Do You Want More?!!!??!

Ah yes, another enduring symbol of the misery Knicks fans have endured for more than 30 years.

Having received some strong feedback about Micheal Ray, I wanted to follow up with a few additional thoughts:

1) He shouldn't have insulted gay people the way that he did, using such an ugly term. I would have mentioned that earlier, but I thought it went without saying, and after the Tim Hardaway and Tony Dungy situations, I don't think there's much doubt about the Straight Bangin' editorial opinion concerning homophobia. To preempt any who would equivocate Micheal Ray's comments about gays with his comments about Jews, I'd offer that when invokings gays, MRR purposely chose a derogatory, scornful term that is intended to be hurtful. Plus, calling anyone "gay" in any form as a means to inflict emotional or reputational injury is fundamentally offensive. When discussing Jews, he was seeking to be complimentary, albeit in uncouth fashion. I reject any idea that those two instances are commensurate.

2) There is a certain irony inherent to an episode in which an elite black athlete praised successful Jewish professionals for being "crafty." With sad frequency, the rhetorical modalities with which we discuss athletic achievement tend to reinforce harmful racial stereotypes. White athletes are called "cerebral"; black athletes are called "athletic." Whites are lauded for their hard work; blacks are lauded for their natural talent. The white player who scores in the post is effective due to his smart understanding of the game; the black player who scores in the post is effective due to his explosive physicality. Whites have the brains, blacks have the brawn. That is what it boils down to, give or take a few trendy euphemisms like calling an all-black team one that "struggles in the half-court setting."

Rarely does mainstream sports discourse acknowledge how much determination and intelligence are required to be a great athlete, especially when black athletes are examined. Tiger Woods is routinely cited for his dedication and smarts, but the athleticism demanded by golf is quite different from that required by basketball (or football), and, more pertinent, Tiger's identity is almost race-neutral given the image that he's so meticulously cultivated. Other black athletes aren't afforded similar decency. For anyone--white or black--having more fast-twitch muscle fibers or possessing greater innate agility augurs for achievement. But there are so many people who possess those gifts but did not make the NBA, let alone become NBA standouts, that to merely cite a black player's physical abilities as the key to his success is to insult him and diminish the concentration, discipline, determination, and intelligence required to succeed. You don't shoot like Ray Allen or Kobe Bryant without extensive hours in the gym. You don't set up teammates like Chris Paul or T.J. Ford do if you haven't thought through the situation and devised a strategy that can exploit weaknesses. And similarly, although Tim Duncan, who is lauded for his fundamentals and savvy, is not a leaper like Amare Stoudemire, Duncan is still in possession of physical gifts that a vast majority of humans don't possess. Talent of the body and acuity of the mind are not mutually exclusive assets. Black athletes who can do things that you and I can't should be celebrated for working hard enough to develop and refine those skills.

For Jewish people in this instance, the specifics are different but the principle is the same. Rather than cite the supposed Jewish preternatural talent for craftiness, why not pay a true compliment to Jewish people by noting that through hard work, they've risen to levels of professional prominence that belie the ethnic group's relatively paltry numbers? That was Micheal Ray's real meaning, wasn't it? In the face of widespread disdain and despite such a limited raw population figure, Jews have demonstrated a collective desire, discipline, and intelligence that has helped them accomplish a great deal, and that's commendable. There's nothing wrong with acknowledging it--just as there is nothing wrong with acknowledging race--and surely black athletes, a group so commonly and unfairly marginalized by sports jargon, might have some modicum of empathy.

3) If MRR is "getting off too easily" for his comments about Jews, then it owes to a certain shared American sensibility. And I'm OK with that. It is true that Micheal Ray Richardson said things about Jews that reinforce stereotypes, and that by accepting his comments without a stiff rebuke, we may be tacitly approving of them. But to take such a position and insist on further consternation would, in principle, invalidate the humor that drove Seinfeld, made Chris Rock a star, and is found all over America every day.

First, let's be honest: stereotypes emerge precisely because members of distinct social groups so commonly demonstrate shared behaviors and values. We get ourselves in trouble when we assume that this frequency of commonality can be universally predictive when applied to everyone of a certain group. For instance, there may be a lot of Jewish lawyers, but you can't reasonably extrapolate that all Jews go into law or are predisposed to understand the nuances of the Establishment Clause. So to tether one's Jewishness to one's lawyerness--or to define being Jewish in a way that is limited to excelling at arguing in court--is wrong. Just like we can't say that all Indian kids are great at medicine just because so many Indians populate the pre-med programs at major universities.

Second, let's be honest again: people find utility in these stereotypes. It might be that they help order the world. Whether you like it or not, you--and I mean everyone--probably make some assumptions about people based on superficialities or previous experience with people of a similar demographic profile. Or it might be that while we allow for diversity and deviation from expected norms, we also find a charming humor in familiar social archetypes. You know why you laugh so much as you watch The Original Kings of Comedy or Curb Your Enthusiasm? Because you recognize so many of the characters and behaviors depicted. There is a resonant truth in some generalizations.

It's fair to say that relying on stereotypes with an unquestioning or close-minded devotion is troublesome and scary. And as the extent of human stupidity has demonstrated time and again, there are lots of people who operate like this. But rather than instituting a stern culture of literalness that does not tolerate the invocation of any stereotype for fear of fostering injurious conclusions, why not call people on their bigotry when it emerges? Why not marshal our resources to effect policies that promote truly diverse communities? Why not engage in honest discussions of social differences so that problems are identified, scrutinized, and addressed? I'd rather see a rise in these sorts of ideas and discussions and policies than see a decline in free speech and humor. I'd go so far as to say that a blanket intolerance of any social stereotype is intellectually lazy, as it not only denies reality but demonstrates an unwillingness to confront true problems.

Karl Rove Is a Douche Bag

So bad on so many levels

I don't even know where to start, so feel free to just hammer away. The comments section is below. Really, this comes down to which angle you want to take: You could call it funny, painful, racist, mocking. You could try to discern if this is the single most out-of-touch moment in the history of the world. The mind races with possibilities.

Given how evil Karl Rove is, I don't think I have much to add beyond the title of this post.

And That's Why You Don't Make Beef Records If You're Not a Rapper

J. Walter Weatherman! Boy Fights! It's all here!

You know how Game had that one song with Kanye West about video hoes? "Wouldn't Get Far"? And you know how he calls out Vida Guerra in it? Well, it was funny. And pretty much true.

Unless your name is Vida Guerra.

If that's the case, it wasn't funny, and it made you upset. So upset, in fact, that you cast aside all inhibitions and went and did something so stupid that it is now just about the most laughable thing possible: you made a beef record gunnin' for a rapper whose whole career is about mean muggin' and beef. And oh by the way, you're a video chick who can't rap.

This is what your song sounds like: Vida, "Frontin' Like I'm Catty"

*takes a moment while everyone listens...*

...And that's why you don't make beef records if you're not a rapper.

Who's the stupid one now?

(HT: TMZ)

Micheal Ray Richardson Listens to a Lot of Jim Jones

One possible answer: he was seduced by the alternate reality of the Diplomats.

In a move that I can only imagine will fuel about 20 new YouTube videos shot somewhere in the Harlem streets at hours well past my bedtime and 30 new mixtape tracks with Jim Jones's unique brand of charming ignorance, basketball cult figure and erstwhile (he's suspended) CBA coach Micheal Ray Richardson said the following about his ongoing contract negotiations with the Albany Patroons:

"I've got big-time lawyers. I've got big-time Jew lawyers."

And then he said this, in response to a reporter informing him that his comments could be construed as antisemitic because of stereotypes about Jews being crafty:

"Are you kidding me? They are. They've got the best security system in the world. Have you ever been to an airport in Tel Aviv? They're real crafty. Listen, they are hated all over the world, so they've got to be crafty...They got a lot of power in this world, you know what I mean? Which I think is great. I don't think there's nothing wrong with it. If you look in most professional sports, they're run by Jewish people. If you look at a lot of most successful corporations and stuff, more businesses, they're run by Jewish. It's not a knock, but they are some crafty people."

