Save Wrigley Field?

First appeared on July 24, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When I was in seventh grade we circulated a petition asking one of our lunch ladies to try different deodorant, and while we generated some much needed hygienic awareness amongst many classmates and picked up a lot of signatures, we also got detention, stern lectures from both Administration and our parents, as well as the coldest hamburgers you could imagine.

So when I received a request recently to sign a petition to “Save Wrigley Field” I was somewhat confused. After all Wrigley does predate the discovery of dirt, so what could it possibly need saving from? Apparently Wrigley needs saving from itself.

Cubs ownership wants to institute $500 million in renovations to Wrigley. This demand has sparked a wrestling match between Rooftop Owners, one crabby Alderman, the Landmarks Commission and the Mayor of Chicago. According to plans, the exterior will be restored to 1938 status, a year the Cubs were swept in the World Series which is in itself surprising on multiple levels.
Wrigley is already a local landmark, but will work to achieve National Landmark Status while implementing the renovations simultaneously. The most impressive aspect of the project is that it will all be done with private money.

But as negotiations floundered, Tom Ricketts knew the trump card lay in the pocket of his David Beckham Collection, double breasted, Armani suit lined with the fur of the rare and endangered Pamir Spotted Zebra all along. But does the owner of the Chicago Cubs really want to go down in history as the man who tore down Wrigley? Did he pay $900 million for the team just to have the chance at writing an even darker chapter of history in what has already been a genuinely lackluster and laughable existence?

I suppose it’s fitting the Ricketts and the Cubs found each other considering the Ricketts family is ranked 371 out of the 400 Wealthiest People according to Forbes, this of course places them near last on the list and that’s where the team has been languishing since the day the Ricketts bought them.

Being one of only a handful who could pay cash for the Space Shuttle is proof Tom Ricketts is undoubtedly a smart man. Surely then he understands 97.8% of Cubs Fans are so because of Wrigley Field. Does anyone really believe Cubs Fans actually follow their team? The same one that hasn’t won a World Series since Teddy Roosevelt was President? The one that hasn’t appeared in a World Series since we were dropping bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

Cubs Fans live for Wrigley. They are fans because the Cubs are one of the last franchises left who embrace losing. OK, so maybe it’s not so much the losing as it is the belief that a World Series title can only be fully appreciated if preceded by a lifetime of
extreme heartache and disappointment first.

It’s the pomp and circumstance that lures Cubs Fans out in droves year after year. The fact the Cubs happen to play baseball at Wrigley Field is secondary and serves only to force people to hang around a bit longer than normal for fear of appearing rude.
Cubs Fans embrace Wrigley for all that the park stands for. Things like the Ivy, pad-less brick walls, occasional chunks of concrete falling from the ceiling of the grandstands and Bleacher Bums fumbling their way through the Seventh Inning Stretch while sharing overpriced refreshments with the heads, shoulders and laps of their fellow man. For all of mankind, the sooner those in high places realize the rare gem they have in Wrigley the better.


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© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Dazed and Confused: The Legacy of David Stern

First appeared on July 3, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

David Stern seems like a legacy guy. There’s nothing wrong with legacy guys of course, unless they elbow women and children aside on their way to the life boat claiming they’ve ‘yet to fulfill their legacy’ that is. So as Stern climbs some stacked milk crates to board his trusty steed and steer himself into the sunset after 30 years as NBA League Commissioner, the part-time pretend sports columnist in all of us must wonder, what is his legacy?

When he assumed his post during the winter of 1984, the league was fumbling its way through a dark period. The Bird and Magic rivalry hadn’t hit its stride yet and the NBA had little more than some really tight uniforms, arenas that openly encouraged smoking and a former ABA star to hang its hat on. Nobody can argue Stern’s entrance marked an upturn in the fortunes of the league. However, what drove this surge in popularity is extremely debatable. Was it Stern’s steady hand, cunning business sense and flair for marketing or was it simply some dynamic basketball being played by two teams that were both piloted by mega-stars who legitimately hated losing to each other?

