Renewing my Olympic interest

August 7, 2008


Beijing 2008I’ve often viewed the Olympics with apathy. Depending on my mood, I’ve seen them as anything from jingoistic patriotism to a complete bore. There’s no reason for it. It’s just how I’ve done things, my mood dictating the worthiness of an entire World’s grand showcase. I’ve simply never really cared. At least, not since Magic and Michael suited up for the United States and beat the crap out of everyone else in basketball.

So it’s with quite a surprise that I find myself caring this year.

Me. Mister Olympic Apathy. Why?

Maybe it’s the politics of the event. China is at odds with freedom of speech and journalistic integrity, which makes coverage from the event seem both inspired and covert, as if simply reporting the United States’ loss to Norway (already happened) was a matter of life and death. Tones seem more hushed, sentences carefully constructed. Research is mired in red-tape, and only the most cheery or most dire situations are reported. It’s either fantastic or apocalyptic.

And it seems like everything is ripe for an explosion of ill-will, the detonators set for craziness, that everyone will simultaneously snap and the months of preparation and training and readiness will be put to good use quelling riots and stopping nation-wide uprising, fighting through smog like a low-lying English fog, cutting through it with their bayonets and stumbling over the innocent.

At least, that’s how it sounds sometimes. There’s a lot of crap going on over there, and the best athletes in the world are now sitting in the stew. It sounds like a recipe for disaster, but it could all simply be overplayed media hype.

Maybe it’s the symbolism of the Olympic Games. We’re not watching person versus person – we’re watching nation versus nation, like a giant game of Risk without the problem of rolling the dice. And we’re learning, too. I couldn’t tell you where some of these countries are, but I’ll know (theoretically) by the end of the Games.

I’ll also know that North Korea and South Korea are at odds again, separating their names for the first time in the past three Olympics. I’ll know that most groups still see the United States as brash outsiders pushing their way through the fray, and our athletes will probably prove everyone correct.

I’ll know that it can be inspirational to see the one member of an Olympic team – the sole Kyrgyzstan representative, for example – walk through the opening ceremonies alone, with an entire nation standing behind him, rooting for him, a local celebrity, to be raised above the heads of his brothers and sisters even if he doesn’t bring home a medal.

Or maybe it’s just that I’m more familiar with the concept – and with the importance – of the Olympics. I recognize some of the athletes; can root for our country without feeling too overtly patriotic, cheering for some random sprinter just like I cheer for a random Skyforce player. Cheering for the uniform. Cheering for the team.

There’s a lot going on out there in China. A country is struggling to be recognized as fruitful, despite a political landscape riddled with scars. Thousands of athletes are fighting for 300 medals, for their countries, for their sports – for immortality, the chance to add “Olympic Medalist” to their resume, tagged onto their name for the rest of their lives.

An entire population is looking to the Bird’s Nest, hoping that the opening ceremony will symbolize everything that’s changing in China. That becoming a modern country is still plausible in today’s world. That change can happen.

At 8:08 p.m. on 8/08/08, 7:08 a.m. our time, the games will begin with a rising opening ceremony.

And contrary to everything I’ve thought about the Olympics before, I’ll be paying attention.

I’ll be watching. Finally.

Tags: Basketball, Sports, Television |

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A champion’s swagger

June 17, 2008


(c) ESPNI never realized a championship could feel so good.

Of course, I had never felt so much emotion toward a team. Not the Pacers. Not the Bulls. Until now, I’ve never really felt like a fan, never been willing to watch every game, to count every point, to become a livid and inconsolable fanatic.

And before this season, I couldn’t have been. There was no Boston Celtics last season – at least, no Boston Celtics like this team. In just a few months, a franchise went from laughingstock to contender, rebuilt to championship level like a phoenix rising from the ashes of lottery hell. The right moves were made, and luck was on their side. Red Auerbach looked on, winked and said “That’ll do.”