You'll remember, of course, that Jim Jones and the Dip Set have been saying the same things for years--check the tape(s). They're always rapping about Jewish lawyers, and paid lawyers, and kosher lawyers. We've talked about this. Throw in Mos Def's insistence that Tall Israelis are runnin' this rap shit, and you've got quite the 3-on-3 team. They'd own the Rucker crowd.

As noted on Free Darko, Micheal Ray seems to be more along the lines of the funny antisemite rather than the dangerous antisemite. Amidst all the stupidity in the world, sometimes you just have to laugh. And really, I think he was trying to be nice in a weird way. I probably shouldn't write that, but the guy didn't say he hated all Jews or wished that they'd go back to making bricks in Egypt. It wasn't a message of intolerance. He said Jewish people are crafty (which, we can all agree, is dumb and negative and not well thought out) and then cited what he thought was proof of it. I mean, does anyone think he was being purposely malicious? I think he was being dumb. And there are, in fact, a disproportionately large number of Jewish men who own teams or run leagues.

I also read on FD that Micheal Ray claims to have been married to a Jewish woman. This prompts a lot of important questions: Did he get hoisted up in a chair by his wedding guests? Did he break a glass? Did he say something like "Are you kidding me? Of course we had a free kiddish. My wife's family is crafty, and they're surrounded by moneeeeey"? It makes you wonder. Hopefully he invited Jim and Cam and Juelz and Zeek.

One final note: I find this "controversy" seasonally appropriate because last year at this time, we had to investigate if Jim Nantz was Jewish.

For Fans of the Shifted Birthday Paradigm

Can't wait...

With the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie set to drop two weeks from tomorrow, I thought I'd throw up a link to a great website for fans of the show. I'm most keen on all of the dialogue that you can download. Peep game.

Free Music Is the Best

A mourning treat.

Some notable free musics to pass along. You know I've got you...

- DJ Illipse, Uncommon Mixtures - A collection of blends featuring Nas, 2Pac, Common, Lil' Wayne, Clipse, and AZ, among others. Learn more about Illipse here. You may know him from his excellent Jay Dee tribute.

- Okayplayer and DJ Soul, Assorted Donuts - A Dilla tribute record with Biggie vocals put over Jay Dee beats; tribute songs from the Roots, Talib Kweli, Redman; and more.

- J.J. Brown, Re-Release Therapy - Ludacris's vocals from Release Therapy set to remixed Jackson 5 production, courtesy of J.J. Brown. Like most of these blend albums, it's not the cohesive, diverse sound you might expect from a full-length LP, but the beats work pretty well.

- Phonte ft. Carlitta Durand, "Take on Me" - A re-worked version of A-Ha's 80s classic, courtesy of super MC Phonte from Little Brother. Dude is an underrated singer.

Remember Eric Wright

Boy you shoulda known by now...

Yesterday marked twelve years since the passing of Eazy-E. It's a somber annual memorial for Straight Bangin', and among the few that is consistently brought up. Similar to Biggie, though to a lesser extent, Eazy-E was an era-defining artist, and he helped to make the West Coast what it once was. With no disrespect intended, I've always found Wright's music and impact more resonant that those of 2Pac. I am not denigrating Mr. Shakur, and I am not denying what he accomplished or the quality of his music, but I never developed a fondness for his music akin to the one that grew over the years as I listened to Eazy and all that grew out of N.W.A.

R.I.P.

Eazy-E, "Eazy-Duz-It"

What Do We Think of Snap?

As you move the cursor over the links on this site, a preview window will now pop up giving you a visual preview of each link. It's a free service furnished by Snap. Consider this a beta test--I'd like to know if readers like it or find it cumbersome. So, uh, let me know.

Paris, TX Is for Racists

I think that I am a little late to this crusade (at least, when measuring internets time) but I wanted to point out what sounds like an ugly injustice all the same, as it's important. Thanks to my man and comments-section contributor Kwis for the heads up.

Go here and here to learn about Shaquanda Cotton, a black teenager in Paris, TX who was sentenced to seven years in prison for shoving a hall monitor at her school during a disagreement about accessing the building before the school's operating hours. Seven years sounds excessive, no? Especially since the hall monitor was not seriously injured. But here's the kicker: three months earlier, a white teenager was sentenced to probation after being convicted of arson. What did she do? Nothing all that major, if it's not major to burn down your family's house! Compounding problems are that Paris has an ignominious history as a community that was proud to lynch black people, with the acts of intolerance well attended by white crowds. It has also perpetrated similar legal bullshit in the past. Additionally, Shaquanda's mother has alleged that her daughter was targeted after the mother started speaking up about the fact that the school administrators were discriminating against black students.

While there is information pertaining to Shaquanda's situation that is still unclear, the basics seem to indicate that we're again confronted by a sobering reality: America is a racist country that never has and still doesn't allow for the equal treatment of all people, most notably blacks. We'll skip the usual examination of larger demographic trends because we should all know them by now. Assuming that the stories linked above are wholly or mostly true, I think we can sufficiently conclude that this is another ugly moment in a long history of bigotry.

We might also conclude that Texas is a fucked up place, something I've long suspected.

Related: Free Shaquanda Cotton

An Important Stranger

A cherished symbol of an experience I've only known vicariously.

My entire family is from the New York area, and most of it still lives in and around the City today. My parents' idea of a good time is traveling to freezing cold, remote destinations; a large majority of my family hates to fly; and before I went to Michigan, no one from my household had spent much time in the Midwest, or, really, any place else, save for Cape Cod. When put in one of many other ways: I have absolutely no connection to the University of California, Los Angeles. I haven't even been to California, and from what I can tell, all anyone in LA does is drive around, complain about traffic, talk on the phone, and get tan.

Despite this East Coast bias-driven lifestyle, I can't remember a time when I didn't love John Wooden, a man who's synonymous with UCLA. And this is simultaneously surprising and to be expected. Ostensibly, there is no reason why I should care about an old white man whom was most relevant before I was born, coached a team I don't care about, and I will never meet. But I'm also the same person who first heard the word "bullshit" because the Madison Square Garden crowd was raining it down upon Charles Barkley and the 76ers; the same person whose father calls him at work to administer quizzes such as naming the starting five from the UMass team that went to the Final Four with Marcus Camby; and the same person whose 8th-grade teacher was confounded by my compulsive need to recite basketball scores during morning meetings in class each day. Basketball has always been a conduit for so many facets of my life, so of course I love John Wooden. He's a mythic figure of the sport.

His appeal is understandable, overall, but somewhat more complicated for me. Famous for his Pyramid of Success, myriad maxims meant to impart lasting truths, and nurturing soul as much as for his ten NCAA titles in twelve years, Wooden is the ultimate basketball father figure. Regimented, thoughtful, observant, principled, and caring, Wooden offered a benign but serious discipline that has become legendary given the lasting impact he made on his players. It's the sort of role many men envision playing in the lives of their children, and it's no coincidence that Wooden is a venerated constellation in my father's sky, much as my father is one in my own. The wisdom imparted in reminders such as "be quick but don't hurry" and "failing to prepare is preparing to fail" is very much in the style of the knowledge that my dad has handed out over the years, with aphorisms aplenty. And that Wooden's conductive medium for morality and teaching was the same as one of my father's--I can't tell you how many memories of my time with him will forever include warm remembrances of basketball--only has strengthened the bond that both my dad and I have been able to project onto a basketball deity. We have never known John Wooden, but yet we both feel, on some level, that he has always spoken to and for us.

