I stopped watching NBA games over a decade ago. A league without rules, or more specifically, certain rules for certain players and teams is really no better or interesting for me to watch than the “wrestling” in the WWE. At least the WWE now acknowledges that it is “entertainment” not sport. To me, the NBA is no different. I feel that the league and the officials conspire to market first, stay true the sport—well, that’s got to be 7th or 8th on the list.
With that frame of mind, I didn’t think I’d really care either way about LeBron James’ “Decision” about where he’d be playing the next few years of his career. I honestly hoped that he wasn’t going to come to my home town of Chicago. I get that he’s a superstar, but he’s always rubbed me the wrong way. My rooting interest was for him to remain in Cleveland. I’ve felt bad for them ever since Michael Jordan hit “the shot” over Craig Ehlo. As a fellow Midwesterner, I understand the draw of the home town kid whose made good.
So, with only that casual rooting interest, I was surprised at how deep and visceral my reaction was when the announcement came that Mr. James was taking his game to Long Beach. I had a feeling for him that literally bordered on hatred. Watching such blatant narcissism at the expense of and in the face of a home-town city, which had treated him like the “king” he claimed to be was literally painful.
I’ve heard people talk about how uncomfortable he looked up on that stage, but I have a hard time feeling sorry for him when it was his choice to be there. It’s ridiculous to believe that his decision was made just that morning. James has been a member of the Heat for two years now in all but uniform. How does “King” James choose to tell his loyal “witnesses?” He hides behind some kids from the Boys & Girls Club in a town in Connecticut.
But that wasn’t all. He spoke in third person. And perhaps most cruelly of all, he chose Miami without saying much positive at all about Cleveland. Oh, he pointed out that he played hard for them, he acknowledged all he brought to that team and the city, but all he said about Cleveland or the Cavaliers was that he had much respect for them.
Much respect. So. That’s nice. Huh?
That word has become a joke. Respect. When you respect a city, it’s people and it’s team, you don’t go on television, on an hour-long program glorifying yourself when you know your decision will hurt all those you leave behind. When you respect the fans and the team and the city, even if you do decide to leave, you cancel the show, you release a heartfelt press-release explaining your decision and begging the forgiveness of the people you supposedly respected.
You don’t make a spectacle. You don’t rub in an entire city—an entire state’s face just to appease your own narcissistic needs. Is anyone else tired of celebrities and superstars feeding and fueling their own narcissism in these kinds of spectacles and expecting us to be okay with it simply because they donate the proceeds to some charity? Congratulations Boys & Girls Clubs, you’re whores. And if I was dying of thirst, I’d crawl into the afterlife parched before drinking a Vitamin Water.
Your Nike commercials say it best LeBron. We are all witnesses. We witness not only your play on the court, but the way in which you comport yourself off it. We are not fooled by a pittance given to a charity, we know what this was about. It was all about you. It was one of the most gross and painful to watch displays I’ve ever seen.
And I can’t help but draw parallels. I remember back to when I did watch the NBA and I remember my childhood hero, Michael Jordan. Mr. James will never live up to that mantle. He’ll never reach the standards of excellence set either on or off the court by MJ. As witnessed by his induction speech into the Hall of Fame, Jordan obviously had that same narcissism, but throughout his career, he managed it, he kept it inside. He took challengers as affronts to his supremacy and he dispatched them like a cold-blooded assassin.
By all accounts, James has done nothing but choke in the playoffs. Instead of taking challengers as slights to your supremacy and vanquishing them, James chose to partner with at least one player who is arguably his equal or even his better. I learned all I’ll ever need to know about LeBron James last night. The Air is rare in the echelon where the masters reside and the King will never breath it.
And we’re all witnesses.
