Planet Utah

I've got a bad feeling about Game 2

I can't believe that Greg Popovich is going to let Steve Nash abuse the Spurs the way he did in Game 1. I also can't believe that George Hill is going to have a quiet Game 2. And finally, I've always believed that in a playoff series among two evenly matched teams, the team that lost the previous game has the advantage in the next game. (Why? Because the playoffs are about adjustments, and the team that won the previous game often doesn't make any.) 

What's it all mean? The Suns are going to be VERY vulnerable tonight.

This is our NBA finals

(Alternate title: "This is my Graceland, sir")

Let's be honest with ourselves: The Suns aren't going to win the NBA championship this year. And yet, here they are in the second round of the playoffs. So, I propose that we lower the bar a bit and focus our gaze on this ball: FOR ONCE IN OUR LIVES, LET'S BEAT THE HONKIN' SPURS. 

If we do that, I don't care what happens next.

Footnote: I don't want to get greedy, but if I were being more ambitious I'd propose that we beat the Spurs so badly, management decides that the Duncan/Parker/Ginobili era is over...and busts up the team. I know that's asking a lot, but it's not as if they haven't made us suffer over the years.

How do you treat people you don't have to be nice to?

I watched a little bit of the Cleveland-Chicago hoops game yesterday and was taken aback by something I saw. LeBron James was going into the game after a long period of sitting. He took his sweats off, three pieces at a time. Standing no more than a foot in front of him was a ballboy with his hand out, obviously waiting to collect James' sweats and put them somewhere for safe-keeping. Not only did James fail to acknowledge the kid, not only did he refuse to place his sweats in the kid's outstretched hand, he actually threw his sweats away, back toward the bench, so that the kid had to go pick them up.

Now, I will grant you that I have zero context to use in interpreting this little exchange. Maybe the kid put Icy Hot in LeBron's jock before the game, and LeBron's actions were his way of saying, "I am unhappy with you, young man." But it seems much more likely that LeBron believes that a mere ballboy has no claim to courteous, polite treatment. After all, LeBron is King James, and the ballboy is...just a ballboy.

Footnote: I did a Google search to see if anyone noticed the same thing I did. I found this:

Did anyone see LeBron and the towel boy? The poor guy kept reaching out to lebron to hand him his towel and his warm up clothing and lebron kept throwing it all on the floor pretending as if the towel boy wasn't even there.. Would it really kill these athletes to hand it to the towel boys instead of throwing it all on the floor when the guy is right there in front of them to collect their clothes?

Brett Favre ruins Super Bowl Sunday for millions

There have been a lot of story lines about Brett Favre over the past few years. One of them has been, "He tries to do too much."

That tendency cost his team an excellent shot at the Super Bowl tonight. Favre committed an unforgivable, unforced error late in the game, throwing an interception while trying to complete a heroic pass, when all he needed to do was hang on to the ball, pick up an easy five to ten yards on the ground (he had about 15 yards of daylight in front of him along the sideline), slip out of bounds, and turn the game over to his field goal kicker. 

Instead, he pulled a Favre and gave away the game. The result? We get an Indianapolis/New Orleans Super Bowl.

You want to know how bad that is? I'm actually wondering if there's hockey on TV that day.

Tiger's not an athlete because golf isn't a sport

You may have read that Tiger Woods was recently voted the athlete of the decade by the AP. I think Lance Armstrong, who ranked #2, should have been the winner. In fact, Tiger shouldn't even have been on the ballot.

In my mind, to qualify as a sport, an activity has to involve a significant degree of cardiovascular exertion. In order to be a successful athlete in that sport, therefore, you have to have achieved a significant degree of cardiovascular fitness.

Golf doesn't require any unusual level of cardiovascular fitness or exertion. For that reason alone, it isn't a sport...and Tiger Woods isn't an athlete. He's just a helluva golfer.

P.S. And an exceptionally accomplished man-whore.