A legion of fans have latched onto this team, and they’re all deserving of their new fandom. Because this isn’t a team like the Spurs or Pistons. This isn’t a bandwagon that everyone can jump on top of. This wasn’t even a team last season. This was a blackened shell, a mockery of legend. It took a firestorm and a miracle to rebuild it, and we’re looking at a brand new team.

Seriously. Did you see this team last year?

Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen brought new life to the team. Ultimately, they brought new life to Paul Pierce, creating a trio that could not be denied. A series of legendary games was highlighted by a group of legendary players – guys that you could love, guys you could respect.

For a long time, I wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Five years of Ron Artest and Jamaal Tinsley can do that to someone.

More than anything, I feel the best for Kevin Garnett, my favorite player in the league, an amazing talent, a paragon of intensity. Up until a few minutes ago, he was arguably the best player never to win a championship. He was a player so tied to his word that he hated moving out of Minnesota, hated himself and hated the idea, until it became evident that everyone else expected him to. One night in a steak house. One night, the beginning of selfishness, of getting what he wanted. Of not turning his back on his fans, but instead turning toward greatness, the exclamation point of a career.

This was the spark that changed the landscape, that shifted the parquet floor beneath the team’s feet. One choice, one forced hand, and we’re looking at a different team – an animal that we never thought we’d see, a joining of three nearly also-rans to form a holy triumvirate.

And just like for KG and Ray Allen, everything for me started over this season.

At the beginning of the year, I was a Pacers fan. I was a Garnett and Allen and Pierce fan, but above all, I was a Pacers fan. I was a Larry Bird fan; a Bill Russell fan; a Kevin McHale fan. But before all of that, I was a Pacers fan.

Then, something happened.

The Boston Celtics created a championship team not by adding a superstar to an already talented team. They did it the hard way, building a team from the bottom up, changing the culture from one of dishonor to one of intensity, of a dominant streak that makes the Celtics teams of the past proud. They did it with honor, bringing in good players and good people and meshing them into a team – a team, by God.

My fanhood made a similar shift this year. It was spit upon, thrown around and abused by a team that had broken my heart more than once. I started the season without any allegiances, refusing to pay attention to the trainwreck in Indiana, instead rekindling fond memories of my father preaching the gospel of the Celtics. I remembered my love for Larry Bird, my reverence for those 80s teams, my respect for the green and white, my hatred of the Lakers, and one by one, each piece fell into place, as if I was building my own team of discarded and forgotten role players and disgruntled future hall-of-famers.

I built a new way to watch basketball this year. One steeped in history. In legacy. And it coincided with a championship. And I feel like I’ve been rewarded.

This feels natural. This Celtics team is exactly what I’ve always wanted to follow.

I never thought a championship could feel so good.

For Ray Allen. For Paul Pierce. For Kevin Garnett. For a legion of fans that have felt cursed since Len Bias passed away, followed by Reggie Lewis. For people who have been following since the 1960s, and for those who have stood behind them for just this season. For Boston residents and transplants, and for those who have never stepped foot in the city. For the history. For the future. For the sake of everyone who has thrown on a Celtics shirt, or donned a hat, or screamed at the television screen, or wiped a bead of sweat from their nervous forehead as the Celtics snuck out another win.

Soak it up. This is as good as it gets.

This feels good.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports |

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Another year, another failure

April 30, 2008


I’m super busy at work, so posting is light, but I couldn’t help but read this great post by Henry Abbott at TrueHoop lamenting the Suns’ loss last night. And then, in turn, I couldn’t help but post it.

From the article, “Phoenix: Out of Time”:

In building and running this NBA team, the Suns boldly departed sphere of normal NBA decision making (you need a big man who can score in the post! you need bruisers!) and marched to their own polyrhythmic drummer.

They were the hare. The tortoise was the steady drumbeat of conventional wisdom.

Thump thump thump thump thump.

You can’t dance to it. But, like a long march, it’s sure not going away.

When did we learn the Suns’ path wasn’t to a title? Maybe we still haven’t learned that. Maybe you could reboot, do the whole thing again, and they win it all next year.

