In modern American culture, the NFL’s popularity dwarfs every other sport so badly it’s not even an intelligent debate. As ESPN’s Mike Greenberg put it, “It’s the most popular thing in American culture.” The Super Bowl is consistently the most watched event of the year, stadiums across the country are sold out almost every week, and even the most ardent haters of professional sports are up to date on the NFL.
But as the league fights with its players over how to divide the absurd $9 billion in annual revenue, a giant, pink elephant has pulled up a chair at the negotiating table.
Differing from other sports like baseball, soccer, and basketball, football is the perfect combination of strategy and brute strength. With this perfect balance, however, comes the dangers of being caught between elite athleticism and “tough guy” culture. The result is a game that kills its players.
As we scream at our HD, 3D, Double D, home theaters for bigger, more crushing hits, players are being ground like Big Mac patties and kicked to the curb in less than four years. What life awaits them? Hopelessness, to the tune of 78 percent who find themselves divorced, bankrupt or unemployed.
As bad as this sounds, it doesn’t come close to the crippled, post football lives hundreds of players are left to endure. In a 2008 article from Men’s Journal, Paul Solotaroff describes the miserable life of former Jacksonville Jaguar and Cincinnati Bengal Brian DeMarco, who lives in excruciating, constant pain from a broken back that was “doctored” with just a few shots of lidocaine.
“Although the house is cool, he is sweating profusely and can’t find a position, seated or prone, that doesn’t cause him grotesque pain. Every so often his huge body jerks in spasms from head-to-toe agony. The fits, when they come, turn him as white as the walls and send un-self-conscious tears down his cheeks. It’s DeMarco at thirty-five: dirt-poor, broken, and in a headfirst spiral, taking his wife and children down with him.”
Chicago Sun-Times writer Rick Telander described the life of Bears Hall of Famer Doug Atkins in his 2008 article, “Atkins: A Study of Pride and Pain”. Tucked away in the country roads surrounding Knoxville, TN is the man legendary Bears’ coach George Halas called the best defensive end of his time.??? Atkins, however, lives as a recluse and can barely move around his dilapidated home.
Telander writes, “The house has its curtains drawn. There are two old cars in the carport, one of them very old... There’s a wooden wheelchair ramp that looks weathered and unused leading to the front door. Two tiny American flags on the wall next to the carport. No lights on. No decorations.”
In February, fellow Bears great Dave Duerson shot himself in the chest with the intent of donating his brain to science in order to identify the degenerative disease caused by his years of brutal hits on the field that was tearing his mind apart.
Former Philadelphia Eagle Andre Waters shot himself because of depression caused by “sustained brain damage from playing football.”
Former New England Patriot Ted Johnson suffers from crippling bouts of depression.
Hall of Famer Mike Webster died at age fifty, surviving on enough prescription drugs to make Walgreen’s jealous.
Chicago Bears great Jim McMahon has lost most of his memory due to football injuries.
Sadly, I could go on much longer than you’re willing to read.
In the wake of new, vigilant rules to prevent traumatic brain injuries, Sports Illustrated reported a new study from Purdue University claiming even minor hits can be just as traumatic to the brain as the crushing blows that light up the evening Sportscenter.
NFL players honestly need the money because their health is constantly on the line, regardless of their superstardom (ask Bo Jackson). At any moment, more so than any other major American athletic activity, a football player’s ability to function in life is at risk. They are already giving up later years of their lives in order to give the American public what it wants; conflict, violence, and triumph.
With this in mind, it begs the question; Is watching professional football the modern equivalent to watching gladiators of ancient Rome?
To which the follow up question is; Why do we watch?
Through a series of blogs, I will explore several themes found within the NFL and what they reflect about American culture, particularly among males.
It’s social commentary at it’s college town coffee shop finest.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Bruce is Not the Only One to Blame
When I was young, I loved Magic Johnson. I wasn’t a Lakers fan or the son of a Lakers fan. No one in my family went to Michigan State, and no one played basketball. My parents didn’t even watch the NBA. But for my birthday, my primary school friend Kyle gave me “Magic Johnson’s Double Jam”. It was a bedroom basketball goal with two nets, a timer, and a scoreboard. The goal of the game was to score more baskets in your net than your opponent, and Magic would tell you how great you were. It was as fun as it sounds.
As the third child with two older sisters, I spent most of my time by myself. My basketball goal became my path to NBA glory as I alternated between being Magic and Michael Jordan (the goals were yellow and red). I took countless game winning shots while my game clock counted down the seconds over and over and over. Magic’s smiling face watched from his spot on the backboard.
When the news broke that Magic was HIV positive, I tried to find a way to hold his image together. The idea he could have contracted this disease by running around on his wife was unthinkable. In my immaturity, I wanted him to be the victim of a tragic mistake, and I told my dad it must of have been from a blood transfusion. I had no idea what a transfusion was, but I had heard while watching the ESPY’s that this happened to tennis great Arthur Ashe and it seemed like a plausible way out of losing my hero. Heavy-hearted, my dad put his hand on my shoulder and said,
“Mark, he was cheating on his wife.”
On March 21, I had that same feeling. Bruce Pearl, who turned a football obsessed community into basketball junkies, was fired. He lied over a petty violation, committed more petty violations, and is now gone. After six years of the most inspiring and exciting athletics at Tennessee in decades, he’s gone. My wife and I sat scouring blogs and articles to find any way to make this a bad decision and make Pearl a victim. But despite UT’s pathetic display in handling the situation, it didn’t change Pearl’s mistakes. He was, just like Magic, guilty.