I understand that it's quite weird to experience such warmth for a remote figure, and it would be nearly disingenuous were there not substantial reasons behind it. But my genuine esteem for Wooden was reinforced last night as I watched HBO's documentary about Wooden's UCLA dynasty of 1964-1975. Though only an hour and general to the point of neglect at times, the movie is an engrossing synopsis of not just Wooden and his teams, but also of the larger social, political, and moral contexts that surrounded what everyone saw on the court. The common denominator among all of the players interviewed is their dedication to the basketball program's patriarch, and hearing such authentic love manifested in various ways only enhances Wooden. A formative experience in my literary career was reading a Kareem Abdul-Jabbar autobiography, so it was even more rewarding to hear from the players discussed in the book, many of whom have grown into quasi-legends thanks to the input of my father, a basketball romantic.

That a 25-year-old sees so much of his own father in a man he's never met, and accordingly reveres the stranger, is likely one of the most bizarre but compelling pieces of evidence one might find when attempting to demonstrate just how important John Wooden has been not just to basketball, but to society. For some of the more basic elements, I'd suggest checking out HBO's documentary.

My T-Shirts Are Prophetic

The traditional garb of the G-Unit: 50 in a brassiere top and Yayo in the orange jumper.

Is business about to pick up on the Bangin'? In light of this absurdity, it could be, as Tony Yayo may be going back to jail. So you'll need to buy a Reincarcerate Yayo shirt before he gets there so that you can tell all your friends that you were up on this way back when. Even better, you'll be in the vanguard once he gets out again, before he can put out some crappy G-Unit radio mixtapes and spark beef with the Game's brother's boyfriend's weed carrier.

I shouldn't be so dismissive of Yayo, though. I mean, which grown-ass man hasn't wanted to slap a kufi off of a menacing 14-year-old? Oh, that's right--nearly all of them, because responsible adults don't do that kind of dumb shit.

Anyway, get your shirts here. $10 and an email to straight.bangin@gmail.com will get you on your way.

A Few Quick Links

- 60 NFL-related criminal accusations in the past 15 months? And the NBA is the league of thugs? Uh...

- Need a job? Michigan is hiring, looking for a basketball coach. Must have experience, preferably experience with success, not just showing up and presiding over a disorganized mess.

- 50 50's (HT: Oh Word)

- A Chinese guy with a Jheri curl?

Music for a Monday: Shining the Light in Deserving Corners

Read the Spine note about T.I. "Achingly" and "sounds the same" are right on. *sigh*

Through a network of god-body bloggers--see the listings along the left-hand side of this page if you're confused--who identify trends, digest a range of things that I find interesting, and endlessly impress me with how well they write, I stay up on my passions and stay humbled by how much talent there is around. I've come to rely on my personal internets universe for many things, with new music notably among them. Before Ian left Georgia for California, I got introduced to the unique talent Jamie Radford (who has been known as "MC Travel" on this interweb for a while). And through Straight Bangin' West Coast Music Editor Jeff, I was reminded of how badly I've needed to review this strong underground record Sometimes There Is Trouble, a project put out by Straight Bangin' friend and comment superstar Zilla.

Jamie Radford, The Freedom to Be Reckless

Somehow this picture is a fitting representation of this music.

For his debut album, Athens, Jamie Radford assembled an electronic hip-hop record that was characterized both by its engaging idealism and frustrating inexperience. Though joints such as "This Is a Breakup Song" were filled with Radford's refreshing emotional honesty and elegant synthetic soundscapes, there were too many other moments when the rhyming sounded a little off or the beats didn't resonate. It was admirable in its intentions but stifled by its flaws. His latest EP, The Freedom to Be Reckless, serves as an encouraging sign of Radford's growth--you can pencil in an impressively higher mark along the door frame.

Still able to disarm an audience with his unembarrassed introspection but now wielding a more confident microphone presence, Radford is an MC who you'd want to know better. His topical strength lies in his stories, which are of the everyday-happenings variety that invite a listener to concentrate on what's being said in part because it sounds like a friend is talking. And though he's capable of both the boastful and the indulgent (like stringing together a memorable couplet just because), Travel's best writing comes when he discusses relationships. While listening to songs like "Not Enough or Never," the audience is treated to Radford's gift for encompassing nuanced emotion in these knowing, pithy lines, much like the song's title. The rhyming is also enhanced by Radford's more mature vocals. Whereas his last album made it sound as though he were yelling at too high a pitch too often, this latest effort benefits from a deeper, more balanced vocal timbre.

Radford's beat-making skills have also progressed, and Freedom is an eight-track experiment that is simultaneously derived from hip-hop elements but dissimilar from so many of the prevailing production modalities. The looped, grand synthesizer chords and frenetic drums and cymbals that you might hear combined in some pattern by your favorite southern producer are leading elements on this album, but the signature sound is a welcomed derivative. Nearly every track is a sonic melange of airy synths that breeze in and out, winding melodies, and an assortment of percussive elements. Ranging from a playful pastiche such as "A Harpsichord Classic" to the more traditional sounding "East Lake," the album's production catalogue, whose breadth is reminiscent of that which we might associate with an artist like Tricky, sounds like an assemblage of southern bounce stripped of its candy paint and formulas.

The album is tripped up at times by Radford's generally linear, simple rhyme schemes, and some of the hooks are generic to the point that they sound like things Eminem might write during his weaker moments. Additionally, Freedom is not a true hip-hop record in the sense that it is far more exploratory and candid that what one tends to expect from the genre. Like Athens, this record will not be for everyone, especially not the gully set. But it is interesting, nonetheless, and that's a welcomed change from the sort of boring predictability that we associate with more mainstream rappers. Just look up at the top of this post for a reminder.

Peep the album here.

Clean Guns, Sometimes There Is Trouble

I have the poster up in my apartment.

I am so remiss for not having written about this standout record earlier that I am almost embarrassed to finally be doing it now. Simply put, Sometimes There Is Trouble is an auspicious twelve-track channeling of the East Coast aggression that helped make the Wu-Tang Clan great.

That's not to say that STIT is on par with Enter the Wu-Tang. Or that they are similar in their general aesthetics. Rather, this album is aggressive from beginning to end, and Clean Guns are these muscular MCs who just try to destroy tracks with furious flows, layered lyrics, and exhausting energy. You can hear it immediately on "Blast Off," (and opening with this heatrock is a prime example of deft record sequencing), a song that sets the tone for the entire record by unleashing this unrelenting hip-hop creep that is assertive but also slyly rapacious. In boxing, an attacking fighter can stun his opponent with well-timed power shots while also wearing down his adversary with a steady barrage of body blows and smart ring generalship. That is sort of what happens as you listen to STIT. And it's a good thing.

As you might expect of a record that so strongly creates its intended mood, there is a raw energy expressed through the jagged beats that accompany the dense flows. The production is chockablock with menacing piano riffs and looped melodies played on tinny instruments that create an effective, unrefined sound. Taken with the rhyming styles of the MCs, the production is almost like an unspoken, defiant "we don't give a fuck" that complements STIT's underground feel and reinforces an appreciable, authentic devotion to rap music that Clean Guns possesses in abundance. This is not a group that needed a marketing gimmick and chose to act hard; this is a group that appreciates hip-hop technique and has not sacrificed its principles for pop appeal.

Covering Them

As you may recall, this internet, though hip-hop and soul oriented, bows down to the greatest American rock back of all time, Pearl Jam. I haven't seen them live since last summer, and I am kind of in need of a fix. So, just for the hell of it, ten Pearl Jam covers and three rarities:

The Covers

Let My Love Open the Door


Crown of Thorns


Baba O'Riley


I've Got a Feeling


Fuckin' Up


It's OK ("Daughter" tag)


Another Brick in the Wall ("Daughter" tag)


I Believe in Miracles


Throw Your Arms Around Me


Going to California (which Pearl Jam stole for "Given to Fly")


The Rarities

Hard to Imagine


Footsteps


I Got Shit

Kane Drops Shit

Saturday Thoughts

Among the most memorable plays that should have never counted.