But it won’t be the same. At the mid-point of this season, the Suns’ braintrust — including D’Antoni — decided that the dance party wouldn’t get them through the long night of the NBA playoffs. It was time to learn how to march.

Enter drum major Shaquille O’Neal. (Ask not for whom the thump, thump, thump of conventional basketball wisdom tolls. It tolls for Shaq.)

It’s like the marching band showing up at intermission of a Tito Puente concert. That’s great work guys, but, um, what are you doing here?

The Suns lost their identity this year. And now, following a game where Steve Nash had three assists, a game where Mike D’Antoni may have lost his job, a game where the sheer and utter weakness that is Shaquille O’Neal’s free-throw shooting was exploited for the final time in these playoffs, we could be looking at a drastically different Suns team next year.

A team that’s not as much fun. A team that missed the ultimate opportunity to spit in the face of convention and take the championship their way. A team that, when it comes down too it, didn’t trust their own style enough to win it all. And suffered the penalty of doing what everyone else was doing.

Think about it. What’s going to give you a bigger chance on the sport’s biggest stage?

Something out of the ordinary? Something different? Something you excel at and no one else can follow?

Or something that everyone else is doing. And already doing a lot better.

Tags: Basketball, Sports |

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O-KU!

April 8, 2008


It’s almost a tradition. I dedicate myself so fully to the tournament - to picking teams and running pools and watching teams I’ve never heard of for two days straight - that I feel a connection to whoever wins. I don’t care that much about college basketball all year; just like that, I’m so entrenched that I mistake myself for Billy Packer. And when it’s all over, I heap congratulations onto the winning team as if I actually had some stake in the entire process.

After a month of harrowed bracket busting, the tournament is finally finished, with only one team standing triumphant: the Kansas Jayhawks.

What’s surprisingly bittersweet about this is that I used to be a KU fan. Kind of.

Hailing from a university that was Division I in only hockey, I never laid much claim to a college team. I briefly flirted with Arizona during the Damon Stoudemire days, sure, but I never really committed to anyone.

After graduating, I found myself being drawn to the Jayhawks. I sort of rooted for them, in the way I sort of root for St. Cloud hockey - with a passing interest but no real devotion, like a rebound girlfriend that you’re holding onto until your crush dumps that jerk from Mr. Franklin’s home room.

I know whichever team I grasp onto, I’ll do so as a parasitic, non-reasoning fan; a fly-by-night bandwagon jumper. So I kept my Kansas fandom at a minimum, whatever little fandom there was.

But this year’s tournament was different. Something struck at me from my past, something that led me to choose UCLA as my Sure Bet and forget about the past two UCLA Final Four disasters.

Reggie Miller.

In my blind devotion to Reggie’s legacy, I had somehow misplaced that he was a UCLA alum. Reggie! At UCLA! With Kareem and Bill Walton! With an amazing history and three of my favorite players of all time (and, coincidentally, one of the worst announcers. Slam it DOWN, Big Man!) why wouldn’t I become a UCLA fan?

So this year I did it. No bones about it. They’re my team. I ditched KU and went storming full force into the Pac-10, where I have now latched onto both the football and basketball programs.

Ditching KU, while not as hard to swallow as it was to, say, Roy Williams, seems a lot harder now that they’ve won the championship. But that’s okay. I never really loved them anyway. They could do better with someone else - with someone that can give them the attention they deserve.

It’s not you, KU. It’s me. Congrats.

Tags: Basketball, Sports |

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Season Ticket Review - Rekindling the Flame

April 6, 2008


Skyforce

Game 24 – Fort Wayne Mad Ants (17-29) at Sioux Falls Skyforce (27-21). April 6, 2008.

This morning, the story was full of suspense.

The standings were tied between two long time rivals, two teams that have traded players and coaches and elbows and wins and sometimes blood and words and championships. The only thing that separated them was a tie-breaking series record and a state line. One team spent most of the year on top, the other wallowed in mediocrity, scratching and crawling its way back up the standings.

And then, just like that, after 48 games; after 23 home games and countless player changes; after ten face-to-face matchups; the two teams run side by side, sprinting for the finish. Only two games remained until the end.

