LeBron James and Dwayne Wade were at the Miami-UNC game.
Think about that. @KingJames and Wade (who would have never considered playing for the Hurricanes as 18 year-olds) were sitting court side wearing glasses they don’t actually need to see the U play an unranked UNC. It was an incredible show of validation for the hottest thing going in college basketball.
Miami has two bad losses, one against Florida Gulf Coast in just the second game of the season and the other in overtime against Indiana State on Christmas Day in Hawaii in a game I’m sure no one wanted to play or watch. But since, the Canes have been on an absolute tear, winning on average by nearly 14 in conference play. They are 10-0 in the ACC. They’ve routed both UNC and Duke. They're currently the favorite to earn the number one overall seed in the tournament.
So why is it, with a team playing as well as anyone in any season, are sports writers, analysts, and fans (myself included) continuing to lament the end of great, legendary teams in college basketball?
It's time we all changed what it means to be great.
In my generation, the sport has been dominated by four programs: Duke, UNC, Kentucky, and UConn. Combined, they’ve won 13 titles since 1991. Florida, Kansas, and Michigan State have had great, Final Four teams during this time as well, and they’ve all produced top level, pro talent. Just off the top of my head, I can think of ten NBA All-Stars and two sure-fire Hall of Famers (Grant Hill and Antwan Jamison).
As a fan of one of the 200 or so other D-1 schools, this is very, very boring.
In sports, parity can be an incredible asset and the lack thereof can be a debilitating weakness. (The contrasting trends in popularity between the NFL and MLB is a perfect example.) When more teams have a shot, more fans watch. March Madness is the biggest “any team can win” tournament in American sports, and its television ratings were at an 18 year high in 2012 (even with Duke and UConn losing in the first round). Even when VCU and Butler made the Final Four in 2011, ratings were tied for the highest since 2005. That period includes the 2008 tourney when all four top seeds made it to the final weekend
Miami doesn’t look the part of a traditional powerhouse program, but, ironically, it has so much that basketball romantics romanticize. The team is mostly upperclassmen, the best player is a senior (Durand Scott), and all five starters average nine points or more. If the Hurricanes can win at Cameron on March second, this team has a legit shot to go undefeated in conference play. (Something the ’05 and ’08 Tar Heels couldn’t do.) The only difference between this team and the “great” teams before is Miami is winning without consensus All-Americans or lottery picks. And isn’t that more exciting? And more impressive?
College basketball has problems, but problems shouldn’t be confused with change. The game is different than it was in 1973, ‘83’, ’93, and ’03, so why would it not continue progressing in 2013? Rather than singing dirges of what’s been lost, why not embrace that the sport has become wide open with can’t miss excitement every night? Baseball would kill for something like that. Especially in Miami.
Showing posts with label Lebron James. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lebron James. Show all posts
Monday, February 11, 2013
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Straight Cash, Homie.
For 13 professional years (and who knows how many years before) Randy Moss committed the unpardonable, cardinal sin of athletes. A transgression far more egregious to the world than any Pacman Jones “scrip” club brawl or Barry Bonds dirty syringes.
Moss, an athletic phoneme the likes of which we may never see again, was an absolute waste of talent. Period.
You couldn’t help but watch the Randy Moss train wreck, even if you wanted to turn in disgust.
“Randy has weighed his options and considered the offers and has decided to retire,” his agent Joel Segal said.
No “Thank you, fans”. No “It was an honor to play”. No “I want to spend more time with my family”. Moss didn’t even acknowledge earning millions as a football player was an enjoyable experience. Apparently his career wasn’t enough of an insult.
I realize I will never know even a shred of the answer to this question, but it begs considering: Why?
How do freakish talents like Moss, Albert Haynesworth, or Jamarcus Russell, find their way to the upper echelon of their sport only live out their careers as apathetic, puffed up egos in size eighteen shoes.
One would think the public disdain alone would drive someone to at least change their outward appearance. To go the Office Space route and give the illusion they’re working if only to appease the die-hard fan base. But for Moss and co., such rationale is met with bristled indignation.
There are disgruntled employees in every profession. Whether it’s Google or McDonald’s, someone will complain about every aspect of work and try to make every other employee’s work life miserable. Moss is the guy working in the next desk who wants to drag you into his world where no one seems to see the entitlement he’s been denied.
Where this is so much worse, though, is that Moss was given truckloads more than the discontent guy working next to you... and it was never close to enough to appease him.
In Bill Simmons June 13 post on Game 6 of the NBA finals, he wrote that Lebron might be the greatest, pure talent we will ever see, but he refuses to live up to his potential. This, he argues, is what ultimately drives the fires behind the Lebron hatred. Rather than step up to the moment and carry the fans to the glory they’re craving, Lebron hung around the perimeter and tried to look busy.
