Cracks are forming in Goodell's Empire

First appeared on September 10, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

So Commisar Goodell has orchestrated the start of another NFL season. And as the shield reigns supreme over the landscape of professional sports, the good Commisar considers it all from his reviewing stand, looking surly and sublime. By the millions the masses, foam fingers flailing, faces painted and clad in Manziel jerseys, throw themselves daily at his feet begging for more.

His face is the picture of confidence, yet even the Gruden-like scowl he casts down upon the little people cannot drown out the whispers. Cracks are forming. Tiny fissures in the massive wall he’s so cautiously and callously erected around his kingdom are beginning to form.

There are many examples throughout history of empires outgrowing their reach, overestimating their power and falling upon their own sword. The Romans, Mongolians and America are but a few examples that immediately leap to mind. But the sun always shines in Commisar Goodell’s empire, for when it doesn’t, he simply changes his mind, or the rules.

Ripples of discontent first began forming when the Ravens’ Ray Rice was only given two games for assaulting his girlfriend. Storm clouds roiled when a few popular players were given longer suspensions for failed drug tests, toss in more rules in an already over-legislated sport and what you have is Perestroika all over again.

And as we loyally toil in the shadow of his greatness, Goodell’s heavy handed manner has turned inconsistent and his incessant tinkering with the rules of a game, already the most popular in North America, have left many wondering if he isn’t approaching the land of megalomania (and by many here we mean me, and you should you happen to agree).

The hailstorm of penalty flags we saw early in the preseason created an impressive stir considering they were thrown in meaningless games only season ticket holders and those in the Witness Protection Program were actually watching. And yet almost immediately they were silenced, as if Goodell himself had sent the league’s head of officiating on a media blitz of Siberia in order to assume control of rule enforcement himself.
Still it does appear more rules have been added to give Manning, Brady and Brees the best opportunity to continue obliterating NFL passing records. At the same time the changes conveniently bolster the chances of the greatest quarterback in NFL history scoring another title.

But all of this was forgotten Monday when Goodell changed his mind in the face of new evidence and suspended Rice indefinitely. The decision unleashed a torrent of negative reaction which could potentially become a tidal wave capable of destroying the entire infrastructure of his empire.

In the 1960’s the Communist Party of China pushed Mao Zedong aside when they feared he’d lost the people’s trust. If that’s the route we have to go to save football, John Madden seems the logical choice for a Liu Shaoqi-type figurehead puppet. That way, instead the blathering semi-apologies and incredibly shortsighted suspensions Goodell has given us, we’d get a “Boom! Pow!” or at the very least we'd have plenty of roasted turkey to go around.

For now the NFL remains king. The game has made instant replay cool, put some serious lipstick on rotisserie baseball and lined the pockets of every agent and small time bookie from Oxnard to Old Town. And while we haven’t reached the point where Goodell’s picture is hung above every locker room and his diary required reading for all 32 teams, the Commissar does loom large over his league for the time being. Still it would seem even Goodell, as polished and powerful as he may be, has chosen a path that could lead him to the point of no return.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Climb down from the ledges Ye Pacer Fans

First appeared on August 7, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

Paul George’s injury in the fourth quarter of a Team USA scrimmage last week set in motion a string of dominoes that, for better or worse, are still falling as we speak. Maybe it’s the fact George is such a promising star, maybe it’s the fact the injury was so horrific it made Kevin Ware and Joe Theismann both wince uncomfortably, or maybe it’s just late July, early August and there is nothing, absolutely and positively nothing, for sports writers and the talking heads to write or talk about.

Late July to early August is when Americans feign an interest in baseball, most big name sports analysts go on vacation and newspaper editors turn to their most talented part time pretend sports columnists to make it seem as though frog jumping contests are so compelling they deserve an audience wider than just ten year olds or men with two first names.

Enter a rising star, the cornerstone of his franchise, playing for his country in an already controversial Olympic system that allows professional athletes to compete in an arena traditionally reserved for amateurs. Throw in a compound fracture captured on film and you have the makings of great fodder.

Desperate times call for people to bust out their own personal agendas. For Mark Cuban it’s suddenly about respecting the fact professional athletes are commodities. For Team USA it’s about promoting the fact professional athletes are commodities who care about their country and for the players participating it’s about generating exposure to become a more marketable commodity. But let’s not get tangled up in the economics of it all.

