'Easy way out' no option for the Blue and Gold

First appeared on March 5th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

When two Tennessee girls’ high school teams met recently, each hoped to fulfill their lifelong goals and dreams by losing a game. This unconventional approach would have afforded one an opportunity to avoid a tournament match up with a local national power. A game that would have proven there are in fact three surefire things in life; death, taxes and total obliteration at the hands of Blackman High.

To avoid this fate, fans were treated to a bevvy of intentional turnovers and not-so-believable bricks. In short it was a performance capable of making even the Washington Generals blush.

And while the game should have been a convenient lesson in sportsmanship, it is perhaps an indicator of a larger issue. Between the Internet, Smart Phones, fast food, Twitter, programmable thermostats, plastic grocery bags and the Roomba, American culture has become about embracing the easy way out.

When Paul George destroyed his leg in a Team USA scrimmage in July, the Indiana Pacers could have taken the easy way out. Put David West on the shelf for a year and let Roy Hibbert work on developing his post game while the team floundered through a 20 win season.

Enter Larry Bird. Yes, he of the unfortunate too-short-shorts era, who also taught us about brilliant shot making and never taking the easy way out. It’s only fitting the Legend’s franchise would assume his demeanor. Kick me when I’m down, I’ll just get up and come back for more. And that’s exactly what the Pacers have done all year; come back for more.

Conventional wisdom had the Blue and Gold resigning themselves to mediocrity. Package Hibbert and George Hill for a new team bus and some fresh linens, take your lumps and hope the lottery balls bounce your way. Instead the Pacers have circled the wagons all year finding inspired play from one unlikely source after another. The formula is simple. Forget the place and time, forget the predictions and expectations and just play hard, play together and play with an edge.

In the middle of it all is the winningest coach in franchise history; Frank Vogel. From the start, Vogel has remained steadfast in his faith that this team can win. This despite dozens in the national media opining the solution to all of Indiana’s problems could be most easily found at the end of a Kim Jong Un missile.

But the Pacers are Blue Collar for a reason. Sure they may prove to be a punching bag for Cleveland in the first round, but they’ve at least shown the sports world there are alternatives to the easy way out. A championship may not be in the cards for everyone, so relish the moment instead and be the best you can be wherever you are.

So perhaps the next time some young girl in Tennessee thinks about shooting a lay up that scrapes the ceiling of the gym or throwing a pass to their mom in the stands, maybe they’ll stop and think about the 2015 Indiana Pacers instead. Maybe then they’ll understand there are alternatives to the easy way out.

Meanwhile, we go on plodding through life as our cable bill is automatically deducted from our bank account, which will automatically transfer funds if we’re overdrawn. We gripe about a half hour wait at a restaurant while using their complimentary Wi-Fi to chart a course to a different place to eat, one 45 minutes away with a far less wait. Check-in-Buddy puts our name in as we open a different app, one that shows us traffic times and 27 alternate routes.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

IU and Purdue: Finally this game means something

First appeared on February 18, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

I grew up hating Purdue. And we're not talking your run of the mill spinach tastes like you’re licking the soiled lid of a Styrofoam bait cooler you found on the floor of your grandfather’s barn kind of hate. This was an "I don’t want you asking her out son, her family roots for Purdue" kind of hate. It was a "We’re not stopping the car to help that stranded motorist because God is punishing him for having a Purdue window cling" kind of hate.

But, as with most things, boiled spinach aside, tastes and perspectives change. Today I find myself pulling for the Boilers when they're not playing Indiana; though I haven't found the courage to share this news with my father yet. I imagine his disappointment mirroring the time I told him I didn’t need to take the SAT because I’d decided to become a Rodeo Clown.

Thursday night all bets are off. Thursday night there will be no moonlighting as a Boiler fan. Thursday night Indiana and Purdue will renew their rivalry once again in Bloomington, only this time there will be more than just pride on the line.

For the first time in a long time this game will actually mean something. It will be more than just two mediocre teams fighting to keep their heads above water while dying a slow death in the middle of the Big Ten pack. There is more than just bragging rights or revenge on the line. In short, this is the most important game in the history of the rivalry (or at least since they met in the 1980 NCAA Sweet 16).