He later balked at reporters who dared question his talent and determination, roaring back with the obvious revelation that his life is better than everyone else’s.
In so many ways, Moss makes Lebron look like a first grade gym teacher. Lebron at least craves praise and approval. Moss seems to scoff at it.
It’s enough to make me wonder if some superstar athletes are so disconnected from reality that they can’t get out of their own way and enjoy their lives. Carlos Zambrano nearly walked away from $24 million because of an out of control temper tantrum and impulsive retirement claim after being ejected from a game against Atlanta. James Harrison can’t open his mouth without alienating half of his teammates, let alone the NFL brass. James would be a golden god had he stayed in Cleveland. And who knows the untold millions Tiger Woods lost because he chose flings with porn stars over his wife and kids.
For athletes who’ve been given every advantage, physically and monetarily, it’s amazing how often they stomp on their own success just when it’s there for the taking.
My favorite short story is Hemingway’s “Snows of Kilimanjaro”, which tells the story of a dying writer’s final thoughts as a gangrene infection slowly kills him. He begins reviewing his life, realizing the potential he traded for luxury and ease. The more he realizes his waste, the more he lashes out at his adoring female companion, blaming her wealth as his ultimate downfall. He dies bitter and angry, having never written what meant most to him.
Moss will now retire to a posh home, rubbing elbows with America’s elite and wealthy, and will never be forced to endure another day of thinking outside himself. But one day, whether tomorrow or 30 years from now, Moss will realize what he could have been. Millions of dollars can’t amend regret.
Moss, an athletic phoneme the likes of which we may never see again, was an absolute waste of talent. Period.
You couldn’t help but watch the Randy Moss train wreck, even if you wanted to turn in disgust.
“Randy has weighed his options and considered the offers and has decided to retire,” his agent Joel Segal said.
No “Thank you, fans”. No “It was an honor to play”. No “I want to spend more time with my family”. Moss didn’t even acknowledge earning millions as a football player was an enjoyable experience. Apparently his career wasn’t enough of an insult.
I realize I will never know even a shred of the answer to this question, but it begs considering: Why?
How do freakish talents like Moss, Albert Haynesworth, or Jamarcus Russell, find their way to the upper echelon of their sport only live out their careers as apathetic, puffed up egos in size eighteen shoes.
One would think the public disdain alone would drive someone to at least change their outward appearance. To go the Office Space route and give the illusion they’re working if only to appease the die-hard fan base. But for Moss and co., such rationale is met with bristled indignation.
There are disgruntled employees in every profession. Whether it’s Google or McDonald’s, someone will complain about every aspect of work and try to make every other employee’s work life miserable. Moss is the guy working in the next desk who wants to drag you into his world where no one seems to see the entitlement he’s been denied.
Where this is so much worse, though, is that Moss was given truckloads more than the discontent guy working next to you... and it was never close to enough to appease him.
In Bill Simmons June 13 post on Game 6 of the NBA finals, he wrote that Lebron might be the greatest, pure talent we will ever see, but he refuses to live up to his potential. This, he argues, is what ultimately drives the fires behind the Lebron hatred. Rather than step up to the moment and carry the fans to the glory they’re craving, Lebron hung around the perimeter and tried to look busy.
He later balked at reporters who dared question his talent and determination, roaring back with the obvious revelation that his life is better than everyone else’s.
In so many ways, Moss makes Lebron look like a first grade gym teacher. Lebron at least craves praise and approval. Moss seems to scoff at it.
It’s enough to make me wonder if some superstar athletes are so disconnected from reality that they can’t get out of their own way and enjoy their lives. Carlos Zambrano nearly walked away from $24 million because of an out of control temper tantrum and impulsive retirement claim after being ejected from a game against Atlanta. James Harrison can’t open his mouth without alienating half of his teammates, let alone the NFL brass. James would be a golden god had he stayed in Cleveland. And who knows the untold millions Tiger Woods lost because he chose flings with porn stars over his wife and kids.
For athletes who’ve been given every advantage, physically and monetarily, it’s amazing how often they stomp on their own success just when it’s there for the taking.
My favorite short story is Hemingway’s “Snows of Kilimanjaro”, which tells the story of a dying writer’s final thoughts as a gangrene infection slowly kills him. He begins reviewing his life, realizing the potential he traded for luxury and ease. The more he realizes his waste, the more he lashes out at his adoring female companion, blaming her wealth as his ultimate downfall. He dies bitter and angry, having never written what meant most to him.
Moss will now retire to a posh home, rubbing elbows with America’s elite and wealthy, and will never be forced to endure another day of thinking outside himself. But one day, whether tomorrow or 30 years from now, Moss will realize what he could have been. Millions of dollars can’t amend regret.
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