Never underestimate the Power of the Flop

First appeared on June 10th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

Webster’s Ninth New College Dictionary defines flop as “throwing ones self in a heavy, clumsy…manner”. And forget trapping the ball, isolations or running high pick and rolls, as these NBA Finals unfold the “flop” has leapfrogged its way to becoming the most favored approach for claiming victory; or at the very least getting ones self to the foul line.


Never before in the history of professional basketball has acting played a bigger role in the outcome of games. No right thinking individual will argue that the Miami Heat aren’t supremely talented. But not only do they have three of the best players on Earth, we’ve learned through the course of these playoffs that they are also capable of acting on a level that rivals the WWF during its glory years. In fact if the flopping persists, a championship-less Dallas fan base will be left with no other recourse but to lobby the league to rename Miami’s franchise the ‘Miami Cheat’.

As Americans we’re not unfamiliar with the power of the flop. Whether it be the Edsel or Sarah Palin as the choice to share a Presidential ticket, flops are nothing new. You flop on the bed, you flop on the couch, Donald Trump can flop his hair into place but you’re not supposed to flop your way through the NBA Finals.

At this rate, fans will surely pressure David Stern to green-light plans to have a monument to flopping chiseled in stone. We’ll call it Mt. Flopmore and it shall include the busts of Dwayne Wade, LeBron James, Chris Bosh and no discussion of flopping would be complete without including the floppingest flopper of them all- Reggie Miller.

ABC commentator Jeff VanGundy has been so embarrassed by the disgusting display of flopping he was moved to call it a “farce” and has opined for a penalty system to be incorporated league-wide in order to prevent them.

Now I am not here to advocate for such a rule change because I lack both the credibility and job title to do so. This is not to say the flop hasn’t become tiresome. It was at one time a quaint occurrence that was, at best, chuckle-worthy (see Laimbeer, Bill). It has morphed however into an invasive species so widespread and unstoppable that it’s choking the life out of the game.

The players cannot wear the blame entirely. Referees should be more vigilant in obvious flop situations (offensive rebounds, loose balls or drives to the basket when the opposition is in the penalty). They also apparently need to brush up on their math for when a 6’8 250 pound LeBron James crashes into a 6’2 180 pound Jason Terry the result should not be James ricocheting off with enough force to spill the drinks of millionaires or crack the foundation of American Airlines Arena.

Despite this scourge of fatalistic flopping, Dallas somehow managed to steal Game 4 after being outplayed for 3 1/2 quarters again. How interesting it was to hear Rick Carlisle imploring his team to “stay the course” heading into Game 4 while he did the complete opposite by changing his starting lineup. This of course is the equivalent of the captain of the Titanic asking everyone to return to their rooms while his crew is busy lowering him to safety in a lifeboat.

And so it is now a best of 3 series and while we’ve been treated to fantastic dunks and amazing shooting from a 7 foot German playing with only 9 fingers, a word to the wise- let not the flop decide the fate of the Larry O’Brien Trophy.

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams

Epic, historic, ginormous-Anyway you slice it, Game Three will be huge

First appeared on June 4th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

In losing a 15 Point fourth quarter lead Thursday night before dropping Game 2 of the NBA Finals at home to the Dallas Mavericks, the Miami Heat put together a performance that legendary color man Bill Walton would have likely labeled “the single greatest choke job in the history of organized sport.” Funny what a difference 48 hours can make.


After Game 1 most in the sports writing/commentating business had crowned Miami champions. Like a horde of rabid AMS certified weathermen, so many earnestly celebrated the arrival of the Heat. Suddenly LeBron was the greatest player on Earth again as those in the know tweeted the most popular one-liners the bestselling “Greatest Hits of Sports Media Catch Phrases” have to offer. Unforgettable snippets like “Smothering defense” and “Won’t be denied”.

Dallas looked hopeless after Game 1. Things were so dire the Mavericks surely reassessed the workouts legendary coach Holger Gerschwindler was holding with their star Dirk Nowitzki. It appeared instead as though the Mavericks would benefit more by suiting the 66 year old Gerschwindler up; provided he could rebound of course. But something happened on the way to Game 2.

Miami struggled early only to later fight out to a 15 point fourth quarter lead. And then came the moment. That one singular span of time where it appeared Dallas had no sand left to speak of in their hourglass. A lucent moment where an open armed world would welcome the Heat as champions. But suddenly Dallas began getting stops and making shots. And in the end it was too much Nowitzki. With the surge of his play during these playoffs, the lanky 7 foot German has to be considered, at the very least, the most talented nine-fingered player in NBA history.

