Viva la World Cup

First appeared on February 18th, 2008
in The Lebanon Reporter

To be honest we know as much about soccer as Tom Daschle apparently does about filling out a 1040 EZ. Outside of there is only one goalie and you can’t touch the ball with your hands, we have nothing else to add to any intelligent discussion on the sport. This being said, something compelled us to tune in to the recent World Cup qualifier pitting the U.S. versus Mexico.
It was clear this match up was huge because ESPN repeatedly broadcast this fact and, not to mention, it was being held in Columbus, Ohio. Now, while it is a beautiful town, Columbus just doesn’t strike us as the international sports capital of the United States. Apparently, to convince congressional Republicans the stimulus will work, Democrats should recruit the guy who sold FIFA on holding a soccer match outdoors in the middle of February, in Ohio.
This match up quickly became much more than a battle of two soccer teams; it was a clash of cultures. It was the battle of sombreros versus sweat-stained baseball caps. The battle of the taco versus fried anything on a stick. Chihuahuas versus American Bulldogs (don’t mistake that for an endorsement of dog fighting), Corona versus Budweiser and Vincente Fox versus George W. Bush.
ESPN would have had us believe it would be a seminal moment comparable to Zachary Taylor’s victory at Buena Vista during the Mexican-American War. Zachary Taylor? You know, 12th President of these United States? “Old Rough and Ready”? The man who beat Lewis Cass (of Lewis Cass High School fame) in the election of 1848? The man who won the presidency despite having never voted in an election before? Nothing?
There are 6 teams in the USA’s pool for World Cup qualifying. From what we could gather, these 6 teams will play 10 games of round robin (home and away). The top 3 teams from this pool will move on to face the other qualifiers in the 2010 World Cup being held in South Africa.
Evidently the World Cup is a big deal (like a 700 million viewers worldwide kind of big deal). To put it into perspective, during a 2007 trip to South Africa we found people raving about their turn at hosting the event in 2010. Billboards had been erected and paraphernalia was for sale everywhere even though no soccer team or fans would be showing up for another three years. The equivalent here would be seeing Super Bowl gear for sale today touting Indy’s 2012 game.
After our first soccer match we can draw a few conclusions about the sport. With so much to decipher (stoppage time, free kicks, red and yellow cards) the only thing we can say with certainty is that soccer mirrors life in that time stops for nobody. When Michael Bradley scored the first goal for the American’s at the 43 minute mark, the clock continued to run while he celebrated with his teammates.
Soccer fans are notoriously rabid and now we understand why. Spectators spend so much time waiting for a goal they literally begin to go mad, drooling with anticipation. Goals are so rare the prospect of seeing one becomes a mythical scenario not unlike the Lochness Monster or universal health care. Like hunters using a duck call, fans spend most of the match attempting to capture the elusive goal by luring the ball into their net with near constant air horn blasts. Experts have the U.S. already qualifying and, powered by two goals from Bradley, the team took their first steps towards South Africa by notching a 2-0 victory over Mexico.

One Big Ugly Stinking American Mess

First appeared on February 11th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

