Musings

Thoughts from my desk just before 8:00 this fine morning...
I keep myself way too busy during the week. Yesterday I left the house at 5:30 a.m. and got home at 10:45 p.m. I still had laundry and Outlook editing to do and a lunch to make. Today is probably more of the same, since I'm heading to the Dodger game after work. Where does one draw the line when it comes to time with friends vs. necessary rest for a productive week? Decisions, decisions...
David Bell hit for the cycle last night for the Phillies, completing it with a controversial triple in the seventh inning of a 14-6 thrashing of Les Expos. Guess who gave up the decisive triple? Your favorite closer and mine, Rocky Biddle. One inning, two hits, a walk and two earned runs. A 7.71 ERA on the season after that impressive effort...
Played some NBA Live 2004 over the weekend with Phil, which got me thinking about the best basketball games ever made. It's not as easy as saying the newest games are the best, because even though the graphics and realism have increased tremendously, there are several intangibles that weigh more heavily in this sort of a debate. There aren't too many candidates, but here goes: Lakers vs. Celtics (old PC game), NCAA Basketball (old PC game, recruiting-style), Lance Haffner College Basketball (old Apple IIGS game, text-based), NBA Jam (and Jam Tournament Edition, both considered on the SNES platform rather than their arcade form), NBA Live '95 (SNES), NBA 2K (the dear, departed Sega Dreamcast) and now NBA Live 2004.
All the games have memories attached to them, which is an essential element to the respective value of each one, though Live 2004 hasn't been around long enough to have generated enough of an attachment. Out. Lance Haffner was text-based and could only really be played by one player. Though its statistical premise was a dream for a freak like me, the lack of social interaction involved negates its effectiveness. Out.
Lakers vs. Celtics was one of the only good things about weekend visits with your father back in the day (Wayne Gretzky hockey being the other), but that just brings back more pain than it's worth. The sound effect of a three-pointer was well worth the price of admission, however. Due to its ability to unearth unhappy childhood memories, Lakers-Celtics is out.
NCAA Basketball was too short-lived to win this contest, and the realist in me needed some real coaches and/or players (like the old "NCAA Basketball: Road to the Final Four" game that was also played at your father's office). The recruiting was easily the best part of this game, setting the stage for that portion of the newer NCAA Football and Basketball games on XBox and PS2. Not enough of a time span of influence. Out.
It was easy to see the three finalists coming together--NBA Live '95, NBA Jam and NBA 2K--because they're similar in one major regard. I have played all three of these excessively with my friends and have generated enough memories therein to merit consideration.
NBA 2K holds a special place because it's the most recent and was a unifying force at the amazing house in which I got to live for almost four years. Creating oneself is the crux of video game enjoyment and a created team made up entirely of the guys who are using the controllers is an awesome thing. We played at least one full season (maybe two?) and spent way too many nights up way too late in the interests of continuing our undefeated run. Ev ran a pretty solid point, racking up the steals and assists. Our wings were solidly controlled by Side and Jeff, both of whom knocked down the open 3 with regularity. B was a skinny power forward, executing in the full-court press (one which rarely allowed opponents across half court) and crashing the offensive glass. I was an awkward-looking seven-footer who hit the glass hard and dished out to open shooters. What a squad. Besides going undefeated and running to the NBA title, I think Side didn't miss a free throw all year (until I missed one playing for him--oops) and I'm fairly certain we had the league leaders in every category. Not sure I remember who was on the bench, maybe Tim Chung and John May and a few random NBA guys. Good stuff.
NBA Jam also had far too much time spent on it, almost exclusively upstairs at B's house during all hours of the day. The two-on-two capabilities (thank you, multi-tap) made it incredibly enjoyable, as did the two-vs.-computer "campaign mode," where teammates would cruise through the league and defeat tougher competition as the games wore on. Winning it all opened up extra players, which was another cool thing about it--setting lineups to match up with your opponents (i.e., not sending Anthony Peeler and Nick Van Exel out to face Larry Johnson and Alonzo Mourning). LJ and 'Zo were unbelievable on this game--it's too bad they ended up battered and separated over the years. The only strike against this game was its lack of realism--the goal of playing was obviously not to provide a game simulation (hello half-court dunks), but that had its own charm. Being "on fire" might have been one of the coolest things to be in video game history, knowing that every trey you put up was going in and that every opponent pass was about to be picked off. Ahh, good times.
Live '95 was the first gaming system basketball game I played with any real consistency. There was a college game with real teams but fake names for the SNES that kept my interest for about a month, but Live was way ahead of its time. Matt Shupper lent the game to us and I don't think he got it back until like two years later, because it had become so dear to us. The real fondness I have for the game probably has more to do with the classes missed for its sake than for its actual value. Ditching to play video games, what a great idea. It happened at least three times a week, mostly with Side and I, but other stragglers were involved as well (Derek Williamson, anyone?). Making trades to create dream teams, playing four players to a team (definitely the first time we were able to do that) and dominating some poor computer opponent. The Rockets were a fun squad and so were the Golden State Warriors for some reason (maybe it was Chris Mullin never missing a shot), but again, the real draw wasn't so much the basketball but the lack of school (and maybe the newness of the gaming experience).
This turned into a very long musing, but it's a musing nonetheless. I think after all is said and done I'd have to go with NBA 2K, because I could still play that game every day and be happy. Well, I'd be happy if I got to play it with B, Ev, Side and Jeff, but it's still a pretty sweet game...
Final thought before work starts: Why hasn't all this Laker craziness gotten me frustrated and bothered? Am I finally gaining perspective on that franchise's role in my life? Did the NBA Finals shellacking prepare me somewhat for the fallout that is yet to come? Maybe I'm just too busy to care at the moment, or maybe (hopefully) they'll be great again next year and I won't have to worry about the possible depression setting in. Good day.

Who Are You?

"Well, who are you?
I really wanna know
Tell me, who are you?
'Cause I really wanna know"
Who Are You, The Who

Watched the first half of the first round of the NBA Draft on Thursday evening at work and I have no idea who's being drafted. Okafor, Gordon, Childress, Iguodala, Deng, Jackson, cool. Foreigner 1, High Schooler 6. Come on now. It's so sad how far that great evening has fallen in the past few years.
It honestly used to rival NFL Draft day, not for endurance and for Mel Kiper Jr., but for excitement and anticipation about who was going where. I can vividly remember watching drafts through the 90's and seeing people I recognized at almost every pick. I could honestly say I had seen 90% of these guys play at some point in there college careers, and those I hadn't seen (Frankie King of Western Carolina, drafted by the Lakers one year), I had at least heard of and was aware of their "sleeper" nature.
Thursday night's first round consisted of a mere 11 players I had seen play at any point in time, four more college players I hadn't seen play, six foreigners I've obviously never seen and eight high-schoolers who played in the McDonald's game--another institution of the past that I've essentially given up.
That's a terrible percentage of foreknowledge, and I consider myself a pretty avid basketball fan. If I'm only going to know 11 (13 if you include Dwight Howard and Sebastian Telfair, because I've heard enough pre-draft talk about the two of them to have some idea what they're about), that's a telecast not worth watching.
Even going back to 1999, considered the most recent great draft, the recognition factor in the lottery is awesome. Elton Brand, Steve Francis, Baron Davis and Lamar Odom--picks one through four--were all watched numerous times on tv competing for their respective college squads. Jonathan Bender was the fifth pick out of high school and I at least got to watch him in the McDonald's game and the three-point contest. Wally Szczerbiak, Richard Hamilton, Andre Miller, Shawn Marion, Jason Terry, Trajan Langdon and Corey Maggette--picks six through 11 and 13--were also viewed quite a bit in college, generating plenty of excitement about their eventual destinations. Pick 12 was Aleksandar Radojevic from a JC in Kansas, so he's the one in the whole group that was a "Huh?" pick, but the remainder were actual stars.
Other names in that year's first round included Ron Artest, James Posey, Quincy Lewis, Dion Glover, Kenny Thomas, Tim James, Vonteego Cummings, Jumaine Jones and Scott Padgett, again providing recognizability. There were a few weirdos in there, some of which turned out--Andrei Kirilenko, Devean George, Jeff Foster--and some that didn't--Frederic Weis and Leon Smith.
Unfortunately, college basketball has been so decimated by the high school and freshman exodus that the draft can no longer consist of those guys that have been around the college game for a few years. Even Emeka Okafor, a three-year player at UConn, was considered old by this year's standards.
The NFL has a lot of things right, not the least of which is its policy about underclassmen. Keeping kids in school for at least three years keeps the college game attractive and keeps the league from introducing too many young busts every year. I feel bad for Mike Williams (not so bad for Maurice Clarett), but it's a good thing that their appeals have been denied, because it keeps in place a system that provides quality competition across the board and provides a draft day like no other.
David Stern has to be looking at such a limit, not only for his own interests, but for the greater good of the game of basketball.
Now that was more of a sermon than a blog, so a few more tids and bits before bedtime...
Vladimir Guerrero might be the sickest player in the American League, but he also might not be the best outfielder on his own team. Garrett Anderson is back from injury and hit two bombs yesterday (one off Lima time) on Fox that have me believing he's one of the best around. Vlad also crushed one--honestly the loudest homer I've ever heard on television--in a rout of the Dodgers, but the Halos got bounced today.
Pads are rolling--another strong outing from Adam Eaton today--but the Giants and Dodgers keep winning as well, so the margin remains three games (a half-game ahead of LA), but good things have been happening with my boys. Hopefully I'll be able to get down there this weekend or next for one game before the All-Star break.
Padre talk must dominate this blog because I doubt I'll have the courage to write anything about the Chargers once football starts. Long day tomorrow, starting at 5 and probably ending around 11:30. Good wishes.

