Posts tagged ‘sports’

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January 3, 2013

Not All It’s Cracked Up to Be…

Fiesta Bowl Matchup

Fiesta Bowl Matchup

A couple of months ago it looked like the University of Oregon might play Kansas State University in the BCS National Championship Game. That prospect made me smile. There aren’t a lot of us Oregonians exiled to transplanted in Kansas, and I was relishing the opportunity to carry the banner of trash talk for my home state.

Those plans were dealt a blow when both teams lost, but as fate would have it the two schools will end up meeting tonight in the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl. And once again, it’s on like LeBronkey Kong.

But in all honesty, the situation isn’t as fun as I thought it might be. There’s been some friendly jesting, but I haven’t found myself able to really let loose the trash talking acumen that once won me a spot on a Jim Rome Smackoff. I’d like to think that most of this can be attributed to my maturity and the development of my character, but I think there are three more likely reasons:

  • The Fans – K-State fans are the nicest fans you’ll meet. While passionate for their teams, for the most part they aren’t a bunch of haters. There are certain opponents that will raise their ire, but they don’t view you as an enemy just because you’re on their schedule. I even had a K-State grad give me a sweet Oregon hoodie/hat set that he had laying around and wasn’t going to wear. And the extent of the good-natured ribbing I’ve received from K-State fans has been along the lines of “Duck Hunt” and “#Duckface.” No talk of mothers, or anything below the belt. K-State fans have healthy pride in their state and their school, and even if they lose they will do so with grace and dignity. They are the best kind of sports fans, and essentially the opposite of L*kers/Y*nkees/S*unders fans.
  • The Coach – Bill Snyder built K-State football from the worst program into the country into a national power. He retired and they wanted to put his name on the stadium, but he made sure they called it “Bill Snyder Family” stadium. Then the school’s bad AD hired a bad coach, and together they burned the whole thing to the ground (essentially embezzling money from the University in the process). So Snyder returns and builds the whole thing back almost immediately. It was a comeback that rivals Jordan’s second stint with the Bulls. He’s a high-character guy who has done it all the right way. He identifies players that recruiting services don’t see much in, and coaches them to BCS bowls and Heisman Trophy ceremonies. He’s class, character and determination, and a guy that you want to see succeed under most circumstances. Oregon’s been able to take the moral high ground in recent bowls (I’m looking at you, Ohio State and Auburn), but with issues on the horizon for Oregon it’s impossible to claim the moral high ground when going up against coach Snyder.
  • The Finality – It’s tough to forsee a situation where Oregon and K-State play again in the near (or even distant) future. If Oregon wins, I get bragging rights essentially in perpetuity. If Oregon loses, everywhere I go people will be pointing to the scoreboard. As much as “Win The Day” is the mantra, an Oregon win tonight could either carry me or bury me for a good long while. In the regrettable immortal words of Brent Musburger, “This one’s for all the Tositos.” It’s wise to temper one’s brashness in such situations. You don’t want your mouth writing checks it can’t cash.

All of that to say, it’s still been fun to go back and forth with my K-State friends over the past month. It’s not like I could totally keep my mouth shut. And should Oregon win tonight, I’ll try to be gracious and not bring up how purple tears taste more delicious than grape Kool-aid on a warm summer day. If anyone would like to seek safe haven in a pro-Oregon environment tonight, you know where to find me. We’ll be green and gold and all-O everything. May the best Duck win.

**Bonus coverage from my 7-yr old daughter**

–I was helping my daughter pick out her clothes yesterday morning and let her know that we’d all be wearing our Ducks gear today because they had a really big game against K-State. She responded, “Oh. Mrs. S (her teacher) probably won’t be at school tomorrow, then. She really likes the Wildcats.”

–As we were watching The Rose Bowl, a Tostitos Fiesta Bowl commercial came on. She perked up and payed close attention. Her hard-hitting analysis following the ad? “I really like those chips. They’re good.”