As citizens of Earth’s greatest nation we enjoy invaluable freedoms. Included amongst these are a series of inalienable rights we should feel fortunate to have such as life, liberty and the right to bicker endlessly as to the shortest way out of a very deep hole; a hole that was mostly the product of the aforementioned bickering to begin with.
After more names surfaced from the so called “anonymous list of players who tested positive for steroids in 2003” apparently the Founding Fathers also saw fit the need to guarantee professional athletes the right to inject themselves with performance enhancing drugs. Was it not Jefferson after all who fought so hard for those rights not specifically reserved for the federal government to fall into the hands of Major League Baseball?
Two questions leap to mind. How could baseball NOT have seen this coming and had a system of penalties in place before 2003? And how many times are we supposed to pretend we’re shocked when another player who hit over 50 dingers has tested positive for steroids?
There was a time in the not so distant past known as our youth that the magic number for round trippers was 30. If a guy hit more than 30 home runs we saw them as the reincarnation of Babe Ruth rounding the bases; minus the cigar and glass of brandy. Now if a slugger doesn’t have 30 long-balls by the All Star Break ownership is waiting at home plate with a wheelchair and his social security paperwork.
While Hollywood couldn’t have scripted the summer of 1998 better, at the time something told us it was too good to be true. A sport that had been brought to its knees by its own self-made kryptonite (labor disputes) only to be given a hand up by two men chasing each other into baseball infamy. Of course just exactly which one of infamy’s numerous junior high dance halls they will be forever standing in a corner tapping their feet and sipping cream soda in remains to be seen, but during the summer of 1998 Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa gave baseball its own shot of HGH just when it needed it most.
Of course at the time we knew better than to believe these two were slugging one homer in less than every 10 plate appearances legally, yet we were fascinated nonetheless. Fast forward and those shocked by the Mitchell Report should beware salesman touting tickets for a return flight on the Hindenburg.
With the summer of ’98 in mind, maybe the easiest solution is none at all. Don’t ban anything. Let them take whatever, whenever, however. One can imagine the big hits on Sundays resulting not simply with somebody lying on the turf being attended to by NFL doctors, but rather simply disintegrating like a piñata. NBA players would be able to literally rip the rim off the backboard and fling it into the crowd collaring some hard working fan in a manner more reminiscent of a carnival ring toss. The kicker being instead of a goldfish in a Dixie cup, we give them 20 million dollars for doing it.
Today America’s youth are fueled by role models. With so many staples of popular culture waking to the UPS man delivering a package of bad press, perhaps the black eye of steroids is simply sport imitating life. Unfortunately finding role models for our youth today amidst a jungle of bong hits and hypodermic needles may prove a fruitless search comparable to photographing or plaster-casting the Yeti or, his equally-as-hairy English speaking cousin, Bigfoot.

The Haves and the Have Nots

First appeared on February 4th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

Like an influenza pandemic, tough economic times have infected that which was previously deemed the healthiest economic model in the history of mankind: professional sports. Recently the Colts made some tough staff reduction decisions as attendance for all sports, going back to baseball season, has dipped noticeably.
But give the Indiana Pacers credit; while they have struggled to win games they have worked hard to get people in the door. Fifty dollars got you two seats in the lower bowl one night; forty bucks got you a seat and all you can eat another. The Pacers have come up with so many gimmicks to drum up bodies it’s as though the marketing department hired one of those corny commercial filming used car salesmen; you know the type-the guy who gallivants around with wads of cash in his fist while jumping a Shetland pony through a ring of fire-crazy Bob something.
Suckered by their “buy one ticket-get a free Thick Burger and T-Shirt” deal we headed to Cornseco Fieldhouse. At the ticket gate one wouldn’t have guessed we were gripped by the worst recession in modern history. The Fieldhouse was awash in an electric blue and gold as a band of comely 500 Festival Queens passed out free zip bags to the first 6,000 fans (the 4,000 leftovers are most likely for sale on Ebay).
Of course our “Free Thick Burger and T-Shirt” seats meant the balcony so we were herded on an escalator and carried past the lower bowl entrances and luxury suites. At the last stop on the up escalator, we headed for the concession stand where we were greeted by a worker who seemed eager, if not hungry, for business. While double-checking to see if they even sold the $6.00 hamburger advertised on the board a faint “I think we have some in storage” was heard in the back. Apparently ticket sales aren’t the only thing that have slowed at Cornseco.
After a few minutes, and an Alexander Hamilton, we were in our seats. The group of strangers we were shoulder to shoulder with seemed very polite at the least. After all, they did apologize for spilling their coke, popcorn, Milk Duds and candied peanuts on us. The usher wasn’t nearly as punctilious when, in a tone strangely reminiscent of a Fort Sill drill sergeant, he repeatedly commanded we get up to let people through.
After a phone call from the Brother-in-Law the Williams boys find themselves constantly measured against, we relocated from our seats in the crow’s nest to a pair of lazy boy recliners 13 rows behind the Pacers bench. By giving us his seats, the face value of which is more than the gross domestic product of Kiribati, for a brief moment in time we became honorary members of a different world. With room to stretch our feet out we found, instead of barking like short order cooks, the ushers whispered to see if there was anything you’d like fetched from the concession stand.
Placing an order involved a lot of swiping; the ushers swiping our credit cards on a wireless device and us swiping Dwayne Wade’s sweat from our faces. With feet propped up, a gaze high in the rafters of Cornseco reminded us of our own humble beginnings. There, somewhere between the Strato and Nimbocumulous, we saw the friendly Milk Dud spillers we had left behind, their faces mere specks in a sea of blue, gold, green and gray. One glance at the ticket price of our new seats reminded us that perhaps the hard times haven’t found everyone just yet.