Closers

"Coffee is for closers!"
--Blake, Glengarry Glen Ross

Coffee is not for Rocky Biddle. Though he's a fellow Rio Hondo League alum (Temple City, class of '94) and a former basketball opponent (we drilled them twice his senior year), he's also a pitcher on my fantasy baseball team and an embarassment to the entire squad. He's a closer, one of those guys who's supposed to come in for the 9th inning, strike a few guys out and rack up saves. That's what Eric Gagne does. Mariano Rivera's been doing it for ten years. Trevor Hoffman can still do it. There are plenty of guys who take care of save opportunities on a nightly basis, securing much-needed victories for their teams (even Danny Kolb, a waiver-wire acquisition who's fourth in the majors with 21 saves to date--oh yeah, he's also on my team). Then there's Rocky Biddle.
Last night the Rockpile pitched an inning and a third and gave up four runs. Yeah, that's a 27.00 ERA for his brief appearance, letting the White Sox back into the game and almost blowing it for his Expos. It's not just an aberration however, because that little four-spot brings the Rockmeister's season ERA to a robust 7.82. That's atrocious. That's like Shaq's free throw percentage or Drew Brees' completion percentage (sorry Bolts). I looked up the overall big-league statistics and there are only four pitchers in the entire majors that have pitched as many innings and have a worse ERA. One of them plays in Colorado, so that doesn't count. The other three aren't depended on to close the door in late-inning situations, to pick up those all-important saves.
His problems aren't necessarily in walks and strikeouts (15 K's and eight walks in 25.1 innings), but in giving up hits. Base runners kill a relief pitcher and he gets himself into jams all the time. Opponents are hitting .327 off him this season, which means that everyone who faces Rockfish feels like they're a batting champion. Maybe that's what he's out there for--to improve the morale of the rest of baseball.
On a bigger scale, the Montreal franchis right now is just a joke. They let their two best players--Javier Vasquez and Vladimir Guerrero--go during the off-season and now keep a guy like this in the closing role. It's hard to fathom why there are even 5000 fans at some of these games. With a team like that on the field, I think they'd be hard-pressed to draw 3K each night.
Good baseball is not being played in San Diego of late either, though they righted the ship a bit with a 3-2 win over Toronto last night. Dennis Tankersley actually pitches quite well when he gets starts, but he hasn't gotten much run support (he only gave up two in his five innings but didn't figure in the decision last night). Trevor Hoffman, a real closer, picked up his 15th save of the year (his ERA is 2.35, by the way) and continues a remarkable comeback from last season's injury.
Side postulated one time that it's more important to have a good bullpen ERA than a good starting rotation ERA, so my last point on this whole closers post is a look at the top ERA among closers and the corresponding records of those teams. Mariano Rivera 0.96, Yankees 1st place. Armando Benitez 1.18, Marlins 1st place. Kolb 0.98, Brew-dogs not in contention. Though closers are huge and provide a wonderful complement to a good pitching staff, they don't matter unless you get them enough opportunities. Starters (and middle relievers) have to be good enough to keep the team in the game. If they're in it all the way until the ninth inning, then the closers can come in and take care of business. But if the starter gets shelled in the first inning (see Hideo Nomo and Pedro Martinez yesterday), the team is playing from behind all day and can't afford any other mistakes the rest of the way.
Not the most exhilarating subject matter, but interesting (I hope) to baseball fans.
Bel Air this morning (I'm getting to like the more liturgical, hymn-filled 9 a.m. service) and then more hoops at Brentwood, which always makes for good times. Happy Father's Day too, we'll be up in Pasadena for dinner. Out.

No So Much Me...

"It's not even so much me as it is Roenick.
He's good."
--Trent, "Swingers"

That's my first movie line intro, something that will no doubt resurface a time or two in place of the song lyrics. In this case it's relevant because the object of Trent's affection (and the cause of Sue's suffering and Gretzky's bleeding head) was on our show as a guest host all week and I got to meet him, which was definitely cool. JR isn't that big of a guy, height-wise, but he's so thick and you can see the toughness (and 15 years of scars) in his face. He got to go to the "Dodgeball" premiere last week (I saw it on the Fox lot yesterday--hilarious) and met Vince Vaughn in the lobby after it was screened. He said it was the greatest moment of his career to be included in that movie and when he thanked Vince for doing it, Vince came back with all sorts of excitement about meeting JR, how big a Chicago fan he was and how much he loved Roenick when he played for the 'Hawks. The mutual love was very apparent as JR relayed his tale, funny stuff.
I also was in on a conversation with him in our control room, where he came to visit between segments. He was talking about the South Bay actually--he's been staying in Hermosa with Steve Lyons all week--and the girls he was meeting down there, crazy stuff. One story he mentioned included two girls and way too much detail--needless to say, the entire control room was captivated. Must be crazy being a professional athlete, even a hockey player, a sport that doesn't rank too high on the recognizability list.
Notes on Dodgeball: Yes, Ben Stiller plays essentially the same character in all his movies, but he's still funny. Vince Vaughn is very funny being himself too, understated and the straight man for a lot of Stiller's stupidity. Christine Taylor doesn't work in anything but her husband's movies and I actually think she's getting a little too thin for her own good. She can throw a dodgeball though (a former softball player, which causes the other players to assume she's a lesbian--that's funny). There are several great cameos (unnamed at the moment to preserve their effect) and a whole lot of people getting hit in the groin by dodgeballs (and assorted other items). Don't underestimate the power of the groin shot in filmmaking (Homer Simspon: "...but 'Football in the Groin' has a football in the groin..."). It's definitely worth seeing and will make you laugh far more than Starsky & Hutch did.
Baseball at Fox today, Yankees @ Dodgers and Red Sox @ Giants, both fun games. Out.