It could be said the outcome of Thursday night’s game will alter the course of one of these programs forever. It could also be said blue is the new black and “Indiana General Assembly” is a synonym for out of touch, but those are columns for another time.

There are clear implications riding on Thursday night’s game. For the last 10-15 years the state of Indiana has provided the basketball world with some mega-talent and far too often these players have opted to venture outside her borders to attend school. With both programs struggling for solid footing in the recruiting world, Thursday night could mark an opportunity for Purdue to make a powerful statement to potential recruits.

Both schools also have an opportunity to earn one of the top four seeds in the Big Ten Tournament. Considering expansion has added two new teams to the conference and another round to the tournament, the double-bye the top four seeds are granted is destined to become a much coveted advantage. Beyond this, neither team is a surefire lock for the NCAA Tourney. Thursday night would go a long way in keeping Purdue’s hopes alive, while it could also open another gash in Indiana’s ship, which last we checked was still busy taking on water.

It could be argued the fate of both head coaches hangs in the balance as well. Should Crean get swept by an in-state rival on his way to another season that ends without tournament play, things in Bloomington could get ugly fast. Conversely it would appear Painter is already coaching for his life and a loss Thursday night could force his team into a kind of full blown “win the Big Ten Tournament or else” desperation mode.

So don’t fool yourself, while you won’t see any jackets tossed into the stands or chairs spinning across the floor, this is a huge game. And while Indiana probably won’t offer half-price seats to anyone leading a jackass in a Purdue hat through the turnstiles, don’t fool yourself, this game means everything.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

Indiana and Purdue heading in opposite directions

First appeared on February 6th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

Short people unite! Unite in an effort to reach items from the top shelf in the grocery store without knocking five other things off in the process, unite in the spirit of the young Eddie Gaedels’ and Herve Villechaizes’ everywhere, unite for the common defense of your kingdom full of mushroom shaped houses and half naked blue people.

Unite as the Purdue Boilermakers continue waging their war upon players blessed with inferior size. In a game that has mimicked the NBA by becoming increasingly smaller and more athletic, Purdue is quietly finding success going against the grain. While staying true to his core principles of a strong perimeter defense, Matt Painter has also ripped a page out of yesteryear by fielding a team with Wooden-like size.

Despite some early stumbles, Painter’s bunch seems to have finally embraced the role of bully on the block. Against Indiana especially, AJ Hammons and Isaac Haas looked out of place; almost like a tag team duo of Andre the Giant and Godzilla. Bullying their way to the basket with defenders bouncing off one after the other, the dynamic duo absorbed so much of Indiana’s defensive attention that several other Boilers, the ones who don’t look like Yao Ming stunt doubles, were able to worm their way to the goal with ease.

What Hammons and Haas did to Indiana a week ago was almost inhumane, bordered upon cruel and is illegal in 49 of the 50 states (last we checked the Ned Beatty Bill was still being debated in the Georgia State Senate). The impressive win also seemed to wake a sleeping giant (pun fully intended) as the Boilers have gone on to win three straight, including Wednesday night’s victory over another nationally ranked opponent in Ohio State.

But it all started a week ago by drumming Indiana in a game that kept Purdue’s season alive. It was also a victory Painter likely needed to avoid finding an email in his inbox with the subject line: “Pick up change of address form”. And while Hammons and Haas have anchored the interior, off-season transfer Jon Octeus has been a pleasant surprise as a defender with length and athleticism as well as a point guard who brings an attitude to the floor.

And while the win has injected life into Painter’s team, the opposite can be said for Tom Crean’s Indiana Hoosiers. Losers of 3 out of their last 4, Indiana suddenly finds themselves in a similar position to Purdue a week ago. In fact, it’s almost as if the two have passed each other on an escalator.

Indiana had spent much of their year riding the up escalator, but for some reason have changed their minds and hopped the rail. The Hoosiers knew coming in to the season their lack of size would present challenges. Unfortunately this has never been more apparent than this past week as Purdue manhandled the Hoosiers before Wisconsin flirted with embarrassing them. Things were so bad that, five minutes into the Purdue game, short men everywhere quietly slipped into the restroom to stuff more folded up paper towel into the bottoms of their shoes.