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June 3, 2011

an ode to Shaq

I’ve been an NBA fan my entire life. An ardent follower of my hometown team, only three non-Blazers were ever able to earn my affection. Michael Jordan did it by being the best player to play during my lifetime. David Robinson did it by being a nice guy and playing the piano in addition to dominating at the position I played growing up. And Shaquille O’Neal did it by capturing my imagination.

Shaq first hit my radar during his Sophomore year at LSU. I was 10 years old, and started to hear sports-talk radio heads hype up this dude down South who was (apparently) killing it. I saw a couple of his games on TV, and was mesmerized. When he came back for his Junior year, he came back even better. I couldn’t wait for him to get to the NBA.

When he did land in The Association, he did so in Orlando. The bad news was that he would only play the Blazers twice each year, so I wouldn’t get to see him in action as much as I would have liked. The good news was that he would only play the Blazers twice each year, so he wouldn’t be able to destroy them on a regular basis.

As the years would pass, Shaq’s career would have it’s ups and downs. He tore down a backboard one Sunday afternoon. I didn’t get to see it live since I was at church, but the ensuring delay allowed me to catch the end of the game when we got home. He had some forays into the entertainment industry that my teenage self thought were pretty sweet (see: Blue Chips and a rap collabo with Fu-Schnickens). He played with some very exciting players in a number of different cities. He won three Championships. He was a fixture at the All-Star Game. At times, he dominated the paint. At other times, he showed complacency and a disinterest in maintaining his quality.

Through it all, I never broke up with Shaq. I defended him to my wife over the past decade whenever he showed up on TV. I even stuck with him (as much as possible) through his years with the L*kers. He rewarded my faithfulness by beefing with Kobe, eventually delivering a memorable rap dis. Pretty much ensured I’d be a Shaq fan for life.

After 21 years, it appears as though I’ve watched Shaq play basketball for the last time. From a basketball perspective, it’s time. He had a long and memorable career,  but his body is wearing down and he’s not the force he used to be. I’m happy for him. But at the same time, this is a turning point in my life as an NBA fan. The last of my childhood heroes has left the league, and now I’m the old guy who will forever talk about players that my kids will never remember. There is one less NBA baller older than me. It’s the end of an era.

I made it a point to watch Shaq’s retirement press conference today. He held it in his 70,000 square foot house (not a typo, btw). He was charming and funny and sentimental. Even self-aware and vulnerable. It sounds like he’ll be doing broadcast work when the NBA figures out how all of the rich guys can stay rich.

I can’t wait.

Thanks for everything, Shaq.

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March 17, 2011

jalen rose, grant hill and my racial self-identity

A trifecta of nostalgia has been taking me back to my formative years this past week. The anniversary of The Notorious BIG’s death, the death of Nate Dogg and ESPN’s feature on the Fab Five. That last one has gotten the most play over the last couple of days. It’s unsurprising, considering how volatile the subject matter is.

Truehoop has a good video recap of the combustible portion of the Fab Five feature, where Jalen Rose gets real.

Schools like Duke didn’t recruit players like me,” explains Jalen Rose in the video. “I felt that they only recruited black players that were Uncle Toms. … I was jealous of Grant Hill. He came from a great black family. Congratulations. Your mom went to college and was roommates with Hillary Clinton. Your dad played in the NFL as a very well-spoken and successful man. I was upset and bitter that my mom had to bust her hump for 20-plus years. I was bitter that I had a professional athlete that was my father that I didn’t know. I resented that, moreso than I resented him. I looked at it as they are who the world accepts and we are who the world hates

In response, Grant Hill has some published some pointed words in the New York Times.

To hint that those who grew up in a household with a mother and father are somehow less black than those who did not is beyond ridiculous. All of us are extremely proud of the current Duke team, especially Nolan Smith. He was raised by his mother, plays in memory of his late father and carries himself with the pride and confidence that they instilled in him.

The sacrifice, the effort, the education and the friendships I experienced in my four years are cherished. The many Duke graduates I have met around the world are also my “family,” and they are a special group of people. A good education is a privilege.