Let's just say it: using two pivot feet is a travel. Jeff Green used two pivot feet before hitting his game-winner. Therefore, it should not have counted. QED, motherfuckers.

Also:
- Billy Packer is the Antichrist. Not that this is news. But did you hear him tonight? His approach to the games was characteristically infuriating, with Packer seizing upon any opportunity to criticize, elevating the insignificant, and taking examples out of context to support his preconceived conclusions. I have never, ever known a person to singularly ruin any activity in which he is involved akin to the way that Packer turns every single game he broadcasts into torture for viewers. At this point, I have to imagine that he is sleeping with someone important at CBS or that a CBS executive in charge of game assignments is carrying out a bet pertaining to how long he can alienate his audience without losing his job.

- Though I love college basketball and certainly don't experience such a virulent aversion as some do, I have to point out a grating shortcoming of the game: the three-point line is too close. These NCAA Tournament games are exciting because of the three-pointer-fueled comebacks, but at a certain point, the skill required to wield range as a weapon is diminished if damn near anyone can credibly attempt a three. Put the line farther back and make shooting a true, differentiating ability.

- Pursuant to my post about O.J. Mayo, here's Tim Floyd on PTI yesterday (click to download audio).

I give Floyd credit for being honest and for defending one of his (incoming) players.

I also think that Floyd's candor illustrates the inherent moral ambiguity that arises in situations created by preternatural talents like Mayo: The culture of college football and basketball is inextricably linked to this disingenuous rhetoric about student-athletes that we have constructed to compensate for the exploitative nature of the competitions held among children. We like to pretend that they're in college to maximize an athletic gift but only while primarily participating in the social rituals of late adolescence and riding the socioeconomic escalator that comes with earning a college degree. But really, big-time college sports and the superstars around which they're built are a de facto farm system for the NBA and the NFL. So, if a guy like Mayo is talented enough to play in the NBA, wants to play in the NBA, and will knowingly participate in the folly of amateurism for a year, why do we even go through the motions, protesting that he needs to be in college or that he should be in college?

It's something that I struggle with because there is validity to arguments against college--especially if we're honest and acknowledge that classroom learning after high school may not be what everyone wants or should have to do. And if Mayo has some large-scale marketing plan that will allow him to maximize his value and accomplish his goals, why would we say "no" to that? On the flip side, I also think that the social growth fostered by the typical college experience is valuable for anyone; I think it only enhances a player's basketball skills to receive higher level coaching and game experience; and I'd like to think, no matter how idealistic, that it might encourage an appreciation for academia should a kid turn out to be among the 99% of college athletes who don't earn a career in professional sports. If he's not spending all of his time trying to be like Matt Leinart (and just ask Floyd if the Leinart experience--partying, getting in gossip magazines, engaging in conspicuous promiscuity--is what USC sells to kids), maybe Mayo will decide that he actually enjoys being a student in a more independent setting.

I am also still wary of Mayo, though Floyd's account of the New York Times story's subjects fills in some gaps. I don't want to vilify someone whom I don't know and who's in a situation with which I am unfamiliar, but as a sports fan, especially one who follows college sports and the tawdry world of recruiting and alternative compensation for athletes on campus, how can you not be suspicious of a rising freshman who has already enumerated goals of marketing himself and earning recognition as a program's savior? No matter how Mayo and his advocates frame those goals--maybe it's part of a next-level marketing plan, maybe it's hubris--aren't they similar to so many of the problems teams encounter when players are selfish? Don't they seem to lend themselves to problems that already afflict the USC sports culture, one in which celebrities crawl the sidelines and agents may or may not be making illegal contact with players? Again, the rules and conventions of our college-sports system may be built on a misleading foundation and should perhaps be significantly changed, but until they are, shouldn't we be concerned about abiding by them?

More tangibly, what will happen if Mayo isn't getting the credit that he thinks that he deserves next year? Won't that hamper his marketing vision, the guiding force that compelled him to sign with USC in the first place? What if USC isn't good and his reputation takes a hit? USC is known and sells itself as a school for superstars, but doesn't that just invite controversy while further blurring the demarcation that supposedly separates college and pro sports? The conditions that surround Mayo's impending matriculation seem to argue for complications. Thus, while it may be accurate that Mayo is smartly envisioning a future that either exploits (in a good way) or circumvents our current system, I don't think it's slanderous to wonder if perhaps those goals will lead to short-term conflict even if, ultimately, long-term success.

Things That Don't Happen When You Live in Topeka

Had this been the scene, it wouldn't have surprised me.

I was in Times Square the other day running an errand. It was gorgeous out, so I took a stroll and was in a cheery mood, relieved of the usual contempt which I and many other New Yorkers harbor for a neighborhood defined by the tourists, tourist traps, and endless special promotions. As I made my way through the people, picking my lanes and lining up blocks as though I were Barry Sanders, I noticed this familiar-looking blond woman walking by. It turned out to be Kandice Pelletier, one of the "beauty queens" who can currently be seen on The Amazing Race (which does nothing for me but my roommates love). I don't know if Kandice really counts as a celebrity, but given that she appears on CBS each Sunday night, it was one of those weird moments when you aren't really blown away but also recognize that something unique has occurred.

Still processing such a random moment, I made my way toward a lunch spot, passing by the Virgin Megastore. One of the colorful characteristics about Times Square is that along Broadway between 42nd and 45th Streets, these aspiring rappers hang out on the corners all day trying to sell their amateur rap CDs to strangers as they go by. CDs tend to be $5, and a lot of them have a certain No-Limit-circa-2000 feel about the packaging. These guys all seem to have great dot-matrix color printers. I usually have my headphones on as I make my way down the block, so this hip-hop head is engaged by these fellows less frequently than you might expect, but I have been known to stop and chat from time to time.

Anyway, on this particular day, a number of the rappers were out in front of Virgin, dancing and rapping along to the music that the store pumps out onto the sidewalk. Virgin was treating everyone to MIMS's "This Is Why I'm Hot." It wasn't all that remarkable except that mixed in amongst the rappers--all of whom were twenty-something black men--dancing and rapping were these enthusiastic white girls wearing name tags who looked like they were 13-years-old and were most likely visiting town as part of a group. They certainly weren't dressed like New Yorkers--they had on these coordinated neon jumpsuits that I don't see a lot of native children wearing as they stroll around. And, we were in Times Square, a place where most New Yorkers are hurriedly scurrying along, not standing around dancing (unless they're selling records, of course). Plus, these girls were so excited about hearing the song and getting to dance to it. All of these elements made for a memorable scene, the obvious juxtapositions and the vitality on the street affirming New York's singular place in America. It was funny and actually very cool in its own way.

My unusual walk ended in characteristic fashion. Set to finally arrive at lunch, I had to walk past the ESPN Zone, which was overrun by a throng of people milling around, interspersed in a larger sea of cameras and production people with headsets and fanny packs and all the other filming accoutrements. I asked a guy holding a boom mic what was going on and he said that CBS was filming an episode of CSI on the street. The next thing I knew, some stranger knocked into me and I had to shuffle my feet to maintain my balance. When I looked up, I was suddenly staring into the face of John McEnroe, who apparently was making a guest appearance on the show. I had nothing to say to him, and it was an odd convergence of our respective personal spaces, so that was that, but still...what?

Who has a walk like that? Don't forget, this was all within ten minutes.

*shakes his head*

Only in New York.

My Current Favorite YouTube Video

Come on. This thing is good.

Explanations Are Owed

Yeah, let's not get him the ball in crunch time. Brilliant.

You can blame this man above for missing that layup, but I mostly don't get this: How in the world do you give up three straight offensive rebounds and then foul someone with under a minute to go? That's so far beyond the realm of basketball acceptability that it might require its own term or explanation. I mean, WHAT IS THAT? 3 IN A ROW? You mean that A&M wasn't smart enough to box out nor aggressive enough to get the ball but then turned around and tried to be hard once someone was already shooting?