The teams won’t face each other again. The Dakota Wizards have two games on the road, the Skyforce split their time between home and the road. With the series tie-breaker, the Skyforce control their own destiny. Win, and they’re just one game away from leading then division and playing their first-round playoff game in the friendly confines of Sioux Falls Arena. Lose, and they’ll have to hope for the impossible – two losses from Dakota against one of the worst teams in the league.

I haven’t written about the Skyforce in a while. Let’s face it – after 35 to 40 write ups over the past two years, I’ve kind of run out of things to say about my home team. It hasn’t helped that our season ticket appearances became sparse, thanks in part to Sierra and her uncanny ability to drive us toward home somewhere in the 3rd quarter.

But after a run up the standings – and after an exciting home win against the Wizards last week – there is a new electricity in the building. Something wonderful is happening. We’re not the best team in terms of records – in fact, we drop to the 5th seed without the benefit of a division win – but we’re hot as hell and we’re ready for the playoffs. In fact, for the first time in a long time, we seem unbeatable.

The collective “we” is back, my friends. The Skyforce, after a slight downturn, are back in the front of my mind. The story this morning may have been full of suspense, but after tonight’s game, it’s forging forward on its own energy, seemingly unstoppable, a train that no one wants to look at, let alone face in the playoffs.

Tonight, the Skyforce hosted the Fort Wayne Mad Ants. Yes, those Mad Ants. A surprise announcement informed us of Kasib Powell’s newest accolade – NBA D-League Most Valuable Player. Imagine that – our first MVP! Our first best player, a guy who just a week ago was filling in for Dwayne Wade, who is now cheerleading and slaming down terrifying dunks and being the player that an NBA D-League team needs: a leader who just so happens to be able to play.

In celebration, the Skyforce decided to knock out one of the most dominating games of basketball I’ve ever seen. I mean, seriously - it was never even close, with Powell and company simply decimating the already decimated Mad Ants, a team that slides toward the off-season with one of the league’s worst records. The Skyforce had fun. They let everyone play. Kasib showed his dominance, while everyone else drafted off of his greatness.

Sure, Kasib Powell’s MVP award simply cements him as the best American player not in the NBA. He’s a big fish in a little pond, a player benefiting from the lack of talent around him.

But he doesn’t play that way. None of the Skyforce guys do. Throughout this season, we’ve been seen as the also-rans, as a team that could achieve greatness if they could simply play consistently, a team always in Dakota’s shadow, regardless of the Skyforce’s history of dominance of their northern brethren. And now, on this our last home game until the playoffs, we were treated to the kind of clinic that we’ve been looking forward to all year – a game that got everyone involved, that got a little chippy and high flying and, for once, comfortable.

For a while, it felt as if I had kind of forgotten the Skyforce altogether. They fell off of my memory, like snow melting off of a roof.

I don’t know if it was the surge up the standings, or the recent buzzer-beating win over Dakota, or Kasib’s sudden national attention, but a blizzard of Skyforce basketball blanketed my periphery. And tonight’s home closer did nothing to quell the wind and the snow, and I realize now that my mind was never quite rid of the Skyforce, that my season tickets will indeed be renewed next year and that, win or lose, I’ll be sitting in section P (or somewhere close by) cheering on a band of players who may never have played together before in their lives.

Champions or not, division leaders or not, professionals or not, the Skyforce have proven to be more than just a passing phase – a “something to do” from the days before fatherhood.

We’ll see you in the playoffs.

Skyforce 125, Fort Wayne 90.

Tags: Basketball, Sioux Falls, Sioux Falls Skyforce, Sports |

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A season over the air

March 31, 2008


Baseball season starts today. For Twins fans, at least.

And while television brings us most of the games, I’m still stuck on getting my baseball the old fashioned way. The way I learned when first rediscovering the Twins after several seasons of indifference. By radio.