Just as Jalen has founded a charter school in Michigan, we are expected to use our education to help others, to improve life for those who need our assistance and to use the excellent education we have received to better the world. …

I caution my fabulous five friends to avoid stereotyping me and others they do not know in much the same way so many people stereotyped them back then for their appearance and swagger. I wish for you the restoration of the bond that made you friends, brothers and icons.

I’m behind Hill’s response. It’s eloquent. It’s pointed. It needed to be said. However, I’m not convinced that Jalen Rose is the bad guy here. If you call someone an “Uncle Tom” on national TV it’s going to get attention. But in context, I think Jalen Rose is channeling the voice of his teenage self. In doing so, he shows a level of vulnerability and honesty that rings true to a pathology that is prevalent among urban black boys even to this day.

It reminds me of a story my boss used to tell when I was doing urban ministry. He was at the Boys & Girls club one day and noticed there was a boy who was studying while most of the other kids were playing around. When the boy’s dad arrived to pick him up, he started tearing the kid down.

“Are you studying? Don’t you know that only white kids study? Are you trying to act white?”

My boss would then pose a question as he wrapped the story. How damning is that? This idea that you, because of the color of your skin, are expected to do poorly in school. When your racial self-concept is negative, that’s a huge problem.  It was a problem for Rose and made him “jealous” and resentful as a teenager working through expectation, racial reality and self-concept.

On a personal level, I find the “conversation” between Rose and Hill interesting.  My family looked more like Grant Hill’s family*.  Two parent. Valued education. Suburban. That was the environment I grew up in, with the added dynamic that I’m biracial.  And yet, I always disliked Duke and Grant Hill.

*Actually, of all the people in the film, my experience would most resemble Chris Webber (kid of color from the ‘burbs) with the exception that I wasn’t actually that good at basketball. Minor difference.

It goes all the way back to when I was 10 years old and Duke played UNLV in the National Semifinals. Played and BEAT UNLV, as a matter of fact. I really wanted UNLV to win that game, and to an extent I think my rooting interest was racial. UNLV was mostly black and had serious swag. Not to hate on the Fab 5, but they get credit for a lot of stuff that UNLV actually pioneered. It wasn’t like 10 year-old me was sitting around saying, “I hate Duke because they’re white”. It was more a matter of really being drawn to UNLV, to their “blackness” and their style, and then being ticked that Duke had derailed them.

That sentiment carried over through the years. When the Fab 5 rolled around, I fully embraced them. I had a Michigan hat. A Michigan shooting shirt. I bought the wristbands and shoes I saw the Fab 5 wearing and sported them on the court. And yet, all the while I was killing it academically. Getting good grades all through high school. Doing internships in medical labs during the summer. Without being aware of it, I was living a dual reality. To be successful (and cool with the white kids at my school), I had to be Grant Hill.  To be cool with my black teammates, I had to be Jalen Rose. And my white friends found my “Rose-ness”…I don’t know…interesting, endearing, exotic, whatever.

My impression of Jalen Rose is that he’s grown up a lot since his Fab 5 days. Dude is a pro and has seen a lot of the world over the years.  I honestly wish that the part of the movie in question were longer, because that would have given more room for nuance and reflection. Probably wouldn’t have been entertaining and combustible, though.

As I process all of that, I’m struck again at how one of the most important tasks for those who work with urban black youth is to help them develop a positive racial identity. One that embraces the reality that it’s ok to be black and smart. One that doesn’t define blackness by cultural norms and stereotypes that are detrimental to overall personal and community wholeness. And that’s a tough calling, because the pull of those cultural norms and stereotypes can be so strong.

You can keep handing out your backpacks and school supplies, if you want. But without a paradigm shift it won’t do a ton of good.

Renew and Restore

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February 4, 2011

a tempting job opportunity

I love my job. A lot. I’m not looking for a different job. I’m not applying for any other job.

But that doesn’t mean I’m above temptation.

The Manny emailed me earlier this week with an interesting career opportunity.  It appears that the Kansas City Royals are hiring a new mascot. And according to the job description, this is a full time position.