In his time as Commissioner, Stern’s experiences have run the gamut. He was accused of rigging the 1985 draft lottery that helped the Knicks land Patrick Ewing and later caused major unrest amongst players when the voices in his head told him to switch to a new basketball, thus replacing the one that had previously been in use for 37 years. During his tenure, 6 franchises had to relocate, the players’ wardrobe became subject to mandate, one referee was thrown in Federal prison and there were a total of four work stoppages.

Under Stern’s watch television contracts exploded, the league added 7 franchises, basketball became a global game which saw the infusion of talent from every inhabited continent and a luxury tax was put in place to try and prevent teams from adopting the New York Yankee blueprint for success.

But for all he’s done, Stern’s legacy may struggle to escape the shadow of today’s game. For when the Commissioner’s time comes and Saint Peter jingles the Keys to the Kingdom before him, the question “Is the NBA better off now than it was 30 years ago?” is sure to arise. In terms of pure economics the answer is technically yes, but when it comes to overall product quality, the answer must be a resounding no.

The influx of young talent has changed both the quality and style of professional basketball. Even the unorganized masses who staunchly oppose Stern, including those who ambush telemarketers with a well rehearsed anti-Stern rant or spend their free time tossing darts at a life size Fathead of the Commissioner they inexplicably keep pasted to their living room wall, have to admit he showed some cognizant understanding of basketball when recognizing inexperienced players are bad for business. For proof one need look no further than his instituting the infamous “One and Done” rule during the 2005 collective bargaining agreement.

Still it portends of large issues. Stern leaves behind a world where teams burn through coaches as if they were employees of a temp agency instead of experienced professors of basketball who know what’s best for the young men they lead. Stern’s legacy appears to be having created a system where players dictate most front office moves including which coaches to hire and players to pursue. This is a business model most fans are going to grow tired of quickly and one no well placed smile or anecdote will excuse.

Popovich is a Difference Maker

First appeared on June 19th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Most NBA coaches are brainless troglodytes in $300 suits. Men who believe success lies in Xeroxing every move of a Champion. These are the same guys who stop eating oranges and start drinking 17 cups of coffee a day because one story on the Evening News told them of a very important “scientific” study just completed. Of course the story often leaves out the important fact these studies were funded by a rogue anti-orange fringe group and the coffee industry, but such is life.

This might be part of the reason there’ve been a record setting 12 NBA coaching changes made since the end of the regular season alone. These one-time titans of the game have been relegated to babysitters clad in Armani and armed with clipboards. In a word, the NBA coach has become expendable. San Antonio Head Coach Gregg Popovich is not one of these guys. He’s cut from a different, albeit largely unattractive and semi-abrasive, cloth.

It’s hard to argue with Pop. He’s piloted the Spurs to four World Championships and is one of two coaches to record 900 wins with one team. He’s twice been named NBA Coach of the Year and is the longest tenured Head Coach in the four major North American professional sports leagues.

As Hoosiers we can lay claim to Pop. Well, at least our claim is more legally binding than say Albuquerque, New Mexico or the country of Honduras. Born and raised in the Region, Popovich traces his roots to East Chicago and Merrillville High School. As Hoosiers we appreciate his team-oriented style. As Hoosiers we recognize the no-nonsense, hard-nosed disciplinarian Popovich is at times and understand this simply to be the product of a childhood spent in East Chicago. As cranky people we identify with his disdain for the media. Answering questions and providing explanations are not beneath Popovich, they’re simply an unnecessary byproduct of the popularity of his profession.

What separates Popovich from the average NBA coach is both extraordinary and revolutionary in that he actually coaches his players. He holds them accountable and calls them out when they’re not pulling their weight or are off-blueprint. He blushes at the power that comes with their million dollar lifestyles before telling them “that was a really dumb pass, now sit down!” He’s both fascinating and irascible, and he’s been the difference in these Finals to this point.

When was the last time you saw any NBA coach outside San Antonio get in the face of his players? NBA coaches who tell the media their teams played terrible are about as common as $3 gas or the Ivory Billed Woodpecker. The coach most owners favor today are those who call time outs to hint at what teams need to do and tell them they’re playing spectacular basketball despite being down 20.