And then, A&M doesn't find a way for Acie Law IV (whose dad does not actually look like Snoop Dogg) to take a shot at the end? I realize that they were in a predicament, but if a halfcourt shot is what you're getting anyway, why not let Acie be the guy shooting it?

Unreal. And of course, the Aggies were my national champions.

Don't even get me started on Tennessee getting outscored by 21 in the final 20 minutes and one tenth of a second...

So Just What Are the Ten Best Basketball Commercials?

Henry pointed me toward this and I can't say I find it to be all that authoritative. Or to make much sense. I don't knock the effort and, of course, everyone can have his or her own opinion, but these are the ten best basketball commercials of all time? Really? No Like Mike? No Revolution Will Not Be Televised?

What about The Shootout?


Or the Roswell Rayguns?


Lil' Penny?!


Vince and the Glove (yeah, the Glooooove)?


Jada and AI twice?




We haven't even cracked the surface, have we? We could on for days...

Am I wrong?

Worth It?

Alongside occupations such as Pacman Jones's probation officer and Billy Packer's personal concubine, we can add O.J. Mayo's college coach to the list of jobs that you'd never want to have. Did you read this story in The New York Times? Generally, I am pretty sympathetic toward the elite-level high-school recruits who drive subscriptions on Rivals and Scout. These kids have so many nefarious people misleading them that bouts of petulance and immaturity and confusion are understandable. But Mayo, the latest of the Next Michael Jordans, takes it to a ho' 'nother level. While the entire saga of his high-school career smacks of exploitation and selfish adults--to say nothing of dumbass referees--Mayo has done himself no favors. He fights; he gets suspended; he goes to so many high schools that you can't help but ask a lot of questions; he winds up in compromising situations; and he acts like an asshole (this is his final game, with his team already blowing out its opponent):


The video neglects to mention that Mayo was ejected. With him, it's always something.

As many know, he's committed to playing at generally non-basketball-inclined USC next year because, as he's said, he wants to attend a school where he will not be upstaged by any sort of heritage, and he likes Los Angeles because he can market himself before getting to the NBA. As a result, through a handler hanger-on, he told the coach, Tim Floyd, for whom he'll play that coaches don't call O.J., he calls them, and that he doesn't give out his phone number. He also said that he'd take care of additional recruiting. I can only imagine that when practice starts next year, he'll take care of installing the offense. And that on days when he's late, he'll explain that much like a wizard, he's never early or late, but arrives precisely when he means to.

Coaching Mayo next year will be a thankless task.

Props to Our Man Henry

Henry Abbott, dean of NBA blogging, has a new gig--blogging for ESPN.com. I'm sorry, but please take a minute to pay that man some respect; what he's done is pretty amazing. True Hoop has moved, and we can only hope that its arrival within the sports monolith's domain will elevate the level of NBA and basketball discourse. Congratulations to a deserving fellow.

George Bush : Black People :: Tony Dungy : Gay People

What a great guy. He's only a little bit discriminatory.

Did you see this in the news? Please don't forget to mention it the next time that Tony Dungy is getting beatified in the press. The man is probably a nice guy, and he has endured tragedy, but let's not allow that to obscure this bit of ugliness.

I come back to this point every time the "issue" of gay marriage arises: why does everyone care so much? If you're straight, why do rules that have no impact on your life arouse such passion? And, how does a gay marriage have any affect on anyone who isn't entering into that specific union? Loads of men and women get married every day and it makes absolutely zero impact on my life. How could it be any different were gay people to start getting married?

Also, religious people, please tell me this: what kind of shit is it to proclaim that opposing gay marriage puts you "on the Lord's side," as Dungy claims? Do you really take what's written in those books so literally? If God is love and rewards virtue and all that, how can his supporters pimp their faith for oppressive political ends? And what makes being gay immoral?

This stuff is so tedious in its foolishness.

Dungy is the leader of men everyone wants to fall over themselves to praise? A guy who goes out of his way to support measures meant to subjugate people? What a joke. Praise him for his qualities but hold him accountable for his errors.

And be honest, how great would it be if either: a) it turns out that Dungy has been dating Tim Hardaway on the DL, or b) a Colt is the first NFL player to come out?

Media Matters Has My Back

Only in this country do we tear down the intelligent and "reelect" retarded people.

I'm not the only person who had to call foul following The New York Times' misleading treatment of Al Gore, his reputation, and climate change. Read more here (HT: HR).

This Isn't Horseshoes or Hand Grenades

Update your resume. And your wardrobe--big boys wear ties.

If success in college basketball were determined by things like trying hard intermittently, occasionally playing well enough to blow a game late, getting embarrassed on a regular basis, being well-intentioned, and dressing like you had always come from Sunday brunch in 1992, Tommy Amaker would be running the best college basketball program in the country. He or his team excelled at all of those things.

Unfortunately for Amaker, we don't measure success like that. We use this metric called "winning." It accounts for how many times you score more points than your opponent, the ultimate goal in basketball, and it is a macro-scale way of discerning if your team can execute the basics of the game. You know, like if it boxes out, or rotates on defense. If it moves the ball on offense with any real purpose. Sometimes, we also look at other factors that are common correlates of executing and, subsequently, winning: Does Player A demonstrate progress in his abilities over the time that he plays for a given coach? Does a team know what to do in special situations? Amaker failed to meet even basic levels of sufficiency in too many of these critical categories, and he's now gone from Michigan.

Despite these shortcomings, the Amaker legacy is a curious one. For all of the contempt alumni like myself may harbor for a coach who was clearly, from an on-court perspective, unqualified for his job, Amaker is owed a debt of gratitude by all who have invested anything in Michigan basketball. In the wake of the Fab Five scandal and the only regime that could ever make Amaker's look good--Brian Ellerbe's, during which he recruited too many duds, burned too many bridges, lost too many games, and enforced too few rules--Tommy was an uncompromising avatar of moral rectitude, one who comported himself in a fashion that allowed Michigan to successfully navigate the choppy waters of sanctions and scrutiny. Merely avoiding trouble, graduating players, and recruiting upstanding citizens was a partial success, and in that light, Amaker shone brightly.

But over the course of six seasons, there was little else that demonstrated Michigan was making steps toward regaining the basketball production and status that its reputation, resources, and heritage all suggest are attainable, if not to be expected. Mortgaging decency and responsibility will always be too high a cost for winning, but the scandal-free programs built at schools such as Michigan State or maintained at places such as Duke have shown that one need not pay so dearly. And let's not even talk about state schools such as Kentucky, Kansas, and North Carolina, as they are so far ahead of Michigan that any analogies would be driven by the most optimistic hypotheticals. Needless to say, Michigan has advanced beyond the point during which reputation management is the top priority, and it's clear that basketball competency must now be demanded alongside clean living, so to speak. Amaker could never provide that.

In ten seasons as a head coach leading basketball programs that have enjoyed enough success to become name brands to some degree, Tommy Amaker made the NCAA Tournament one time. During those same ten years, he squandered the best recruiting class he ever assembled (see: Eddie Griffen and "friends" at Seton Hall) and all six years at Michigan were middling at best, maddening at worst. Though some of his Wolverine teams were hamstrung by injuries and probation, entire classes came through Michigan unimpeded by either for significant amounts of time, and the best Amaker could offer were melancholy celebrations in Madison Square Garden. The characteristics of his teams, year in and year out, were too many mental errors, too many turnovers, too many scoring droughts, too many breakdowns on defense, and too many talented players who stagnated. It was not easy to part with such a nice man, but it also wasn't anything but warranted. It's a disservice to the players, the fans, and the alumni to ask them all to support a coach who has yet to grasp the fundamentals of coaching and basketball.