And so The Finals have arrived at a crossroads. And with all disrespect to Games 1 and 2, like expecting parents, we must now await the arrival of our all important Game 3. Games 1 and 2 had their moment. The time has come for them to open packages of underwear or Savings Bonds at Christmas while Game 3 is the one getting the shiny red bicycle or Star Wars Millennium Falcon complete with Han Solo Gunner Station.

Since the mid-80’s The Finals have been tied at 1 game apiece 11 times. In every case the team that has won Game 3 has gone on to win the series. That interesting nugget of information comes courtesy of those at ESPN because they have: a. Access to more resources b. Larger paychecks and c. More time on their hands.

So it is, Sunday night’s Game 3 will be the biggest game the NBA has seen in 10 years; or at the very least, the most important NBA game played that day; take your pick. And as we collectively gather the necessary resources (see: diapers, box of celebratory novelty cigars and list of emergency babysitters) and wait with baited breath for our beloved Game 3 to arrive one must ask who should the edge go to?

The Mavericks will be playing at home where they have been dominant while Miami has two of the greatest players on Earth. When James and Wade are locked in defensively, Miami is completely unstoppable. Most of their spectacular dunks and full court alley-oop passes came courtesy of defensive turnovers.

So clearly the challenge for Head Coach Erik Spoelstra is to keep his two megastars focused defensively until the final horn of the Finals. Of course we’re not in uncharted waters here, Spoelstra’s been trying to slay that same three headed monster all season.

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams

Greatness of LeBron not defined just yet

First appeared on May 18th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

With all due respect to the late Rick James, LeBron James is the real Superfreak. The most talented player in the NBA, King James is arguably the most physical force defenses must deal with and at times he’s just flat unstoppable. That being said, with his team down 0-1 in the Eastern Conference Finals, he also seems destined to go down in league history as the “greatest regular season player ever”.


Understandably this is not a moniker most players strive for. No professional athlete wants to be laid to rest with this epitaph chiseled on his headstone. You aren’t going to find any Bentley’s or Land Rover’s rolling into the arena with the vanity plate “GRSPE” tagged on them (at least not during the playoffs). Michael Jordan certainly wouldn’t have embraced the label “greatest regular season player ever”.

When the Big Three came together last summer in Miami the sports world went through a range of emotion. First surprise. Then disgust. And lastly confusion. There’s a reason we’ve never seen real superstars join forces in their prime to pursue a world championship before-that’s because a true champion is a killer at heart.

And let’s be clear here, by using the term killer in this setting nobody is attempting to glorify John Wayne Gacy or those of his ilk. In the sports world killers don’t dress up in clown suits and prey on teenage boys. Killers in the sports world prey on opponents and long to slam the door on an enemy’s season. They are the snuffers of hopes and dreams. More than anything killers want fans to remember them as the one with their hands on that door.

By joining forces with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh in Miami, James forgave any chance of being remembered as the man who brought a championship to South Beach. At the very least, he’ll have to share that spotlight with Wade. Simply put when you consider everything James has accomplished to this point in his career, it is impressive, but it’s hardly the resume of a killer.

A killer doesn’t leave any doubt where the ball needs to go on offense or defense. A killer openly accepts blame when he comes up short. And , like it or not, a killer shakes hands with the enemy win, lose or draw. Kobe was a killer, so was Michael and despite his baby face and sheepish looks, so was Tim Duncan.

Killer’s assume all and bear all responsibility. Coaches of killers don’t call time outs to flip a coin to see who will take the last shot at the end of a game. They do so to discuss strategy to employ after their killer has stepped on someone’s throat by making a huge shot.

If James were truly a killer cut from the same cloth as Larry, Michael or Magic, the Heat would not be in jeopardy of going down 0-2 in Chicago tonight. But he’s not, or at least we have to assume this because to this point the jury hasn’t seen evidence to convince them otherwise.

That being said, it would seem as though James’ fate is to become a champion someday. It does appear however that he will do so by forging a new image of what we see a champion as. I suppose history will remember James as a pioneer, a trailblazer of sorts. A modern day Magellan who discovered the quickest and easiest route for a mega-talent to win a championship. Unfortunately it will be a championship history will remember as being won by the big 3, not LeBron James.

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams

Happy Birthday IMS

First appeared on May 26th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter 

Happy 100th Birthday Indy. IMS officials have surely wrestled with how best to commemorate your centenarianhood (my word for 100 years old). Donald Trump’s hair flapping in the breeze of a convertible pace car was scheduled to give the title “Greatest Spectacle in Racing” new legs but alas such is not to be the case. Instead IMS will celebrate the occasion with a 300 foot Hot Wheels sponsored truck jump.