This much seems recognizable from our distant perch yet there must remain a great equalizer. That unknown which Popovich labors so hard to conceal. In today’s world, no matter the results, the modern athlete seems incapable of tolerating constant berating and foul mouthed motivation. There must be a layer unseen by the public. A kinder, gentler Popovich that reaches out to his players and labors to establish meaningful relationships with them.

Perhaps this explains his notoriously abrasive behavior. It could be in providing a non-sensical explanation for how his team is defending the pick and roll, Popovich is simply masking his “Fun Uncle Pop” side. The side only those stranded in the trenches with him can see. Or it could be the product of just being a great coach.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Pacers remain so close....

First appeared on June 5th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Back in the day the man perm was an unstoppable force of nature. And, with all apologies to the late Rick James, when it comes to man perms few could rival John Oates of Hall and Oates fame. After Monday night’s debacle in Miami, fans of the Blue and Gold were left lamenting the 32 points King James dropped on Indiana or the fact the league’s MVP absolutely shut down Paul George in the biggest game of his life; but my mind was on Hall and Oates.

How fitting would it have been for one of the greatest duos of the 80’s to be waiting in the Pacers tunnel as they sulked from the floor? Perched on their stools, rocking a single amp, John Oates still looking like 1983 with Daryl Hall’s golden pipes bellowing out “So close, yet so far away”.

That’s what the Pacers were, so close, yet the Heat’s dominating performance in Game 7 made it clear Indiana remains so far away. As great as the Pacers were, the Heat reminded them what a true Champion is. Turnovers erased any chance Indiana had at playing for an NBA Championship, thus deep sixing what Marv Albert had already dubbed the “greatest upset in NBA Playoff History”; clearly Marv hasn’t gotten over Reggie Miller.

Forgetting Marv Albert’s misguided prophecy, and unflattering hat helmet, for a moment, up until Monday night the Indiana Pacers were on a run that seemed destined for the Finals. It could be said everything they touched turned “blue and gold”. The 1980’s brand of smashmouth basketball the Pacers were playing looked so effective that somewhere Chuck Daly was smiling behind a Poker table while those with the most titles in front offices around the league were silently questioning their movement away from a dominating front line.

The usually outlandish and cranky Sir Charles was actually spot-on when comparing Roy Hibbert and David West’s dominating play to Russell and Chamberlain. Mix in strong all around play from the emerging superstar Paul George, sharp shooting (at times) from George Hill and the surprising arrival of Lance Stephenson, and the Pacers quickly became the second worst nightmare Erik Spoelstra could have; the first of course being Pat Riley coming out of the stands to ask “have you seen my clipboard?”

The outcome of Monday’s game was far more than “LeBron being LeBron” or the Big Three finally engaging themselves at the same time. It was more than the “will of a champion” or the Heat having stars and the Pacers having players who may or may not be stars depending on who you’re talking to, the day of the week and the price of oil in China. So close, yet so far away.

It came down plain and simply to turnovers. The Pacers were careless with the ball which would be a creative strategy to employ for any coach who actually wants to win. 21 turnovers in an elimination game can be a sign of many things. The short list includes: inexperience, youth, poor eyesight, teammates in camouflage uniforms and really, really dumb decisions. Those who watched Indiana Monday night know the answer is “D All of the Above”.

There’s a restless look in your eyes tonight (Paul George), there’s a secret hurt in my heart (strange little hardhat wearing man who carries a pink flamingo around to every Pacer game), and the dream that pulls us together (winning a championship), is the dream that pulls us apart (this last part is up to Vogel and the Pacers front office to prevent). So close, yet so far away.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Hicks versus Knicks Redux

First appeared on May 16th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Somewhere between a flopping Carmelo Anthony and a well disguised Tyson Chandler leg whip I was reminded of something Saturday night. Something I’d boxed up long ago. A once deep seated philosophy, forged from titanic showdowns replete with historic moments. I’m talking of course about my hatred for the New York Knicks.

This wasn’t a “how long is this guy going to let cars pile up behind him in the left lane?” kind of hatred either. That’s a mere annoyance. This was the kind of festering disgust that made you flirt with the idea of adopting a homeless dog just to name him Spike, strap a goofy hat to his head before shaving all his fur off and writing “Go Pacers” across him in Sharpie. In its heyday it was “Hicks versus Knicks”, Spike Lee’s mouth and Charles Oakley’s square jaw. It was John Starks’ epic struggle with humility and Patrick Ewing blowing a point blank dunk that became the finger roll heard ‘round the world.