Tony Dungy was Unique

First appeared on January 28th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

When the Colts announced the retirement of their head coach recently one thing became clear; Tony Dungy is different. At times the term ”different” can be misconstrued and oftentimes its misuse results in the type of physical altercation we generally spend most of our time attempting to avoid. Upon second thought, Dungy doesn’t wear the word “different” well, you know much like an African Elephant doesn’t wear a size 42 dinner jacket well (the Asian maybe, but definitely not the African).
When describing the man Tony Dungy is, perhaps unique is the more tailored fit. No matter the terminology, Dungy was not the prototypical NFL head coach. We sit in awe of how such a soft spoken man inspired grown men, and by “grown” we mean 6’4 280 pounds, to go out and pound each other senseless for 16 straight weeks. Perhaps the most perplexing question of all is “How could Tampa Bay have ever fired this guy?”
The question casting a shadow over Dungy’s latest moment is how he will be remembered. Will it be as the coach Colts owner Jim Irsay “Airwolfed” into Indianapolis? Perhaps he will be remembered for becoming the first man to defeat all 32 teams in the league or will his consecutive streaks be the marks that stand the test of time best: 12 win seasons (6) and playoff appearances (10). Maybe history will simply recall him as the first African American head coach to win a Super Bowl.
We can’t pretend to know what time will do to Tony Dungy. What we can say with great clarity however is Dungy won games and he won games with class. There were no sour grapes squashed over the inconsistencies of NFL officiating. Even after it was discovered that his arch nemesis Bill Bellichek was clearly cheating by videotaping the signals of opponents, Dungy didn’t cry fowl or petition the league to replay the playoff losses he suffered at the hands of the Hoodies Patriots. He prodded his players to be active in the community, and perhaps most importantly, they were held to a higher ethical standard; a standard which, to a man, the Colts seemed to find inspiration in.
All of these things are rare in coaching today. We live in an insatiable, coach eat coach world. A world where many coaches sacrifice standards for players who give them the best chance for winning. Dungy’s constant winning was a product of an unwavering faith in a rock solid system. Of course it was Tony Dungy’s work ethic that made the system ultra-efficient. Fundamental in nature, this work ethic ultimately became the backbone of a franchise as well. Hard work enabled the Colts to maintain a plentiful crop of blue collar players who, like apples ripe on the branch, could be harvested at a moment’s notice allowing the Colts drumbeat to continue Sunday after Sunday.
Most agree Dungy’s best days likely lay ahead. Some believe he will carve a niche out helping incarcerated youth. Others say it’s only a matter of time before President Obama picks up the red phone (or perhaps it will be blue) to call Dungy into the service of his nation. Whatever the cause there is little evidence he will spend the next chapter of his life on the couch inhaling Fritos while cursing the Sunday play calling.
Come what may, the one thing that should never be forgotten is Tony Dungy not only operated on his own terms but he left on his own terms as well; and by doing so it’s a select group indeed which he has joined.