I’ve never considered entering the mascot profession before. Now that I’ve had a few days to try on the idea, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d be amazing at it.

A little known fact about me is that I’m an enthusiastic dancer. Not a good dancer. But an enthusiastic dancer. My gangly arms and legs can move in ways you wouldn’t think possible. And these hips don’t lie, baby. These hips don’t lie.

And certainly I can be far more sporting than the previous people who have filled the Sluggerrr* role.

That’s right, people.  “Sluggerrr” with three, and EXACTLY three, “R’s”. No more. No Less. The King of the Jungle. The King of Baseball.

A couple of years ago The Manny and I attended a late season Royal’s game. They were playing the Tigers (The Manny’s favorite team), and it was Buck Night.  All of the $1 hotdogs, peanuts and small sodas you could digest/afford. Too bad for us, we didn’t know we’d have an opportunity to get FREE cooled hotdogs chucked our way in the seventh inning from Sluggerrr.

As fate would have it on this particular night, Sluggerrr did the famed hot dog launch from our section.  Shot a few out of the hot dog gun. Dropped some over the ledge to the lower level. Even soft-tossed some to us fans in the upper deck.

The longer Sluggerrr’s schtick goes on, the more kids gather around him pandering for a cold dog. One particularly portly kid is getting quite excited, and starts slapping his chest as he screams at the loveable lion. “C’mon Sluggerrr! Hit me with a dog! Right here! Let’s see what ya got!” This goes on and on and I start to get worried that the insufferable lad is going to pass out. The way his face is turning red, he’s clearly diverted all blood flow to his head to the point where that vein on the side of his dome is struggling to stretch far enough to accomodate the rush. His air intake-to-usage ratio is way too low. Seriously, how long can he keep this up?

Finally, Sluggerrr has had enough. He’s been pushed over the edge. As if having to get people fired up for the worst team in baseball in triple-digit heat isn’t indignity enough, now Little Jet Porkins is being an insufferable little brat. So Sluggerrr does what any self-respecting mascot would do.

He starts chucking hot dogs right at the kid’s chest. Not tossing. Not lobbing. Chucking. Finger-down fastball chucking.

Other than a little rivalry between Dmitri Young and my friend John T. at my first Royals game ever one 4th of July, Sluggerrr’s meltdown is my favorite Royal’s memory.

That’s what happens when you root for what I would have to imagine is the losingest team of the last decade. When the product on the field rarely brings you joy, you hold onto any memories that make you smile. And that one makes me smile.

Will I be applying to be the next Sluggerrr? No. But if it wasn’t for the four hour commute, I’d think about it.

Renew and Restore

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October 26, 2010

calling my shot: nba tipoff 2010

image via ESPN

The first Blazers game of the season is in the running for my favorite annual holiday.  I pick out a special outfit ahead of time, have a hard time sleeping the night before, and stay up way too late watching the first game.  They are my first sports love, and will always be so.  And this year I am completely infatuated.

I’ve started the habit of calling my shot on Twitter/Facebook whenever a team I root for starts a season. During NFL training camp I predicted that the Chiefs would (a) finish higher than the Broncos and (b) make the playoffs.  Broncos fans mocked me incredulously. Well look who’s laughing now, suckers.  Me.

At the beginning of college football season I tweeted that Oregon would dominate the football landscape this year.  Half right on that one.

And now tonight the NBA tips.  I am standing in defiance of my wife’s edict that I not wear straight-billed hats around town by sporting a New Era Blazers fitted that I picked up in Portland last May.  The students on Conservative Christian College Campus in the Midwest are…pleasantly surprised. I’m sporting my silver, red, black and white stripped sweater with dark gray herringbone trousers.  Team colors.  And I’m staying up past Midnight to watch the game this evening, even though I was up with my son at 5am.

It’ll be worth it, too.  This team is going to be good.  Win the division good.  Better than the media darling O(verrated)KC Thunder good.  Better than the L*kers, good?  Not sure I can go there yet, though I’d really like to.