In the middle of it all was Reggie Miller. His contributions are now the stuff of folklore. Eight points in six seconds, jawing with Spike while backpedaling from another three pointer and connecting on the only dunk in traffic I ever saw the guy attempt (and one that nearly caused the premature collapse of Market Square Arena).

Unfortunately today’s version just isn’t the same. These aren’t your Grandfather’s Pacers. Which is good, because if they were my five year old would have A LOT of explaining to do. Few would argue this series lacks the black eyes and showmanship of those mid nineties showdowns. Those were great Pacer teams. A prideful collection of savvy veterans, unselfish, hungry and all firmly in the middle of their strides.

This current group of Pacers seem to still be feeling their way. They’re youth is perhaps one logical explanation for the 30-2 run New York pasted them with last week. Fast forward to Saturday night and we saw a more focused group. One that teased us with a glimpse of what Roy Hibbert may be capable of becoming. In a brilliant performance Hibbert played a brand of tough and hungry basketball, the kind that may as well have been ripped from the heart of those old Pacers-Knicks series.

But as reassuring as Hibbert’s performance was, my recollections of series past went beyond a hatred for the Knicks. I was reminded of old Thirty-One. The cold blooded killer who always wanted the ball, always hungry to make a play. In this series, the standard Pacer response to any Knick run is to appear disoriented. David West has been the closest thing to a closer for Indiana, but it has to be Paul George moving forward. His 14 point, 8 rebound, 8 assist and 5 steal performance was inarguably solid, but George needs to be more. He needs to be a closer.

In the waning moments Saturday, the Pacers third year All Star watched the clock dwindling with the ball in his hands and instead of getting to the rim and making a play, he gave it up (before any help had arrived mind you) so the little used reserve Sam Young could take a 19 foot jumper instead. How Un-Reggie-like indeed.

Let me stop you before you label this a “Why can’t you be more like Reggie” rant. Consider it rather one part-time pretend sports columnist’s opinion that Indiana won’t make real progress until they find a bonafide closer. It took a closer to get to the Finals in 2000 and, as much as I hate the Knicks, it will take a closer to get past them in this series too.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

A Warning to Well Intentioned Pacer Fans

First appeared on April 24th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Standing 6 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 225 pounds, Josh Smith is a big man. As someone who boasts career highs of 38 points, 22 rebounds, 11 assists and 10 blocks, Josh Smith can be scary good. And you probably don’t need me telling you anyone with the nickname “J Smoove” is clearly capable of world domination in anything, anytime, anywhere.

The AP’s recount of his performance in the opening round of the Playoffs so accurately summarized the life-giving bolt of invigoration Smith’s game can be, “He scored 15 points and grabbed 8 rebounds in Atlanta’s 107-90 defeat”. Talk about world domination indeed.

So it begs the question, after Smith was so lackluster in Sunday’s loss, why would anyone in the non-Atlanta media be quick to call him out? Mike Wells of the Indy Star said “The more jumpers Smith takes…the less likely the Hawks will win” and Pacer Blogger Conrad Brunner bluntly declared “Josh Smith is the worst good player I’ve ever seen”.
If Smith wants to go through the motions defensively and fire up long jump shots early in the shot clock, who are we to tell him no?

What do we care? We’re not Hawks fans or “Smoovers and Shakers” (Affectionate nickname given to card carrying members of the “J-Smoove” fan club; only a guess here). What do these people want? Are they hoping Smith drops 40 on the Blue and Gold? Do they want the Pacers’ first round match up to be more than a tune up? Clearly they’ve never dealt with anyone younger than ten years old.
The Hawks are a shell of a playoff team and Smith is the only person capable of making them as un-shell like as possible.

As Pacer fans, rather than tearing Smith down, now is the time we should be building him up. Telling him he’s the best 30% Three Point shooter we’ve ever seen and asking him to sign the ball we caught after another one of his errant passes has rocketed over a teammates hands before landing in our laps.