No Longer Silent

"When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence"
--Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel

Haven't wanted to write much since watching the last few games of the Finals, since the Lakers have been a primary source of inspiration and now, obviously, can inspire no more. I got to cut highlight montages of every single finals game and after the high of presenting Kobe's 3 and the overtime domination of game 2, it's been all depressing work ever since.
In hindsight, though, this season really has been an incredible one, marked by unfair expectations throughout and distractions at a level never before seen. Through all the Kobe court appearances, Shaq moodiness, Payton frustrations and Malone injuries, they persevered and made it through an amazingly tough Western Conference to reach the Finals--a dramatic feat in itself. Though most of America (myself included) considered the title a foregone conclusion at that point, it quickly became apparent that without Malone, the Lakers were too old, too slow and too unbalanced to keep up with the younger, quicker and more together Pistons (of course, even with Malone, it might not have been too different a story).
The aftermath of this crazy season has me worried a great deal. There's so much potential for change that more than half of the roster and coaching staff might not be back when training camp starts in the fall. It appears that Derek Fisher and Karl Malone have already opted out of the final year of their respective contracts, the former to perhaps test his value on the free agent market and the latter no doubt to retire to the Arkansas wilderness. Gary Payton will no doubt soon follow suit and Kobe has said that he will be opting out as well. Phil said that it's only a "slim chance" that he'll be back. It's almost too much to handle, the possibilities too endless to even attempt a prediction.
Here's mine, for what it's worth at this early date. Kobe will be back, if only for the $30 million the Lakers can pay him that goes beyond what any other team can give. Shaq has to be back, but he can opt out after next year, which might actually be a time for him to retire (especially if the injury pace he's set in the last few years continues). Fish will end up back as the starting point guard and Payton will opt out only to find that he's not in nearly as high demand as he might have thought. Slava will probably not be back, with Brian Cook capable of filling the void left, and Phil will no doubt be spending his fall thigh-deep in the rivers of Montana, fly-fishing and happy to be away from the me-me-me-me attitudes he experienced the past few years.
Free agency isn't much of an option when you have two players taking up more than the entire salary cap, so they'll have to hope the draft is good to them and look to the continued development of Devean, Kareem, Luke and Cook. We'll see about that.
Jamie Kennedy is a very funny guy. I ran into him in the hallway of our studios yesterday and had to direct him to the bathroom. Even just a two or three-minute conversation made me laugh several times. His show is also amazingly humorous. I never know when it's on, but the clips I got to see this week were hilarious, laugh-out-loud stuff.
Sleep would be a good thing for me, considering it really hasn't existed much this week. I'm gonna give it a shot now. Peace.

Not So Sure

"How could something well guided
Turn out to be divisive
Mostly wondering
It seems uncertain"
--Seems Uncertain, 311

I stumbled across this one and I think it accurately sums up the state of my beloved Lakers at the moment. This was supposed to be the best time of the year, when all differences and selfishness would be put aside for the greater good, but now it seems they're more fractured and unsure than ever. Aargh. Definitely nervous for tonight's game (tip-off in about an hour), not knowing what to expect or which Laker team will show up.
Spent some time yesterday after baseball watching the 1996 Eastern Conference Finals, Game 1 and part of Game 2. The Orlando Magic (led by Penny and Shaq) had defeated the Bulls the previous year, so this series had been eagerly anticipated for some time. The Bulls did what good teams do in the first game, dominating every facet of the game while letting Shaq and Penny essentially get theirs. The final score was 121-83 and a large part of the margin was tacked on by the Steve Kerr-led bench, but the domination was indeed there. Michael played within himself, scoring just 21, and was joined by six other Bulls in double figures. What a TEAM.
Penny had 40 and Shaq had 25 or so, but no other player reached double figures. In fact, the other three starters (Horace Grant, Dennis Scott and Nick Anderson) combined to go 0-10 from the floor and score just 2 points. Does that problem sound familiar? Just fill in Kobe for Penny and you've got the Lakers right now. (Several Laker connections in that game, by the way: Horace Grant and B-Shaw playing for Orlando, Ron Harper playing for the Bulls and Phil and his whole coaching staff.)
At his best this year, Karl was only a 15 and 8 guy. As a hobbled shell of his former self, he's no more capable of stepping up than Horace is, and Ho isn't even on the playoff roster. Gary has aged faster than he or anyone else wants to admit and he needs a lot of help at the defensive end. Offensively, he needs to be able to knock down open looks and that's not his strength at all. The guys who should be hitting those open looks, therefore giving Kobe and Shaq some much-needed offensive relief, are Fish, Kareem and Devean, and they've given us nothing through three games.
Of course, should they manage to eke out a win here, the series will be all tied up and home-court advantage will have been regained, no matter how poorly they've played thus far. We can only hope...
Played basketball this morning after early service at Bel Air (which was a nice dose of liturgy, actually), and I was 0-4 on dunk attempts, which pretty much sucked. The closest one I had, however, was a beautiful effort in a half-court set, pretty much on my boy Schnider, but it just rimmed out. Gotta get one of those down next week. Oh yeah, and our Westwood game tomorrow night got canceled, which means we have to stew in our defeat for another whole week. Hopefully the Lakers can take my mind off the rec league loss with a few wins of their own (yeah, everything pretty much goes back to them).
Got back to some songwriting again this weekend, which was a welcome renewal of something that I enjoy tremendously. Most of my inspiration over the last year-plus has come from the same place, but enough variety exists in the songs to make for a decent album, I would think. I'll have to spit out a couple more over the next few weeks with some varied subject matter, but the itch to write has returned, so that shouldn't be a problem.
Smile.
Need to go watch the pre-game show, see who else is counting the Lakers out before they awaken from this slumber. Cross your fingers...

Way Off

"What's going on here
What must we fear
To live in this fantasyland in your mind
Who'll carry the load
For dreams left untold
Can you live in this world all mine"
--What's Going On, Hootie & the Blowfish

Not much to say in the aftermath of the worst postseason offensive performance in Laker franchise history. One word will suffice: Ouch.
Got to meet Omarosa on the set today though, that was kinda weird. She's the chick from "The Apprentice" (a show I actually never watched), and she made some news with racist accusations and I guess by just being mean. She seemed cool when she visited us in the control room though, very interested in television and how everything was working. She even seemed weirded out by her own image on the screen, a fascination I thought we all got over the first time we walked into Sav-On and looked at the security monitor. Wave, wow, there I am.
The fact that she's a celebrity in the first place bothers me. Reality TV is something I just don't think I'll ever get. The only show I've ever really watched was the original Joe Millionaire, more because it was something fun for my roommates and I to do than for the content. I wasn't home for the season finale and they taped it for me, but I never even got around to watching it, thus demonstrating my desire for community over trashy television. The very idea of "The Swan" makes me cringe (and it's a Fox show, so it's all over our building), American Idol is never good, Survivor sucks and now even Mark Cuban is going to have a show. Why on earth could SportsNight not find a home anywhere and crap like this is on every network?
Turning now to shows that aren't crap (like the one I work on), I got to produce the David Wells segment today, which was a lot of fun. He's hilarious, plus he's a Padre, so it's good stuff all the way around. One of the benefits was that I got to watch his last start (Tuesday at Boston) in its entirety, and saw a tremendous pitchers' duel between him and Pedro. They're both getting up there in years (Wells is actually 41), but combined for 13 2/3 innings of shutout ball and each came up with some clutch strikeouts. Pedro is still dirty, making Phil Nevin and Brian Giles both look like fools on multiple occasions. Part of me wishes I was a Red Sox fan, 'cause he is a fun pitcher to watch, no doubt. Actually, I don't think I like anyone else on that team, so never mind. They just need to let Pedro leave in the off-season to sign with San Diego.
Tomorrow is Friday. I appreciate that fact, as it's been a rather long week and I think I'm looking forward to sleeping a little bit. I've moved up my wake-up time yet again, to 5:00 now to accomodate for the free parking near my gym (as opposed to the $1.50 a day in the lot upstairs). I started reading this book my Dad gave me called "The Automatic Millionaire" and one of the steps is cutting out stupid daily expenses. There goes $1.50. So I haven't read all of it yet, but I think that means I'll be a millionaire in a couple weeks. Sweet.
I suppose spending like $500 a month at the grocery store might be something I could look into altering as well, but I'm taking baby steps here.
Friday and Saturday will both be wonderful days, if only because the Lakers can't lose on either one of them. A nice easy baseball day Saturday and perhaps a visit from Princeton Seminary graduate Darren sometime this weekend. Oh yeah, work party Friday night too, but it's a little dicey. Five girls from the office have birthdays that are pretty close together, so they're pretty much owning a bar that night, and for us, going is an expectation. Not sure how I feel about spending another five hours with people alongside whom I've just spent a 50-hour work week. I do like the people I work with, definitely, but these girls aren't exactly my best friends there. Whatever. I'm sure I'll be out before I can even decide, knowing my propensity for early Friday pass-outs. We'll see.

