Memphis hates John Calipari.
We're not talking the kind of hate you have for your screen door that doesn't close all the way and slams open and shut with the breeze. And we're not just talking about the University of Memphis. The entire city shakes its head and bristles at even the briefest mention of the now-departed coach, who took more than just his family and his dribble drive motion offense when he left town.
"He didn't leave for the money," one Memphian told me. "It was about the prestige. I used to brag about this team to other people. Now? They're going to the NIT. We ain't got nothing to look forward to."
Memphis took it personally when Calipari left. It's a city with identity issues, where the local college basketball team is the most popular tenant of an arena owned by an NBA team. It's a city buried south of the Mason-Dixon line where the majority of residents are black.
This is what people rallied around in Memphis. The Memphis football team is a joke, the Grizzlies are pathetic, and there isn't a lot else to galvanize the public here. Several billboards around town advertise for the team with the tagline "Local pride. National power."Most people in around the city just seem to think Memphis wasn't good enough for Calipari. Not the city, and not the program.
Folks talk about how he took players with him. It's true. DeMarcus Cousins and Darnell Dodson used a clause in their letters of intent to follow Calipari to Lexington. Calipari flat-out beat his former assistant Josh Pastner in recruiting wars for Eric Bledsoe and John Wall. Nolan Dennis backed out of his committment to the Tigers and left for the Baylor, and Xavier and C.J. Henry bolted the school for Kansas. Forward Shawn Taggart looks like he's going to stay in the NBA draft rather than come back to school, and Tyreke Evans unsurprisingly left to be a surefire lottery pick.
When the dust settled, Calipari was King of the Bluegrass. He's sitting pretty, with 16 scholarship players and 100,000-plus members of Twitter-nation. Pastner had eight scholarship players and was forced to sign mystery prospects like Latavious Williams, a superb talent who may or may not qualify, and Martin Ngaloro, a French forward. The programs clearly seem to be headed in opposite directions.
Now, with the NCAA guillotine hanging over the men's basketball program and their 2008 NCAA runner-up banner, people are even more disgusted with Cal. It might end up that he undid all the good things he accomplished during his time in the city. You can't even blame the people. The only thing they did to deserve it was support the program for years and years, even when the Tigers weren't competing at the national level.
But here's the catch. Everyone is glad he was here. No one wishes that he never came, or even wishes that he had operated differently while he was here. None of the fans would trade Memphis' NCAA title game appearance or the program's rise to national prominence for a less successful coach who might still be with the program.
It's not over here in Memphis. More information is probably going to come out soon in the Rose case - information that could do more damage yet. Calipari is dead to Memphians. They just want to move on. Because for everything he gave the program - and the city - in his time at Memphis, he may have taken something even more important away from them.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A Semester in Sports Journalism
It was just over three months ago that I began writing for the Kentucky Kernel, the national-award winning daily student newspaper at the University of Kentucky. I didn't even have to apply for a set of credentials until almost November. Still, in that short time, I've come to view collegiate sports in a completely different way.
I'm not going to tell you that I broke any big stories, or that I have Billy Gillispie on speed dial. I don't, and from what I've been told, I probably don't want to (more on that later). What I will tell you is that my little laminated credential with "UK Hoops" (Women's basketball) emblazoned on it has put me in places that I never would have imagined before, and that a big part of me has changed because of it.
I am no longer the sports fan that I once was. And I'm certainly less of a UK fan than I ever thought i could become in my entire life. That's not to say that sports did anything wrong, or that I've grown disillusioned with UK Athletics (more on that later). I'm just different for the experience. I feel strange when I go to a football game wearing blue to cheer on the Cats, mostly because the night before I had to wear green at a women's basketball game and silently stared at my laptop as the pep band blares the fight song. Sports is slowly becoming my job, not my hobby. Trust me, you can tell the difference when you're in my shoes. It's night and day.
For those of you wanting to hear stories about what Rich Brooks is like in practice or wondering what Billy Gillispie's cocktail of choice is, stop reading now. I don't know any of that. Don't particularly care to. Ask someone on the football team, or a Lexington-area bartender. But here are a few highlights and lowlights of my semester with the sports staff:
1. Covered the UK-WKU football game. Strike that. I sat in the press box for four quarters, ate free food, and got player quotes for our columnist after the game ended. Still, it was pretty cool to sit in the press box and go down to the media room. For the record, Rich Brooks seemed to be decidedly likeable. Did I mention free food?