P.P.S. A sportswriter friend says this: "If it doesn't involve defense, then it's not a sport." I'm not sure I buy that, but if you do, there's another reason not to consider golf a sport.

Texas, Nebraska, and Florida (Florida 2000, that is)

The Texas/Nebraska game ended with quite a bit of controversy last night. Texas quarterback Colt McCoy threw the ball out of bounds near the end of regulation, trying to stop the clock with just a second or two left, giving his team a chance to kick a game-winning field goal. The ball hit the ground with a second left, and the ref whistled the play dead a second later. When the whistle blew, the clock was at :00. Game over, Texas loses, Nebraska storms the field.

But wait a minute--the rulebook says that the play is actually dead when the ball hits the ground, not when the ref's whistle blows. So, the refs review the play, they see that the ball hit the ground with :01 on the clock, and they give Texas one more play. Texas kicks a field goal to win.

The most interesting argument I've heard about this controversial outcome goes something like this: "Based on the refs' decision at the end, then the correct way to call a play dead is to determine exactly when the ball is dead--not when the ref blows the whistle to indicate that it's dead, but the split second before, when it's actually dead--and stop the game clock at that precise point. If the whole game had been called that way, rather than just the play before the last one, who knows how things might have turned out?"

What does this have to do with the 2000 election in Florida? Basically, you have Al Gore supporters saying, "If you count all of the undervotes and overvotes from all of the counties in Florida--the ones that Gore contested and the ones that he did not--and you do your best to make sense of every last scribble and chad and assign it a vote one way or the other, then Al Gore wins Florida. Winning Florida, of course, means that he wins the election."

The appropriate response to that is this: "If counting all of the undervotes and overvotes from all of a state's counties, and doing one's best to make sense of every last scribble and chad and assign it a vote one way or the other--if all of that is the right way to count votes, then wouldn't we need to do that in every state, and not just Florida? And if the entire country's votes had been counted that way, who knows how things might have turned out? Maybe George W. Bush would have won all over again."

UFC, and a related man-date question

Few people read this blog for its sports coverage, and even fewer read it for the occasional posts on the UFC. But I have to mention something remarkable that happened last night.

For the uninitiated, "UFC" stands for Ultimate Fighting Championship, which is the main mixed martial arts association. Just as the best hoopsters in the world play in the NBA, the best mixed martial artists in the world fight in the UFC.

People who don't follow mixed martial arts usually say it's "brutal" or "barbaric." I think "barbaric" is an overstatement; the sport is regulated and officiated just as boxing is, and is designed to keep fighters safe. In a UFC fight, you will never see a fighter take punches to the head for 45 minutes, which you can see in boxing. In the UFC, the longest fights are 15 minutes (three rounds of five minutes each). Because fighters can strike to most any part of an opponent's body (with the exception of the eyes, throat, and groin), the face and head aren't the only targets. Finally, as with boxing, each fight has an in-the-ring referee who is instructed to stop the fight immediately if one of the fighters is no longer able to defend himself. And believe me, there is far more controversy in the UFC over fights being stopped too soon rather than being allowed to go on for too long.

As for "brutal," yes, sometimes. A knee or an elbow without any padding on it can, if well-placed, do a lot more damage than a fist covered with a glove. But a knee or elbow to an unprotected chin or nose is pretty rare. These are professional fighters, after all, and if they see a knee or elbow coming their way, they're going to move or cover up. Also, though, it's much harder to hit someone in the face with a knee or elbow than with a fist. If you don't believe me, play around for a bit with someone you love. Tell them you're going to try to touch their face with your hands, your knees, and your elbows. Not hard...just a touch. Tell them they should try to stop you. My bet is that you'll be able to touch their face at least a few times with your hands, but your knees and elbows won't even get close.

So, there's your background--now let's get to the remarkable thing that happened last night.