Game Time

"We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight
We'll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as i believe in you, tonight"
--Tonight Tonight, Smashing Pumpkins

The Lakers haven't really been in a must-win situation like this since Game 3 of the Spurs series, but tonight is huge. Maintaining the momentum captured by Kobe's shot and the overtime domination will be essential for the overall path of this series.
Karl Malone's presence is in doubt and the lack of a defensive presence on Rasheed Wallace could be pivotal. Slava hasn't even learned the word "defense" yet--he started with "shoot" and has gotten through "foul" and "turnover"--and Luke is entirely too undersized. Remember the Houston series, when Walton played a few meaningful minutes? Van Gundy sent Mo Taylor to the block on every possession, abusing the rookie and forcing Phil to make another move. Brian Cook isn't ready for this stage--witness his one possession in Game 2, losing the ball and getting tied up. Even if Malone can go, he'll be hobbled significantly, and 'Sheed took advantage of the gimpy one numerous times in the second half on Sunday.
Where has Derek Fisher been? Earth to Devean George. Kareem Rush, pick up the white courtesy phone. Somebody other than Shaq and Kobe absolutely MUST have a good game tonight, shoulder at least a small amount of the scoring load. This won't continue to work:
Game 1 - Shaq 34, Kobe 25, rest of team 16 (nobody over 5--that's awful)
Game 2 - Kobe 33, Shaq 29, rest of team 37 (much better, but still nobody over 9)
The improvement was noticeable in Game 2, as Walton had a big game, Fish did make two big threes and Devean had a couple nice buckets, but more will certainly be required from that supporting cast before it's all said and done.
Met a guy who lives in Kenya last night at bible study, an individual that helped give a little perspective to life at the moment. He has spent much of his life living day-to-day moneywise, not knowing where the next meal was going to come from or how he would be able to help take care of his family. He's got some pretty amazing stories of faith and he's come a long way--he now helps run a school for like 80 kids just outside of Nairobi and personally tends to 22 of the kids by himself (most of which are AIDS victims), with financial help from individuals in the United States. I get worked up over the Lake Show all the time, maybe not quite equating it with life and death, but I certainly lose perspective far too often with my immersion in the world of sports. Life is much bigger.

Therapist

"How do you think he does it? I don't know!
What makes him so good?"
--Pinball Wizard, The Who

I really had no doubt coming out of the time out that Kobe was going to hit a three-pointer. He's done it too many times in his career to date for me to really worry much about it anymore. Though I should have been shaking with nervousness, I sat calmly and watched the clock tick down, Kobe trying to shake Rip Hamilton. Of course, as soon as the shot went in, I jumped up and down and screamed my approval, essentially re-creating the D-Fish scene from a couple weeks ago. Wow.
I really don't think he's Michael Jordan, but my goodness, he keeps coming up with shots and moves and clutch plays to make a very strong case. He'll never score 35 a game like Mike, but he's obviously capable (see last year's run of 40-plus games) and is even a better outside shooter. If the Lakers do end up winning this title (seemed a foregone conclusion a week ago, but is slightly less certain at the moment), he'll have four rings before the age of 26--MJ had none at that point. He'd only have two left to catch Mike, and probably 10+ years to do so. So if winning is the ultimate measurement (and those who tout Bill Russell as the game's greatest surely think so), he's got to be right up there. It's an unwinnable argument, but a fun one nonetheless (my vote still goes with Michael, until Kobe wins one without Shaq).
A little side note on the Lakers' final possession of regulation: Shaq definitely had the ball at the top of the key with under 10 seconds to play. How they didn't foul him there is beyond me. If they foul, three wonderful things happen for Detroit: 1) Kobe never touches the ball. 2) Shaq shoots a free throw. 3) Shaq shoots another free throw. Granted, he had made his last one to complete a crucial three-point play that put the Lakers in a position to tie at the end. But putting him on the line would most likely have meant one point at the most. Even if he hit both, the Lakers would have to foul (Hamilton 87%, Billups 88%) and would have no time outs left to advance the ball and get a possible tying basket. Poorly played, Larry Brown.
Oh yeah, and they did have to play overtime, which was a Shaq showcase. It's amazing how much his game is stepped up in the Finals--I mean, never under 25 points in a Finals game? Awesome.
Can't go on without mentioning our South Bay boy, LUUUUUUUUUUKE. How sad is it that GP has six assists in 59 minutes in this series, but our curly-haired rookie comes in and drops eight DIMES in his 27 minutes tonight? Most of them were of the spectacular variety too, and the finish on Tayshaun in transition (were you taking notes, Reggie Miller?), the high-arcing trey, wow. I didn't necessarily agree with Brian Cook being on the floor at any point (though when Karl's hurt and Slava's being Slava, there aren't many options), but Phil's had a knack of getting one of these role players to step up at opportune times.
This can't be all Lakers, all the time, so I'm going to end with...nothing. I literally sat here for ten minutes trying to think about something other than the Lakers and I failed miserably. That's so sad. Oh well. Bedtime.

Inside-Outside

And Shaq's no gimmick you can mimic
But you front and your finished
I like playin' on the west side
Even though I miss playin' on the east side
--Straight Playin', Shaquille O'Neal