While the 7 year old boy in me wants nothing more than to see a truck screaming down a 16 foot wide track made to resemble those I jumped cars off of as a child, it would seem a publicity stunt unworthy of such a fine occasion as this. But one can’t really blame race organizers for failing to rise to the lofty expectations of Indy’s 100th birthday, for in the beginning few expected her to ever make it this far.

In an era when car on buggy accidents spelled the dangers of the road, the Lebanon Pioneer’s headline following the first ever Indianapolis 500 mile race summarized contemporary opinion on the prospect of such an undertaking “One dead, eight hurt-First 500 mile automobile race may be lost”.

1911 was a time when people were still coming to terms with the fallout of the Civil War while sparring over a looming Prohibition. In central Indiana, Ed Adair was doing some repair work on the road in Ratsburg and an “old time slave”, some believe to have been 100, died in Hamilton County. Considering Studebaker was running advertisements boasting their “expert knowledge in wagon building” it’s safe to say nothing about life in 1911 was fast. It was a time when folks passing through Lebanon did so without exceeding 8 miles an hour while in the country speeds approached a white-knuckling 20.

It therefore becomes understandable how ridiculous the prospect of racing cars was. In the aftermath of the first 500 mile race in Indianapolis, the Pioneer speculated that “It is probable that the 500-Mile International Sweepstake race just finished will go down in history as the first and last contest of the sort ever waged”. Clearly unimpressed, The Patriot ran less than a paragraph 2 days following the race stating it ended with “(one) killed, and seven others injured and all for the fame fortune and glory of the automobile.”

Still on May 30th 1911 over 100,000 people arrived on what had been 180 acres of farm ground just a short 5 years prior. The crowd a kaleidoscope of dark Stetsons and lighter straw hats, parasols and white handkerchiefs all spinning just as furiously as the tires of the 40 competitors racing 500 miles. However on that day nothing could stand against Ray Harroun and his Marmon Wasp.

Though little about the early 1900’s appears precocious on the surface, perhaps this is the best word to describe the 500’s first winner. Flamboyant canary yellow paint job aside, his car was in itself a trendsetting model which became amongst the first to take aerodynamics into account. Harroun chose to race without a mechanic, opting instead for a rearview mirror; though it is a mainstay of the North America Automobile industry today, it was at the time a novelty yet to find its stride.

500 miles racing over bricks that 4 time winner A.J. Foyt once said could “shake the fillings out of your head” proved a brutal undertaking. Of the 40 competitors to make the field in 1911, only 12 finished the race. Like a herd of iron cattle, the group forged their way through a haze of exhaust and dust cast from 500 miles worth of pounding bricks. Racing at speeds the Pioneer declared were “almost beyond the conception of human eyes” one car lost control and busted through the fence killing Sam Dickson, a mechanic from Chicago.

With less than 10 miles to go Harroun found himself in a dogfight with two others. At one point Ralph Mulford’s no. 33 Lozier was able to crawl into the lead only to fall victim to an unexpected flat tire which sidelined his team for 2 full minutes. This would prove the difference between first and second place as Harroun grabbed the $10,000 prize, and perhaps more importantly his place in history as the first to accomplish what so many talented racers after would fail to do (see Andretti, Mario).

Perhaps the Lebanon Pioneer had it right by touting the dangers of such a race. For men like Harroun who found 500 miles on a brick raceway so punishing he swore “never again would he enter such a slaughter”, to men like Sam Dickson who had no choice but to end his racing days at the Brickyard, from its inception the Indianapolis 500 has stood as a symbol of American bravery.

It becomes fitting then that she be run on the weekend designated for remembrance of those who were bravest. For we Midwesterners, the Indianapolis 500 is an event linked to Memorial Day by Federal mandate. From 1911 when Boone County commemorated Memorial Day with a roll call of those killed during the Civil War followed by a recitation of the Gettysburg Address made by Alva Wynoop to 2011 when million dollar fighter jets fly over the racetrack in the missing man formation, Hoosiers refuse to forget bravery and sacrifice. And after 100 years there remains no better example than the Indianapolis 500 mile race.