However, Pearl’s situation differs from Magic in that there is another individual with guilt written all over his face.
University of Tennessee Men’s Athletic Director Mike Hamilton
When a team struggles, look to the coach. But when the entire athletic department becomes a dumpster fire, look a little further up the food chain.
Mike Hamilton, by all accounts, is a fine and upstanding individual. He is an active member in the community and contributes a tremendous amount of time and resources to charitable work. This, however, makes you a good neighbor. Not a good AD.
Since taking over as AD in 2003, Hamilton has watched his football program (the pride of the university) collapse, the baseball team fall to the bottom of the conference, and his basketball coach show questionable ethics. All three programs are under NCAA investigation. All three coaches were Hamilton hires. A manager at Starbucks doesn’t get that many chances.
Starting with 1988, Tennessee football had won eight games or more fourteen years consecutively. They have failed to reach eight wins four times under Hamilton’s watch. During those same fourteen years, UT baseball was SEC tournament champions three times. Want to take a guess how many they have won with Hamilton?
To top it all, he also has the debacle of the last six months hanging over his head. ESPN radio host Doug Gotlieb described the Pearl punishment/firing as “mind-numbingly stupid”.
ESPN’s Pat Forde wrote, “If I were the president at Tennessee, the man in charge of an athletic department that has hemorraghed credibility at an alarming rate in recent years would need a Committee on Infractions miracle to keep his job.”
In response to Committee on Infractions chair Tom Yeager’s statement that firing Pearl would not necessarily equate to a less severe penalty, ESPN’s Andy Katz wrote, “...why go through a charade of a season? The school essentially left him and his staff hanging by terminating his contract.”
Sports Illustrated’s Stewart Mandel added, “Under his watch, one of the nation’s proudest athletics programs has deteriorated into one of its most shameful.”
Tennessee Chancellor Jimmy Cheek should have statements like these tapped to his bathroom mirror.
I don’t ever want to be one who advocates for a man to lose his job, regardless of the context. However, I can’t see how this series of disasters can continue. The home of General Neyland, Peyton Manning, and Pat Summit is being called shameful. The home of the first black quarterback in the SEC has become a place that sends “hostesses” to flirt (or worse) with recruits. The home of the “Ernie and Bernie Show” is now among the long list of universities who were caught trying to cheat. Can you imagine what Reggie White would have thought of Lane Kiffin?
It’s unrealistic to think Hamilton or any athletic director could have complete control over his programs. However, if attitude reflects leadership, then what does this debacle say of Hamilton?
In an act of desperation, Hamilton replaced Pearl with Missouri State’s Cuonzo Martin, who “is among the most promising coaches in the game.”
Translation: “I just hired someone you all have never heard of hoping there’ll be no expectations to disappoint.” Way to shoot for the stars, Mike.
Our heroes fall. That’s life. The Greek Tragedy archetype exists for a reason, and the story of Pearl at Tennessee fits the bill. The difference, though, is the downfall at UT was completely avoidable. His post on this Facebook page was heartbreaking.
“These were the best years of my life.”
Read Pat Forde’s article from 2008, describing Pearl’s rise to Tennessee. He was the anti-Lane Kiffin. He trudged his way to Knoxville by working with smaller schools for years, waiting for his turn at the top. Tennessee was everything he could have hoped for.
Pearl made dumb mistakes, though, and he should pay the price for them. However, he shouldn’t be trapped paying the debt of the entire department. This only made him a scapegoat.
Place blame where it’s due, Chancellor Cheek. Not where it’s easiest.
As the third child with two older sisters, I spent most of my time by myself. My basketball goal became my path to NBA glory as I alternated between being Magic and Michael Jordan (the goals were yellow and red). I took countless game winning shots while my game clock counted down the seconds over and over and over. Magic’s smiling face watched from his spot on the backboard.
When the news broke that Magic was HIV positive, I tried to find a way to hold his image together. The idea he could have contracted this disease by running around on his wife was unthinkable. In my immaturity, I wanted him to be the victim of a tragic mistake, and I told my dad it must of have been from a blood transfusion. I had no idea what a transfusion was, but I had heard while watching the ESPY’s that this happened to tennis great Arthur Ashe and it seemed like a plausible way out of losing my hero. Heavy-hearted, my dad put his hand on my shoulder and said,
“Mark, he was cheating on his wife.”
On March 21, I had that same feeling. Bruce Pearl, who turned a football obsessed community into basketball junkies, was fired. He lied over a petty violation, committed more petty violations, and is now gone. After six years of the most inspiring and exciting athletics at Tennessee in decades, he’s gone. My wife and I sat scouring blogs and articles to find any way to make this a bad decision and make Pearl a victim. But despite UT’s pathetic display in handling the situation, it didn’t change Pearl’s mistakes. He was, just like Magic, guilty.
However, Pearl’s situation differs from Magic in that there is another individual with guilt written all over his face.
University of Tennessee Men’s Athletic Director Mike Hamilton
When a team struggles, look to the coach. But when the entire athletic department becomes a dumpster fire, look a little further up the food chain.
Mike Hamilton, by all accounts, is a fine and upstanding individual. He is an active member in the community and contributes a tremendous amount of time and resources to charitable work. This, however, makes you a good neighbor. Not a good AD.
Since taking over as AD in 2003, Hamilton has watched his football program (the pride of the university) collapse, the baseball team fall to the bottom of the conference, and his basketball coach show questionable ethics. All three programs are under NCAA investigation. All three coaches were Hamilton hires. A manager at Starbucks doesn’t get that many chances.