And so Michigan must now move on by finding a replacement who can enforce the same discipline and live the same values of the Amaker era while also excelling in the major sport that is most about coaching. And really, as one surveys the this year's NCAA Tournament, it's nearly impossible to escape the timeless adage that college basketball is a coach's game. Which teams have survived? Those led by men who have regularly proven that they can teach, prepare, and adapt. Coaches like Roy Williams and John Calipari and Ben Howland. Which teams were felled? Those led by the usual suspects whose teams don't ever seem truly organized, disciplined, or ready. Rick Barnes and Lute Olson, come on down!

Winning can't happen without talent, of course, and having the wrong roster can submarine even the best of coaches. Just ask Bobby Knight or Coach K. Plus, as was succinctly and powerfully demonstrated on Costas Now, recruiting star players and keeping them successful on and off the court is increasingly difficult. But you don't need god-body talent to win. If you did, an NCAA Tournament without those 12-5 upsets and devoid of true Cinderellas would be the norm and not the exception.

My hope is that Michigan finds a coach who will follow the rules, be a passionate evangelists for the program when recruiting and engaging all other constituencies, love the University of Michigan, and most importantly, know how to coach basketball. Teach drop steps, get guys hitting their free throws, install a reliable defense--that's what Michigan needs. And demanding all of that is not unrealistic or unfair; demanding all of that is the only way that Michigan can compete.

So thanks, again, to Tommy Amaker. Now let's do better.

Get Educated

Peep game: Pour the Science. Can also be found on the blogroll.

Music for a Monday: Things Are Starting to Pick Up

Finally, something to praise...

Some assorted thoughts as we begin to close out the first quarter of 2007...

- Remember when I wrote this, lamenting how poorly this year had started? Internets celebrity and Pride of Creve Coeur Bol noted it last week while discussing his review of Black Milk's Popular Demand, which BC Dot C rightly hailed as being among the year's first truly strong records. Just ask Henry. But beyond its innate qualities--such as Milk's flow, which sons those of lots and lots of better-known rappers--Popular Demand is also a notable record because it presents what is, in effect, a defining regional sound.

No rapper or producer has defined Detroit hip-hop in the past decade better than Jay Dee. While Eminem and even D12 are likely the most well-known acts from the area, their music has not emerged as the sonic shibboleth that Jay Dee's has. After all, Eminem's sound is really a mixture of whatever moves Dr. Dre, one of the three most important figures in the history of the West Coast; the heightened, synth-driven emotion of inauthentic menace that defies geography (it's boring and generic) and has been adopted by Eminem; and the similarly market-non-specific pop rap of catchy melodies (almost to the point of self-parody--see: "Without Me") and sing-song hooks. This is not meant as judgment, but it's fair to call this style decidedly non-Detroit.

Jay Dee, meanwhile, put together a sonic catalogue that established a musical identity for the area. Though multifaceted, with everything ranging from the distorted chops of "Players" to the bass-and-drum of "Reunion," and from the woozy synths of "Dee Zee" to the crisp electronics of "Y'all Ain't Ready," you tended to know when you were hearing a Jay Dee beat. There was and still is always a uniqueness about that Dilla sound. My man Taj, an expert, has always lauded Jay Dee's beats for their "grit," and I think that whether or not that's the right word, it perfectly speaks to what might be an ineffable something that serves as Dilla's musical watermark. You even get it when you throw on a beat meant to sound like Dilla's--just ask BR Gunna, the production collective that seemed to fill the music-making void for prominent area collaborators once Dilla left Slum Village and moved on to other projects. That Black Milk founded BR and has now put together such an authoritative Detroit record only lends credence to the assertion that Jay Dee's legacy will always be, at least in part, his patriarchal role in Detroit's distinguishing hip-hop scene.

When considered within this context, Popular Demand is very much Southeast Michigan's contemporary analogue to something like a classic Redman album (which we'll call What?, Dare Iz a Darkside, and Muddy Waters)--it's a record that is undeniably of its regional era but also a vehicle for adding further definition to the very distinction by which it can be identified. It's almost like listenable circular logic. What is this? A Detroit record. What's a Detroit record? This.

Beyond its place in a historical frame, Popular Demand is great for what it offers on the surface: Black Milk's inviting and impressive flow showcased by the complementary production and enhanced by a number of welcomed collabos. Milk doesn't really break any new lyrical ground as he makes his way through the usual boasts, wordplay, everyman hedonism you hear so many Detroit rappers spit, and other hip-hop conventions, but you probably won't even notice. He rides the beats ably, and Popular Demand is a taxonomy of contemporary Detroit production, whether it's whaling loops, synthesizer melodies over stiff drums, creative samples, or anything else that will remind you of Jay Dee as you appreciate both the faithful emulation and the original twists.

For all intents and purposes, this is the record that has so far defined 2007.

Black Milk, "Three+Sum"

- Also in contention may be Devin the Dude's Waitin' to Inhale. I haven't been able to give it as thorough a listen as I've given Popular Demand, but I can't think of another album that's been as easy to throw on. There is a surreal quality to it, with each track blending Devin's rap-singing and narratives that celebrate the quotidian with these muted, pillowy beats that you can't turn off. They fall just short of being mesmerizing, and I mean that as a compliment. I'd liken the production to some of the better experimental OutKast beats (think: an improvement on something like "She's Alive") that skewed toward the melodic as opposed to the aggressive (think: "Bust"). Really, Devin is a better, more fully realized version of the artist that Andre 3000 has tried to be, at times. He can't rhyme or flow like Andre (who's criminally underrated as an MC since he did his thing in a group and most people were distracted by the risks OutKast was taking with their sound), but that's not his thing. And his thing is the sort of style that Andre has seemed lost while pursuing.

Devin the Dude, "Almighty Dollar"

- I'm not sure if you can call an album that contains music mostly recorded more than a decade ago a 2007 record, but Mobb Deep's The Infamous Archives is also pretty exciting. And depressing. It's nearly startling to hear new tracks from Havoc and Prodigy on which they sound young and hungry because, as I wrote last month, The Infamous not only remains a seminal record thanks to its incredible music, but also it has become a melancholy symbol of promise squandered. They were great and grew worse over time. Even though it came from an era that gave us Illmatic, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, and so much other timeless material, The Infamous stands out as a definitive street album that created an emotional tenor unrivaled but just about any other record with a significantly great gully quotient. Not that this is news--many people have eulogized Mobb Deep many times. It's only again worth remembering Hollywood Hav and VIP's (I just threw up) halcyon days of youth because this new material is anachronistic in its overall sound and intangible characteristics. Youthful and unrefined, there are tracks on Archives that put Blood Money and so much other recent Mobb Deep music to shame. And while it's not fair to fault the duo for growing up or trying to change (they'd be skewered for being boring and redundant had they not), the relative failure of this process's results and the contrast between what they are and what they were is unavoidable. Culled from a time when Prodigy was not yet shook and Mobb was still authentically capturing their bleak but engrossing world on record, Archives has some quality material that will get your nostalgia up. There's plenty of shit, too, but still, the new glimpses into an old ideal are both refreshing and sad.

Mobb Deep ft. Big Noyd, "Rep the QBC"

- I also wanted to shout out this underground cat called Ecks. I think that dude runs with KRS-One, and he's got some music up on MySpace that's not bad (peep "Street Anthem"). When he raps, he sounds like he's spitting simultaneously as the beat plays--he doesn't always find the beat, so to speak--and that can make it sound like he's shouting a little bit. But I give him credit for trying to rap about something; there's a discernable amount of thought behind his words.

- Finally, a random joint that I'm feelin' right now:

Cilvaringz ft. Raekwon (and Ghostface Killah and RZA, sort of), "The Weeping Tiger"
Everything, from the title to the beat to the scattered bars to the RZA's yelling to the overwrought aesthetic (that chorus...), feels like a Wu-Tang self-parody. And Cilvaringz is Dutch or some shit. So cumulatively, this song cracks me up for a number of reasons. It's just so evocative of this.