2. Got to talk to Miss Kentucky, Emily Cox, on the phone for about twenty minutes. I was writing an article on the bi-annual poster put out by the club hockey team at UK, and she was the model this year. She was every bit as nice as you could want Miss Kentucky to be. Just for kicks, here's how the conversation ended:
BJ: Well, that's it. Thanks for all your help.
EC: Thank you so much! This was great! I'll talk to you soon! Oh, wait. No, I guess I won't.
BJ: Well, yeah...
EC: Sorry, it's just, you know, I'm used to talking with my friends and saying "talk to you soon" before we hang up.
BJ: Yeah I know. It's cool. Thanks again.
EC: Ok. Bye!
*click*
BJ: Dammit.
3. Went to Big Blue Madness and sat in the Rupp Arena press box. I was sitting there, realizing that ten years ago I had sat not far from where I was sitting as an 8 year old in my Antoine Walker jersey, when it struck me. I was there. I was 19 years old, already doing what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
4. Covered the signing of Daniel Orton. Orton, one of the top-10 players in the nation, didn't crack a smile once in his press conference. He seemed like a very quiet fellow when I interviewed him afterward. This was the first time I ever had to muscle a TV reporter out of the way. While we're on the subject, I haven't found a TV reporter that I like yet. They have humongous egos. And this is coming from a guy who deals with D-I athletes several times a week.
5. Wrote a story on the death of Jenni Casper. She was a beautiful 26 year old with a fiance who was suddenly killed when she, while intoxicated, crashed her car. She had been a standout on UK's volleyball team a few years ago, and I got the call. The whole day sucked. I bounced between the police station, a press conference, and about 20 phone calls while skipping all three classes that day. The worst of it came when I had to call her parents for information on funeral arrangements. I stared at the phone for five minutes before dialing. Thankfully, no one answered. Not a day, or a phone call, that I want to revisit.
6. Had a UK athletics employee tell me that Billy G is a pain. I asked her whether she just meant to work with, and she said no. "He's just... difficult. I'm glad it's not my job." I stumbled in on one of his press conferences one morning (the women's PC was right after it), and his presence stood in stark contrast to Brooks'. Where Brooks was jovial and insightful, Gillispie seemed clammy and cliched. It's a small sample size of both coaches, but it's worth mentioning.
7. Helped put out the Kernel's basketball preview. It was an exhaustive effort that took five men more than 12 hours work without stopping, but it was worth it in the end. It was an 8-page special section with two of my articles in it, both of which could be considered some of my better work. My name wasn't anywhere on it other than as my byline, but I was proud to work on it.
8. The UK-UofL women's basketball game. The game itself was forgettable, as Louisville followed through on expectations and waxed the Cats. But afterward, in the press conference, Angel McCoughtry insinuated that the Cards had intentionally tried to injure a UK player to avenge a hit on their own player last season. McCoughtry, a national player of the year candidate and the best player in the history of UofL's women's program, is also the only player that I have genuine disdain for after my semester in sports journalism.
That's just the tip of the iceberg. If you want to know what the practice facilities at the Joe Craft center look like, or run through downtown Lexington to try and get a story, or what it was like to try and interview hockey players at 3 AM, or what a press box is really like, or the most fun I had on assignment this year (an article on the club rugby squad at UK), or what the bowels of Rupp Arena/Commonwealth stadium are like, or what Mitch Barnhart is like, or how eloquent Dermontti Dawson is, or how much 'fun' it is to deal with PR people, let me know.
About the only negative thing that came out of my experience in journalism this semester is my newfound knowledge of the floundering newspaper industry. I don't know whether there will be a job for me when I graduate, or whether all of this will be for nought. I do know that I'm ready for next semester.
I'm not going to tell you that I broke any big stories, or that I have Billy Gillispie on speed dial. I don't, and from what I've been told, I probably don't want to (more on that later). What I will tell you is that my little laminated credential with "UK Hoops" (Women's basketball) emblazoned on it has put me in places that I never would have imagined before, and that a big part of me has changed because of it.