A lyrical wizard, that man. Some other gems from this hit single: "Type of brother who can stay up all night and hit 40 / After the game get naughty / And pull your shorty." Truer words were never spoken.
I'm glad he's been pretty much focusing on basketball lately--no "Steel" or "Kazaam," no bad albums, just dunks, rebounds and blocked shots.
So yeah, our game tonight didn't necessarily reflect a Shaq-like dominance. If he was on our team, we would have been all right, but minus an inside presence, we definitely struggled. Bombing threes on pretty much every possession, we hung with a very good team and definitely could have beaten them, but we couldn't execute down the stretch (that's the favorite word of NBA players and coaches: execution) and they made free throws to win by 10.
We had fun though, and I think that's gotta be the key to playing sports at this point in life. It's obviously not going to lead to any higher level--Jerry West probably doesn't spend too much of his time at the Westwood Recreation Center, looking for his next project big man--and there's no real recognition for success, so it's gotta be about having fun playing ball with your boys.
If we lose every game the rest of the way, fun probably goes out the window, but I think we're good enough to contend in this league (Jason Kapono was in the house tonight, but thankfully he was competing in the division above ours--not sure how well I would have matched up with an NBA guy, even if he did play for LAVIN).
One bummer about playing was that we missed the hockey game, a Tampa Bay victory that earned them the Stanley Cup. I'm bummed for Jarome Iginla--he was the best player in the whole playoffs and he deserved to win--but the Lightning are a great team and their depth really carried them to this win. Brad Richards and Vincent Lecavalier both played tremendously throughout the post-season and the 'Bulin wall was solid as usual (a member of my fantasy hockey team last year, I'll have you know).
Another guy I'm actually happy for is Daryl Sydor, who won his second cup (his first came with Dallas a few years back) after making it to the finals as a young stud in '93 with the Kings. That core of young defensemen was so good, I really wish we could have kept them together somehow. Obviously Rob Blake is the best defenseman in the game, Sydor is outstanding and Alexei Zhitnik continues to perform at a high level (with a big fat contract) in Buffalo.
I'm reminded of that team often--watching CBC broadcasts of many of the playoff games this year (for the rollout I've been working on--airs tomorrow, by the way) has allowed me to see studio analyst Kelly Hrudey at his finest. The hair is modeled after Barry Melrose, I think, though I don't think anyone in hockey (or all of sport, for that matter) has approached B-Mel's hairsprayed Tennesee tophat. The best hair in this year's playoffs belonged to Calgary d-man Mike Commodore, but since they're always wearing helmets, the giant red afro was rarely on display.
An addendum to the hot or not quandary from last night: in hindsight, I think she's not hot. Nice and tall and blonde, but not hot. Whether or not that's a final decision remains to be seen, and recent history would allow me to believe there's more fluctuation on the horizon. So yeah.
Now that Sopranos is done I honestly think I won't be watching a single second of television that isn't sports for a long time. West Wing finished up a couple weeks ago and those two are the only non-sports shows I ever watch. Seeing as how I have an average of two hours at home a day that isn't sleep time, a lack of TV is definitely a good thing.
We got an offer in the mail for TiVo at a pretty good rate, but I actually think that would be an atrocity. I would seriously TiVo everything aired on Classic Sports, the NFL Network and NBA TV, meaning that I'd have like three weeks of programming to watch every week, which I don't think is mathematically possible. Math. Ha.
I just wore myself out thinking about long division. Outlook editing is enough for tonight. Here's my gem from this week's coach summaries, unedited to preserve the natural beauty:
"the blue m and m's rallied form a 7-2 deficit to hold off the kid klubbers 12-9. kelly truebloods bases clearing double ignited the rally.janna johnson,ali priess,amber martinez and catherine horner also delivered key hits. julia starr and julia jagelsscored runs and sarah hull had an rbi. madison white caught two pop ups and becca stoker and alexandra brown handled the catching duties, with ashley fejtek contributing a well placed bunt."
I'm not sure you can actually rally "form" a deficit, but it's a nice effort. Most paragraphs in the English language require a space after a period and sentences necessitate a space after commas. Words should also be separated by those spaces, or yoursentenceswilllooklikethis. Proper nouns are generally capitalized, as I'm sure you've seen on your business card or stationery (or maybe your husband's business card?). I do like that the last girl's name is Fejtek though. That's kind of like So-Tek, right?
Ahh, the joys of small-town editing. That's enough. Peace out.

Again?

"But to me it seems quite clear
that it's all just a little bit of history repeating"
--History Repeating, Miss Shirley Bassey

Wasn't that a 'Crombie song at some point? How great were some of those soundtracks, by the way? The only bummer about great 'Crombie music was that I got sick of songs before they even got on the radio, and then when they're on the radio all the time, I couldn't stand them anymore. Another 'Crombie song reference in a minute, but first I must explain the lyrical reference.
June 6, 2001. The heavily-favored Lakers come into Staples Center for Game 1 of the NBA Finals against the Larry Brown-coached Philadelphia 76ers. Allen Iverson goes off (48 points), the Lakers (other than Shaq--44, 20 and 5--wow) struggle a bit but manage to force overtime, where Philly somehow ends up on top and emerges with a 107-101 victory.
June 6, 2004. The heavily-favored Lakers come into Staples Center for Game 1 of the NBA Finals against the Larry Brown-coached Detroit Pistons. Chauncey Billups goes off (22 points), the Lakers (other than Shaq--34 and 11) struggle mightily and Detroit emerges with an 87-75 victory.
Aargh.
Let's hope the rest of history repeats itself as well, since the Lakers obviously ended up winning that 2001 series, rebounding to post four straight W's en route to title number two. It's definitely not a sure thing, however, with the kind of defense those Pistons were playing. Getting the ball inside to Shaq seemed to work every single time (he was 13-16 from the floor and 8-12 from the line), but somehow that didn't seem to be a priority for most of the game. They were content to get off-the-dribble jumpers from Kobe, Fish and Rush, and Mailman couldn't knock down an open j to save his life.
Yet again, they toy with my emotions so much, it's painful. At least there was very little time to stew in frustration before the Sopranos started. Good finish, Johnny Sack going down. It sucks that we have to wait like a year, but that's how television goes. Only have to wait one more day, however, for the next episode of the Best Damn Sports Show Period, baby. Yeah.
Okay, so Abercrombie music reference number two.
May 31, 1999. Scott and Side hard at work at the Glendale store, with perhaps our favorite song of the duration of our employment playing (possible exception: that Collective Soul song, "na-na-na-na government"). That's right, you've got your name in lights, you're a superstar.
So Side makes an off-hand comment to these girls that occasionally us employees like to get up on the counters and have Dance Party USA at random times, so they should come back and check it out sometime. Of course, they decide to come back like an hour later and take Side up on his offer. So he comes to the back a little nonplussed (btw, Junior Soprano used this word tonight) and not sure how to go about making this happen. Jordan Eiler, Brandon Goode and myself leap to his aid, genuinely excited about putting on a show for these chicks (I hope they were hot, I really don't recall). Feeling like it needed to be worse than it already was, we all put on girls' clothes (why was this a good idea?) and got up there on our counter--store still open and full of customers, by the way--to dance the night away.
It was obviously a good time for my mom to come into the store and deliver some birthday cookies. She probably went to counseling for a while after seeing that image of her son--might have been a little disturbing. Hopefully the girls went home entertained though, that's really what it's all about. I'm guessing that wouldn't have happened at a store not managed by Stephanie Fig, but maybe that's just me. I should have worked there longer, if only to have more stories like that to tell.
Side mentioned something in the Ramblings about not being sure if a girl's hot or not (Uma Thurman and somebody else, I don't remember). Definitely hate that. Met a girl at a party Friday night, pretty sure she was hot. She came down to the beach today, went to the AVP with me and a couple other people--didn't think she was so hot today. Then she came over for the second half of the Lake Show and for Sopranos, and dang it, she was hot again. Why do things work that way?
Game two of our Westwood Recreation basketball league tomorrow night, I'm already getting excited. We won our first with a Pistons-esque defensive philosophy and time management skills and now we'll have a deeper bench this time around. Full game report coming, maybe not tomorrow night (thank you so much, Outlook sports), but soon enough. Peace.

Believability Factor

"And it just makes me wonder
Why so many lose, so few win
So give me something to believe in"
--Something to Believe In, Poison