So now Indiana finds themselves fighting to get off the down escalator. Sunday’s date with Michigan suddenly has ‘must win’ written all over it with a road trip to Maryland and home date against Purdue looming on the horizon.
With all eyes on the up escalator, one has to wonder where it leads. It could be the NCAA Tournament, it could be the home house wares section of Kohl’s. The down escalator is a far different story. The down escalator is crowded with empty wallets, angry shoppers and screaming kids. The Down escalator is a comfortable ride to nowhere and remains the one place Tom Crean and Matt Painter can’t afford to be.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

Can we take the 'Super' out of this Bowl Please?

First appeared on January 28th
in The Lebanon Reporter

The beat down the Indianapolis Colts suffered in the AFC Championship came as a public service reminder to Colts fans everywhere that the New England Patriots remain evil personified. The long faces, missed opportunities and inability run, throw, catch or even stop the football seemed strangely familiar. Perhaps more maddening than the Colts performance was knowing the eternally perplexed Bill Belichick had found yet another slimy way to push NFL rules to their limit.

Colts fans found solace in the fact Belichick appeared so miserable that surely he, along with every other person who’s ever worn clothing since the dawn of time, had decided his old friend the hooded sweatshirt was in fact a bad choice. This epiphany arrived only after a torrential rainstorm swept over Gillette Stadium during the third quarter of the AFC title game. Of course a rainstorm on a January night in New England also served to prove to a national television audience that global warming is in fact real and that, after all these years, the Colts still can’t run the football.

So as the Colt equipment managers were busy collecting the stray pieces of their team’s pride from the field, you found yourself attempting to shatter the awkward silence that had consumed your viewing party by asking if anyone wanted more nachos or felt like driving the fourteen hours to Foxboro in order to crush Belichick’s kneecaps. But in the end you realized, that as a Midwesterner, violence just isn’t in your blood so you microwaved another corndog before chewing on the same question fans of 29 other professional football teams are asking themselves; “What do we do now?”

What do you do when the Super Bowl offers a completely unpalatable match-up? New England will be playing in the sixth Super Bowl of the Belichick Era while Seattle will seek to become the first team to repeat as World Champion since Belichick’s Patriots a decade ago. For most, choosing between the Seahawks and Patriots will be like choosing between a punch in the stomach and a kick to that one place your Third Grade teacher told you was very special and only for you.

This leaves the average fan conflicted. For when you’re dog is out of the fight, it’s human nature to back the scrappiest one remaining, to root for the man in the white hat to ride in swiftly on his trusty steed and overcome evil in a generically non-violent, yet oddly believable way. The problem with Super Bowl XLIX is that it will be played indoors; therefore the forecast calls for a 100% chance of no scrappy dogs or white hats.

The Hoodie and Seahawks front man Pete Carroll both arrive with unwanted baggage (see Reggie Bush, Spygate and the proper inflation of a football per NFL rules). Furthermore its widely known the Patriots torture unwanted kittens in their free time and the Seahawks are in essence the same guy who stole your girlfriend in seventh grade and then again in high school; twice. In short, these two deserve each other.

So we as fans are left to wonder if it’s in fact possible for both teams to lose the Super Bowl. And while it may seem unlikely nobody will win, it remains a hope many Americans will cling to come Super Bowl Sunday; 100% according to one unpublished and highly unscientific poll conducted minutes before writing this column.

So fear not disgruntled Colt fans for you still have time to lobby the NFL to enact a rule change that will allow each team to lose this game. It shouldn’t be all that controversial really, considering the Shield has a history of ignoring their own rules anyway.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Merry Christmas from the Sports World

First appeared on December 18, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

For you Christmas lost its meaning in third grade when the Santa outside 3D got mad at you for crushing the pack of cigarettes he’d stashed in his front pocket. And as his profane string of insults throttled your virgin ears, they arrived riding the strangest of smells.