I understand why people like the Thunder to be better than the Blazers this year.  I do.  But it’s like Jack Black always says (well, at least when he’s channeling his inner AC/DC)…”It’s a long way to the top when you want to rock and roll“. And the Thunder are primed for a step back.  They are primed to struggle with some injuries for once.  They are in one of the toughest divisions in the NBA with teams that have more veterans and better coaches.  Shoot, I fear the Jazz way more than I fear the Thunder.  But I think Portland can take them both.

And then they are going to win at least two playoff series.

And from there we’ll see what happens.  But I’m optimistic.

That’s my shot, and I’m sticking to it.

Renew and Restore

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February 9, 2010

when technology takes you old school

Stacy and I have a deal.  She carried/birthed/feeds Zachary, and I wash the breast pump every night.  I don’t quite remember how the details got hammered out, but clearly I had just read a very good book on effective bargaining techniques.

The pump is a fantastic invention for the working mom.  Baby gets fed on the cheap, once you negate the steep $250 in start up-costs.  It even comes with a fashionable carrying bag.  Stylish and practical.

What the pump is not, however, is tough.  You’re not supposed to put it in the dishwasher.  Technically, you can steam sanitize the thing, but it doesn’t hold up well to the constant barrage of micro-waves.  That leaves washing by hand.  Every…single…night.

So washing the pump is my job.  Bottles too.  It’s the least I can do (quite literally).

I really don’t mind the throwback of doing dishes by hand.  The ashy hands are a bit of a drag.  The main upside is that it’s given me the chance to rediscover one of my first loves: listening to basketball on the radio.  Now by “radio” I mean “radio broadcasts streamed over the internet to my iPhone”, but still.

Growing up I listened to just about every Blazers game on the radio.  620 KGW or 1190 KEX, depending on the era.  The Schonz would croon me to sleep on the nights I couldn’t quite stay up late enough to hear how the boys did.

Then I grew up and moved halfway across the country.  For some reason, there are not Blazers radio affiliates in Kansas.  I strongly considered dropping the 100 bones on the NBA broadband package this year so that I could watch all of the games.  In the end, I decided not to because (a) it’s pretty  much the busiest year of my life and (b) there were enough games on ESPN/TNT/ABC/NBATV to get me by.

Enter Plan B.  There is an official NBA iPhone app that streams all of the radio broadcasts.  At $10, the price was so right.  And as an added bonus, I am now not subject to the Blazers terrible, horrible, no good, very bad TV announcing crew. There are four commas in that last sentence, but absolutely no hyperbole.  They might be the worst TV crew in all of pro sports.

If you can’t find me on game night, just check the kitchen.  I’ll be the guy at the sink, washing dishes by hand and listening to play-by-play on the radio (sort of).  I’m retro.  Back in time.  A throwback to a bygone era.  Old school.

All thanks to the wonders of modern technology.

Renew and Restore

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December 16, 2009

wednesday watchlist: sick wit’ it

In early July 2006, I got sick.  Very sick.  The sickest I’ve ever been.  If the symptom was listed on a bottle of NyQuil, I had it to the max.  It was so bad that I had to back out of a work trip and spend 5 days on the couch.  When the 4th of July rolled around, I didn’t even smoke any meat.  Proof right there that something was seriously wrong.

There was a blessing to come out of the plague.  My time on the couch was well-scheduled in that it afforded me the opportunity to watch a nice chunk of the 2006 World Cup, including what was a very entertaining USA v. Italy matchup.  I had always liked and respected soccer, but that tournament helped me fall in love with soccer.  Those were the days.

If you wonder why I’m waxing sentimental about those good ol’ days, might I point you to excerpts from my Twitter feed on December 4, 2009.