I am no longer the sports fan that I once was. And I'm certainly less of a UK fan than I ever thought i could become in my entire life. That's not to say that sports did anything wrong, or that I've grown disillusioned with UK Athletics (more on that later). I'm just different for the experience. I feel strange when I go to a football game wearing blue to cheer on the Cats, mostly because the night before I had to wear green at a women's basketball game and silently stared at my laptop as the pep band blares the fight song. Sports is slowly becoming my job, not my hobby. Trust me, you can tell the difference when you're in my shoes. It's night and day.
For those of you wanting to hear stories about what Rich Brooks is like in practice or wondering what Billy Gillispie's cocktail of choice is, stop reading now. I don't know any of that. Don't particularly care to. Ask someone on the football team, or a Lexington-area bartender. But here are a few highlights and lowlights of my semester with the sports staff:
1. Covered the UK-WKU football game. Strike that. I sat in the press box for four quarters, ate free food, and got player quotes for our columnist after the game ended. Still, it was pretty cool to sit in the press box and go down to the media room. For the record, Rich Brooks seemed to be decidedly likeable. Did I mention free food?
2. Got to talk to Miss Kentucky, Emily Cox, on the phone for about twenty minutes. I was writing an article on the bi-annual poster put out by the club hockey team at UK, and she was the model this year. She was every bit as nice as you could want Miss Kentucky to be. Just for kicks, here's how the conversation ended:
BJ: Well, that's it. Thanks for all your help.
EC: Thank you so much! This was great! I'll talk to you soon! Oh, wait. No, I guess I won't.
BJ: Well, yeah...
EC: Sorry, it's just, you know, I'm used to talking with my friends and saying "talk to you soon" before we hang up.
BJ: Yeah I know. It's cool. Thanks again.
EC: Ok. Bye!
*click*
BJ: Dammit.
3. Went to Big Blue Madness and sat in the Rupp Arena press box. I was sitting there, realizing that ten years ago I had sat not far from where I was sitting as an 8 year old in my Antoine Walker jersey, when it struck me. I was there. I was 19 years old, already doing what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
4. Covered the signing of Daniel Orton. Orton, one of the top-10 players in the nation, didn't crack a smile once in his press conference. He seemed like a very quiet fellow when I interviewed him afterward. This was the first time I ever had to muscle a TV reporter out of the way. While we're on the subject, I haven't found a TV reporter that I like yet. They have humongous egos. And this is coming from a guy who deals with D-I athletes several times a week.
5. Wrote a story on the death of Jenni Casper. She was a beautiful 26 year old with a fiance who was suddenly killed when she, while intoxicated, crashed her car. She had been a standout on UK's volleyball team a few years ago, and I got the call. The whole day sucked. I bounced between the police station, a press conference, and about 20 phone calls while skipping all three classes that day. The worst of it came when I had to call her parents for information on funeral arrangements. I stared at the phone for five minutes before dialing. Thankfully, no one answered. Not a day, or a phone call, that I want to revisit.
6. Had a UK athletics employee tell me that Billy G is a pain. I asked her whether she just meant to work with, and she said no. "He's just... difficult. I'm glad it's not my job." I stumbled in on one of his press conferences one morning (the women's PC was right after it), and his presence stood in stark contrast to Brooks'. Where Brooks was jovial and insightful, Gillispie seemed clammy and cliched. It's a small sample size of both coaches, but it's worth mentioning.
7. Helped put out the Kernel's basketball preview. It was an exhaustive effort that took five men more than 12 hours work without stopping, but it was worth it in the end. It was an 8-page special section with two of my articles in it, both of which could be considered some of my better work. My name wasn't anywhere on it other than as my byline, but I was proud to work on it.
8. The UK-UofL women's basketball game. The game itself was forgettable, as Louisville followed through on expectations and waxed the Cats. But afterward, in the press conference, Angel McCoughtry insinuated that the Cards had intentionally tried to injure a UK player to avenge a hit on their own player last season. McCoughtry, a national player of the year candidate and the best player in the history of UofL's women's program, is also the only player that I have genuine disdain for after my semester in sports journalism.
That's just the tip of the iceberg. If you want to know what the practice facilities at the Joe Craft center look like, or run through downtown Lexington to try and get a story, or what it was like to try and interview hockey players at 3 AM, or what a press box is really like, or the most fun I had on assignment this year (an article on the club rugby squad at UK), or what the bowels of Rupp Arena/Commonwealth stadium are like, or what Mitch Barnhart is like, or how eloquent Dermontti Dawson is, or how much 'fun' it is to deal with PR people, let me know.