A toxic potpourri that would remain undiscovered until many years later, where at a gathering of so called friends in a dark college apartment, full of crushed cigarettes and hormone-powered profanities, you found yourself bitten by the Wild Turkey for the first time.

Today the sermons sound simple and ring true. Speeches about caring for others and giving to the less fortunate, but for you Christmastime remains frozen in time. It’s the season to wish for the things you don’t have. Things that seem within reach but for a variety of reasons remain at arm’s length. And so you still compose lists in your head, your own personal get back for that rag tag Santa who shattered the world as you once knew it.

Those in the sports world profess to be selfless human beings, but we know deep inside the depths of their souls, in a place no probing journalist has ever found, lurks an ugly Grinch-like desire to lie, steal and cheat their way to the top of Mount Crumpit. Facts are facts, you don’t get to the top without a little of the green guy in you.

With this in mind, coaches and teams are not above wishing for things that could make them better. Tom Crean’s list begins, “Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is someone taller than 6’8 who can play.” Meanwhile, eighty miles to the north, Matt Painter is up late baking gingerbread cookies to leave out with his short note, the one asking for a chance to play North Florida again.

John Calipari’s list is a bit longer. He wants an undefeated season for his Kentucky Wildcats capped by a National Championship, and he’d like it to arrive as soon as possible, that way he has enough time to enjoy it before the NCAA strips it away. Indiana fans want a chance to play the Wildcats again, while Kentucky’s faithful have written the North Pole hoping for things like some new socks, a professional sports franchise other than UK’s basketball team and more front porch space.

Frank Vogel wants his team to play hard, fight every night and scrap their way into the Playoffs. Apparently his list includes an opening round bloodbath at the hands of the Cleveland Cavaliers as well. Meanwhile, every Pacer fan on earth wants them to lose every game by 50 and stink their way into the lottery where they might luck out and pick up one of Kentucky’s bench players.

The Colts are asking Santa to bring Andrew Luck a pair of glasses so that he might see the opposing team’s secondary while Reggie Wayne is hoping to find a new pair of knees under the tree on Christmas morning.

For Cubs fans Christmas came early with the signing of free agent Jon Lester and for Lester’s kids, well there’s really no reason for them to make out a Christmas list now is there? But Cubs fans have been down this road before, they know it’s too soon to talk World Championship. This means they’ll just bide their time and wait for the wheels, or Lester’s arm, to fall off before their season crashes and burns up in a fiery, catastrophic and somewhat all too familiar, death.

Merry Christmas to you and yours and may God bless us everyone (even the Kentucky fans).

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

BEWARE: Bad Basketball Ahead

First appeared on December 11, 2014 in
The Lebanon Reporter

So David stood lock kneed and jaw set, stones in hand. Goliath loomed over him as the undefeated heavyweight champion of the Philistines, menacing scowl, bloodthirsty eyes and a frame large enough for ten men. And surely, at some point, David was thinking, “There’s no way this is going to work out.”

From the stands fish and loaves vendors wandered a sea of beige tunics as spectators stopped complaining about seven dollar hot dogs long enough to snort, “A rock? Really? Who brings a rock to fight Goliath?”

If you know the mascot of the New Jersey Institute of Technology (NJIT), Eastern Washington or North Florida then you should be pretending to be a sports columnist instead of me. And don’t worry, I’ve set the bar incredibly low so things should work out for you just fine. Of course what the NJIT Highlanders, North Florida Ospreys and Eastern Washington Eagles all have in common, other than the widespread publicity this column offers, is relative obscurity, entry level Division One status and the fact they’ve all beaten a Big Ten team this year.

The question isn’t how these schools can slay larger Division One programs, rather its why larger Division One programs continue playing these schools. Half of Indiana’s first ten opponents are so obscure and unknown their school names alone would challenge the most knowledgeable of U.S. geography buffs.

This in the name of 20 wins. And what does it really mean to win 20 games when half of them come against teams whose entire fan base could share the same Sprint Family Plan? Directional schools with names that appear to have been chosen by blindly dumping a Scrabble bag out and picking up the first four tiles to hit the table.