Now that the Rose Bowl is sorted out, we cam move onto pressing international matters…like today’s World Cup 2010 draw. 8:48 AM Dec 4th from qTweeter

would love for the US to draw Italy or England. Def. want a piece of those cats. #worldcupdraw

aiight. here we go.. #worldcupdraw 10:55 AM Dec 4th from TweetDeck

USA v. ENGLAND…..HECKS YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. Revolutionary war all over again!!!!!!! #Worldcupdraw 11:10 AM Dec 4th from TweetDeck

DANGIT!!!! Just realized Stacy’s family has a camping trip scheduled the day of England v. USA. *cough* i’m coming down with something 11:12 AM Dec 4th from TweetDeck

*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk** 11:13 AM Dec 4th from TweetDeck

For the record, I love my in-laws.  They are the best in-laws a guy could ask for.  They have given me the two greatest gifts a man could ever receive: Stacy’s hand in marriage and tickets to Star Wars In Concert.  And I love camping with them.  It’s very fun.

I. Love. My. In-laws.

That being said, I need to watch that match.  Need to watch it live.  It’s a matter of patriotism and pride.  Yeah, the US is probably going to get waxed in the match.  But in the unlikely event that we can earn a draw, or unlikeliest event that we pull out a victory, I need to see it.  Did I mention NEED?

I’m confident a solution can be mediated.  We are camping close to Wichita, and I plan on submitting an official request for a 4-hour day pass for the day of the match.  But in the event my request is denied, I need a backup plan.  I’ll be taking it back to 2006 and figuring out a way to get sick.  Very, very sick.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, which I now present you in the form of this week’s Wednesday Watchlist:

  1. Kick my clementine orange habit – Every winter, I start pounding those little suckers.  4-5 at a time, a couple of times each day.  That much vitamin C has to be turning my immune system into an impenatrable fortress.  That’s no good if you are trying to get sick.
  2. Stop washing my hands, and start eating with my hands – It’s sick.  But that’s the point.
  3. Open my mouth and dive into the blast radius when people sneeze – I might want to invest in some goggles.  It gets messy.
  4. Kiss as many babies as possible – Babies are disgusting.  They always have snot and drool on their faces, and they put everything in their mouths.  Oh, and they crawl all over the floor.  Gotta be a lot of germs for the taking there.
  5. Lick Stacy’s stethoscope, hospital shoes and white coat every night before bed – Great tactic, as long as she hasn’t delivered any babies that day.  I have my limits.

I’ll keep everyone posted during the negotiation process. I hope it doesn’t come down to enacting the above strategies.

Renew and Restore

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July 14, 2009

my retirement

I thought about calling a press conference today, but that seemed a bit overkill.  A simple press release posted on this site should suffice.  In the interest of preventing tons of interview requests from ESPN, CNN and other Media blogs, I am granting full reprint rights of this release.

Today I am announcing my retirement from Fantasy Football.

This decision has been a couple of months in the making.  I was thinking about goals I have for the coming year and how much time it would take to realize them.  Specifically, I’d really like to get down on paper the story of a guy who wins money on a gameshow and adopts an amazing little girl before said little girl gets too old and all of the memories fade to unreliability.

But endeavors such as that take a good clip of time, and time is not something my life has an abundance of right now.  To excel in a new arena requires I give something up, and that “something” is fantasy sports.  There’s even a good chance I might have to give up one or two more “somethings” along the way.

The final decision to hang up my clipboard came this week as I started to get the itch to begin my draft board.  This is the time of year that I start draft prep, so I poked around a couple of websites to get the draft juices flowing.  But this year things just didn’t seem right.  They always say that any time a competitor starts to loose that fire, you should just hang it up.

So this football season will be very different.  I probably won’t know who the third string running back is on each team.  I won’t be tempted to sit down and watch two last-place teams slog out a brutal game announced by the last-choice pair of announcers.  There will be no compulsion to root against the Chiefs so that my fantasy team can rack up a few extra points.  Shoot, as much as the Manny and I enjoy watching soccer, it will likely get more screen time than the NFL does this year.

There will undoubtedly be moments of temptation over the next six weeks.  Lucrative offers to get back in the game.  But I will remain resolute in my stance.

Granted, I always reserve the right to go all Jordan45 on cats come 2010 and beyond.  I’m just sayin’.  Sometimes a dude gets the itch.

Renew and Restore

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