About the only negative thing that came out of my experience in journalism this semester is my newfound knowledge of the floundering newspaper industry. I don't know whether there will be a job for me when I graduate, or whether all of this will be for nought. I do know that I'm ready for next semester.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Re-examining International Basketball a Generation Later
One thing I always remembered from visiting my father on his ships during his Navy days was the basketball hoop that usually hung somewhere next to the helipad. He always told me about how when the ball accidentally went into the drink during a game, the ship used it as a surprise 'man overboard drill.' One day, I asked Dad if he ever played. His answer was as follows:
"No, I didn't really play. We had a couple of really good players. One guy played on the Navy's basketball team, and two more got DI scholarships to play when they got out. We pulled into Haifa (Israel) at one point and the Israeli National Basketball Team was in town. Our guys who played pickup on the ship challenged them to a game, and it was embarrassing. We blew them out. At halftime, the Captain had to tell the guys to go easy and let the Israelis come back, to prevent any sort of incident or national embarrassment. Another time, they played a team in Greece that had three members of their national team and blew them out too."
To be fair, Israel has never been a basketball powerhouse. They haven't qualified for the Olympics since 1952, and there isn't one player on their national roster currently in the NBA. Presently, they are ranked a respectable 24th in the world, right between Lebanon and South Korea. Their greatest national accomplishment in basketball is probably a silver medal at the 1979 Eurobasket tournament. However, the fact that a handful of sailors on a ship of just under 1000 (about the same male talent pool as an average high school) could beat the twelve best basketball players in Israel remains mind-boggling. That game in Haifa took place in 1992, the same year that the original Dream Team bulldozed the competition in Barcelona by 40+ points a game.
Fast forward to 2000. The US men's basketball team beat Lithuania by two points to win the gold medal. In 2004, they settled for bronze as Argentina won gold. In 2005, an Israeli club team, Maccabi Tel-Aviv, beat the Toronto Raptors in a preseason NBA game. Last night, America held its collective breath as the 'Redeem Team' defeated Spain to reclaim the gold medal. Sixteen years ago, basketball was a relatively unknown sport that was absolutely dominated by one country. Now, it is likely the second most popular team sport on the planet, behind only soccer.
It had to begin with the Dream Team. Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Charles Barkley, John Stockton, Karl Malone, Clyde Drexler, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, David Robinson, and Patrick Ewing all ended up in the Hall of Fame. Chris Mullin was a perpetual All-Star. Christian Laettner had just ended his career as one of the greatest college basketball players of all time. The team was so good, coach Chuck Daly didn't call a single timeout. It would be the equivalent of an island that had only experienced sunny days suddenly being subjected to a "The Day After Tomorrow" blizzard. The rest of the world couldn't help but be fascinated by such an exciting sport after finally being exposed to it at its finest.
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Today, American kids who dream of being the next Ladainian Tomlinson run outside and find their soccer balls every time they see Ronaldinho juke the goalie and tap a goal in. The same must have happened in 1992 when the Dream Team took Europe by storm. In 1992, Andrea Bargnani was 7 years old. Tony Parker was 10. Pau Gasol was 12. It's impossible to think that those games didn't affect these future stars, or their peers. Just one generation later, the thought of an NBA without foreign born players in unfathomable. With every gold medal we win, the next one will be even harder to gain.
The gold medal game featured a chirpy Spain team that never went away. The game was excessively physical, and the atmosphere in the arena was so electric it could be felt through the television. While the US did go 13-28 from 3 point range, a dry spell from outside the arc in the third quarter posed a serious threat to the US lead. Rudy Fernandez impressed before fouling out late in the game, and Marc Gasol turned heads as well. The Spainiards were never out of the game until 17 year old point guard Ricky Rubio (forced into a starring role following Jose Calderon's injury) was called for a technical foul with 30 seconds left. When the dust settled and the US celebrated their 118-107 win, American viewers felt something they didn't expect. Sure, we had won. But it was harder than anyone expected, and it won't be any easier in the future.
There's no going back to the old ways now. Every four years, the talent gap between the US and the rest of the world will shrink. More draft picks will be spent on foreign talent. Conversely, more and more NBA free agents will jump across the pond for more money and increased playing time in Italy, Spain, and Greece annually. No one in 1992 could have predicted that a can of worms quite like this could have been opened, the crew of the USS Yellowstone least of all.