Stephen A., Calming Influence?

The scientific community should be searching for the portal through which Digger enters and exits our universe.

It was a good morning for Digger on SportsCenter, in part because he was fed set-ups that required no specific analysis (say good things about North Carolina, draw parallels between Florida in '06 and Florida in '07, mention that Duke has a good recruiting class coming in), and in part because he was working with Stephen A. Smith.

Unlike during the mildly frenetic face-time grab that tends to characterize the ESPN college basketball studio segments with Rece Davis and the usual, bloated array of personalities (can't call them "analysts" because that would be demeaning to people who actually think and then speak clearly), Digger got to take his time and calmly chat with a subdued Stephen A. Among scenarios least likely to be successful, this one might have jumped out at you had you been surveying a list of them since Stephen A. is paid to sound and act crazy while Digger is inept, but Stephen A. is actually a pretty good interviewer, and the Sunday morning SportsCenter is characteristically calmer than the endless procession of tie-ins, boiled down talking points, and contrivances that comprise a typical episode.

It wouldn't be Digger without convoluted logic and broken English, though, so we now go live to our man Phelps for a daily dose of the inane. Here, he is discussing if the size of the NCAA Tournament field should be expanded, contracted, or kept the same:

Digger: "I think it's perfect. If it isn't broke, don't break it. Take a look: everybody really goes because of your championship tournaments, so you get a shot to go. Miami of Ohio wins the Mid-American Conferece, so they go. They had a horrible year, like 18-15. Let's take the Horizon league as an example. Wright State is playing at home against who? Butler. They win it. And when those guys just jump up and down, get on the floor, those students go crazy--that's all part of it.

Stephen A.: "Hold on, I gotta throw this number at you, though--in 1985, [the field] increased from 53 to 64 teams. In 2001, the number of automatic bids increased from 30 to 31. But since that same time in 1985, the division 1 programs have ballooned from 282 to 336. I mean come on now, that's more than 50 programs--"

Digger: "It doesn't matter. When you look at this Tournament right now, here's Butler that gets in as an at-large. What are they now? In the Sweet 16. That's my whole point. I think you have that chance in your conference tournament to qualify. Of the 34 at-larges, 28 still went to the big-six conference tournaments, but you look at 6 of the mid-majors still get in. Butler is in the sweet 16. That's my answer. Let 'em all play the way it is now. Championship Week is how we have that excitement. This is why we like college basketball."

"If it isn't broke, don't break it." Spoken like a non-English speaker trying to use a common aphorism. Nice job, Digger.

I can't believe Digger's second bit of "reasoning." This is just SO STUPID. It's not even that I disagree, though I do: there definitely should be more mid-majors and fewer mediocre big-conference teams. It's just that this makes NO SENSE.

Digger says: Don't expand the field.
Why? The conference tournaments give you a chance to qualify.
Proof? An at-large team--one that did not win its conference tournament--is in the Sweet 16.

Digger tactily says: Don't expand the field so that more mid-majors can be in it.
Why? 6 mid-majors--fewer than last year, when they were the story of the Tournament (other than Florida)--still got in, and that's enough.
Proof? Butler, a mid-major, is in the Sweet 16, validating the excitement of Championship Week

I mean, come on. This is insulting to the audience, isn't it? A man is telling us that the conference tournament system works because a team that was penalized by it has now made it to the Sweet 16? This same man is telling us that a single mid-major making the Sweet 16 is proof that more of them do not deserve the same opportunity? ESPN must think very little of the general public.

Tommy Amaker Fired

THANK GOD!

At least, from a basketball perspective. Amaker is a great guy who you'd want as your friend. Just not as your coach, since he didn't develop any players and seemed to not know much "basketball strategy."

A Daily Dose of Digger's Dumbness

Why make sense when you can get paid to be stupid?

Let's get a preview of Georgetown-Boston College. Digger, take it away:

Blah blah blah...Big East rivalry...blah blah blah "...has always been intense, but you look at the inside game for Boston College runnin' that 2-3 Flex Offense. The combination of 64 points comin' from Dudley, Marshall, and Rice. That's what they're looking to do. If they have that balance, that's how they want to get Roy Hilbbert (sic) in foul trouble. But Hibbert, on the other side, had a double-double. He is the force in the paint for Georgetown. But it's gotta come down to what Jeff Green can do. He's the Kevin Durant for Georgetown, getting those big points. I look at this to be a key match-up, but Georgetown moves on."

This is what I most hate about Digger Phelps: he just plucks random information and canned jargon out of the air and throws it all together without thinking about whether it makes sense or if he's explaining himself. What exactly is his main point here? Is he talking about what Boston College likes to run? Is he talking about how it will be attacking Georgetown? Is he demonstrating why one team has an advantage over the other?

He starts off with a neutral statement that is designed (I think--it's hard to speculate about the reasoning of a moron) to make Digger sound like he knows what he's talking about. He says "inside game" and "Flex Offense" without connecting why the latter leads to the former and seems to hope that the audience will just be impressed and judge him to be credible given that he's tossed out some basketball term that the average person on the street might not commonly use. (This assumption of course neglects that all anyone ever says about Boston College is Flex this and Flex that.)

Then he trots out a statistic: On Thursday against Texas Tech, Jared Dudley, Sean Marshall, and Tyrece Rice scored 64 points, combined. (We'll give Digger a mulligan on this one and excuse the fact that they actually scored 66. 64 was close.) He's offering this information to reinforce that the inside game from the Flex Offense is--actually, I don't know. He hasn't articulated a specific argument. Logically, you might assume that he's saying BC's inside game was on display against Texas Tech, evidenced by the 66 points. This is flawed too, though, because of those 66 points, 18 came from behind the three-point line and 11 came from the free throw line. So you're down to 37 points that may have come from inside the paint, but this also neglects that some of those points may have been scored on midrange jumpers (though, to be fair, having watched the game, we can anecdotally say that BC scored a lot in the paint). Really, all we're left with here is that Digger knows the names of BC's three most important players and that those three scored a lot on Thursday. In effect, we're left with more empty rhetoric, like his invocation of the Flex. So far, he's told us that BC has an offense and has three players who played well in victory.

The third thing he says is classic Digger: theoretically he's just spent some time addressing BC's inside game and how its offense allows the Eagles to score in the paint. As evidence, he's told us that the three best Eagles scored a combined 64 (sic) points. And so next, of course, he calls this "balance" without ever talking about things like outside shooting, drawing more defenders into the paint to create open looks outside, sharing the ball, or anything other basketball thing connoted by "balance." Then he tells us that using its balance, BC will get Roy Hilbbert (sic) in foul trouble. What is that? No one uses balance, alone, to create fouls. THAT MAKES NO SENSE. Pounding it inside might help draw fouls on Hibbert, but it's not like Digger has really led us to this point following any logical path. And why can't he get anyone's name right?

The rest of what he says is the usual worthless waste of oxygen: Digger lists the names of people he's heard of, spews platitudes, and deems the game (I think?) to be "key." You know, because there are some NCAA Tournament games that aren't key. He also gets fouled up by the word "but," as usual, implying both that Hibbert had a double-double against BC, and that despite the game being "key," Georgetown will still win. I am 100 times stupider now than I was before I saw this.

And how about Texas A&M-Louisville?

Reece Davis says: "Cardinals now get Texas A&M; Cardinals not too far from home Digger."

Digger: "But they like that pressure defense, Rick Pitino, and that's why they got 30 points off of 21 turnovers against Stanford. But can Ed Sosa, the freshman point guard from Louisville, take care of business with who? You got it--Acie Law and Texas A&M. A very talented team, a go to guy, and that A&M defense will shut down Louisville. I look for this to be one of those games where Acie Law is a star."