To me, Twins season means toting my portable radio around, tuned to 1140 KSOO, bringing Dan Gladden and John Gordon around with me, lamenting the loss of the great Herb Carneal, pouring over every statistic in an old folksy way and learning names before faces, wondering later at how oddly they seemed to be spelled.

I used to listen to the Twins while working at the Parks Department in St. Cloud. I’d sit back in the shelter with the radio tuned to the day’s game, soaking in the stats, reacquiring the taste I once had as an errant Cardinals fan, the sun of someone else’s reception or event warming their heads, the sound of sport warming mine.

In past years, I’ve listened to the Twins while digging gardens, planting flowers and laying stone borders. I’ve listened to the them while cutting sod and cleaning the garage, while rewiring light switches and organizing our basement, during grill-out parties and while completely by myself.

It’s the smell of dirt and mown grass and dust and sunflower seeds, as if a little portion of the game itself was being wafted through the speakers toward me. Hard work. Leisurely rest. A glass of water or a bottle of cold beer.

What’s great about baseball on the radio is that no matter how long the season gets, you never have to stop doing what you’re doing to catch a game.

How much is a nostalgic longing for times? Times I was never old enough to experience? And how much is an actual dedication to great baseball on the radio is?

I’ll never know. Maybe it’s a little bit of old soul that’s been stuck in me. But give me the crackle of the radio any day.

Tags: Baseball, Minnesota Twins, Outdoors, Sports |

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Turning on my team

March 25, 2008


Sometimes, fanhood can be difficult.

I’ve been rather silent all year in regards to my beloved Pacers, laughing stock of the league and second worst situation in all of basketball (Thanks, Knicks!)

Yet, here we are. Less than a month from the end of the season. The postseason hunt underway. And the plucky Indiana Pacers, fresh off of a four game winning streak, are just half of a game out of the playoffs.

The playoffs!

It should probably come as no surprise that I’ve counted them out all season. It’s just not working anymore. Jermaine O’Neal is a shell of his former All Star self. Fans are treated to a barrage of inexperienced and underwhelming players every night. Even supposed bright spot Danny Granger has taken his chance to shine and flushed it down the toilet, averaging just 18.9 points and 5.9 rebounds per game, even with his team scoring more points than anyone in the Eastern Conference outside of Orlando.

But now, here they are. Eleven games below .500. And sniffing at the playoffs.

And here’s the dilemma. If they make the playoffs – if they somehow sneak in and rest themselves firmly at the eighth seed – they’ll be facing the Boston Celtics. The amazingly rejuvenated Boston Celtics, the team poised to bring home the title for the first time since Larry Bird wore green, since before Jordan was a force, since the last power trio graced the Garden’s parquet floor.

The Boston Celtics. The team I’ve taken on as my team of destiny, rooted for and crossed my fingers for and prayed to the basketball gods for. The team that caused me to cheat on my beloved Pacers.

So that’s the trouble. The Boston Celtics vs. the Indiana Pacers. One love verses another. On one hand, I should root for my team – my scrappy upstarts, my fledgling group of misfits – to go all Golden State on Boston’s ass and upset the Chosen Team.

On the other hand, there’s Kevin Garnett. Paul Pierce. Ray Allen. Three superstars that deserve rings. A foregone conclusion to make the Conference Finals, if not win it all. A team that’s infinitely more fun to watch.

If the Pacers make the playoffs, and they face the Celtics, is it okay for me to root for the wrong team?

Is it okay for me to turn my back on an almost guaranteed loser, to root, for one series only, against Reggie and Rik’s team? If only for this one time. If only to see KG get his ring. If only because the Pacers have given me so little to root for over the past three years.

Yeah. It’s okay. But still, I feel so horrible even thinking about it.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one wearing Celtic Green, a number 5 jersey covering my shame, a paper bag over my head. And when the Celtics win, the bag will come off.

I’m just afraid the smile never will.

——————

(EDIT – The Pacers just lost to the Hornets and now sit between one and two games out, dependant upon how the Hawks and Nets do tonight. Maybe I won’t have to worry about this at all.)

Tags: Basketball, Indiana Pacers, Sports |

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