When LeBron James, Kobe Bryant and company defeated Spain early this morning, it signaled another new era in international basketball. In 1992, the rest of the world was forced to take basketball seriously. In 2008, the US was forced to take the rest of the world seriously. The Redeem Team has returned US Basketball to a level of talent not seen since the original team, and they made an indelible statement with their sound victories throughout these games. The United States still has the best basketball players in the world, just like 16 years ago.
But like those startling red and blue lights and your rear view mirror, the rest of the world is closer than they appear.
"No, I didn't really play. We had a couple of really good players. One guy played on the Navy's basketball team, and two more got DI scholarships to play when they got out. We pulled into Haifa (Israel) at one point and the Israeli National Basketball Team was in town. Our guys who played pickup on the ship challenged them to a game, and it was embarrassing. We blew them out. At halftime, the Captain had to tell the guys to go easy and let the Israelis come back, to prevent any sort of incident or national embarrassment. Another time, they played a team in Greece that had three members of their national team and blew them out too."To be fair, Israel has never been a basketball powerhouse. They haven't qualified for the Olympics since 1952, and there isn't one player on their national roster currently in the NBA. Presently, they are ranked a respectable 24th in the world, right between Lebanon and South Korea. Their greatest national accomplishment in basketball is probably a silver medal at the 1979 Eurobasket tournament. However, the fact that a handful of sailors on a ship of just under 1000 (about the same male talent pool as an average high school) could beat the twelve best basketball players in Israel remains mind-boggling. That game in Haifa took place in 1992, the same year that the original Dream Team bulldozed the competition in Barcelona by 40+ points a game.
Fast forward to 2000. The US men's basketball team beat Lithuania by two points to win the gold medal. In 2004, they settled for bronze as Argentina won gold. In 2005, an Israeli club team, Maccabi Tel-Aviv, beat the Toronto Raptors in a preseason NBA game. Last night, America held its collective breath as the 'Redeem Team' defeated Spain to reclaim the gold medal. Sixteen years ago, basketball was a relatively unknown sport that was absolutely dominated by one country. Now, it is likely the second most popular team sport on the planet, behind only soccer.
It had to begin with the Dream Team. Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Charles Barkley, John Stockton, Karl Malone, Clyde Drexler, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, David Robinson, and Patrick Ewing all ended up in the Hall of Fame. Chris Mullin was a perpetual All-Star. Christian Laettner had just ended his career as one of the greatest college basketball players of all time. The team was so good, coach Chuck Daly didn't call a single timeout. It would be the equivalent of an island that had only experienced sunny days suddenly being subjected to a "The Day After Tomorrow" blizzard. The rest of the world couldn't help but be fascinated by such an exciting sport after finally being exposed to it at its finest.
.jpg)
Today, American kids who dream of being the next Ladainian Tomlinson run outside and find their soccer balls every time they see Ronaldinho juke the goalie and tap a goal in. The same must have happened in 1992 when the Dream Team took Europe by storm. In 1992, Andrea Bargnani was 7 years old. Tony Parker was 10. Pau Gasol was 12. It's impossible to think that those games didn't affect these future stars, or their peers. Just one generation later, the thought of an NBA without foreign born players in unfathomable. With every gold medal we win, the next one will be even harder to gain.
The gold medal game featured a chirpy Spain team that never went away. The game was excessively physical, and the atmosphere in the arena was so electric it could be felt through the television. While the US did go 13-28 from 3 point range, a dry spell from outside the arc in the third quarter posed a serious threat to the US lead. Rudy Fernandez impressed before fouling out late in the game, and Marc Gasol turned heads as well. The Spainiards were never out of the game until 17 year old point guard Ricky Rubio (forced into a starring role following Jose Calderon's injury) was called for a technical foul with 30 seconds left. When the dust settled and the US celebrated their 118-107 win, American viewers felt something they didn't expect. Sure, we had won. But it was harder than anyone expected, and it won't be any easier in the future.
There's no going back to the old ways now. Every four years, the talent gap between the US and the rest of the world will shrink. More draft picks will be spent on foreign talent. Conversely, more and more NBA free agents will jump across the pond for more money and increased playing time in Italy, Spain, and Greece annually. No one in 1992 could have predicted that a can of worms quite like this could have been opened, the crew of the USS Yellowstone least of all.