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams

Down go the Lakers

First appeared on May 12th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

Following a shocking 122-86 loss to the Mavericks Sunday the two time defending champion Lakers were swept out of the playoffs. Thus ending the quest for the third ‘3 Peat’ in Franchise history. The loss also likely signifies the end for the greatest basketball coach in a generation. And while it doesn’t close the door on Kobe Bryant’s legacy building days, it certainly has jarred the doorstop loose.


But before you break out the cheap wine and Kleenex, let’s remember these are the Lakers. Is it possible for anyone in the Midwest to shed a tear for these guys? After all L.A. does fly in the face of everything the Midwest stands for. Glitz, glamour, wearing ones sunglasses indoors, these are not things that sit well with us.

We didn’t understand Magic Johnson’s no-look passes or Pat Riley’s $500 suits and slicked back hair. The disgust that surfaced for the Lakers in 2000 when our beloved Pacers made the Finals was not as much a reaction to the red carpet treatment Bryant was getting from referees as much as it was a strong dislike long harbored since the summer of ’87. That year L.A. denied Larry Bird his fourth ring during the last championship appearance he would make as a Celtic.

To us the Lakers are simply the Yankees of professional basketball. Ours is a place where plastic surgery is reserved for farm accidents and anyone who shows up wearing Donald Sutherland’s white sunglasses and black and white checkered coat with matching Fedora would find “Hoosier Hospitality” involves a padded room.

That being said, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Certainly Commissioner Stern feels the same and knows full well the death of the Lakers may mean the death of ratings as well. As much as I hate L.A. and wanted to see them lose, I wanted it to happen on the biggest of stages; not in the second round of the Playoffs. And how strange the Lakers should fall to the Mavericks and owner Mark Cuban. After all Cuban has long shopped his conspiracy theory that league officiating protects players like Byrant and teams like LA. The only thing more ironic than Cuban’s team hurdling the Lakers is Ron Artest clothes-lining J.J. Barea a week after the NBA handed Ron-Ron their citizenship award.

A Lakers team vying for a Three Peat staring down Miami’s “Big Three” in the Finals would have been a ratings bonanza. This is what everyone wanted. Bryant and LeBron exchanging highlight dunks as Zydrunas Ilgauskas would be, well apparently clanging 19 foot jumpers and committing 3 or 4 over the back fouls each night, not the type of eye-popping performance we’re looking for so let’s leave him out of this for now.

The point here is surely a Lakers-Heat Finals is what Stern wanted. But it would seem ever since Tim Donaghy danced with Lady Justice, nothing has gone according to planned in the Association. The Spurs and Lakers had combined to win 9 of the last 12 NBA Titles and they’re both golfing now.

So what’s next? Phil will likely ride off into the sunset, or into the sunrise I suppose since he does live in L.A., Lamar Odom has his part time gig on the E Channel to fall back on and Kobe Bryant is well-Kobe Bryant. It was just surreal to watch the two-time defending champs wilt like a Pansy. An addled performance rife with blank stares and emotionless effort. After all it is Hollywood, you’d think the Lakers could at least sign someone to act like they care.

Welcome to the Fan Cave

First appeared on May 4th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

So we finally found Osama Bin Laden. And all these years we heard about his living in a cave buried deep inside the Hindu Kush Mountain range; but yet they find him instead living it up in a compound minutes away from Islamabad.


I had such high hopes for his cave too. All this time we were led to believe he was cooped up in some state of the art hole worthy of the cover of Spelunkers Illustrated or Caves Quarterly (CQ for those in the biz). I had pictured Bin Laden perched James Kirk-style in a nerve center dominated by a wall of television screens broadcasting everything from Al Jazeera to Oprah to reruns of “Press Your Luck” while his guests moved about on an elaborate network of elevators, escalators and a Bactrian Camel affectionately nicknamed Bill.

With the kind of lightning fast internet service only Afghanistan could boast, I imagined Osama using a Mind Control Device designed by someone in the Al Queda R&D department to make former President Bush use words like “Strategery” and “Misunderestimated”. And yet, after all this, we find he was living in a suburb of Pakistan’s capital city. Probably buying the latest issues of Cosmo at the local drug store and drinking Latte’s at some Internet Café.

So now that we don’t have the Geraldo Special: “Outside Bin Laden’s Cave!” to look forward to, hope remains for a state of the art grotto that would turn Bat Man green with envy. Major League Baseball has done their part to keep the dream of a super cave alive by bringing the world their Major League Baseball “Fan Cave”. In the heart of New York City’s trendy Greenwich Village one will find MLB’s tribute to the American Sports Fan (Broadway and 4th for those who find this column so inspiring they immediately feel compelled to book a flight to the Big Apple).