Showing posts with label Michael Jordan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Jordan. Show all posts
Friday, July 9, 2010
Saturday, September 12, 2009
23
Two of my childhood heroes wore the number 23 on their uniforms. One of them was Ryne Sandberg of the Cubs. One was Michael Jordan of the Bulls. Ryno went into the baseball Hall of Fame a couple years back. MJ went into the basketball HOF last night. Ryno’s speech inspired, thrilled and pleased me. MJ’s left me feeling something I’d never felt for him before: pity.
That Michael Jordan is the best player to ever play the game is truly beyond argument. Just like no one will ever replace Babe Ruth as the titan of baseball, Michael Jordan climbed every mountain and swam every sea in a career that set him apart and above all others. He was the best that ever was and the best that ever will be. He proved that to us time and again. His legacy is safe and permanent.
He took the stage for his speech last night and spoke like perhaps he was the only one who wasn’t sure of that—the only one who didn’t know. Instead of showing the class and dignity that earned him global respect and admiration, he was petty and small in his words. His goal was clear: To remind the conquered of his place above them.
His speech was less a celebration that it was a reminder of what didn’t need to be said. His teammates barely received a mention. MJ was too focused on his enemies. Instead of spending time thanking and praising his own coaches, he spent time ridiculing those who thought they could stop him. Instead of thanking and praising his own teammates, he tweaked those he consistently defeated. Throughout his career he seemed—at least publically—to win with grace and dignity. On this night, he celebrated this victory with classlessness and prideful taunts.
It was always known that MJ talked trash on the court. Those who have played basketball know that’s simply part of the game. They also know that it’s put up or shut up. You have to earn the right to talk trash. Your words are empty unless you can back them up. The saddest part about this night was that Jordan, too old to back up his words, still defiantly acted like he could. Time stole from him the ability to do so. His speech was bitter. It wasn’t enough that in his prime, he was the best that ever was—it was all too evident that the fact that he couldn’t walk out on the floor and be the best today, even at this age, cuts him deeply.
You’d like the think that safe in the knowledge that you conquered all who challenged you, that you rose above all others to be the very best would bring with it a sense of peace, a bit of humility. At the very top of the mountain, you could look down on the world without looking down on them if you choose. It simply wasn’t to be. This was a night for reminding those not as great of their inferiority. It wasn’t enough to go into the Hall of Fame as the best, MJ needed to remind everyone else that they were not. It was sad.
He said that he learned something new about each of the people enshrined before him and that he wanted to share something new about himself as well. He wanted to share where his competitive nature came from. He wanted to share with us the logs that built his fire. We were there Mike. We watched each person you chose to call out last night, when they turned themselves into a log you burned to fuel your obsession. You humbled them, each in turn.
John Stockton and Jerry Sloan went into the HOF with you last night, each without an NBA Championship. Each, without a championship because you stood in their way. How classless it was of you to remind them of their failure in an effort to point out your own greatness.
When you’re the best that ever was, you don’t need to tell people. You don’t need to remind them. You don’t need to point it out. I wish someone had told MJ before he took the stage. His speech made it seem like he still felt a need to prove it. Sad, because his own doubt can only work against him.
When Ryne Sandberg went into the Hall of Fame a few years back, he did something he rarely did during his career. He spoke eloquently. His speech was not about himself and about glory, it was about the game, about the sanctity of that game. He bravely said what needed to be said. My heroes remain my heroes. I’m old enough now to know that even heroes are full of weakness. I just wish the hero that was the best of all time, could have gone in with as much dignity and class as the hero who was not.
That Michael Jordan is the best player to ever play the game is truly beyond argument. Just like no one will ever replace Babe Ruth as the titan of baseball, Michael Jordan climbed every mountain and swam every sea in a career that set him apart and above all others. He was the best that ever was and the best that ever will be. He proved that to us time and again. His legacy is safe and permanent.
He took the stage for his speech last night and spoke like perhaps he was the only one who wasn’t sure of that—the only one who didn’t know. Instead of showing the class and dignity that earned him global respect and admiration, he was petty and small in his words. His goal was clear: To remind the conquered of his place above them.