Made the small mistake of seeing "The Day After Tomorrow" tonight, and while it entertained for the most part, the sheer number of implausible occurrences--large and small--was staggering. It's a lot just to accept the premise that the world is going to freeze over in a matter of hours, so we're doing them a favor just by going that far. Unfortunately, the movie's creators can't stop there. They inundate us with ridiculousness, matched only by the cheese factor that permeates the heartfelt story angles (and believe me, there are plenty). The absolute worst exchange in the whole film--anyone who has seen it can attest to this--comes between two so-called rivals (from the academic decathlon, mind you) that are competing for the attention of a girl. I don't want to ruin the comedy of the moment for anyone who hasn't seen it, but I really laughed out loud at how bad it was.
On the subject of movies, Shrek 2 was brilliant (probably should have just seen it again tonight instead), maybe even better than the first, and full of great characters. Eddie Murphy delivers again as the donkey and Antonio Banderas is hilarious as Puss 'N Boots (spelled like Guns 'N Roses, I think?). Preview for "Dodgeball" was outstanding and the little standup ad for "Anchorman" also has me excited. Might see Harry Potter sometime soon as well.
So last night Cary and I went to a fun little party up in Santa Monica, saw some familiar faces, definitely met some new ones. The girls who live there, Melanie and Michelle, are very fun people and entertain guests quite frequently. They also have a very diverse circle of friends, which makes for a fun environment at these get-togethers.
One of the girls who lives upstairs (her name is Elizabeth, though not nicknamed Poon, strangely enough) dates a guy named Otis. He used to live in La Canada and knows many of the people I know, which is pretty cool. She also has a friend in town named Tina, who attends medical school in Grenada, and all three are outstanding people. Theoretically they'll all be coming down to the beach tomorrow to hang out and watch the AVP Tournament down at the pier. Should be good times.
Why does ESPN Classic have to make my life so difficult? The Stanley Cup Finals are on, Game 6 in Calgary, which should obviously be the object of my attention as soon as I get home from work. So of course, I'm watching, only to notice during a commercial that Classic is playing the 1992 NBA Finals Game 6 (MJ vs. Portland), immediately followed by the '93 Finals Game 6 (MJ vs. Chuck). Ouch. How, in good faith, can I not be watching Michael play? Thankfully, I began the process of taking inventory of my VHS collection, and plenty of Bulls playoff games are included therein.
Finished baseball work this afternoon and headed down to the Best Damn trailer (that's used as a proper noun, "Best Damn," rather than an adjective, one that could certainly become overused) to say hello to a couple guys who were putting in some Saturday hours. One of our producers had just gotten back from Healthsouth, where he had followed Jalen Rose around and had him filmed as our correspondent at the Lakers' and Pistons' practices.
Several hilarious moments on those tapes--we'll see what he's able to include in the actual piece--but the funniest was probably Phil Jackson calling Jalen "Jamal" to his face, and truly believing that was his name. Good stuff.
Played some more NASCAR Thunder--Timmy even gave it a shot and he loves it now too, and I guess Phil played some on his own earlier--sweet. Had a couple Top-10's and a couple not-so-good showings, but then I won the Lowe's All-Star qualifier and finished 8th in that one. I can't even imagine the adrenaline being in one of those stock cars for a race, seeing as how I end practically every race in a sweat as it is.
Belmont Stakes provided us with a great race, even if Smarty couldn't pull it out. It just extends the mystique and the significance of the Triple Crown, something I hope does happen again sometime in the near future. It's cool to have people united in rooting for something like that, 'cause that sort of thing doesn't happen often enough in sports (unified rooting interest, that is).
It seems that people do unite to root against the Lakers, however, and I'm sure that will be in full effect tomorrow evening. Even though it's game one of the Finals, is it sacrilege to call the Laker game the Sopranos' pre-game show? I'm really not sure which one I'm looking forward to more. Maybe Sopranos, if only for the reason that at least three more games are to follow from the Lake Show. Here's a question: Which of the two mailed it in more often this season? The Sopranos didn't really start playing until the "playoffs" either.
Late night, up for church and then beach. Hope for sunshine. Yeah.

Weekends

"Look out weekend 'cause here I come
Because weekends were, werrrre"
--Weekend, Black Eyed Peas

Yes, those same Black Eyed Peas who brough you ESPN's anthem of the NBA Playoffs, "Let's Get it Started." Big fan of that girl in the group, by the way. I'm all for Al Michaels, George Gervin and Kareem, but more of her in those videos would be a good thing.
Think I'm going to the Galaxy game tomorrow after baseball, a 7:30 tilt with the Kansas City Wizards (initially they were called the 'Wiz'; whoever thought that was a good idea?) that's preceded by a Mauricio Cienfuegos testimonial match. The ancient El Salvadoran was a member of the Galaxy from MLS' first season until last year, and he retired in the off-season.
I love the concept of a testimonial match, but it's only something that exists in soccer. The concept is that they bring back a bunch of older guys, players from his various teams, significant opponents, maybe even friends and celebrities that didn't necessarily play professionally. In this instance, they'll have a "Galaxy" squad and then an "MLS" squad, and Cien will choose the sides himself, then play a half with each team. That's another fun part of these games, the lack of true dedication to the rules, substitutions and position switches and whatnot.
I've watched a couple of these matches from Europe on TV and I think it would be a great thing to do for baseball players. Football wouldn't work and basketball is a possibility, but still might be too much for the old guys to do (remember when they used to have the Schick Legends Game at NBA All-Star Weekend and Rick Barry would just ball-hog and make everyone hate him more than they already do?). Baseball would be perfect.
How cool would it have been to have a Tony Gwynn testimonial to open Petco Park? He played for so long that finding willing participants would be a joke. He also coaches for San Diego State, so he could have played an exhibition against them if not enough opponents could be located. A tribute to Cal Ripken at Camden? That All-Star Game when he homered and got to play shortstop served as a tribute of sorts, but to actually put on an event like that would be great. They'd sell out the place, I'm sure, even if the game were on it's own, but it could be part of a double-header with the big-league game. People actually come watch the Hollywood Stars Night at Dodger Stadium every year, so I'm fairly certain this will work.
Eight more hours of hockey today, hopefully this thing will look pretty sweet by the time we're done.

O Canada

"With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee"
--O Canada, obviously

Watched some great hockey tonight, the best player in the NHL leading his team to victory and to within one game of bringing the Stanley Cup back to Canada. Jarome Iginla is awesome. He scores, he skates, he passes, he grinds and he brawls. Very few players that possess his skill level will also play such a physical game (Todd Bertuzzi may be the exception)--he's gotten into four fights in the playoffs, including one in the Finals to go with his 13 goals and nine assists. That's so great.
The parallel I draw would be like watching Charles Barkley or Karl Malone in their heyday. Both could step out and shoot jumpers, make exceptional passes and run the floor beautifully, but both would also not hesitate to bring an elbow upside somebody's head or to get into a shoving match. Now Chuck's resigned to talking trash from a padded chair in the TNT studio and Mailman grinds it out and misses layups like he's Samaki Walker. At least one of them will have a ring within the next two weeks. Have I mentioned yet how much I can't wait for the NBA Finals to start?
Got an edit session nice and early tomorrow, then hopefully home to nap before I go out. I'm invited to a party--or should I say, e-vited--but I haven't responded, and I think I'm boycotting e-vite from now on. Because I wasn't sure about going, I've now received four reminders this week telling me that I haven't RSVP'ed yet. I'm well aware of that fact, thank you, and if the invitors (as opposed to me, the invitee) care so much, they can call and ask if I'm going or not. If there are enough people on the invite list to merit an electronic notification, I'm sure my attendance (or lack thereof) won't be a huge point of contention. Sometimes the internet makes things stupid instead of simpler.
No Padre game tonight; they've got the day off before welcoming the Beermakers into town this weekend. Vlad went 3-for-4 tonight, continuing his torrid hitting, but managed just one RBI in the Halos' victory. The DBacks got it right, walking Bonds three times (once intentionally) in his four plate appearances and coming up with an 11-5 win.
Short and sweet tonight, 'cause early to bed and early to rise and all that jazz.

The Real Superstar

"Vladimir Vladimir
standing in the field
'til he lines his
sight along the furrows"
--Vladimir Vladimir, Jane Siberry