Starting with 1988, Tennessee football had won eight games or more fourteen years consecutively. They have failed to reach eight wins four times under Hamilton’s watch. During those same fourteen years, UT baseball was SEC tournament champions three times. Want to take a guess how many they have won with Hamilton?
To top it all, he also has the debacle of the last six months hanging over his head. ESPN radio host Doug Gotlieb described the Pearl punishment/firing as “mind-numbingly stupid”.
ESPN’s Pat Forde wrote, “If I were the president at Tennessee, the man in charge of an athletic department that has hemorraghed credibility at an alarming rate in recent years would need a Committee on Infractions miracle to keep his job.”
In response to Committee on Infractions chair Tom Yeager’s statement that firing Pearl would not necessarily equate to a less severe penalty, ESPN’s Andy Katz wrote, “...why go through a charade of a season? The school essentially left him and his staff hanging by terminating his contract.”
Sports Illustrated’s Stewart Mandel added, “Under his watch, one of the nation’s proudest athletics programs has deteriorated into one of its most shameful.”
Tennessee Chancellor Jimmy Cheek should have statements like these tapped to his bathroom mirror.
I don’t ever want to be one who advocates for a man to lose his job, regardless of the context. However, I can’t see how this series of disasters can continue. The home of General Neyland, Peyton Manning, and Pat Summit is being called shameful. The home of the first black quarterback in the SEC has become a place that sends “hostesses” to flirt (or worse) with recruits. The home of the “Ernie and Bernie Show” is now among the long list of universities who were caught trying to cheat. Can you imagine what Reggie White would have thought of Lane Kiffin?
It’s unrealistic to think Hamilton or any athletic director could have complete control over his programs. However, if attitude reflects leadership, then what does this debacle say of Hamilton?
In an act of desperation, Hamilton replaced Pearl with Missouri State’s Cuonzo Martin, who “is among the most promising coaches in the game.”
Translation: “I just hired someone you all have never heard of hoping there’ll be no expectations to disappoint.” Way to shoot for the stars, Mike.
Our heroes fall. That’s life. The Greek Tragedy archetype exists for a reason, and the story of Pearl at Tennessee fits the bill. The difference, though, is the downfall at UT was completely avoidable. His post on this Facebook page was heartbreaking.
“These were the best years of my life.”
Read Pat Forde’s article from 2008, describing Pearl’s rise to Tennessee. He was the anti-Lane Kiffin. He trudged his way to Knoxville by working with smaller schools for years, waiting for his turn at the top. Tennessee was everything he could have hoped for.
Pearl made dumb mistakes, though, and he should pay the price for them. However, he shouldn’t be trapped paying the debt of the entire department. This only made him a scapegoat.
Place blame where it’s due, Chancellor Cheek. Not where it’s easiest.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Who Will Police the Police?
Let’s do a little compare and contrast.
Jim Calhoun: Cited by the NCAA for failure to create an atmosphere of compliance. The NCAA Committee of Infractions is accusing Calhoun of recruiting a player, Nate Miles, who had contact with a team manager turned sports agent. First discovered in a 2009 Yahoo! Sports investigation (CITE!!), the agent, Josh Nochimson, allegedly provided lodging, transportation, meals and representation for Miles while UConn pursued him. Calhoun will be suspended three games in the 2011-2012 season, while the program will face scholarship reductions, recruiting restrictions, and a three year probation.
Bruce Pearl: Cited by the NCAA for “impermissible contact with student-athletes during an unofficial recruiting visit, for not being ethical about the matter, for failing to promote an atmosphere of compliance, and failing to monitor the activities of his assistant coaches.” (CITE). The official NCAA notification did not include punishments (which are expected to be handed down in June), but Pearl has already served an eight conference game suspension, a pay reduction of $1.5 million over multiple years, and a one year ban from off campus recruiting.
Do these two descriptions look similar? In some ways they should. Lost in the NCAA rhetoric are two coaches who are feeling the heat after breaking rigid (and complicated) recruiting guidelines. Both are being chastised publicly and both either have or are going to face game suspensions. Pearl illegally hosted a recruit at his home instead of on campus, and Calhoun recruited a player who already had a relationship with a professional agent. And according to ESPN’s Doug Gotlieb (along with other sources), they both lied.
When looking at their penalites, however, it’s as if the descriptions have been switched. Pearl, whose infraction is considered a secondary violation, is the one feeling the NCAA breathing down his neck with the threat of losing his position with Tennessee. (With the threat of a long term suspension, UT may be forced to ask Pearl to step down.) His initial dishonesty with NCAA officials is the core reason he is in this mess. Calhoun, on the other hand, committed the cardinal sin in collegiate coaching. By recruiting Nate Miles and encouraging his relationship with agent, Josh Nochimson, Calhoun introduced the kryptonite of college sports, money. Yet the UConn coach (who, again, alledged lied as well) is being punished with "timeout" compared to Pearl.
ESPN’s Pat Forde wrote in his article “Coach’s Can’t Escape Accountability”, this decision by the NCAA is a stand against “protecting the coarch at all costs”.
“But the three game penalty is far more than a slap on the wrist,” Forde wrote.