Last night, the current middleweight champion, Anderson Silva, moved up 20 pounds to fight the former lightweight champion, and still a top lightweight contender, Forrest Griffin. Silva demolished Griffin in about 90 seconds. Toyed with him. Made it look easy. When the fight was over, Silva had barely broken a sweat and didn't have a mark on him. Griffin looked like he had been hit by a truck.

It's hard to come up with a meaningful non-sports analogy here, but imagine that in the first McCain/Obama debate, McCain had been funny, incisive, articulate, natural, knowledgeable, fluid, and highly persuasive, while Obama stammered and stumbled, botched his applause lines, got confused over facts and dates, referred to McCain as "Senator Clinton" twice, and repeatedly lost his train of thought or forgot the question he was answering.

THAT'S how shocking Silva's win was last night.

As for the man-date question, last night I got to talking with a fellow UFC fan. He went up to the bar during a break in the action, ordered a beer, and asked me if I wanted one. I said, "Sure," even though I hadn't planned to drink any more.

Saying "no" would have been borderline rude. Men are cautious about making gestures of friendship or generosity toward men they don't know, mainly because they don't want anyone thinking they're gay. So when a guy throws caution to the wind and offers to buy you a beer, you don't embarrass him by refusing.

In my mind, it also would have been borderline rude to hand him a five-spot to cover the cost of my beer. This would be a bit like accepting an invitation to someone's house for dinner and then saying at the end of the evening, "So, how much do I owe you?"

At the same time, though, I can imagine this guy telling a friend later last night, "I'm up getting a beer, I ask this guy if he wants me to get him anything while I'm up there, he says 'yeah,' I get his beer for him, and he makes me pay for it! Try to do the guy a favor and I end up getting stuck with the tab. Nice..."

I know the normal way of addressing this issue is for me to get the next round. But in the fluid environment of a crowded bar and amidst the unpredictable currents of a conversation with strangers, you may never get that chance. (Think about it: How many times have you gone to a bar, somehow gotten into a conversation with a same-sex stranger, and ended up having a conversation with him or her that lasted long enough for the purchase of a couple rounds?)

Last night, I didn't get the chance. Now I'm wondering about the etiquette of accepting a beer when you know the shadow of the future is short, i.e., when you know that you'll be unlikely to reciprocate.

Footnote: Girls, there is no analogy here to guys buying you drinks. Whole different ballgame.

Anklenote: Commenters are on notice--use of the phrase "pay it forward" will get you banned.

Watching the Spurs' ouster (and eating a hot dog) with relish

Last night the Spurs were bounced from the playoffs by the Dallas Mavericks in a lopsided series. Though the Mavs were the sixth seed and the Spurs the third, Dallas dominated, allowing San Antonio only one win.

Given the Spurs' history of methodically destroying the Suns' playoff dreams, I've decided that this is no time for sportsmanship. And so I say to you, denizens of the Evil Empire:

Nanny, Nanny, Nanny-Goats!

Footnote: This sort of juvenile taunting will have to suffice until the Suns can actually beat the Spurs in a playoff series.

The Suns are a laughing stock

Or at least a head-shaking stock. You can read about it here.

I've generally supported Steve Kerr's moves, beginning with the Shaq trade, and including the firing of Mike D'Antoni and the trade of Boris Diaw and Raja Bell. When it came to hiring Terry Porter, though, I felt kind of like I did when the GOP nominated Bob Dole.  Sure, he was certainly an adequate choice, and he was as deserving as anyone, I suppose, but there was not a lot there to get excited about. Well, Bob Dole lost the election in uninspiring style, and Terry Porter lost the Suns in the same fashion. Now he's out, and is holding an IOU for about five million bucks.

That's bad, but it's particularly bad if you're Robert Sarver. He doesn't buy into sports franchise economics: lose money on a team while you own it, make it all back (and then some) when you sell it. He doesn't want to lose money while he owns it, and he hates--HATES--paying people for doing nothing. But that's exactly what he'll be doing with Porter: paying him for doing nothing.