I had to search for that one, but I needed to pay tribute to the ridiculousness that is Vlad Guerrero. Just got home from bible study and had three great sporting events from which to choose: USA-Honduras on Fox Sports World (delayed; the US had already won, 4-0), the 1993 Campbell Conference Finals Game Seven - Kings vs. Leafs (one of the Great One's greatest) on Classic and the Angels-Red Sox tilt on Fox Sports West. Good sports days (and nights) are such a wonderful thing. If only the rest of life provided me with such options at every turn. Hmmm, time for a new car, should I trade in the Saturn for a BMW 760, a Ferrari or an Escalade?
Because the other two had already happened, I settled on the Vlad show and was immediately rewarded with a three-run homer in the sixth, his second dong of the game and his sixth, seventh and eighth RBIs. Eight RBIs! After watching Gretzky score on a nice slapper from the slot during a commercial, I came back for the seventh, when Guerrero singled in another run, bringing his line to 4-for-4 with NINE RBIs.
Gretzky followed up a Mike Donnelly goal with a nice little bank off Dave Ellett's skate to basically sew up the game and the series for the Kings. Nice.
Now Frankie Rodriguez is in to close it out, which could be a good thing and not such a good thing at the same time for my fantasy team. Granted, K-Rod is the best pitcher the Angels have and he probably should be closing, but he's been racking up the holds (underrated stat by everyone else in my league) and setting up Troy Percival (also on my team) for plenty of saves. Last night he pitched a perfect eighth and gave Percy a three-run lead, which the old fella almost blew (two-run shot) before closing it out. So now instead of my squad enjoying the one-two punch of hold and save during all these Angel wins, Scioscia might finally be figuring out that Percy doesn't have it like he used to and that Frankie is his best option in these game-ending situations. Who knows.
Another real quick holds-related note: Akinori Otsuka is another stud setup guy. He pitches the eighth for my Padres (clearing the way for Trevor) and his numbers are sick this year, too. Check it.
Guerrero is already a superstar and Rodriguez is well on his way (if you haven't already, watch this guy pitch once--he's filthy), but the superstars I was excited to write about are a different breed...
There's a special place in one's heart for that first favorite movie, the one you can watch over and over and of which you never get bored. The one you spend so much time watching, you memorize all the lines and can even act out most of the scenes. Everybody's got one. I've got two, but they're not your standard major motion pictures. Instead, they're two of the greatest productions in the history of NBA entertainment.
NBA Superstars was a fusion of sports and music never seen before or since. The sounds of Janet Jackson, Berlin and Yanni, just to name a few, were melded with the video exploits of the best players of the 1980's. It was a beautiful thing.
Magic wanted to be the one "in control," throwing no-look passes and smiling as Janet crooned away.
MJ "looked like he was in an F-16 that time," taking everyone's breath away with countless ridiculous dunks.
Charles was "sitting at the walls of heartache, bang bang," dunking on people and pouting as Patty Smyth wailed away.
Isiah had "the right stuff," especially with that cheesy high-five he had with Kevin McHale and then the cheesier conclusion to the video, Isiah's mom telling her son, "I'm so proud of you, son, so proud, so proud."
The first video was perhaps the most poignant, Dr. J's passion for the game and for his mini-hoop-dunking kids evidently representing "the greatest love of all." For sure, the only reason I know every word to that song (and will for the rest of my life) is this video.
Larry Legend's was pretty sweet, too, introduced with a bite from a championship parade where he shows how much of a hick he was: "There's only one place I'd rather be--French Lick." Cue the John Cougar Mellencamp.
Quick side question: Have championship parades always involved atrociously-dancing white guys or is this just a recent phenomenon? The exploits of Mark Madsen and Bob Kraft in their respective celebrations are the stuff of legend.
Hakeem Olajuwon was given the Kool Moe Dee epic, "How Ya Like Me Now?" to portray his game, a number that included such memorable lyrics as "Now brothers are riding me / Like a pony / I'm no phony / I'm the only real micaroni" and "You took my style / I'm takin' it back / Comin' back like 'Return of the Jedi.'" Good stuff. I can't bag on it too much, though, 'cause I actually did a poetry project on this piece in eighth grade. I guess I didn't get the "poem" approved, but I went through with photos and illustrated the whole thing, it was awesome. Maybe Mrs. Cockerill didn't appreciate the "I'll make a sick man rock on his death bed / Sucker MC's , I'll make your girl say "ow" / She's jockin' / How ya like me now" section. Kool Moe Dee, such genius. Definitely one of my early influences.
No lyrics to make fun of in Dominique's video--he was the lucky recipient of a Yanni piece entitled "Looking Glass." The main part of this video I remember is that they decided to like follow 'Nique to the game, show him driving in his car, walking around, then getting dressed and stuff like that. This is a guy whose nickname is the "Human Highlight Film" and we're going to show you him tying his shoes. That's brilliant. They still managed to get some good stuff in there, but that's definitely one I would have done differently.
Now that I actually do this kind of stuff for a living, it's cool to look upon it with a more critical eye. Granted, it was 1988 and the methods have improved significantly since then, but there's still plenty of cheese to see and appreciate.
The final cut was a montage tribute to the greats of the 60's and 70's, Billy Joel's "This is the Time to Remember" providing the backdrop. Several images come through from that one, Pistol Pete's looping flip shot, Dave Cowens diving for a loose ball and Richard Nixon waving from an airplane. It was an interesting history lesson mixed into the shots of these players; I'm not sure exactly what it accomplished.
"Come Fly With Me" only gets a short mention because I'm ridiculously tired and need my sleep. The video is an absolute classic, though, with some of the best stuff ever put on tape and some of the absolute worst. A quick breakdown:
Good
-any and all highlight footage showing MJ dunking on absolutely everyone in his first four or five years in the league. Anyone who just remembers comeback MJ (the '95-'98 version) has forgotten how much he used to just mash on people.
-the Olympic footage and the laugh he gets for talking about Bobby Knight's cussing
-the music for the 63-point game against the Celtics at the Garden and the accompanying narration ("Dateline: The playoffs...he single-handedly dismantled the Celtic attack"), then the classic shot of McHale in disbelief with his hands over his head
-the final highlight section where he talks about being able to do whatever he wants to guys who guard him--cockiness is sweet
-the shots of his outdoor court and the "daily battles in the backyard with his older brother larry"
Not So Good
-the graphics, most notably the high school photo that morphs into him in military uniform and the body that stretches when he talks about growing taller
-the awful fake newspapers that keep track of his career, especially the one that has his face wink at one point
-the advertising section, showing behind-the-scenes footage of him at commercial shoots and whatnot--definitely could have done without that
We're done--both videos probably deserve much more run, but sleep beckons. Hockey editing for eight hours tomorrow--exciting stuff.
Padres 2-1 winners in 10, even though the Bulldog, Brian Lawrence couldn't get the W. We're still tied with the Edwin Jackson Show for first, keep it up boys.
Terry Smith just informed us on the Angel postgame show that Percy had an MRI today, so K-Rod's appearance is not a big-picture thing. Good to hear, I need both of those boys to keep putting up numbers, especially with Rocky Biddle as my other main closer. Can't depend on those Temple City guys. Out.

Highs and Lows

"I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low
There ain't no in-betweens"
--Extremes, Billy Joel

I spent the early part of this day in La Canada and was able to travel from one end of the spectrum to the other in my various morning activities. I experienced one of the greatest things mankind has ever seen and one of my least favorite things in life within a matter of hours. It may not have been a Laker-esque emotional swing (like the Duncan/Fisher shot sequence--from the depths of despair to the throngs of joy in mere minutes), but it was close.
I was able to enjoy a breakfast burrito from our friends at Lucky Boy, the first one I've had in months. Last time I had one was when I phoned in the order and Holly picked them up--somehow ended up with chicken and no chili on Side's, though I asked for bacon and chili. Shady. Anyways, I skipped my morning shake in anticipation today, needing to keep the room free in my stomach for that thing, and I was able to savor every bite as a result. Has there ever been a better food item anywhere? Is there anything else that can be truly enjoyed as much at 8 a.m. as it is at noon or dinnertime or 2 a.m.? Somebody please come up with a time when it's not good to have one of these bad boys. I remember the first one I ever ate, with Side and B the morning of our senior houseboats trip, and never in the 10 years (wow) since then have I regretted eating one. For someone whose diet is a source of ridicule to many (including one of our editors at Fox, who today labeled me a "carrot-and-jerky-eating freak" who has "the diet of a deer"--what does that mean?), the consumption of this heart attack wrapped in a warm tortilla is of no small consequence.
After a spell on the treadmill at the YMCA (thanks, free Outlook membership) and a shower (far too many naked old men for my blood; frankly, one is too many), I had a dentist appointment. Sweet.
There are several dental assistants at Dr. Kenneth Ho's office, most of which seem very lovely, including a new one I'd never seen before who can pretty much clean my teeth anytime. However, instead of the kind and gentle young ladies, I'm saddled with the foreigner (not meant to be derogatory, just generic--I really can't place the accent) who quite obviously takes pleasure in my pain. Everytime I get her. Why don't they rotate, spread the love, give us a little variety? She stabs and pokes and prods and hacks, pausing every so often to drain the significant amount of blood that's been pooling in my lower lip. Her not-so-friendly reminders to "floss more" and "brush longer" have grown stale on this, the nineteenth time I've heard her tell me these things. I brush twice every day and I even floss five or six times a week, so if that's not enough for euro-hygenist, then I guess my best just isn't good enough. As William Hung put it, "I have tried my best, and I have no regrets."
After she's left me bloody and battered (in the immortal words of Brodie Bruce: "Women. Always leaving you when you've just had the crap kicked out of you"), in rolls Dr. Ho, who must have the sweetest gig in the business. He's like a politician, a figurehead of sorts. He lets his underlings do all the dirty work--the x-rays, the ultrasonic whatever, the scraping and the stabbing--and then he sits down, smiles and makes conversation, glances at the teeth for like five seconds and tells you how great they look. He's out. Just made like a grand. I should have gone to dental school.
So after my breakfast b and my pain session, the day has returned to normal. A little hangout time with Garett, Colby and Taylor, lunch with French and then back to work, where hockey preparations abound.
Still haven't forgotten about Superstars, hopefully that'll be the order of business tonight after bible study. Peace.