His speech was less a celebration that it was a reminder of what didn’t need to be said. His teammates barely received a mention. MJ was too focused on his enemies. Instead of spending time thanking and praising his own coaches, he spent time ridiculing those who thought they could stop him. Instead of thanking and praising his own teammates, he tweaked those he consistently defeated. Throughout his career he seemed—at least publically—to win with grace and dignity. On this night, he celebrated this victory with classlessness and prideful taunts.
It was always known that MJ talked trash on the court. Those who have played basketball know that’s simply part of the game. They also know that it’s put up or shut up. You have to earn the right to talk trash. Your words are empty unless you can back them up. The saddest part about this night was that Jordan, too old to back up his words, still defiantly acted like he could. Time stole from him the ability to do so. His speech was bitter. It wasn’t enough that in his prime, he was the best that ever was—it was all too evident that the fact that he couldn’t walk out on the floor and be the best today, even at this age, cuts him deeply.
You’d like the think that safe in the knowledge that you conquered all who challenged you, that you rose above all others to be the very best would bring with it a sense of peace, a bit of humility. At the very top of the mountain, you could look down on the world without looking down on them if you choose. It simply wasn’t to be. This was a night for reminding those not as great of their inferiority. It wasn’t enough to go into the Hall of Fame as the best, MJ needed to remind everyone else that they were not. It was sad.
He said that he learned something new about each of the people enshrined before him and that he wanted to share something new about himself as well. He wanted to share where his competitive nature came from. He wanted to share with us the logs that built his fire. We were there Mike. We watched each person you chose to call out last night, when they turned themselves into a log you burned to fuel your obsession. You humbled them, each in turn.
John Stockton and Jerry Sloan went into the HOF with you last night, each without an NBA Championship. Each, without a championship because you stood in their way. How classless it was of you to remind them of their failure in an effort to point out your own greatness.
When you’re the best that ever was, you don’t need to tell people. You don’t need to remind them. You don’t need to point it out. I wish someone had told MJ before he took the stage. His speech made it seem like he still felt a need to prove it. Sad, because his own doubt can only work against him.
When Ryne Sandberg went into the Hall of Fame a few years back, he did something he rarely did during his career. He spoke eloquently. His speech was not about himself and about glory, it was about the game, about the sanctity of that game. He bravely said what needed to be said. My heroes remain my heroes. I’m old enough now to know that even heroes are full of weakness. I just wish the hero that was the best of all time, could have gone in with as much dignity and class as the hero who was not.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Shaq The Coward
I’ve never really been much of a Shaquille O’Neal fan. Okay, that’s an understatement. I think Shaq is an overrated assclown who thinks much too highly of himself. I’ve never liked him and I never will, so perhaps I’m a bit biased when Shaq opens up his big trap and starts spouting off, but so be it—the way I figure, any person that talks about himself in third person has invited all the contempt he gets.
So, it’s not a huge surprise, I suppose that as a basketball purest, I’m a little perturbed by Shaq’s recent comments aimed at San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich. You see, for all of the things that Shaquille O’Neal does well, what he does not do well is shoot free throws. He’s horrible at it as a matter of fact. He’s also a “star player” though, so you can rest assured that he’s going to be in at the end of any game, or the tantrum he’ll throw will be monumental.
The problem with having him in a close game though, is that as time winds down, many coaches employ a strategy which has become known as the Hack-A-Shaq strategy. Simply put, anytime O’Neal touches the ball, he’s immediately fouled and forced to shoot free throws, which, as I’ve mentioned, he’s not very good at, so the end result is that the opposing team gets good opportunities to score every possession, while Shaq’s team is stuck with his poor free throw shooting as their only means of offense.
So, if you’re playing Shaq’s team and you’re losing, you employ Hack-A-Shack to help your team come back and if your team is winning, you employ it to expand that lead and keep the other team from coming back.