When LeBron James, Kobe Bryant and company defeated Spain early this morning, it signaled another new era in international basketball. In 1992, the rest of the world was forced to take basketball seriously. In 2008, the US was forced to take the rest of the world seriously. The Redeem Team has returned US Basketball to a level of talent not seen since the original team, and they made an indelible statement with their sound victories throughout these games. The United States still has the best basketball players in the world, just like 16 years ago.
But like those startling red and blue lights and your rear view mirror, the rest of the world is closer than they appear.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Phelps, Federer, and Unquestioned Dominance
One of the lessons we learn from sports is that losing is a part of life. We are taught that it is okay to fall as long as we stand up again, that mistakes are normal, and that no one is perfect. And 99% of the time, in sports and in the real world, that's true. But then you find a Michael Phelps, or a Roger Federer.
In a famous commercial, Michael Jordan stated that:
"I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
Phelps and Federer laugh at that because when you compare their accomplishments, Jordan is mediocre. For years, they were untouchable in their respective fields. When you make SportCenter for losing a match and a win is considered too routine to be covered, you know that you are almost laughably good. Forget being on a different plane from their peers, Phelps and Federer cannot even be compared to the rest of mankind.
Dominance like we have seen from these two could only be seen in individual sports. Bell Telephone was deemed a monopoly and forced to break apart in 1984. A 16-0 regular season NFL team was anything but a lock to win the Super Bowl. Omnipotent dictators such as Stalin and Hussein have given way to democracy. Even Tiger Woods only wins a third of the majors he has competed in. Which is why everything that these two have done is even more impressive. Forget trying to find historical parallels within their sports, you can't find anything comparable anywhere. For the past 5 years, both Federer and Phelps have been, unquestionably, the best in the world at what they do. If you had to name the world's best lawyer, or the best cafeteria lady of the past 5 years, you wouldn't have a prayer of finding who it was. Yet these men stand out like road flares on a dark highway.
Maybe the easiest way for you to truly understand just how dominant Michael Phelps was in Beijing would be to ask the competition. A handful of swimmers who came in second to Phelps throughout the Olympics were quoted saying:
"Phelps swam so fast. It is my honor to compete with him."
"Maybe next time I can catch him."
"It's not a shame to be beaten by a better one."
"I tried to do everything to go better than Phelps, but I don't have enough power for that."
These all come from men with silver medals around their necks. They are the second best in the world, and they have no qualms about who is number one.
Federer's recently quashed streak of 237 consecutive weeks as the world's number one tennis player shows us that nothing can last forever. The shelf lives of athletes is shorter than that of cottage cheese. Federer's drop, Tiger's injury, and Phelps' inevitable regression that will occur between now and the 2012 games in London is shocking because... Because we are forced to realize that they are mortal. When the fact that you are a mere human is news, you know you've done something better than anyone else has ever done it. When you examine all the gold, and all the majors, that is what these men have shown us. Once in a blue moon, the stars align and sports gives us a god who doesn't just transcend his sport, but transcends everything that we had every known before him. That is what these two men have done, and that is how they will be remembered.
In a famous commercial, Michael Jordan stated that:"I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
Phelps and Federer laugh at that because when you compare their accomplishments, Jordan is mediocre. For years, they were untouchable in their respective fields. When you make SportCenter for losing a match and a win is considered too routine to be covered, you know that you are almost laughably good. Forget being on a different plane from their peers, Phelps and Federer cannot even be compared to the rest of mankind.
Dominance like we have seen from these two could only be seen in individual sports. Bell Telephone was deemed a monopoly and forced to break apart in 1984. A 16-0 regular season NFL team was anything but a lock to win the Super Bowl. Omnipotent dictators such as Stalin and Hussein have given way to democracy. Even Tiger Woods only wins a third of the majors he has competed in. Which is why everything that these two have done is even more impressive. Forget trying to find historical parallels within their sports, you can't find anything comparable anywhere. For the past 5 years, both Federer and Phelps have been, unquestionably, the best in the world at what they do. If you had to name the world's best lawyer, or the best cafeteria lady of the past 5 years, you wouldn't have a prayer of finding who it was. Yet these men stand out like road flares on a dark highway.