Danny Granger is an All Star

First appeared on January 21st, 2008
in The Lebanon Reporter

There few things we can say with any real certainty. This list would include a few no-brainers like: children probably shouldn’t eat a steady diet of chips of any kind, especially those that are lead based, its probably best Lawn Darts were banned by most states, the world will end in 2012 and Danny Granger is an All Star. Note we said “is” and not “should be”, for the difference betwixt the two is about as far as Possum Grape Arkansas is from being Paris France.
While the Pacers are suffering through a difficult year, Granger is not. The Pacers record doesn’t bode well for an All Star resume but then again we can’t remember a more bizarre season. The Pacers have had chances to win nearly every game they’ve played in; if only they could finish. Of course, borrowing the words of our former high school social studies teacher, “If if’s and but’s were candy and nuts we’d have ourselves a party”.
While Mike Dunleavy was rehabbing a knee, other key cogs in the Pacer’s wheel (Marqius Daniels and T.J. Ford) were nursing injuries too and all along the one constant for the Blue and Gold has been Granger. He leads the team in steals, blocks and minutes played. The 6’8 swingman from New Mexico is also currently 4th in the league in scoring at over 26 points per game. Recently Indy hitched their wagons up and drove west where Granger responded with three straight games of 35 points or more, including a career high 42 at Golden State.
In October the critics began a silent vigil. With great anticipation they waited to see if Larry Bird’s most recent incantation of a professional basketball team in the Circle City would sink or swim. While they flirted with .500 for a while, eventually the Pacer’s ship began to take on water and, one by one, the second guessers pounced.
Critiques ranged from “They need a real scorer” (Granger is 4th in the league) to “They need someone who can create their own shot” (Granger is literally learning how to do this on the job) to “They need someone to go to at the end of the game” (See Phoenix-January 7th where Granger hit a 27 footer with less than a second on the clock to win) to “Every elite team in the league has a perennial All Star” (we believe, starting with this season, Indy now has one).
With all the Pacers have been through since Two Guys and a Truck moved Larry Bird’s stuff from the bench to the front office, having a hand in drafting Granger may be all the Indiana legend needs to keep himself from the hot seat. Stealing a franchise player with the 17th pick overall (2005) may even help Larry erase all memory of his darkest days as an exec; yes we’re referencing the bad case of Jasikevicius he battled for two years.
A closer look at those players chosen before Granger show the Pacers did their homework well. This list is an eye-popping who’s not who of the NBA which includes such household names as Charlie Villaneuva, Yaroslav Korolev and Fran Vazquez.
In short Granger has proved his worth and he is now inarguably one of the top forwards in the East. However the Pacers record will probably prevent his being voted in. Of course the ultimate litmus test of whether the All Star game is in fact about All Stars or more about marketing will be if Granger is playing in Phoenix in February or not. Stay tuned to find out.

The Plight of the North American Head Coach

First appeared on January 14th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

Under a camouflage of different colors is found a rare species indeed. To watch the male and female alike teaching their young to fend for themselves is a marvel and all the while they continue to find new ways to outsmart enemies. But this spectacular species is in danger. Of course the persecution of animals isn’t new, the Chinese alone have done irreparable damage to the world’s ecosystems by insisting there is medicinal value to be found in everything from the Seahorse (kidney problems) to Tigers (arthritis) and Rhinos (fever and convulsions). And yet now we find those sophisticated Americans doing their best to eliminate a unique species of their own. The North American Head Coach.
In 2008 seven NFL head coaches were fired and, at time of print, six NBA coaches had been let go in a season that isn’t even halfway over yet. The plight of the North American Head Coach can be traced back to a pair of ugly factors: instant gratification and unrealistic expectations. It would seem we live in the heyday of instant gratification (instant messaging, one click shopping, automatic dog feeders); we must for if our attention spans get any shorter we…wait a minute, what were we talking about? It would seem today’s team owners have adopted the mantra of Apollo Thirteen Lead Flight Director Gene Kranz by making it perfectly clear to coaches that “Failure is not an option.”
Today, anything short of a championship is considered failure. Today, anything short of a perfect season full of record breaking performances and sold out stadiums rife with the type of pandemonium that winds up with thousands of fans clad in officially licensed apparel being trampled within inches of their life ala Euro-soccer style is considered failure. Under the leadership of a new administration perhaps protection for the NFL’s North American Head Coach Subspecies will come in passing out 32 Lombardi Trophies at the end of each season; thus sharing the wealth and preserving the species simultaneously.
Unrealistic expectations from fans and management threaten the future of the North American Head Coach too. The Sacramento Kings sacked Reggie Theus before he had even coached two full seasons. This after ownership had traded away his best players and failed to sign or draft anybody with enough ability to even lace those empty shoes up, let alone begin filling them. Coaches need a chance to develop players and get their systems in place. Two years is not a chance, it’s a cell phone contract. The New York Times reported the average coaching tenure of all three major professional leagues in the United States combined is less than 5 years.
Coaches deserve two things; a say in who they coach and the time to work with them. Of course we can’t speak with total certainty on much, but to expect championship runs every season from every team may be a bit unrealistic and far too often coaches become martyrs for franchises who seem to be eternally “rebuilding”.
In the meantime we should pause and enjoy the majestic beauty of the North American Head Coach while he’s still around for soon he may go the route of so many before; those “rock stars” of extinct species like the Passenger Pigeon, Three Toed Horse and Pig Footed Bandicoot. Look at the size of the headset on that male! Be careful though, the key is keeping your distance-the North American Head Coach is notorious for being ill-tempered. In the past he has been known to punch, choke, spew obscenities and throw chairs when disturbed. Yes a beautiful and inspiring sight indeed.