When looking at the Calhoun decision on its own, this rationale appears to be on the right track. When compared to Pearl, however, it’s as inconsistent as Tennessee’s regular season. ESPN reported the decision on Calhoun would have been more severe if Miles had actually played at UConn (He was dismissed after violating a restraining order.), but neither did the recruit Pearl hosted at his home. And where have the allegations pertaining to Calhoun’s dishonesty gone? Have they been ignored like the blatant pass being given to UConn?
“As the leader of Conneticut beasketball program and an ambassador of the university, the buck stops with me. No qualifications, no exceptions. I fully acknowledge that we, as a staff, made mistakes and would like to apologize,” Calhoun said.
Sound familiar? Bruce Pearl made a similar statement after he willingly admitted to his mistakes. Calhoun decided to wait until the NCAA gave him the necassary “motivation”. In his statement, Calhoun went on to say he would not comment on this issue further (a luxury he arrogantly demanded but will likely not receive).
My annoyance, however, is not as much with Calhoun as it is with the Big Brother of collegian sports. At this point, the NCAA’s recent decisions are questionable enough to be points of discussion in college ethics classes for years. The lax ruling on the Cam Newton investigation raised plenty of eyebrows on its own, but the decision to allow the Ohio State players (who traded memorabilia for tattoos and money) to play in the Sugar Bowl, coupled with the stiff penalties given to Dez Bryant, A.J. Green, and North Carolina, has left the integrity of college athletics governing body with some dark stains. Their oligarchy approach leaves university athletic departments across the nation at the mercy of their unpredictable (and arguably corrupt) judgement.
It’s difficult to determine the extent to which the NCAA is paying attention to these claims against them, but the rumblings are beginning.
“The secret but carefully orchestrated one day ineligibility of Auburn quarterback Cam Newton for violation of the recruiting amateurism rules once again demonstrates the corrupt culture of the NCAA.” The Bleacher Report
“Goldman Sachs has nothing on the NCAA.” The Kansas City Star
“In the end this is the same old story. College football’s power brokers write a bunch of lip service in an effort to maintain the sports’ ‘amateurism so they can continue to beat federal, state and local taxes. When you pay neither taxes nor the players there’s a lot more cash laying around to line your pockets.” Yahoo! Sports
In another article from Forde, he called for Tennessee to fire athletic director Mike Hamilton, the man who “has hemorrhaged credibility at an alarming rate”. I would say the same for the NCAA, but who would I tell? The Committee of Infractions?
I guess I’ll pull a Jim Tressel; plead ignorance and pray it goes away.
Jim Calhoun: Cited by the NCAA for failure to create an atmosphere of compliance. The NCAA Committee of Infractions is accusing Calhoun of recruiting a player, Nate Miles, who had contact with a team manager turned sports agent. First discovered in a 2009 Yahoo! Sports investigation (CITE!!), the agent, Josh Nochimson, allegedly provided lodging, transportation, meals and representation for Miles while UConn pursued him. Calhoun will be suspended three games in the 2011-2012 season, while the program will face scholarship reductions, recruiting restrictions, and a three year probation.
Bruce Pearl: Cited by the NCAA for “impermissible contact with student-athletes during an unofficial recruiting visit, for not being ethical about the matter, for failing to promote an atmosphere of compliance, and failing to monitor the activities of his assistant coaches.” (CITE). The official NCAA notification did not include punishments (which are expected to be handed down in June), but Pearl has already served an eight conference game suspension, a pay reduction of $1.5 million over multiple years, and a one year ban from off campus recruiting.
Do these two descriptions look similar? In some ways they should. Lost in the NCAA rhetoric are two coaches who are feeling the heat after breaking rigid (and complicated) recruiting guidelines. Both are being chastised publicly and both either have or are going to face game suspensions. Pearl illegally hosted a recruit at his home instead of on campus, and Calhoun recruited a player who already had a relationship with a professional agent. And according to ESPN’s Doug Gotlieb (along with other sources), they both lied.
When looking at their penalites, however, it’s as if the descriptions have been switched. Pearl, whose infraction is considered a secondary violation, is the one feeling the NCAA breathing down his neck with the threat of losing his position with Tennessee. (With the threat of a long term suspension, UT may be forced to ask Pearl to step down.) His initial dishonesty with NCAA officials is the core reason he is in this mess. Calhoun, on the other hand, committed the cardinal sin in collegiate coaching. By recruiting Nate Miles and encouraging his relationship with agent, Josh Nochimson, Calhoun introduced the kryptonite of college sports, money. Yet the UConn coach (who, again, alledged lied as well) is being punished with "timeout" compared to Pearl.
ESPN’s Pat Forde wrote in his article “Coach’s Can’t Escape Accountability”, this decision by the NCAA is a stand against “protecting the coarch at all costs”.
“But the three game penalty is far more than a slap on the wrist,” Forde wrote.
When looking at the Calhoun decision on its own, this rationale appears to be on the right track. When compared to Pearl, however, it’s as inconsistent as Tennessee’s regular season. ESPN reported the decision on Calhoun would have been more severe if Miles had actually played at UConn (He was dismissed after violating a restraining order.), but neither did the recruit Pearl hosted at his home. And where have the allegations pertaining to Calhoun’s dishonesty gone? Have they been ignored like the blatant pass being given to UConn?
“As the leader of Conneticut beasketball program and an ambassador of the university, the buck stops with me. No qualifications, no exceptions. I fully acknowledge that we, as a staff, made mistakes and would like to apologize,” Calhoun said.
Sound familiar? Bruce Pearl made a similar statement after he willingly admitted to his mistakes. Calhoun decided to wait until the NCAA gave him the necassary “motivation”. In his statement, Calhoun went on to say he would not comment on this issue further (a luxury he arrogantly demanded but will likely not receive).