Maybe the easiest way for you to truly understand just how dominant Michael Phelps was in Beijing would be to ask the competition. A handful of swimmers who came in second to Phelps throughout the Olympics were quoted saying:"Phelps swam so fast. It is my honor to compete with him."
"Maybe next time I can catch him."
"It's not a shame to be beaten by a better one."
"I tried to do everything to go better than Phelps, but I don't have enough power for that."
These all come from men with silver medals around their necks. They are the second best in the world, and they have no qualms about who is number one.
Federer's recently quashed streak of 237 consecutive weeks as the world's number one tennis player shows us that nothing can last forever. The shelf lives of athletes is shorter than that of cottage cheese. Federer's drop, Tiger's injury, and Phelps' inevitable regression that will occur between now and the 2012 games in London is shocking because... Because we are forced to realize that they are mortal. When the fact that you are a mere human is news, you know you've done something better than anyone else has ever done it. When you examine all the gold, and all the majors, that is what these men have shown us. Once in a blue moon, the stars align and sports gives us a god who doesn't just transcend his sport, but transcends everything that we had every known before him. That is what these two men have done, and that is how they will be remembered.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Favre, College, and the Next Part of Life
We've all met Brett Favre. Maybe not the auburn haired Fabio lookalike who once captured three consecutive MVP's and led his team to two Super Bowl's, but we all know him as he is now. He's the 27 year old who keeps coming back to campus years after he graduated. His five and a half years of college weren't enough; he spends his weekends tailgating and partying at the old frat house, tirelessly attempting to hookup with freshman girls before passing out on the couch of an unwilling host. He never wanted to leave the glory days behind, even though they have left him.This might explain why we felt the way we did once Favre retired. He had finally done what we could not do for him when he decided that he was finished, and we felt proud of him for that. His beard had become grayer and tougher than a steak from Golden Corral. The bonfire in his eyes has dwindled to a something resembling a flickering candle, almost there out of obligation instead of desire. We could all tell that it was time for him to go, which is why so few cried out when he made his announcement in March.
But he just couldn't kick the habit. He's back in green, but in a light we never thought we'd see him. Favre's trade to the Jets was shocking even though it we knew it was coming. Perhaps it was the inevitability of Favre's departure that made it so jaw-dropping, and we just weren't ready for it. The events that have played out over the past month have been almost as unbelieveable as the conclusion.
From a purely football standpoint, Favre is looking at a difficult road ahead. Presumably, he won't continue to play after his contract expires following the 2009 season. In the next two years, the Patriots are virtual locks to win the AFC East, which leaves the Jets in contention for the wild card. They'll be competing against Jacksonville, Cleveland, Denver, Cincinnati, and Tennessee for those last two slots. Favre certainly brings a dramatic upgrade at football's most important position, but its difficult to see the Jets as anything more than a 9-7 team.
Which may, in fact, be for the best. If Favre toils as an above average starter for an 8-8 team, his legacy in Green Bay won't be tarnished. He'll still be remembered for his career as a Packer, and not a Jet. Should the Jets make a deep playoff run or (heaven forbid) win a Super Bowl, we would have to remember Favre as a Jet and a Packer. For a man who has represented a state and been resented by a region for the past 15 years, that's quite an altercation on his legacy. With such a decorated past, its no wonder Favre was miffed by the Packer's reaction to his comeback.
You can't truly fault Favre for returning to football. Saying that he's going back to his roots would be an understatement; for twenty years the game has dominated his life. The decision was obviously very difficult for him, his anguish in the past few off seasons illustrates that quite well. Those of you close to my age (college) all experience the same thing. Sooner rather than later, we take a mantle of responsibility that we have never held before. We move out, try, fail, hopefully succeed in time, and carry that responsibility for the rest of our lives. That 28 year old alumni is having a tough time coping with that reality, just as Favre is having a tough time realizing how close he is to the end of something great. Favre simply decided he wasn't done with one part of his life, and Ted Thompson be damned, he's going to play football for as long as he can.
It has always been evident that making a final decision on retiring is uncomfortable for him. Take a look at his eyes on that magazine cover. They're greener than a PETA convention. Imagine, just for a moment, that the allegiance of those eyes isn't to the Packers, and isn't to the Jets. Imagine that his allegiance lies to game of football, and the emerald pastures that become the gridiron on Sunday afternoons. In the end, we loved Brett Favre because he loved the game, which is why he has come back for one last go at it all.
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