This is more about the avalanche of speculation and negative reaction, both of which have reached a predictably fevered pitch given the timing. This simply means Pacers Fans need to take a collective step back from the proverbial ledge and remember one small detail so many seem to be overlooking. Despite the unfortunate nature of the accident, Paul George is still alive.

Obviously I’m not qualified to weigh in on the prognosis of George’s injury considering I’m not a doctor. I’m not an NBA Insider or classically trained journalist either, which simply proves America is the greatest country on Earth. Still, people need to stop talking about Paul George as if he has died. They also need to stop talking as if we can climb into the WABAC Machine and tell him to sit the fourth quarter out. Mr. Peabody isn’t walking through that door anytime soon, which means Pacers fans need to stop friend requesting every American named Sherman and shift their focus to what happens moving forward.

To be as completely unclear as possible, wholesale changes to the Pacers roster are not necessary, however they shouldn’t be considered totally removed from the realm of possibility either. Aside from the glaring fact George is in no way eulogy material, he’s also yet to reach his prime production years.

Only in his mid- twenties, George’s window for competing at a high level is so wide open even the average American could still squeeze through it. This means if we do see the Pacers brass dismantling this roster, there should be no panic. If Indiana chooses to retool, they still have a franchise player coming back in 2015; one who should do so at a high level.

While the sum of it all is maddeningly incalculable, the facts are somewhat clearer. Paul George has a long road ahead to make it back and the Pacers front office has went from having some really big decisions to make to having a lot more really big decisions to make.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Upon Further Review: Lance Will Be Missed

First appeared on July 18, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

Lance Stephenson’s signing with the Charlotte Hornets, or Bobcats, or Hornets again, whatever they've decided to call themselves this season, generated almost no buzz whatsoever. Considering it is the deadest sports week of the year, this must leave those in the Stephenson camp feeling somewhat inadequate; like a 'let's go buy a monster truck and cut the tailpipe off it and accelerate loudly through a retirement village trying to scare people' kind of inadequate'.

This in the wake of LeBron’s decision to return to Cleveland, one broadcast in 195 different countries and every planet from Earth to the one Vladimir Putin calls home. Meanwhile, Charlotte is bracing for Stephenson’s arrival as if he were Hurricane Lance instead of a mercurial, multi-talented guard who does nothing but play hard, agitate opponents and do his physical best to run through walls on a nightly basis.

And while only a loon would ever argue fans owe professional athletes anything, in this case one small exception should be made. And before you get started, it’s not about cars and gold watches and chains or free beer vouchers for the State Fair, though I’m sure this would be welcomed by even the craziest of loons.

In this case let us offer a kind-hearted “Thank you”. Thank you Lance, for being the junkyard dog. Thank you for caring in those times it appeared many of your teammates had forgotten the basic fundamentals of team basketball or the definition of the word 'compete'. Thank you for the triple doubles and spectacular finishes at the rim. Thank you for your goofy All Star video and your ‘never, ever, no matter what happens will I ever back down’ attitude.

While I’m at it, we probably owe you an apology for any Ron Artest comparisons you’ve endured. For all practical purposes, your actions never warranted those. People considered your roots and the things you were perceived to be capable of while passing judgment. You played for a franchise whose greatest player was renowned for flashing choke signs and is run by the NBA’s single greatest trash talker of all time; so if giving a choke sign and blowing in someone’s ear are the worst things you do in life, kudos.

For some, Lance’s departure is a somber moment. Don't confuse this with a eulogy for the Pacers title chances for that will come in November if they plan to head into next season with the current roster. Heart, toughness and playmaking are just three things the Pacers will lack in Stephenson’s absence.

Few can argue there were instances where the ball stuck in his hands. Despite this, nearly every time the Pacers appeared rudderless, Lance was the only one who consistently tried his best to right the ship. He was a hard-nosed, high energy guy and that’s not something many in the NBA can boast on a resume.