Mama D's

"A bottle of red, a bottle of white
Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight
I'll meet you anytime you want
In our Italian Restaurant."
--Scenes From an Italian Restaurant, Billy Joel

Getting ready to head home from work and then to Mama D's for a post-birthday dinner with your father, your stepmom-to-be and your brother, er, I mean, Michael.
I think having a lot to do at work is actually better than not having anything to do, because the level of productivity is directly correlated. Since there wasn't anything I absolutely had to get done today I really didn't accomplish all that much. I'm good to go for the hockey stuff later in the week, but there's plenty I could have done that would make next week and the following weeks a bit easier.
That mentality is what got me by in college actually, because finals week was the only time I knew I had to get stuff done each quarter. Throughout the ten-week session, I'd put off any and all reading and class attendance, knowing I could (and would) sack up when I had to take finals. I'm sure I could have done better grades-wise, but I'm proud to have graduated with over a 3.0, having done what I consider to be the minimum all the way through.
And you know, come to think of it, I think the Lakers are kind of the same way. Shaq and Kobe have been around enough to know when they absolutely have to win games and have to put forth their maximum effort. It comes and goes in the regular season and even in playoff games that don't matter so much (see games 2 and 5 of this most recent series).
All right, off to battle traffic (I'm never on the road this early, so it should be interesting)...still looking forward to that superstars post later. Out.

Flexibility

"Times, places and situations
Lead to an early grave
When we get there we see
Just what did we save?"
--Flexible, Husker Du

I'm going to have to take advantage of the lack of a schedule today at work and write some more. I probably won't have this kind of time on a weekday again until Christmas Day, so I might as well make the most of it.
I scanned through the final two games of the Lakers-Spurs series before lunch and thoroughly enjoyed watching Karl manhandle Tim Duncan. It's amazing to think back to the first two games of that series and how well Duncan and Parker both played, then contrast that with the lack of production in games three through six:
Game One: Duncan 30, Parker 20
Game Two: Duncan 24, Parker 30
At this point, the Lakers' reign is over, they're crowning the new Spurs dynasty and we're wondering if the Lake Show can even manage to win one game, forget about the series.
So then Phil makes some adjustments, GP sacks up, the entire team helps on Parker's penetration, Karl re-asserts his physical strength advantage and gets in TD's head.
Game Three: Duncan 10 (4-14 FG), Parker 8 (4-12 FG) -- unbelievable lack of production
Game Four: Duncan 19 (5-13 FG), Parker 18 (7-18 FG)
Game Fisher: Duncan 21 (7-15 FG, including his two ridiculously lucky heaves), Parker 15 (7-23 FG)
Game Six: Duncan 20 (7-18 FG), Parker 9 (4-18 FG)
The difference is incredible. They averaged 52 between them in the first two victories and just 30 in the four ensuing losses. Parker was being hailed as the league's next great point guard, Pop and R.C. Buford were ridiculed for going after Jason Kidd in the off-season and the Lakers were doomed. Then the little french fry goes 22-71 the rest of the way (including a remarkable 3-18 from downtown) and they're sent packing.
Yeah so this is old news, but I think it still bears repeating.
On a similar note, I've concluded that the Lakers are more capable of affecting the range of my emotions than anything else on this earth, human beings included. This is a very sad state of affairs, but it's true.
When they made the deals for GP and Karl, started off the season 17-3, reeled off 11 in a row toward the end of the year, won the division, took care of Houston, rallied to draw even with San Antonio, won game five on Fisher's shot and eventually advanced, then won the T'Wolves series -- all of these events caused elation and excitement that go pretty much unmatched anywhere else in life.
When Kobe was charged with assault, when all the injuries starting popping up, when they lost in Atlanta at the beginning of March, when the Kings embarassed them at the end of the regular season (my hatred for Doug Christie knows no bounds), lost the first two in San Antonio, then had Duncan hit the apparent game-winner in game five -- moments that caused me extreme frustration and anger and sadness, again moreso than essentially anything.
It sucks that they matter so much to me, but they've been a part of my life basically since 1985, the first NBA finals I actually remember watching. In elementary school, my buddy Jeff and I successfully campaigned for a Laker dress-up day in each our fifth and sixth grade years. We also performed a "Laker Rap" both years at the school talent show, bringing down the house with lyrics praising our Lakers and disparaging the hated Celtics and Pistons. Good times.
A sense of perspective would be a good thing for me to gain at some point, but in the meantime, GO LAKERS!!! Can't wait for the finals to start.

Work

"I draw plans draft the diagrams
An architect in effect and it slams
And if it's weak when I'm done
Renovate and build another one
I go to work"
--I Go to Work, Kool Moe Dee

A kickback day at work for the first time in forever, which means I have time to check in and write. Most days I don't even have time to take a lunch, so this is outstanding.
Got two big projects to get going on today, the first of which I've already done most of the legwork for and the second of which will be most enjoyable. The first entails the greatest moments in Major League Baseball All-Star Game history, to be compiled for a big feature that will run the week of this year's contest in Houston.
The second is more of an "independent study," just logging and clipping highlights from the just-completed Lakers-T'Wolves series. I'll also get some work done getting prepped for the NHL playoffs rollout, which Hughes and I will be cutting all day Thursday and Friday. Exciting stuff.
A topic arose that interested me this morning on my way to the gym as I listened to Colin Cowherd (that's right, Cowherd) on ESPN radio. He was discussing the Lakers' place in history, both this recent version in relation to other dynasties and the franchise itself in relation to other great sports franchises over the years. Tim Cowlishaw of the Dallas Morning News wrote an article over the weekend that discusses the latter topic and places the Lakers firmly in the top slot, over the Yankees and the Boston Celtics. They've won nine titles since 1972 (and on the verge of number 10); the Yankees have six in that same time period. The star power is certainly matched by the Yankees (though with twice as many years to draw from, the sheer number of greats to don the pinstripes would have to be higher), but likely not paralleled in any other franchise's history. Anyways, a good article to read and a good topic for discussion.
In reference to the song lyric, Kool Moe Dee makes me think of Hakeem Olajuwon (How Ya Like Me Now?). Anyone who understands that connection is my friend, and if you're slow to get it you need to watch NBA Superstars sometime very soon. It will also connect the following athletes with the following artists: Dr. J and Whitney Houston, Magic and Janet Jackson, Isiah and Vanessa Williams (sorry Rick), MJ and Berlin (can't stand Jessica Simpson's remake of that song, which has to be on at the gym multiple times during my workout), Charles Barkley and Scandal (featuring Patty Smyth on lead vocals), Dominique and Yanni (kind of unfortunate for 'Nique, I think), Larry Legend and John Cougar (there's only one place I'd rather be) and then all the old greats go arm-in-arm with Billy Joel. I think an entire day will be devoted to this video sometime soon (with an addendum to honor "Come Fly With Me"--can you say, "Daily battles in the backyard with his older brother Larry?")
Okay, back to work, but now I'm excited about this upcoming post. Peace.