sure, is the true definition of frustration. I would love him to contribute but if Ager cannot be relied on for CONSISTENT contribution then he should at least have the decency to suck all the time, not just some of the time. And if I am frustrated I can only imagine what Avery Johnson is going through. From Avery's comments I get the impression that like me and like the rest of the fans, Avery really likes Ager. But how can he depend on him when he has no idea what he's going to get? Almost everytime Avery has put him in for meaningful minutes, it's been a disappointment and yet everytime you think Avery is about to give up on the kid he goes and has a 14 points in 15 minutes type of night.

It's time for Ager to put up or shut up. Either get it together and help the team or get ready to be that scrappy practice player who never sees the floor. Because let's face it, athletic 2 guards are a dime a dozen and eventually Avery will find someone who he can count on.

I'm pulling for you Mo but it's put up or shut up time.

Baseball is for Babies

In the immortal words of Tom Hanks, "There's no crying in baseball!"

Or at least there USED to be no crying in baseball. Baseball used to be a man's game. Hard slides, knocking the crap out of the catcher on a close play, pitchers throwing high and inside on batters who crowd the plate, all of this has been part of the game, literally, for centuries. In fact, one of the best things about Major League Baseball is that the traditional ways of doing things still remain whereas most of the other leagues, the NBA in particular, have done away with the traditional values of their respective games. You've got to be tough to take an inside pitch and then step right back up, dust the dirt off your jersey, and stick your shoulder right back over the plate.

But this generation of baseball players is different. In reality the general attitude of the players sums up the attitude of our entire society.

Last night during the Red Sox - Indians game I witnessed a perfect example of why baseball is no longer a game for men but for babies. Josh Beckett was pitching to Kenny Lofton, two players, by the way, that I really like. Beckett issued a pitch that Lofton thought to be Ball 4 (turned out to be Strike 2). Instead of tossing his bat to the bench he threw it down on home plate. Beckett took offense to the action and on the following pitch he gave a yell/release of emotion as Lofton popped up. Lofton, after seeing the out had been made, turned back to Beckett and yelled at him, apparently unhappy with Beckett's shout of joy at getting the out. A small confrontation insused, calling for the bench to be half emptied to break up the two players.

Seriously? We've got to have a little scuff over something as small as this? This series is played to decide who moves on to THE WORLD SERIES. Beckett is the only pitcher on his team who can buy a win and Lofton is a key part of a team that is one win away from a chance at the ring. Do we really need to stop down the game over a dropped bat and a fist pumping yell? That wouldn't have happened 30, 20, even 5 years ago. Lofton would have walked back to the bench intent on getting a hit in his next at bat and likewise Beckett would have walked back to the mound intent on planting a ball in Lofton's back if pulled the same stunt again. No yelling at each other on the base path, no mini, half hearted confrontation that was so unnecessary that the teams didn't even come off the bench for. The two would have settled it in the tradition of the game.

Baseball players these days are babies. (Notice, I didn't say girls. I've known plenty of female athletes with more respect for the way the game is played than today's MLB players.) Kenny Lofton played basketball at Arizona University but I must say if he's going to react to tiny things like a fist pump the way he did tonight he'd NEVER make it in the NBA, regardless of talent. Basketball players are VICIOUS with their trash talk. Gary Payton, the King of Smack, talks about how he would start with the guy's mom, then his wife, then his stats, and continue on down the list until he found something that set the guy off. How would Lofton react to Payton jawing in his ear all night or Dirk Nowitzki's fist pump after a big shot? Would he take offense and get up in the guy's face?

Baseball players, grow up. This is an emotional game. If you can't handle a guy yelling after he gets the out then go play chess. There are ways to handle this sort of thing and the great thing about baseball is that it is within the rules to handle these things! Leave this stuff to the fans and media blowhards and worry about, oh I don't know, WINNING THE WORLD SERIES! Get over it and play the game.

The Importance of Being Chewy

My mom called me yesterday and tearfully told me that Chewbacca, the family dog, was in bad shape. Apparently the dumb mutt had inhaled a sewing needle and it had, over time, worked its way into his brain. As had been explained to the family, the chances of finding a dog surgeon who could do the surgery were low and even if said surgeon could be found, it would likely cost thousands of dollars to perform. My parents are just getting back on their feet after my dad's unemployment and truth be told, they don't have thousands of dollars to spend on anything, let alone the dog.

The fact of the matter is, though, Chewy isn't just a dog. He's a part of the family.

My family has always had a strong connection to our dogs. As far back as I can remember we've never been more than a couple of weeks without at least 2 dogs in the house and they currently have three. When my wife and I finally moved out of campus housing into a real apartment complex I couldn't make it two months before I bought Ali. When I think back on my youth there are literally hundreds of friends and even family members whose names I have forgotten or whom I only vaguely remember yet I can not only name each and every one of the dogs we've had, I can think of countless hours worth of stories about each one. From Sheba who was terrified of salsa to Piper who I learned to walk by holding on to. From Skippy II who slept on her back with her legs up in the air to Paco who had more character than 90% of the people you meet on the street in a given day. Each of these animals holds a special place in my life and in my heart. Even thoughts of Angel, the most useless dog in history, brings a smile to my face. As a teenager I experienced my fair share of death among my family and friends and as a fairly stoic kid I took each in stride without tears. But the day Paco died I cried for hours. And not little tears, either. Big, balling, "baby-lost-it's-pacifer" tears. For that matter, while there have been plenty of movies that have put a lump in my throat, only two continue to bring tears to my eyes each and every stinking time: the vet scene at the end of "Turner and Hooch" and when the old dog Shadow comes over the hill in "Homeward Bound."

I ask myself what it is about dogs that brings out these kinds of thoughts and emotions? I contend that the reason is that dogs, in many ways, display the absolute best of human qualities, the things we sometimes can only wish to find in people. Dogs provide companionship. Loyalty. An open ear and a closed mouth. UNCONDITIONAL love. And if nothing else, a warm greeting when you come home.

I won't contend that dogs have souls or feelings or are in some way equal to humans. As my dad puts it, they're not as high up as children but maybe a little higher than second cousins. But never underestimate the power a dog can have on a person and the tug a dog can put on your heart. So I'm hoping and praying that Chewy pulls through, mostly because I know the pain that comes with the loss of a pet but also because the world is just a little bit better with the goofy mutt in it.