It would seem we’ve been all too quick to forget the times the Pacers were booed off the floor last year (see being down 30 to Atlanta in the first half). In those games, Stephenson was by himself playing his brains out. He was a wild stallion who did his best to stay in the stall, who fought the urge to go ‘all out playground’ on opponents and tried as best he could to operate within the framework of Frank Vogel’s system; though we all witnessed how extremely difficult this was for him at times.

So now he’s left for greener pastures. And though a max contract guy he may never be, he was an important piece of the Pacer puzzle and one that must be replaced with another gutty playmaker. If this can’t be done, then the remaining roster has to be reshuffled. Either way, if the Pacers plan to contend in the East again, then their off season must be far from over.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

How Soccer finally gained its U.S. citizenship

First appeared on June 24, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

So the U.S. had Portugal on the ropes only to come up short. I say ‘short’ as a fan of the three big North American sports where to end in a tie remains a largely foreign concept (all apologies to the occasional NFL game and hockey, who will forever remain one rung above Disney on ice).
For those American’s still easing their way into the water, soccer can seem unnecessarily complicated. Red cards, yellow cards and a vaguely accurate extended period of play known as stoppage time all serve to muddy their understanding of the game.

Not to mention the fact the United States couldn’t dominate Portugal in the way the U.S. should dominate Portugal in absolutely everything known to man. Lowly Portugal, who’ve given what to the world in the last 200 years? The list is predictably short and is highlighted by cork production and the invention of the pre-paid mobile phone card. Certainly not on the same level as the car, airplane, computer or "Jersey Shore".

Still the World Cup finally appears to be making inroads in the United States. Part of this movement lies in the unique way the tournament brings so many together. It is the great unifier. Be it a local bar, gathering at ones house or public viewing party, when it comes to the World Cup at least, everyone finds themselves on the same team; save the stray exchange student or vociferous ex-pat snarking at those knuckle-dragging Americans only now waking to the allure of the draw.

For the longest time Americans couldn’t wrap their bulbous heads around the fact half the world is actually watching this thing, preferring instead to pretend half the world is far too busy marveling at the innovation and sophistication of Americans to ever have enough free time to watch sports on television.

Many Americans are beginning to see the World Cup for what it is however. The pageantry of the SuperBowl and nationalism of the Olympics combined with the kind of over-the-top acting generally reserved for a poorly directed production of community theatre. The real question begs however, as far as the U.S. sports consumer is concerned, has soccer finally arrived?

From the inception of the MLS down to the Indy Eleven, a burgeoning nationwide youth system and the fact the tiny 1A school I attended many moons ago, one where football has long been king, has finally formed a soccer club, all signs point to yes.

Considering socialized medicine, the death of imperialism and the rise of soccer, it would seem we as Americans have a history of arriving late to the all the best parties. With a national hysteria over the ending of the match with Portugal and the fevered anticipation of a faceoff with Germany that could propel us out of the vaunted Group of Death, soccer suddenly finds itself part of the national lexicon.

So it would appear the time has come to elbow Germany and England aside and assume our place at the trough. On the surface it’s a match made in heaven, for Bernie Madoff and those in the FIFA front office should hit it off smashingly.

So for all those years spent largely ignoring the World Cup. All those who gawked in bewilderment at Euro League jerseys tootling about the malls and theme parks of America. All the backyard fortune tellers espousing so passionately how “It’s catching on” or “One of these days it’ll be huge”. Mark this date on your calendars sports fans for, as far as American culture is concerned, it would seem soccer has finally arrived.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Jordan vs. James? Far Too Early For That

First appeared on June 12, 2014 in
The Lebanon Reporter

While San Antonio surges towards the fifth Title of the Gregg Popovich era, the talking heads are at it again. Creating news amidst a Finals devoid of sexy storylines. As the Spurs clinic on team basketball continues chugging towards the land of Larry O’Brien, the media yawns, rubs its eyes and turns its focus towards LeBron’s place in history. Is it time to say he’s better than Jordan?

The real problem is San Antonio. Their stars seem to enjoy playing together, their star in waiting appears to relish his role in the shadows and their head coach is about as quotable as Michelangelo’s David. Rare have we seen a blander shade of vanilla in Professional Basketball.