My annoyance, however, is not as much with Calhoun as it is with the Big Brother of collegian sports. At this point, the NCAA’s recent decisions are questionable enough to be points of discussion in college ethics classes for years. The lax ruling on the Cam Newton investigation raised plenty of eyebrows on its own, but the decision to allow the Ohio State players (who traded memorabilia for tattoos and money) to play in the Sugar Bowl, coupled with the stiff penalties given to Dez Bryant, A.J. Green, and North Carolina, has left the integrity of college athletics governing body with some dark stains. Their oligarchy approach leaves university athletic departments across the nation at the mercy of their unpredictable (and arguably corrupt) judgement.
It’s difficult to determine the extent to which the NCAA is paying attention to these claims against them, but the rumblings are beginning.
“The secret but carefully orchestrated one day ineligibility of Auburn quarterback Cam Newton for violation of the recruiting amateurism rules once again demonstrates the corrupt culture of the NCAA.” The Bleacher Report
“Goldman Sachs has nothing on the NCAA.” The Kansas City Star
“In the end this is the same old story. College football’s power brokers write a bunch of lip service in an effort to maintain the sports’ ‘amateurism so they can continue to beat federal, state and local taxes. When you pay neither taxes nor the players there’s a lot more cash laying around to line your pockets.” Yahoo! Sports
In another article from Forde, he called for Tennessee to fire athletic director Mike Hamilton, the man who “has hemorrhaged credibility at an alarming rate”. I would say the same for the NCAA, but who would I tell? The Committee of Infractions?
I guess I’ll pull a Jim Tressel; plead ignorance and pray it goes away.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Ego Money
Three years ago, I watched Albert Pujols hit a home run at Turner Field. It was a towering shot into the home bullpen, and it was the difference in the Cardinals win over Atlanta. Despite my disappointment in the Braves lose, I counted myself fortunate to have seen one of the greatest players of my (or any) generation hit one over the wall.
After the last month, however, I don’t think of that moment with as much fondness as I used to. Pujols has shown his true colors, and they aren’t Cardinals red. In asking for the richest contract in baseball history, the first baseman has announced his priorities to the world and let us all know his loyalties do not extend beyond his front door.
When broken down into the simplest terms, Pujols request is laughable. Salaries in professional sports have increased astronomically during my lifetime, fueled by an athlete’s “worth” to the team. If profits increase due to a player’s performance, then it’s only fitting to compensate this individual with a percentage of the income. This is the simple premise of value in terms a business investment. A high school economics class would find this elementary.
However, “market value” has worked its way into the professional sports debate. Pujols will earn $16 million this year, which is already the largest portion of a $90+ million payroll. Using market value as his legitimate reason, however, Pujols is demanding the Cardinals pay him more than all other players based on the assumption he is the best in the league and his salary should reflect that. The Cardinals payroll is expected to increase to $100-110 million, and Pujols is asking for $30 million based solely on a desire to have a wealthier contract than Alex Rodriguez (which has been continually lauded as a disastrous deal) and to dwarf the contract given to fellow National League first baseman Ryan Howard (which has also been lauded as a disastrous deal). Not once has he or anyone else attributed his reasons to an increase in revenue by the team. In fact, according the ESPN’s Keith Law in a February 11 interview, interest in the Cardinals is maxed out. Busch Stadium is consistently sold out and St. Louis is perennially known as the best baseball town in America. A dramatic increase in profits is not expected, and St. Louis is left to decide if Pujols is worth losing money.
I find it highly unlikely St. Louis will double their profits from last year the way Pujols is looking to almost double his. The Cardinals, if they signed the deal he wants, would need to find money from other areas of the organization in order to afford their first baseman. Unless the team plans to have the biggest bake sale ever, this money will come directly from the fans. Ticket, parking, and vendor prices will all begin looking more like Yankee Stadium than Busch Stadium. (Who’s ready for $12 Budwiesers?!) ESPN Radio’s Colin Cowherd once suggested cities might implement “keep our best players” taxes. He said it in jest, but is this the only way to keep narcisitic athletes from running to New York, Boston, or Los Angeles? Cardinals owner Bill Dewitt summed up this sentiment in his statement in the (February 17 New York Times; “We’re not the Yankees.”)
Again, when broken down into the simplest terms, Pujols is asking Cardinals fans to pay more to see him play in order to stroke his ego and assure him he’s the best. My fourth grade daughter is more mature than this.
This statement, however, isn’t nearly as shocking as the baseball analysts and fans who are standing in line to support Pujols rationale. The iconic Bob Knight (who is close friends with Cardinals Manager Tony La Russa) came on ESPN Radio’s Mike and Mike to give his praises to Pujols and supported his desire to have the wealthiest contract. ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian has said numerous times, “The Cardinals have to sign Albert Pujols.” And this is only the beginning of the drool fest that will begin at the end of the season, when other MLB owners will be more than happy to open their checkbooks to alleviate Pujols apparent struggles with self-esteem.
This melodrama is only a part of the crippling problem facing MLB owners today; Player contracts are out of whack. In Joe Posnanski’s February 16 column in Sports Illustrated, he profiles the devastating effects of some of baseball’s mega-deals. Barry Ztio to the Giants immediately comes to mind, along with Andruw Jones $18 million a year debacle with the Dodgers. (It still must make Atlanta’s Jon Scherholtz smile for letting him go.) But instead of learning the lessons from these mistakes, teams like the Nationals continue to give players like Jason Werth more money than any other team by an enormous margin.