The “Fan Cave” is Nirvana for baseball fans. A Mecca for stat geeks and couch potatoes alike. When it was announced that two fans would be granted the opportunity to live inside the cave while watching every single major league baseball game this season some 10,000 applied. Baseball officials sifted through this mountain of interest before settling on Mike O’Hara and Ryan Wagner. No doubt these two proved they had the skills, and lack of economic responsibility, necessary (see: ‘ no Job’ or ‘no kids’), to stay in one place and live a totally sedentary lifestyle for all 2,430 regular season games.

The majority of their lazing about will be done in front of the ”Cave Monster”. This wall of 12 big screens is stationed in front of a set of couches bolted to a stage that has the capability of rotating 360 degrees. During their summer of “Baseball Love” O’Hara and Wagner will use whatever free time they have between the 7,000 plus hours of baseball they will watch to Tweet, Blog, film short clips for the “Fan Cave” website and host whatever former or future Hall of Famer may happen by.

For Mike O’Hara and Ryan Wagner the “Fan Cave” is proof once again that dreams can come true in America. For the U.S. military on the other hand, finding Bin Laden after all these years is proof once again that hard work pays off in the end. So here’s to the men and women of our Armed Forces on a job well done. May the days be short before you find yourself holding a dog and a beer at one of baseball’s 2,340 regular season games.


Find the fan cave at: mlbfancave.mlb.com

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams

Curmudgeon or young optimist? Pacers face tough decision

First appeared on April 28th, 2011
 in The Lebanon Reporter

Established and once proud, but recently struggling NBA Franchise, seeks candidate for position of head coach. Prior coaching experience not necessary; ability to tell employees whose paychecks are ten times larger than yours how to do their job a must however. Experience making a sub .500 team competitive with the best professional basketball can offer a plus. Ability to get along with fans at home games mandatory (even if the majority are not fans of your team per say). Applicants shall not be curmudgeon-like in their dealings with players, front office personnel, the media, team cheerleaders, trampoline guys or the squeegee kids, the Public Address Announcer and/or the guy who runs the scoreboard etc. Availability for travel a must. Walk in and apply to Conseco Fieldhouse-125 S. Pennsylvania Avenue- Indianapolis, IN.


So what do the Pacers do now? Besides upload the aforementioned job advertisement to Monster immediately of course. The Pacers 2010-11 Season was all but lost when Larry Bird asked Jim O’Brien (inspiration for Scrabble-like use of ‘curmudgeon’ as read earlier) to take a permanent leave of absence. Many were of the belief the results would be minimal. After all, the Pacers Franchise barely had a heartbeat when Larry Bird picked up the phone and asked Frank Vogel to take the wheel for the rest of the season.

What we saw instead was, well…what did we see? We saw two 3 game winning streaks (doubling J.O.B.’s output). We saw wins in 5 of 7 heading into the playoffs. We also saw a winning record under Vogel. But the Pacers lost 6 in a row at one point (a feat J.O.B. also accomplished as well) and were destroyed by 27 in the biggest game of the year.

On the surface the results appear more mixed than not. So what does Larry Bird do now? Well

just in case Larry, or whomever will ultimately be charged with this task, is reading this; here’s what the Pacers should do.

Announce up front they’re launching the search for a new head coach (see aforementioned Monster Ad). Next start at the top by bringing in Brad Stevens and Jim Calhoun. And since I’ve never been a fan of Calhoun’s, let’s tell his agent to expect an invitation before shredding it like Julian Assange was knocking on the door. Next they should interview Bobby Knight and Gene Keady; at the same time. I’m picturing a steel cage scenario where the last man standing gets the job. Maybe you could even give Knight a chair and, just to make things fair, let Keady use his jacket as a weapon since he has ninja-like skills after tossing it around all those years.

Next, just to appease the mythical Kentucky Pacers contingent we hear so much about, they should hire a private investigator to find the grandson of Adolph Rupp (or just dig the legendary coach up if that’s cheaper). After this, they should interview every coach currently employed from the junior high level up to the European professional leagues. And after all this, the Pacers should hire Frank Vogel.

Why Vogel? The answer is clear and goes far beyond the court. For the first time since the pre-brawl days the Pacers matter again. There is a groundswell of excitement for this team and, couple this with the fact they have a ton of money to spend in the off season, next year should bode well for those inside the Pacers ticket office. Not enough? Try Vogel is bright, personable and has the perfect demeanor for handling a crew of young professional athletes. What’s your answer? Kelvin Sampson?

© 2011 Eric Walker Williams