He starts off with "but"! It's like he's negating that Louisville is playing close to home by pointing out that the Cardinals play pressure defense. What is that? And look at how he uses "Rick Pitino." Is he talking to him? Is he pulling a Digger and just throwing out a random name as he flounders about hoping to sound like he knows what he's talking about? He also calls Rick Pitino "they," which is not English.

Seriously, this is embarrassing.

Let's Do This

I wrote a lot about the Tournament last year. This year, I am just too excited. So picks are below and I will be doing my basketball thing. Peace.

First Round Winners
East: North Carolina, Michigan State, USC, Texas, Vandy, Oral Roberts, BC, Georgetown

South: Ohio State, Xavier, Tennessee, Albany, Louisville, Texas A&M, Creighton, Memphis

Midwest: Florida, Arizona, Old Dominion, Maryland, Winthrop, Oregon, Georgia Tech, Wisconsin

West: Kansas, Villanova, Va Tech, Southern Illinois, VCU, Pitt, Gonzaga, UCLA

Second Round Winners
East: North Carolina, Texas, Vandy, Georgetown

South: Ohio State, Tennessee, Texas A&M, Memphis

Midwest: Florida, Old Dominion, Oregon, Wisconsin

West: Kansas, Southern Illinois, VCU, UCLA

Sweet Sixteen Winners
East: North Carolina, Georgetown

South: Ohio State, Texas A&M

Midwest: Florida, Oregon

West: Kansas, UCLA

Elite Eight Winners
East: North Carolina

South: Texas A&M

Midwest: Florida

West: Kansas

Final Four Winners
Texas A&M, Kansas

Champion
Texas A&M

The New York Times Is Not That Liberal

If the Times could, it might claim that Gore was taking credit for inventing the Earth.

Although, if you pay attention to media, you probably had already figured that out.

The latest example of the Times' not-so-liberal bias was this article about scientists who are concerned that Al Gore has distorted the facts about global warming. I think it's only responsible journalism to tell this story if it exists, and I have no problem with the coverage, in general. But I have two questions: 1) Why write this article now--what's the impetus? 2) Why not frame the story with the obvious point that Gore's film was meant to increase awareness and concern, not provide an authoritative catalogue of the nuance that surrounds the larger general consensus?

An admitted Gore fan, I am perhaps overreacting. And again, I don't think it's bad to tell this story. But isn't the timing sort of odd? Not only has Gore's popularity again surged following the Academy Awards, but there is so much other political news to report. Of course, the Times has covered some other key stories, but any coverage of Gore becomes significant news, and publishing this piece now seems like a deliberate attempt to temper whatever positive sentiment follows Gore and distracts from legitimate concerning events.

And it's not as though the Times has an infallible record covering this man. I mean, back in 2000, wasn't this publication insisting that Gore and George Bush were identical candidates? And wasn't that basically the least truthful way that the 2000 presidential campaign could have been characterized?

Shame on the Times. As usual.

Lanks

Some things to read...

- The Backpacker Manifesto

- Peep game: Not That It Matters

- Oh Word wants to hear from you

- Biggie vs. Belushi

The Roots Show You How to Do This, Son

One of the sad byproducts of my recent schedule was that I missed the Roots performing in New York on Sunday and Monday night. Having seen them about 3 million times, I'm over it, but it sounds like I missed a great show. It looks like I missed some cool shit, too:

Hip-Hop 101 featuring "Award Tour," "Dre Day," "Deep Cover," and "Throw Some D's"


James Brown Tribute


"Roxanne," with ?uestlove on the vocals


Having watched these, I got lost in YouTube land and pulled up some other notable Roots covers. Enjoy:

Tribute to Bono


"I Need Love," "Back Like That"


"Deep Cover," "It's Going Down," "Snap Yo Fingers," "Sexy Back"


"Smooth Criminal"


"Handclapping Song"


Extended James Brown Tribute


"Brown Sugar"

Draw Your Own Conclusions

From a certain ESPN column about how the NCAA Tournament might play out:

16. Long Beach State (12)
Sorry, had to pick the Beach to win two games. I've been a Long Beach supporter ever since Dre' and Snoop brought Compton and the LBC together in "The Chronic." Which reminds me, how much would you pay for a March Madness sequence where a Long Beach State player dunks on a fast break, followed by Gus Johnson losing his mind for a second and screaming, "Long Beach in the motha****** house!" I think I'd pay $750.

Music for a Monday: Sad on a Number of Levels

I have never been one who could offer an insightful summation-in-full of the Notorious B.I.G. and his impact. For as great as he was, for as much as he meant to hip-hop, and for how much time I spend consuming the music and writing about it, you would think that I might be able to summon the appropriate emotional tenor and cohesive perspective required to properly honor a individual whom, even posthumously, remains such a towering presence. But I can't.

Some of the problem is personal: While I loved Biggie's music for its aural and genre-specific virtuosity--the production, his voice, his flow, the lyrical dexterity, the personality that came across--I was never able to fully identify with the urgency of his dismay or the fatalism that forever colored his world view. To the extent that any culture can be understood merely through insulated observation, I took his Bedford-Stuyvesant criminality and despair as a faithful account of a life that I didn't know but with whose participants I could sympathize. A 50-hour-a-week-working, non-violent hip-hop head, I don't think you have to live it to love it, so to speak, but I do think that BIG inspires a unique resonance for some people, and it's a feeling that I don't know.

Some of the problem is also universal: the Notorious B.I.G.--a term I'll use here to collectively mean the man, the music, and what is, in effect, an entire brand--has come to symbolize so much that I don't think any one hip-hop fan can properly explain his impact and the shadow in which so many others now toil. It's easy to become hyperbolic when discussing the departed, and those whom we consider to be legends are already made greater in death than in life, but Biggie will forever be held among the elite when considering both his ability and his significance.

What I can say with the certainty born of significant reflection is that had he only made Ready to Die and laced us with just a few tracks like "Dreams of Fucking," I'd harbor no less esteem for the man. (I mean, in all honesty, Life After Death is too bloated to be a true classic. But that's irrelevant....) Biggie is hip-hop because Biggie was the New York sound so many rap fans will celebrate above just about anything else. Chris Wallace wasn't the founder and he isn't the only significant figure, but no proper account of hip-hop could omit him. And that's because the Biggie that you summon when you think of a quintessential verse, or fondly recall that authoritative flow, or romanticize his feats is the Biggie whose sound crystallized the mid-90s, an era of hip-hop that is sadly long gone. There remains great tragedy in the circumstances that surrounded BIG's passing, and as I've written, the social and cultural implications of his skewed lionization are unsettling, but as a music fan, perhaps most jarring about his death, now a full decade ago, is how badly music has fallen off.

Watch the video above. Even were you to dispense with the obvious nostalgia, I think you'd come away somewhat disturbed that hip-hop is so much more bland and uninspiring than it was as Arsenio was leaving and Biggie was arriving. I mean, say what you will about the Fu-Schnickens, but at least they had their moment. You don't really get groups like that anymore. If some media personality were to fete himself in similar fashion today, who would he call upon? An all-star send-off from 50 Cent, Young Jeezy, T.I., Jim Jones, and Ludacris? That would be embarrassing on a number of levels.

As much as Biggie is missed, I'd think that last Friday might have also served as a reminder of how far astray hip-hop has wandered.

One Reason to Love College Basketball

Y'all Must Have Forgot

I'm not dead. I've just been busy, what with work and LSAT and trying to have a life beyond these interwebs. Regular posting resumes tonight. So much to cover: music, NBA, Tournament, the idiocy of Digger Phelps, Biggie.

Sorry for the extended absence. Some treats to win you back. Eat the cake!

- Camp Lo, "Feelin' It"

- Joe Budden, "Last Real N***a Left"

- Beanie Sigel, "Return of the Bad Guy"
Rappers will NEVER get tired of Scarface.