Call a spade a spade. If you want to play for the highest dollar, then come out and say it. Don’t dance around the issue and claim you want to retire a Cardinal. It’s embarrassing. The man is an icon and is on pace to break more than a few batting records, but no one is irreplaceable. Even Beyonce knows this.
After the last month, however, I don’t think of that moment with as much fondness as I used to. Pujols has shown his true colors, and they aren’t Cardinals red. In asking for the richest contract in baseball history, the first baseman has announced his priorities to the world and let us all know his loyalties do not extend beyond his front door.
When broken down into the simplest terms, Pujols request is laughable. Salaries in professional sports have increased astronomically during my lifetime, fueled by an athlete’s “worth” to the team. If profits increase due to a player’s performance, then it’s only fitting to compensate this individual with a percentage of the income. This is the simple premise of value in terms a business investment. A high school economics class would find this elementary.
However, “market value” has worked its way into the professional sports debate. Pujols will earn $16 million this year, which is already the largest portion of a $90+ million payroll. Using market value as his legitimate reason, however, Pujols is demanding the Cardinals pay him more than all other players based on the assumption he is the best in the league and his salary should reflect that. The Cardinals payroll is expected to increase to $100-110 million, and Pujols is asking for $30 million based solely on a desire to have a wealthier contract than Alex Rodriguez (which has been continually lauded as a disastrous deal) and to dwarf the contract given to fellow National League first baseman Ryan Howard (which has also been lauded as a disastrous deal). Not once has he or anyone else attributed his reasons to an increase in revenue by the team. In fact, according the ESPN’s Keith Law in a February 11 interview, interest in the Cardinals is maxed out. Busch Stadium is consistently sold out and St. Louis is perennially known as the best baseball town in America. A dramatic increase in profits is not expected, and St. Louis is left to decide if Pujols is worth losing money.
I find it highly unlikely St. Louis will double their profits from last year the way Pujols is looking to almost double his. The Cardinals, if they signed the deal he wants, would need to find money from other areas of the organization in order to afford their first baseman. Unless the team plans to have the biggest bake sale ever, this money will come directly from the fans. Ticket, parking, and vendor prices will all begin looking more like Yankee Stadium than Busch Stadium. (Who’s ready for $12 Budwiesers?!) ESPN Radio’s Colin Cowherd once suggested cities might implement “keep our best players” taxes. He said it in jest, but is this the only way to keep narcisitic athletes from running to New York, Boston, or Los Angeles? Cardinals owner Bill Dewitt summed up this sentiment in his statement in the (February 17 New York Times; “We’re not the Yankees.”)
Again, when broken down into the simplest terms, Pujols is asking Cardinals fans to pay more to see him play in order to stroke his ego and assure him he’s the best. My fourth grade daughter is more mature than this.
This statement, however, isn’t nearly as shocking as the baseball analysts and fans who are standing in line to support Pujols rationale. The iconic Bob Knight (who is close friends with Cardinals Manager Tony La Russa) came on ESPN Radio’s Mike and Mike to give his praises to Pujols and supported his desire to have the wealthiest contract. ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian has said numerous times, “The Cardinals have to sign Albert Pujols.” And this is only the beginning of the drool fest that will begin at the end of the season, when other MLB owners will be more than happy to open their checkbooks to alleviate Pujols apparent struggles with self-esteem.
This melodrama is only a part of the crippling problem facing MLB owners today; Player contracts are out of whack. In Joe Posnanski’s February 16 column in Sports Illustrated, he profiles the devastating effects of some of baseball’s mega-deals. Barry Ztio to the Giants immediately comes to mind, along with Andruw Jones $18 million a year debacle with the Dodgers. (It still must make Atlanta’s Jon Scherholtz smile for letting him go.) But instead of learning the lessons from these mistakes, teams like the Nationals continue to give players like Jason Werth more money than any other team by an enormous margin.
Call a spade a spade. If you want to play for the highest dollar, then come out and say it. Don’t dance around the issue and claim you want to retire a Cardinal. It’s embarrassing. The man is an icon and is on pace to break more than a few batting records, but no one is irreplaceable. Even Beyonce knows this.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Choose Your Words Carefully.
Midway through my Junior year of high school, I quit playing baseball. In hindsight, it was the best decision I could have made. But at the time, I agonized over it. My childhood dream was to play football for my high school, and later the University of Tennessee. When a neck injury forced me to quit my Freshman year, I turned my attention (and my dreams) to baseball.
I wanted so badly to play well. I never had the personality or drive to be the best, but I just wanted to be an important part of our team. Regardless of how much I wanted it, though, I couldn’t hit a pitch no matter how badly my team needed it. Each game became an increasingly frustrating experience, and my coach’s berating left me defeated and emasculated. I was miserable.
Shortly after my decision to quit, though, I began seeing everything I had been missing by forcing myself to play baseball. I grew an avid interest in the outdoors and started backpacking, skiing, and rock climbing. I discovered my love for live music and found friends who wanted to see concerts as much as I did. My life found more direction and clarity once I discovered my true talents and interests.
When I read about North Carolina point guard Larry Drew II’s decision to transfer to another university and the criticism thrown his way, it immediately took me back to sitting in front of my coach as I told him I was quitting.