From a purely strategic point of view, it’s not only a great strategy, but one of the most long standing tactics in the game of basketball. Since the inception of the game, coaches have been using the foul as a means of making a comeback and the weakest free throw shooter on the other team has always been the favorite target.
Perhaps no player has been subjected to it more than O’Neal though. Not coincidentally though, this is because he’s probably the worst free throw shooter of any “superstar” the game has ever known.
For his part, Shaq has been whining about the strategy since it was first used against him. Recently, he called Popovich “cowardly” for using it in a playoff game in which his team was winning by 10 points. O’Neal also points out that the strategy makes the game less interesting for the fans.
And in a nutshell, this attitude is one of the reasons why I will never count O’Neal among the greatest big men to ever play the game. For someone who’s played the game so long, to not understand the importance of strategy over entertainment is a sad reflection on the state of the game at the professional level.
A coach is not and never will be a coward for exploiting the greatest weakness of the team opposing him. Poor baby Shaq can’t wrap his giant ego around the fact that the weakness is him. He is a liability to his team at the end of a game. About no other great of the game can this be said—which is why O’Neal cannot be a member of that club in my opinion.
If Shaq had his way, every game would be decided based on physicality and talent alone. Not surprising for someone whose only real talent is being bigger and stronger than everyone else, O’Neal has a certain disdain for the intellectual part of the game, especially when that intellect exposes him.
In fairness, Shaq goes on to say, “I just have to go to the line and hit [the free throws] and make them pay, and I will; I’m not worried.” Only he’s been saying the same thing for years now and his free throw shooting has never improved. And he’s never shy about speaking out against the strategy and even lobbied for a rule to be instituted against it.
I’ve taught grade school kids to shoot free throws at a higher percentage than Shaq makes them, though he is making millions of dollars to do it. Throughout a long career, he’s never seemingly made the effort to shore up this weakness in his game, he’s never eliminated this weakness from the teams he’s played on. He uses the fact that he’s bigger and stronger to bully defenders, but his skill lever is, and always has been suspect.
A little bit older and a little bit slower now, he’s far from the dominant player he once was and in a year or two, his career will be coming to an end. When it does, the talking heads will all discuss his place on the list of greatest big men of all time, and probably of the greatest players of all time. It’s sad that many of those talking heads will insist on giving him a status he does not deserve. He is not one of the best, either in the game or at his position. He is a fraud. He always has been. He always will be.
There is more to determining greatness than statistics and while Shaq’s stats may delude some into thinking he was greater than he was, it’s small things like these comments and these feelings that truly put him into the proper perspective. He is not a team player, though he plays a team sport. He is a strategic liability and weakness because of his lack of skill and practice. He is a brute force—nothing more, nothing less. If men of his height, weight and muscle were more common, if every team had one, Shaquille O’Neal would never have been more than average.
For my part, I enjoy watching O’Neal in the twilight of his career, no longer able to dominate a game. As his body wears down, he is paying the price of not having attained greater skill. He is no longer dominant. I can’t help but think back to the true greatest of all time, Michael Jordan, and how he seemed to get better with age, how his highlight film days were just a beginning, not the peak of his career. The same cannot be said of O’Neal. As his physical condition deteriorates, so does his game.
So, when the time comes and talking heads start to squawk about Shaq’s place in history, try to remember that no one ever mistook Pamela Anderson as one of the best actresses of all time, and don’t be fooling into thinking that O’Neal was anything more than an average talent in an amazing body.
So, it’s not a huge surprise, I suppose that as a basketball purest, I’m a little perturbed by Shaq’s recent comments aimed at San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich. You see, for all of the things that Shaquille O’Neal does well, what he does not do well is shoot free throws. He’s horrible at it as a matter of fact. He’s also a “star player” though, so you can rest assured that he’s going to be in at the end of any game, or the tantrum he’ll throw will be monumental.