We should let him know the fact he led the Hawks in turnovers for a second straight season simply means his teammates need their vision checked or may have to actually click on a link and read something when he’s told them to Google “How to catch a basketball” for the twentieth time. He needs to hear that his 50% shooting from the foul line this season is more than enough justification to stand 30 feet from the basket and hoist jumpers until his shoulder goes numb or the rest of his teammates have lost interest, walked off the court and tweeted #neverplayingbasketballagain from the locker room.

In short Smith is a sleeping giant, let him rest. He’s the only person capable of making this series longer than it needs to be. If Pacers fans are lucky, Smith will continue pretending to play hard and Hawks fans will continue to pretend to care when their team loses. He’s a Five Tool player, the only problem for Atlanta right now is that Smith’s five tools are scoring, rebounding, defending, ball handling and only performing on the third Tuesday of every other month.

Perhaps most amazing of all is the fact Smith is finishing a contract year. But there’s no time for second guessing. Let’s all quietly bear witness now, for the day is coming when we’ll sit our children down to tell them how we watched J Smoove doin’ work. Of course that will require a complete transformation of the word ‘work’, but you’ll figure something out.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Michigan's season was bigger than one loss

First appeared on April 11th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When Jordan Morgan’s shot rolled off the rim at the buzzer giving Tom Crean and the Indiana Hoosiers their first outright Big Ten title in 20 years, all hope seemed lost for the Wolverines. In that moment Beilein’s crew went from talented upstarts, far too young to realize brazen doesn’t wear well in the Midwest, to a group of Thriller-like zombies shocked into a state of disbelief.

They were the closest thing Ann Arbor has seen to the Fab Five since those fashionistas first set foot on campus 20 years ago. Good news for Michigan fans is, while this current batch may have the baggy shorts and above the rim game, they lack the ugly baggage and propensity for calling time outs when they have none. But that moment, on the last day of the season in their own building, should have been the crushing blow in what was already becoming a frustrating end to a promise filled season. A Tyson-style haymaker delivered from Cody Zeller and his national darling Indiana Hoosiers.

On the surface it appeared a turning point for Indiana who, after making NCAA history the week before in becoming the first team to cut the nets down following a loss, finally claimed their trophy. Tom Crean and future All-American Victor Oladipo shared a moment in what they surely believed was a stepping stone to hanging another banner as the Wolverines stumbled off the court like stunned cattle.

Someone more famous than me once quipped “these are the times that try men’s souls” and while it might be difficult to prove, I’m fairly certain they were talking about the 2013 Michigan Wolverines. For as they retired to their locker room to sweep what was left of their hopes and dreams into a Maize and Blue Rubbermaid dustpan every media member in the nation, part-time pretend or not, believed Blue had flat lined then and there. But from the ashes left smoldering on the Crisler Center court came a resurgent group of Wolverines who were, in the infamous words of Frank Costanza, “like a Phoenix, rising from Arizona”.

Michigan’s impressive surge to the Final Four wouldn’t have been possible without two things; the surprising play of Superfrosh Mitch McGary and a near forty foot jumper from Trey Burke that eventually buried then flavor of the month Kansas. For those wanting hard hitting analysis, look no further than an enormous charge from Jordan Morgan, role players like Spike Albrecht and Caris LeVert quietly doing their jobs and Head Coach John Beilein’s innate ability for developing system-specific skill sets in his players.

But in prevailing 82-76 Monday night, Louisville proved to have more experience and were quite simply tougher. There’s something to be said for toughness in this modern world of empty threats and helicopter parents. It takes real guts to reach down inside and find the strength necessary to fight harder at that precise moment when so many before have quit. To fight that which has been conditioned in you.

So we’re left to hope history will remember Michigan not as a team that wasn’t good enough on one night, rather as an exciting team that showed guts in overcoming a disastrous finish to their season. And while another installment of March Madness has came and went bringing an end to the greatest three weeks in sports, we move forward knowing every day puts us one day closer to its return. CBS will put Greg Gumbel back on the shelf for another year, but soon enough the Road to the Final Four will point the way west to Dallas.


© 2013 Eric Walker Williams