According to ESPN, Drew had lost his starting position to freshman Kendall Marshall and watched his playing time drop from 28 to 22 minutes a game. As he tried to fill the shoes of Raymond Felton and Ty Lawson (whose teams brought two national titles to Chapel HIll), Drew was berated by fans last year when the Tar Heels failed to make the tournament. To add insult to injury, UNC won four in row after Marshall took the starting position in mid-January. Still, ESPN writer Andy Katz wrote in his February fourth blog post, “Drew essentially quit on his team.”
My heart immediately went out to the guy. Mid-way through his Junior year, this young man has lost his position on the team, survived merciless criticism from local and national media while playing with one of the most revered programs in the country, and is now being labeled a quitter. He is not projected to move onto the NBA, leaving only this season and the next to fulfill whatever dreams he may have of playing competitive basketball at the highest level. What would you do? Sit on the bench and be a “good soldier”, or play with another team where you can contribute your skills? There is nothing wrong with knowing your limits. If a smaller, less glamorous school provides the opportunity to play, the answer is a no brainer.
This happens in professional sports so much we don’t even notice. Throughout last season, this same scenario was playing out in Philadelphia between Kevin Kolb and Michael Vick. When Vick decided he wanted to channel his inner “what I used to be at Virginia Tech”, Kolb expressed his desire to go to a team where he can start at QB... sound familiar? Are Chris Mortenson or Sal Paolantonio writing about what a quitter he is?
For an overwhelming dose of irony, though, look no further than Tar Heels coach Roy Williams. He left basketball power Kansas after 15 seasons, leaving the Jayhawks without winning a national title. But rather than haul Williams over the coals for “qutting” on his team, Sports Illustrated published articles with, “In the end, Roy Williams knew it was time to return to his roots, to the storied program in powder blue where he learned his craft as an assistant at his beloved alma mater,” (April 14, 2003). Ask anyone from Kansas if they would write such poetic language about their coach “returning home”.
Katz writes in his blog to suggest Drew could have taken his diminished role and been a team player. “He could have accepted his role as a second-unit player to settle things down,” he wrote. “... the loser in this decision will likely be Drew, not Carolina.” I can almost hear my high school baseball coach telling me the same thing when I was unhappy with my experience with the team.
The relationship between teammates and coaches is one of the most appealing aspects of athletics. The need for community is as much a part of ourselves as the hair on our heads, and the bonds within a team provide a compelling example of what can happen when individuals create something greater than themselves. However, what happens when a member of that unit is unhappy? If Drew wanted to take pride in wearing Carolina Blue, then playing for the team would have taken priority. Beating Duke would have taken precedent over missed playing time.
Drew’s strongest competitor, though, isn’t Duke or NC State or any other ACC school. It’s every player’s most feared opponent because it’s always, sooner of later, going to win. Time will eventually strip Drew of his opportunities to play, and basketball will take a back seat to the next phase of his life. Wouldn’t a true competitor want to be where his skills could best contribute to the program? To the team?
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Bruce is Loose?
Do you remember life before Bruce Pearl? The long winter months which were simply the waiting period until spring football? Who could forget the the legendary figures of UT athletics like Wade Houston (career record 65-90), Kevin O’Neil (record 36-47), or the great Buzz Peterson (the “great” is only for having a 61-59 record)? Remember when going to a basketball game at Thompson Boling operated on a “choose your own seat” system?
During the time between Ray Mears and Pearl, Volunteer basketball was laughable. While the football program was grooming the best quarterback since Joe Montana and winning conference and national titles, Pat Summit’s teams were busy making use of Thompson Boling (and filling the rafters with banners). Men’s track and field teams were winning national titles as well, with their success in the conference rivaled only by Arkansas and LSU. No one, including high school recruits, was interested in men’s basketball in Knoxville.
Then came Bruce, and the change was instant. From the moment he began at UT, he knew what needed to happen to breathe life into the program. He campaigned with students on campus to come to games. He sent players to Knoxville events to ask locals to come support the team. He painted his chest orange and jumped in with the student section at a Lady Vols game. During an event to kick off the season, he donned a sumo wrestling outfit and challenged a student to put him on the ground (Pearl dominated the match by the way). His Sunsphere sized personality was working its way across East Tennessee.
Pearl made us all believe he had the Midas touch. Chris Lofton, Jujuan Smith, and Dane Bradshaw began showing up on Sportscenter. Dominant teams like Florida and Kansas, who were winning national championships, began having trouble handling the “Rocky Top Rowdies”. Local rock bands wrote songs in his honor (“The Bruce is Loose” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVP5s1uWUf4). As UT football began declining into the Lane Kiffin debacle, men’s basketball games were the hottest ticket in town. March was no longer the month before the Orange and White game. Tennesseans found themselves glued to J.P. Prince blocking a last second shot from the 2010 national player of the year (Evan Turner) and coming a half court prayer from our first trip to the Final Four. Pearl turned what had been a 25 year mess into a national contender.
Then he lied to the NCAA.
Over what would later be revealed as a secondary violation, Pearl lied about improperly hosting a recruit at his home. The punishment (eight game conference suspension, salary reduction, one year ban from off campus recruiting) is unprecedented in the SEC, but had (and still has) the potential to be much worse. SEC commissioner Mike Slive told ESPN in November he considered suspending him for the entire conference season, saved only by Pearl’s honesty and show of remorse.
All this while the NCAA, as if to watch Mike Hamilton squirm, sits... and waits.