But the noise, oh the noise, noise, noise! Lebron James can’t fight through cramps. He’s the softest 6’8-280 the sports world has ever seen. Wait a minute, Miami won? LeBron is the best player in the world! Better dare we say than the man himself? Is LeBron James better than Michael Jordan? It’s a tantalizing debate indeed, and one those born in the 1980’s or after need to see their way out of immediately. To fully appreciate what Michael Jordan accomplished you had to be doing something other than filling your drawers and living bottle to bottle in the 80’s (insert poorly crafted Gary Busey joke here).

Secondly, all those closeted Bulls fans from the 90’s need to stand down as well. Those who were once so rabid and widespread, but have somehow largely disappeared, or simply grown too round to fit into their jackets, hats and jerseys anymore. The only people qualified to weigh in on this topic are truly objective basketball fans, or those who grew up despising Jordan, embraced an “NBA Small Market Conspiracy Theory” when the Lakers defeated the Pacers in the Finals and eventually found a gig as a Part-Time-Pretend-Sports Columnist.

Now that we have our panelist, let’s continue. As of this exact moment, Michael Jordan is the best basketball player this universe has ever seen (and yes, that includes the planet Lovetron). Perseverance is the first characteristic that sets MJ apart from LeBron. On his way to six titles, Jordan’s Bulls lost their first three playoff series before experiencing three straight season ending losses to the Pistons (once in the Conference Semis and twice in the Conference Finals).

Enter Exhibit A. Michael Jordan didn’t sulk his way into free agency. He didn’t shudder and quit in the face of elimination and he didn’t recruit other superstars to help him get to the top. Jordan went back to work and became a stronger player, helping the Bulls defeat the Pistons in the Eastern Conference Finals the next season. This is perseverance and it’s a characteristic that separates Michael from LeBron. Advantage Jordan.

Exhibit B would be the Hall of Fame. When it’s all said and done, James will have played with no less than three Hall of Fame players (four if and when Chris Anderson is voted into the Street Performer and Carnival Worker Hall of Fame). Jordan’s six title teams fell well short of including four Hall of Fame players. Advantage Jordan.

Exhibit C would be Titles. Jordan has six, James two. Advantage Jordan. This is largely why expert witness Mark Jackson was careful to call James the “best small forward of all time” and not the “greatest of all time”. This is also why Jordan has no reaction when people call James the greatest. MJ knows facts are facts and right now the facts clearly show LeBron james, while amazing and seemingly inhuman, must bolster his resume to eclipse Jordan.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

BREAKING NEWS: First Round exit not what Larry wanted

First appeared on May 1st, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

My dad took me to my first Indiana Pacers game at 13. It was a regular season tilt featuring Larry Bird’s World Champion Boston Celtics. And while I knew the Pacers weren’t good, finding Market Square a swirling sea of green, an army of auto mechanics and accountants shoulder to shoulder in the same Bird jerseys each swooning over Larry Legend, was completely unexpected.

The Celtics arrival had inspired the first sell out since the last time they were in town, prompting a silver haired usher to gush about the curtains finally being raised on the upper level. In the shadow of a World Champion, the Pacers played like a semi-pro team. The crowd surged with every shot Bird made, chanting his name after every pass he threaded, and cheered for every rebound he corralled. Everything about the night seemed out of place as 17,000 strong appeared to resent any resistance the Pacers put forth.

Meanwhile, from the row behind, two rosy cheeked draft experts blasted the Pacers 6’7 rookie wing for not being Steve Alford. The gangly kid from UCLA with the ears. “They should have drafted his sister, she’d help the Pacers more.” “He didn’t play for Knight, he doesn’t know basketball.” Brilliance personified.

Life is funny. Who could have known that so much of Indiana’s history as a franchise would be tied to that fateful night in 1987? Who knew that wide eyed rookie with the big ears would put the Pacers back on the map, shoot them into the Finals while sticking a finger in New York City’s eye along the way? Reggie Miller was fiery, fearless and played with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.

And when Reggie and Larry joined forces in 1997 Pacers fans rejoiced in George Costanza-like fashion, “Worlds are colliding!” But alas Reggie’s Hall of Fame career is over leaving Larry to look on helplessly from his perch along the baseline, in the city he once dominated as a champion, reduced to watching all his hopes and dreams for a Pacers’ Title swirl down the proverbial toilet.