The problem with having him in a close game though, is that as time winds down, many coaches employ a strategy which has become known as the Hack-A-Shaq strategy. Simply put, anytime O’Neal touches the ball, he’s immediately fouled and forced to shoot free throws, which, as I’ve mentioned, he’s not very good at, so the end result is that the opposing team gets good opportunities to score every possession, while Shaq’s team is stuck with his poor free throw shooting as their only means of offense.
So, if you’re playing Shaq’s team and you’re losing, you employ Hack-A-Shack to help your team come back and if your team is winning, you employ it to expand that lead and keep the other team from coming back.
From a purely strategic point of view, it’s not only a great strategy, but one of the most long standing tactics in the game of basketball. Since the inception of the game, coaches have been using the foul as a means of making a comeback and the weakest free throw shooter on the other team has always been the favorite target.
Perhaps no player has been subjected to it more than O’Neal though. Not coincidentally though, this is because he’s probably the worst free throw shooter of any “superstar” the game has ever known.
For his part, Shaq has been whining about the strategy since it was first used against him. Recently, he called Popovich “cowardly” for using it in a playoff game in which his team was winning by 10 points. O’Neal also points out that the strategy makes the game less interesting for the fans.
And in a nutshell, this attitude is one of the reasons why I will never count O’Neal among the greatest big men to ever play the game. For someone who’s played the game so long, to not understand the importance of strategy over entertainment is a sad reflection on the state of the game at the professional level.
A coach is not and never will be a coward for exploiting the greatest weakness of the team opposing him. Poor baby Shaq can’t wrap his giant ego around the fact that the weakness is him. He is a liability to his team at the end of a game. About no other great of the game can this be said—which is why O’Neal cannot be a member of that club in my opinion.
If Shaq had his way, every game would be decided based on physicality and talent alone. Not surprising for someone whose only real talent is being bigger and stronger than everyone else, O’Neal has a certain disdain for the intellectual part of the game, especially when that intellect exposes him.
In fairness, Shaq goes on to say, “I just have to go to the line and hit [the free throws] and make them pay, and I will; I’m not worried.” Only he’s been saying the same thing for years now and his free throw shooting has never improved. And he’s never shy about speaking out against the strategy and even lobbied for a rule to be instituted against it.
I’ve taught grade school kids to shoot free throws at a higher percentage than Shaq makes them, though he is making millions of dollars to do it. Throughout a long career, he’s never seemingly made the effort to shore up this weakness in his game, he’s never eliminated this weakness from the teams he’s played on. He uses the fact that he’s bigger and stronger to bully defenders, but his skill lever is, and always has been suspect.
A little bit older and a little bit slower now, he’s far from the dominant player he once was and in a year or two, his career will be coming to an end. When it does, the talking heads will all discuss his place on the list of greatest big men of all time, and probably of the greatest players of all time. It’s sad that many of those talking heads will insist on giving him a status he does not deserve. He is not one of the best, either in the game or at his position. He is a fraud. He always has been. He always will be.
There is more to determining greatness than statistics and while Shaq’s stats may delude some into thinking he was greater than he was, it’s small things like these comments and these feelings that truly put him into the proper perspective. He is not a team player, though he plays a team sport. He is a strategic liability and weakness because of his lack of skill and practice. He is a brute force—nothing more, nothing less. If men of his height, weight and muscle were more common, if every team had one, Shaquille O’Neal would never have been more than average.
For my part, I enjoy watching O’Neal in the twilight of his career, no longer able to dominate a game. As his body wears down, he is paying the price of not having attained greater skill. He is no longer dominant. I can’t help but think back to the true greatest of all time, Michael Jordan, and how he seemed to get better with age, how his highlight film days were just a beginning, not the peak of his career. The same cannot be said of O’Neal. As his physical condition deteriorates, so does his game.
So, when the time comes and talking heads start to squawk about Shaq’s place in history, try to remember that no one ever mistook Pamela Anderson as one of the best actresses of all time, and don’t be fooling into thinking that O’Neal was anything more than an average talent in an amazing body.
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