Violations among college coaches is nothing new, fueled by the NCAA’s endless nit-picky rules and the pressure high profiled programs feel to win. Pearl has simply joined the ranks of those like Jerry Tarkanian and Dana Kirk who were caught. However, just a glimpse into John Calipari’s history will lead you straight into the irony abyss. Calipari has left a trail of destruction, bouncing from one coaching position to another while his salary continues to grow. His resume is free of NCAA violations, but that doesn’t mean it’s free of dirt. He’s proven to be a coaching mercenary, preying on desperate athletic directors willing to sell out their integrity to win.
Bruce Pearl is no saint, but he has proven to have some sort of moral compass. Rejecting the Calipari route by not jumping ship to another well paying job, he choose instead to work without a contract at UT. Try finding another coach willing to do that.
If the NCAA is concerned with the character of it’s coaches, it seems to me Pearl exemplifies the humility and integrity that comes from a man who has realized his faults. He did what other coaches who have scandal following them never do; admit their actions. With the threat of further suspension looming over him, Pearl continues to accept responsibility without argument or complaint. It seems ludicrous to continue this barrage of punishments while Calipari and other weasels continue to make a mockery of the profession.
This argument, though, will probably fall on deaf ears and leave anxious Tennesseans to wonder if the unthinkable is possible. What if, in a show of power and toughness, the NCAA drops the hammer on Pearl and UT basketball? Would we be outraged? Would we cry, “Foul!” and demand the ruling overturned?
Or would it just go back to being the few months between football season and the Orange and White game?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
A Super Letdown
NFL fans could not have asked for a better championship weekend. The Jets, Steelers, Bears, and Packers embody the history and passion that has made professional football more popular than anything in American culture. The games lived up to the hype, playing out in ways no one could have scripted. The Steelers and Packers, both having built their foundations on powerhouse defenses, held off second half comebacks to earn their way to Dallas. It was football at its finest, and now we get to feast on a dream match up to decide our champion.
Too bad the Super Bowl will ruin it.
In line with our, “Drive something good into the ground,” culture, the Super Bowl has become a bastardized corporate event. Super Bowl Sunday is as much about the game as an issue of Playboy is about the articles.
Let’s look at some figures.
- $2.5-$2.8 Million. This was the average cost for a 30 second commercial during last year’s Super bowl. (It was $3 million the year before.)
- 4.5 hours of pre-game coverage. Fox will begin at 2 p.m. and feature a performance from Keith Urban. (Because nothing screams “NFL!” quite like Keith Urban.)
- $200 for a ticket OUTSIDE Cowboys Stadium. Viewers will watch the game on giant HD screens in lovely February weather. (Dallas will be expecting lows in the 40s Super Bowl weekend.)
- $10 million. This amount made Bridgestone tires the official sponsor of the Super Bowl halftime show for three years.
Of all these gaudy numbers, the halftime show best represents Super Bowl exploitation. In our grand spectacle of masculine toughness and American character, the halftime show more closely resembles a Las Vegas song and dance production with enough glitz to make even Wayne Newton throw up. The rationale seems laughable. I would have loved the chance to be a fly on the wall during the 1991 meeting for Super Bowl 25, when game executives decided they’d seen enough marching bands.
- “This year’s gonna be great! Bills vs. Giants! Bill Parcels vs. Marv Levy! What a matchup!”
- “Yeah, but you know what would make the game even better? New Kids on the Block and Disney characters.”
“(gasp!) Brilliant! Why didn’t we think of this before?”
I can’t imagine how this might appear from the perspective of someone unfamiliar with the event. During what will hopefully be an epic collision between some of the most elite athletes on Earth, a 12 minute, outrageous performance from a hip hop band that didn’t find nationwide popularity until they added a hot girl and dumbed down their lyrics will be featured as well. This performance will require hundreds of people, and include stages, lights, and pyrotechnics (regardless of how it affects the playing environment). Makes perfect sense.
The 1993 Michael Jackson performance permanently changed the halftime show to an “A-list” concert event. No longer would the NFL give marching bands from local universities a chance to jolt civic pride into the city where the Super Bowl was played; choosing instead to ask Tony Bennet, Teddy Pendergrass, and the Miami Sound Machine to sing, “Can you Feel the Love Tonight” next to skits from Disneyland’s new Indiana Jones adventure ride. (To this day, this makes my mother cringe.)
The Super Bowl seems to be simply taking its place among the other symbols of the American male that are falling like birds in Arkansas. To reference the article, “Rest in Peace: The American Manly Man,” “...this is an age when even the great Tom Brady rocks a Justin Bieber side sweep haircut.” (http://all-that-is-interesting.com/post/1114586979/rest-in-peace-the-american-manly-man)
When the United States Supreme Court made its judgements to define obscenity in the 1964 Jacobillis vs. Ohio case, Justice Potter Stewart defined pornography with, “I know it when I see it.” Far be it from me to set a limit on an individual’s right to make a profit, but I know exploitation when I see it. NFL players, coaches, owners, and fans love to talk about their “respect for the game”, but has anyone thought to question how this gluttonous exhibition fits into their definition of respect?
I’ll watch the game because I have loved both teams as long as I as can remember. As a kid, I found a #92 practice jersey at UTK football camp and asked my dad if it might have been Reggie White’s. (I still have it. It’s framed.) When he signed with Green Bay, I was an instant devotee. My love of the Steelers began when our family doctor turned out to be a former member of the Pittsburgh medical staff and told stories about Greg Lloyd and Rod Woodson. This game is a dream come true.
Don’t let the flashing lights fool you. The game itself still has a heart, buried somewhere in the turf of Cowboys Stadium. You just have to search through all the glitter to find it.
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