Indiana Sports Teams: Help Wanted

First appeared on January 7th, 2008
in The Lebanon Reporter

With the Colts out of the playoffs, forgettable football seasons from both in state Big Ten schools, the Pacers 10 games under .500, Purdue unable to win any game that goes longer than 40 minutes and Tom Crean’s Hoosiers suffering through the nightmare season so many predicted; fans of Indiana sports teams suddenly find themselves bruised and battered as if someone has beaten them with a pillowcase full of rock hard fruitcakes.
During this time some may have come to the realization that Indiana is suddenly not such a great place for sports fans anymore; you know in much the same way Gary is not the ideal place for ATM repairmen, Brinks security guards who are legally blind and those who wish to walk home from their jobs late at night unarmed while carrying large amounts of cash. Now that we think about it, the weather hasn’t been anything to write home about either; as in the sun hasn’t been seen since they moved the capital from Corydon. The forecast is so dismal we already have our bags packed, leaving us only with the task of finding the perfect destination for a new sports scene.
For some inexplicable reason the northern frontier town of Harbin China immediately comes to mind. You know the place where ice sculpting is considered a competitive sport. On second thought, the average winter temperature in Harbin is -16 degrees Celsius, and while we can’t say with any confidence what that means in terms of Fahrenheit we operate under a general rule of thumb which prevents us from taking up permanent residence in any place with an average temperature that is not a positive integer.
Perhaps Seattle would be a better fit for us. After all why would we turn down the chance for great coffee, plenty of rainfall and the possibility of recording our own Sasquatch sighting? On second thought maybe not, after all in the course of a year the people of that city have seen a professional basketball franchise leave, a former Super Bowl contender fail to make the playoffs and a baseball team take the field that by most accounts had no chance whatsoever of making the postseason at any time during the summer.
If we moved to Jalalabad Afghanistan we could most certainly enjoy a spirited game of Buzkahsi. For those who are not students of Afghani culture, Buzkashi is the national sport in Afghanistan, similar to polo with one minor difference- instead of wrestling for control of a ball, Buzkashi players angle for control of a goat carcass. Sounds quite interesting indeed and, given the 2008 they had, we’re sure it would no doubt prove a therapeutic experience for Cubs fans- but it’s not quite what we’re looking for.
And then there’s New York. The city that never sleeps. Appears they are also the city soon to be taken hostage by Brett Favre, one whose highest paid professional basketball player isn’t hurt and yet hasn’t played a game all season and of course who could forget the payroll of the Yankees, which at last count seemingly totaled more than the gross domestic products of all 47 nations on the African continent combined.
In retrospect maybe things here aren’t so bad after all. We still have quality athletes who play the right way. We have coaches who demand excellence and we have some wonderful venues in which to root on our teams. Turns out we’re not leaving after all, besides there’s not time to make any flights now- the Pacer game starts in a few hours.