Whose fault is that? Steve Kerr's. No doubt about it. If your coach is so bad that you fire him mid-way through his first season, you have to begin entertaining serious doubts about the guy who hired him. That guy is Kerr.

Beyond the lousy hire, Kerr also tried to change the general direction of this team from 7SOL (that's "seven seconds or less," a reference to Mike D'Antoni's up-tempo, run-and-gun style) to more of a defense-oriented, half-court offensive style. I don't have any problem with that change in the abstract. But when you do that, what happens to Amare Stoudemire, who is at his most devastating when he gets into the lane, a lane that is now clogged by Shaquille O'Neal? And what happens to Steve Nash, who is a liability on defense, and whose offensive game is made for run-and-gun, not for walking it up the court? If you've watched the Suns this season, you've seen what happens. So, again, you have to look at Steve Kerr and say, "Okay, so tell me how you thought this was going to work...?"

Anyway, what's done is done, and we're faced with the only question that matters: what do the Suns do now? Start rebuilding. First and foremost, that means getting rid of players around whom you cannot rebuild, and keeping players around whom you can. And that, in turn, means getting rid of Shaq and Nash. Actually, in the case of both, it's less about getting rid of them than about giving them a chance to win elsewhere. Both of these guys could still contribute to a championship team. So, let them go where they've got a shot at it. Get as much value for them as you can. If you can't get decent value, then hang on to them. Their contracts will be up soon enough anyway.

As far as coaching goes, if I were Robert Sarver, I would do what they did with Isiah Thomas in New York: "Okay, pal, you bought the groceries, you cook the meal." In other words, let Steve Kerr take over as coach next year. That will either be the first full year of a rebuilding process, or the last full year of the old regime. There won't be much at stake, so it will be a good time to let him get some coaching experience. If he's terrible, you can get rid of him. If he's good, you can keep him. And in the meantime, you bring Flip Saunders in as GM, just to keep the pressure on Kerr...

Footnote: There's one thing that I've always liked about the Suns--they don't stand pat. We haven't had to tolerate years of mediocrity in the way that some other franchises have. (See: Clippers, Los Angeles.) The Suns will swap out players, swap out coaches, make blockbuster trades, do what they have to do to try to improve. This hasn't gotten us a championship yet, but it's created a situation in which we've never been too bad for too long, and it's always been possible to remain optimistic. So, while we are at a very low point now, I don't expect we'll stay there for long.

While you were watching football...

Business brings me to Arizona for a couple of days. Today, while driving around the Valley, I listened to a lot of sports talk radio. Here were two big themes I heard: a) can you believe that the Cardinals were championship contenders and the Suns are also-rans?; and b) Amare Stoudemire is going to be traded, and Terry Porter might not last past this season.

Here's my take: Trade Amare, trade Shaq, trade Nash, trade Leandro...whatever, whoever. I don't really care, because we are no longer contenders. Rebuilding is in our future. The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be contenders again. So let's get started.

Let us NOT, however, fire Terry Porter. Robert Sarver, while willing to spend, does not have an endless supply of cash. I don't want Terry Porter getting fired, then getting paid for doing nothing. That's the sort of thing that will give Sarver an ulcer and force him to scrimp and save elsewhere, where it really matters (you know, player personnel).

As for Steve Kerr, I don't think he should be fired, either. He's done everything in his power to keep the Suns' championship window open. He has failed. His failure, though, is not necessarily the product of bad choices. In fact, I think that trading Shawn Marion was the right call (though bringing in Shaq may not have been); firing Mike D'Antoni was the right call (though hiring Terry Porter may not have been); and getting rid of Raja Bell and Doris Meow was the right call (though not getting the point guard of the future for them was pretty dumb...on the other hand, you can only acquire what people are willing to give up).

Bottom line: start rebuilding now, and give Kerr and Porter resonsibility for making that process work. If they fail, THEN you terminate them. With extreme prejudice.