If college athletics is about television money, then someone needs to explain these tremendously weak out of conference schedules. Schedules that give us excruciating match ups that, excusing the random upset, generally spiral into glorified intra-squad scrimmages replete with terrible defense and a lifetimes worth of incomplete alley-oop passes. For their part the announcers do their best to spur viewer interest, digging up nuggets like the third cousin of the school’s first president was the man who sold John Wilkes Booth his fabled Philadelphia Deringer. Or they gush over the winning mentality the coach has instilled in his little program that could, this moments before the control room flashes his 143-287 record across the screen.

And don't rely on the coaches for they will only explain away their ridiculous schedules. They’re about exposure for former assistants or getting a player closer to home where they can play in front of friends and family. This comes as little consolation to fans. You know, the ones subjected to some really ugly games and truly bad basketball.

Justifying this scheduling is a fruitless endeavor. Some things are best left to discover on one’s own. For we adults this includes our faith and political persuasions, for three year olds it’s coming to the realization a toilet is in fact a germ magnet and not a giant empty bowl of Spaghettios or magic portal capable of producing Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny with each flush.

So NJIT stood toe to toe with mighty Michigan, just as David did so long ago. And while David’s victory would propel him to the throne, NJIT will most likely be forgotten before March arrives. What can’t be forgotten is the fact we as fans deserve more. We deserve a constitution of college basketball. One that guarantees equality amongst all schools and conferences, quality play and challenging match ups, or at the very least opponents we can find on a map.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

The Magic of Single A Football

First appeared on December 2, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

Like a caravan crossing the desert, they come. They come in droves from the far-flung regions of Indiana. Emerging from the dark corners where signs of a once prosperous past, empty dime store windows and faded billboards, are left shivering in the breeze. They come from the small towns, where long ago an affordable automobile left walls to crumble and businesses to fail.

They come from the plains where the winter winds sweep hard across fallow fields. They come from the hinterlands, where islands of grain bins rise above an ocean of brown and beige. They come with Carhartts and cowbells, arriving wide-eyed and ready for their chance to embrace history.

They are corn pickers and cow milkers and hog growers, the lifeblood of a state. And while their crops are in, the harvest of a lifetime awaits inside the walls of Lucas Oil Stadium. Their chance for history. Their chance to take a Single A Title back home.

The purpose and effects of class basketball will forever be hotly contested and roundly debated. Football is another story. Football, with its machismo, violent collisions and trench warfare commands regulation. Such is necessary to prevent injury and ensure a level playing field exists. One magical byproduct of this regulation is Single A football.

A state championship game in Single A is a hearty stew chocked full of dreams and memories. It's the exhilaration of reaching the end of the tournament mixed with everything Mark Zuckerberg set out to capture with Facebook. Its two hours of striking a balance between cheering on your team and catching up with old friends and family. It’s learning the worst kid in your class has since fathered a stud linebacker or the quietest girl is mother hen to a trash talking tackle.

And so they sit, two sides facing each other across the cavernous house that Peyton built. Like tiny grains of sugar, they cling to the rim of a mostly empty cereal bowl while young men cut and block and hammer away at each other for four quarters. Kids who’ve fought and bled for years to reach this point. A short lifetime spent dreaming of this one moment. And there it is. The blue turf, the horseshoe, their school’s name on the jumbotron. Their coaches howl and point from the sidelines, the crowd surges as a sweep develops before their eyes.

In the end someone must win and someone must lose. Champions are revered for their exclusivity. It’s a life lesson, taught on the biggest stage most involved will ever see. And as the clock expires and the teams are left forming a line to shake hands, the Single A families pick up their belongings and move on. Back to the hinterlands. Back to the empty storefronts.

They go knowing full well this is most likely the only chance they’ll ever have. For once, the stars fell into perfect alignment. And from this course of events came their one shining moment. A moment to be relived over and over again between church pews and along the counter at the Whistle Stop.

A moment created by a group of young men who in time will share it with young sons of their own; wild-eyed boys who throw themselves fearlessly at life, buoyed by their newfound hopes and dreams. Dreams of a far away moment arriving and with it a chance to carry the hopes of an entire community upon their shoulders.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams