Go ahead – kick us while we’re down

July 12, 2010


The NBA Game Time Courside app looks fantastic. I’m already excited for the season to begin, and I’d be lying if I said part of it wasn’t because I want to see this app in action.

But, you guys, come on. Can’t we throw an off-season placeholder up there until the season begins?

Do we have to be reminded of this game?

That’s cold, man.

You’ve got to change it. Celtics Nation implores you.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports, Technology |

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Why I Watch

June 17, 2010


It was Game Five of the NBA Finals. The series was tied at two games a piece, and the Lakers were making a run. Then, this play.

It was the single greatest play I’ve seen during these playoffs, and I was convinced that, with momentum, the Celtics had just cinched up a championship.

Two days later, it all came crashing down.

At some point during the Celtics’ demoralizing Game Six defeat this past Tuesday – around the time I had stopped watching in order to wash the dishes, run to the store for a frozen pizza, and drink a beer in smoldering frustration, my confidence crashing and doubt setting in after only two quarters of play – Kerrie asked me a simple question.

“Why do you watch sports?”

My answer: “I don’t know.”

The real answer, of course, is that we’re entertained by sports. We watch people do things we’re not able to do, performing on the highest level possible. And if we subscribe to the notion of home-town success, we probably claim allegiance to certain sports teams by proximity alone; when they win, the city wins.

The draw, though, becomes more than just entertainment – especially when you develop a fanatical connection to a team. I say “fanatical” because that’s what being a fan means. I say “fantatical” also, not because it’s negative, but because it’s totally enveloping – it turns the process of watching sports into a process of being part of the team.

Sports fans are no different than those who refuse to miss a favorite television show, who buy an author’s books the second they come out, or who spend over $50 on a concert ticket. They find solace in someone else’s success, and take personally their failures.

We root because we care. We care because we’re human.

This time around, it’s different for me. The Celtics are playing on borrowed time. They weren’t supposed to make it past the Cavaliers. Or the Magic. And they certainly weren’t supposed to be a game away from winning it all. They were left for dead, too old to compete, too banged up to make a splash, a shadow of their 2008 season.

But they did it. They beat the Cavs in six. They beat the Magic in six. And now, despite a monster setback in Tuesday’s game, they still sit just one game away from being champions.

For those of us who followed them from the beginning of the playoffs, each round has been an improbable lesson in faith and hard work, and though we all know that this last round is as improbable as any, we’ll still feel the sting if the C’s go down.

No matter what, tonight is the last day of the NBA season. No matter what, one team is going to walk out of the Staples Center a champion.

No matter what, this is it. Game Seven, NBA Finals, featuring the two biggest franchises – and the biggest rivalry – in the history of the league.

And, no matter what, I’ll be filled with emotion: the exact emotion, though, may not be understood until after the game is finished, be it frustration and disbelief or joy and pride.

I can’t help it. It’s why I watch sports.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports, Television |

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Killing hyperbole: or, a lesson learned from the “Lebacle” overreaction

May 12, 2010


Last night, Lebron James had a bad game.

One bad game. Against a very good team. In a pressure-filled playoff atmosphere.

And, from the sound of it, the world is coming to an end.

Henry Abbott expertly covers the “sky is falling” aspect of this one bad game in a recent post on his blog, TrueHoop:

The “LeBacle” may soon prove to have been one of the darkest moments in Cleveland’s miserable sports history.

But please, spare us the assertion that after one bad night we know James has always had a permanent flaw. It’s just absurd, and amazingly some of it’s coming from the faithful in Cleveland. Twitter, Internet comments, my e-mail inbox, Facebook, all are loaded to the gills with talk that he’s doomed to mediocrity, psychologically deficient or was intentionally tanking.

As if those 69 playoff contests and 548 regular-season games were the aberration, and this one horrible night was the truth. As if the guy who scored 25 straight against the Pistons in a similar situation needs a lecture, from Twitter, on embracing the challenge.

Somebody should make a big list of all those people who think they now know James is a doomed player, and we’ll revisit in a decade.

He’s talking about basketball writers. But there’s a tone to this that reaches across all subjects, one that draws a sharp line showing the difference between writing WITH passion and writing FROM passion.

The first is all about embracing what you do and attacking it with gusto: cherishing each word, taking your shoes off and splashing around in the subject matter, laughing and waving your arms, delirious with happiness because – damn it – you love this.

The second is allowing the moment to cloud your judgment, letting hyperbole set in, overreacting and ACTING THE FOOL, as the more street-worthy performers might say.

The first leads to emotional prose. The second leads to 24-hour news channel hype.

We’re all guilty of the second.

Admitting we’re guilty helps us focus on the first, by identifying our own overreaction and acting accordingly. With grace. With all sides measured. Without filtering common sense in search of a sensational stance.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Soccer, Words, Writing |

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Rajon Rondo is my hero

May 4, 2010


Most of us who call themselves part of Celtics Nation have been holding our breath as we await what’s been universally determined to be an easy series win for the Cavaliers.

The fact is, Celtics fans haven’t had a lot to be happy about this season. Doc Rivers continues to undercoach, Rasheed Wallace decided to only play half of the season, and our three Hall of Fame locks are beginning to look old. I mean really old. Keeper of the Crypt old.

So I continue to hold my breath. I don’t want to jinx this, you guys, and I truly believe that, if I say something with any kind of braggadocio, I’m going to screw things up; that LeBron will make a point to score 50 a game and, after dunking over the head of Kendrick Perkins, point to the camera and say “YOU THINK YOUR CELTICS ARE SOMETHING SPECIAL, COREY VILHAUER IN SIOUX FALLS SOUTH DAKOTA?”

“DO YOU?”

I do. But I won’t say it too loud. Except to remind everyone that, when ‘Sheed’s put out to pasture, when the “Big Three” are sizing their bronze plaques, when Doc Rivers is announcing games on TNT and we’re all left wondering where our championship aspirations drifted off to, we’ll still have Rajon Rondo.

I can’t stop watching it. Over. And over. And over again.

My hero.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports |

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What I’ve Been Reading: The Book of Basketball: The NBA According to the Sports Guy

November 17, 2009


What I’ve read:
The Book of Basketball: The NBA According to the Sports Guy – Bill Simmons

The Book of Basketball It might be a little hypocritical to slag on someone for being self-referential. As a blogger who writes primarily about his life and thoughts, most of my Internet persona is defined by self-reference.

Then again, I don’t purport to any other notion. You don’t come to Black Marks on Wood Pulp and expect non-personal writing.

However, when you read a book called The Book of Basketball, you expect it to be, for the most part, about basketball.

Let’s get this out of the way. I loved this book. As a basketball fan with a fleeting knowledge of history pre-1980s, it was a wonderful way to fill in the blanks. Was Wilt better than Russell? Was David Thompson as good as people say? Should I hate Karl Malone more than I already do? (The answers, respectively: no, yes, probably.)

I grew up watching Michael Jordan and Reggie Miller, so it’s good to have a reference point from which to compare. And if you’re looking for a more objective tome, there are probably better choices. However, if you’re looking for a down-to-earth synopsis of the NBA’s past 60 years, you can’t do much better.

The concept: Bill Simmons, who is sort of a pioneer when it comes to crafting Internet sports columns (in that he helped usher in the more relaxed, more opinionated and, ultimately, more enjoyable sports writing that we all take for granted today) uses his extreme fanhood to explain his take on the NBA, past and present.

A 96-player, pyramid based Hall of Fame that separates different classes of player based on accomplishments? Done. A listing of the top 10 teams of all time? Done. An incredibly insightful look at why Oscar Robertson’s numbers might be skewed, or a entire section devoted to what could have happened had certain moves not been made? Done. It’s like sitting down with a good friend – who also happens to be a huge NBA fan – and hashing out every great basketball argument ever made.

Yeah. It’s awesome. So let’s start picking it apart.

Seriously, Bill – your name is on the book – there’s no reason to keep reminding us that this is your opinion we’re taking on. I don’t care about who you know. I don’t need every argument to be unceremoniously finished with a reference to Teen Wolf, or a backhanded Shawshank Redemption quote.

He tackles race in an awkward way – he’s understanding, though at the same time strangely defensive and apologetic. He drops names whenever he can. He peppers his footnotes with the same kind of lame humor you’d expect to see in lesser blog comments on Deadspin. He makes no mistake that this is his book, and that we should expect more and more lame pop culture references and stories about his buddy House.

That being said, the self-referential nature only begins to grate around page 500. Did I mention the book is nearly 700 pages long? Surprisingly, it’s a fast read, though I can’t help but think it would be about 200 pages shorter if he took himself out of the story (an unfunny point he makes several times as you get closer to the end.)

See, there’s my problem. It’s easier to complain than it is to praise. Though the last three paragraphs sound like criticism, this shouldn’t frame my opinion of the book. They are minor blips on an ambitious project, one that doesn’t just present basketball history, but puts in context and in a way you can easily understand. This isn’t a book for stat hounds or nitpickers – this is a book for true fans, for those who long to have hour-long discussions about who was better: Bird of Magic.

(My answer: Bird. Bill’s surprising answer: Magic. Even as a Boston homer, Bill still couldn’t bring himself to be biased.)

Tags: Basketball, Books, Boston Celtics, Sports, What I've Been Reading, Writers, Writing |

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“No signs of fatigue. No complaints or concerns.”

October 8, 2009


“KG looked like KG. In eight 1st quarter minutes he drained two 18 footers, played great defense including two steals, and had three rebounds. He would have had an ally-oop from Rondo but was fouled. His feet and hands are very active. No complaints or concerns.”

“Garnett looked strong again in the 2nd half. He was never limping or showed any signs of fatigue. He had a great pass to Ray Allen cutting to the hoop as well.”

- CelticsBlog recap of Celtics’ first preseason game

*WHEW*

Now, all we need to worry about is how he’ll hold up through the season.

*CROSSES FINGERS*

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports |

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#23

September 11, 2009


By now, if you’re a basketball fan – or a sports fan in general – you’ve already read a dozen tributes to Michael Jordan. And if you’re not a basketball fan, you’ve still been unable to escape retrospectives and video packages, though you may not know why.

Today is the day Michael Jordan enters the Basketball Hall of Fame. He enters for an NBA career that still elicits memories, despite nearly a decade since his peak years. He enters as the best player in basketball history, and possibly the most dominant player professional sports have ever seen.

For each of us, the legend means something different. Some are native Chicagoans who rooted for Jordan every game of his career. Others are bandwagon jumpers who discovered the game through his wide-reaching footprint. More often than not, there’s a jealousy of his legacy, a begrudging respect for the man that served as an insurmountable foil. For fans of Indiana, Utah, Phoenix, New York, Portland, Seattle – really, the entire league – Jordan was a necessary evil.

For me, the legend began on February 11, 1990.

The NBA was in the midst of a resurgence it would ride through the next ten years. Gone were the days of no-named lineups and ABA mergers and fights and drugs. Instead, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson had built trust in the NBA, and the league was quickly filled with some of the best players ever to play the game.

Rivalries were reborn as the Celtics and Lakers battled year after year for the title. And as age caught up with Bird and Magic, a new rivalry sprouted up – the Chicago Bulls and Detroit Pistons, high-flying dominance versus gritty, tough team play.

This was the NBA I was brought into. Basketball was no stranger to my life, but I hadn’t yet caught on to the significance of the game. My father, a lifelong Celtics fan, nurtured my desire to play on our school’s Gra-Y team. And it was this nurturing that led me to the home of my father’s co-worker on an early afternoon in February, to watch the 1989-1990 NBA All Star Game.

Looking back, it’s weird that anyone would stop everything to watch what has become a no-defense exhibition game. But in the 80s and early 90s, the All Star Game wasn’t just an excuse to party – it was a matter of pride for every NBA player involved. This was the season after the Pistons had won their first title, a feat they’d conquer again the subsequent summer. This was the season when Jordan’s skills as a team leader were questioned the Bulls failed – once again – to make it past their hated rivals.

The Eastern Conference team featured eight players from three distinct dynasties. Boston’s aging stars – Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale – played alongside Chicago’s future – Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen. Both teams served as teammates for the champion Pistons, as Isiah Thomas, Joe Dumars and Dennis Rodman played for Eastern Conference (and Detroit) coach Chuck Daly.

Eight players. Three dynasties. One team of stars, struggling to make a showing as a superior Western Conference team took over the game. One team, featuring three sets of players that would represent every Eastern Conference team to win an NBA title across the 80s and 90s.

It was the moment I understood what rivalries were made of. My father’s co-worker was a Detroit Pistons fan. I had taken on the mantle of Chicago Bulls follower, and my father worked through the demise of his Celtics. The three of us, watching a meaningless game in February, represented the Eastern Conference’s tendencies. The past. The present. The future.

The Bulls would falter again in the playoffs. For the first time, I understood defeat. The next season, they would finally win it all, and for the first time I understood what it mean to follow a winner. I rabidly began following the NBA, subscribing to Beckett Basketball Monthly and collecting cards as if each Harvey Grant pull was the next Honus Wagner.

All because of one player. But not because of anything he had done on the court.

My favorite memory might be Jordan’s shapeshifting lay-up during the 1991 NBA Finals; from dunk to scoop, it still seems impossible to replicate to this day. The lasting image might be Jordan clinging to the O’Brien Trophy as if it was a long lost child, crying for years of challenge, for overcoming his doubters, for finally bringing a championship to a Bulls franchise that had gone without for so long.

But my first memory is still that afternoon in February. Jordan was there, but he wasn’t king. Instead, he was just another player, on one of the biggest stages in sports, standing alongside his rivals – both past and present – playing as a team, despite the rivalries and hatred that existed between each player.

It’s not just the moment I realized I was a Jordan fan, or a Bulls fan.

It was the moment I realized I was a basketball fan.

Tags: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports, Vilhauer |

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