This unforeseen tailspin has been rife with misery and heartbreak, confounding experts while putting a once effervescent head coach firmly on edge. And as Pacer Fans everywhere hold their collective breath, waiting for the moment the Hawks realize they are the 8 seed and decide to give up and go away, everyone with a brain has reached the conclusion this current group of Pacers are not Larry and Reggie.

They don’t necessarily play together. They don’t consistently outwork opponents. They aren’t hard-nosed and seem to floudner around in an unfocused manner for most of a 48 minute game. For proof one need look no further than Hawks Forward Mike Scott, Reggie would have told a Davis boy to put him in the second row before Scott could make five three pointers in a quarter (Larry would have done it himself).

By Nature Midwestern sports fans are a tolerant lot. They’re willing to suffer through almost anything (see Cubs, Chicago). But a perceived lack of effort is taboo in the Midwest. The Pacers branded themselves with defense and hard work, but there’s been nothing ‘Blue Collar’ about them since the calendar turned 2014.

This isn’t about X’s and O’s. It’s about guts, bravado and playing fearlessly. These are qualities that allowed Larry and Reggie to excel. These are also qualities the current Indiana Pacers would be well served to develop quickly. If Paul, David, Ringo and Roy don’t come to the realization soon that nothing easy is worth having, the only thing hanging from the rafters in Banker’s Life will be a curtain blocking empty seats.


© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

While many words may describe Pacers, none are good

First appeared on April 11th, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

The Pacers are in a freefall. And this would be entirely understandable if Head Coach Frank Vogel sat on the sidelines in an ultra-cool top hat wailing on a Rickenbacker 12 string as 30,000 strong swayed in unison with Bics blazing, “she’s a good girl…” But alas, there are no vampires walkin’ through the valley and it looks like the only people who are ‘gonna leave this world for a while’ are Pacer fans.

So the Pacers have a case of Full Moon Fever, or at the very least are experiencing the largest identity crisis in the history of Professional Sports (all apologies to Dennis Rodman). Either way, there’s only one word to describe the month of March for Indiana; well there are actually many words to describe it but my editor has shot most of the others down.

Indiana has been terrible. They haven’t even been good enough to be classified as the proverbial “shell of their former self”. Up and down the roster, up and down the stat sheet and up and down the court, the Pacers have set professional basketball in the state of Indiana back 5,000 years in a mere 30 days.

And when you’ve played your way down to the bottom of the barrel you get a pat on the back and some time off. Who knew refusing to come out of the locker room after halftime could be so taxing? Or perhaps the most exhausting part was refusing to stand and join the team huddle during time outs? Or was it going online to complain about hard working people who’ve grown so disgusted with the spectacle that is your team right now that they chose to boo?

These would be the same hard working people who made the conscious decision to take time from their lives and money from their pocket, money that could have as easily been put to something more worthwhile such as feeding their children or buying their brother-in-law’s family a hotel room, to drive downtown and watch a team that claims to be the flagship for an entire state.

By nature Hoosiers are not quitters. Whiners maybe, but not quitters. So our flagship team only has it half right at the moment. It’s too late for solutions. It’s also too late to pay some high priced sports psychologist to lug his oversized crushed velvet couch from the big city all the way out to the sticks. There are no trades to be made. There are no speeches to be given. There is no time to move west down Ventura Boulevard for a barbeque at Paul George’s house.

The Playoffs are coming. And while Frank Vogel can stop the bleeding temporarily by sitting his starters in Milwaukee, what he can’t stop is Fate. Fate allowed Indiana to start the year 33-7. Fate made Paul George an All Star and Fate kept Lance Stephenson home. And Fate, fickle as ever, helped Memphis defeat Miami Wednesday night propelling the lackluster Pacers into first place atop the Eastern Conference.

So for as bad as it’s been, lest we forget just how unbelievably bad it has been, the Pacers’ main goal still remains within reach somehow. Friday night they play the Heat (perhaps it’s better to say the scheduling gods have the Pacers and Heat in the same building Friday night). And while it will appear to some as simply 1 of 82 regular season games, Friday night will speak volumes. The season won’t be won on Friday night, but unless Indiana arrives with the mentality that they ‘Won’t Back Down’, there’s a real possibility it could be lost.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams