Why My Wife Was Not Interested in the All-Star Game.

   And she was right, of course. The strobe lights, rock band, glitz was too much for someone raised in less cacophonous times. However, as an ex-NBA player I remained glued to the cheap arcade longer than I should because I expected to see great pure shooters shoot, and men who can leap tall buildings leap. But in the end, when the gospel choir walked on and a car was rolled out, and Kenny Smith started his Barnum and Baily interpretation, Griffin's skyrocketing dunk became anticlimactic.
   The fact is, there was anti-climax from start to finish: from three cheerleaders bumping and grinding behind Stephan Curry and his teenage sponsor - a sweet girl, whose sweetness was diminished by the tawdry display behind her - to "Chocolate Thunder" Dawkin's leopard-skin suit and bumbling voice, to Cheryl Miller pretending that this was sport and not circus, to Hollywood actors and Heisman Trophy winners primping for the cameras, to the hip-hop band's less than successful performance, to the frenzy of commercials, to the pointless dunk contest judges whose decisions meant nothing more than a TV audience's chance to see how white The Doctor's hair had become.
   Even so, oh, yes, dear reader, even so, I remained in front of the TV watching through three mediocre skills events (did you ever see such lousy 3-point shooting?) until finally the dunking contest began and I, like most NBA fans looking forward to Blake Griffin, felt slightly vindicated because there were some super aerials, the best being Serge Ibaka's behind the freethrow line take-off slam, farther out than Jordan's and Erving's. Until, you guessed it, the gospel choir strutted onto the court singing about high flying and Kenny Smith began his ... and I realised my wife was absolutely right to insert her earplugs and go back to her novel. But it was too late; I had watched the whole damn thing. Afterwards, I felt like a starving person who had eaten a dozen Big Macks with greasy fries because he was too hungry and too stupid to turn them down.

As an retired English teacher I love this poem by Michael McFee

Shooting Baskets at Dusk

He will never be happier than this
lost in the perfectly thoughtless motion
of shot, rebound, dribble, shot-----------How does punctuation
                                                              affect sound?

This mind removed as the gossipy swallows
that pick and roll, that give and go----------Parallelism:
down the school chimney like smoke in reverse-------Figurative
                                                                                 language:

as he shoots, rebounds, dribbles, shoots,-----------Parallelism:
the brick wall giving the dribble back---------------Sound devices:
to his body beginning another run

from foul line, corner, left of the key
the jealous rim guarding its fickle net--------------Personification:
as he shoots, rebounds, dribbles, shoots,       

absorbed in the rhythm that seems to flow-----Sound devices:
from his fingertips to the winded sky                                    
and back again to this lonely orbit                                 
of shot, rebound, dribble, shot,                        
until he is just a shadow and a sound----Implied metaphor:              
though the ball still burns in his vanished hands.

Legends

   The Legends, NBRPA, the National Basketball Retired Players Association was founded in 1992. I have been a dues paying member on and off during those years, and I'm poised over my checkbook today wondering if I should begin writing or wait to see what will become of this troubled organization that in the past four years has had two major contentious and disruptive  leadership changes at a same time that the board of directors have been promising a stronger, more cohesive, and productive future.
   Perhaps it's because I live on the west coast, away from NBRPA headquarters, but I sure haven't seen much progress. Aside from raising yearly money to fund a couple of college scholarships (named for the late Dave Debussere) for children of retired players, and a few specific charitable events, such as the one in 2008 that I attended for hearing disabled youngsters in Puerto Rico, I'm not sure what else the organization has accomplished. There is a potential benefit no doubt to networking betwee retirees, but there doesn't seem to be a system in place do that. There are meetings during All-Star breaks and golfing get-to-gethers where a great deal is discussed and proposed with negligible tangible results.

   It's really too bad because the Legends could be a vital and vibrant organization providing services for retired players as well as being a potent charitable arm of the NBA family.

   I think the present Board of Directors, led by Danny Schayes, have their hearts in the right place, but they might be playing in a game they can't win. As anybody who knows professional basketball can tell you, a team can't succeed with just its horses, it needs its thoroughbreds. With the exception of Earl the Pearl and Rick Barry, and apologises to the founders, all super-stars, no other recently retired star has taken an proactive interest in helping the Legends. The NBRPA is a team without its thoroughbreds. Where are the Legends that fans still remember or remain in the limelight, such as Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, John Stockton, Sir Charles, Kenny Smith, C Webb, Michael Jordan, Scotty Pippin, Julius Erving, Karl Malone, Mose Malone, Kevin McHale, Hakeem the Dream, Bill Walton, etc? Looks to me that they are sitting out the game. They've got theirs, so why bother helping the bench players that helped them become the icons they still are. Sad, and I say shame on them.
   Without its super-stars committed and working hard, the NBRPA will remain a marginalized organization taking financial handouts from the league, with little power to do much more than they already have, which is fine, I suppose, if that is the low bar the Legends want to set for themselves.

Speaking of Super Stars, here's another excerpt from John Edgar Widman's memoir, Hoop Roots:

"Fear and love, love and fear raised the stakes of the game. Engendered the beginnings of a hunger, the hunger driving the serious players I admire most, who never seem satisfied no matter how well they perform, players who consistently push themselves as if more hustle, more speed, more brawling competitiveness is never too much. Players who refuse to settle into a comfort zone, who won't accept limits, who attack the game with the same unstinting voraciousness as the game when it attaches them, consuming the best of their bodies and spirits."

Emperor of the NBA

If I was the emperor of the NBA, able to wave my imperial staff and change what ever I wished, here are some of the changes I would make:


1)Fans will no longer vote for All-Stars. It's an excuse for teams to stuff ballots. Yao Ming voted in
this year was ludicrous. Not sure about the coaches when they didn't vote Kevin Love in.

2) A summer school for referees will be created to teach them when to call a foul and when to simply leave
the contact a "No Call! There would be remedial classes focusing on the differences between
a flagrant foul and simple tough defensive attempts to stop an opponent. I just finished watching the
Clippers' Blake Griffin get a flagrant for a powerful effort to block Al Horford's equally power drive
to the basket.

3) No competitive basketball will be allowed during the off-season except during an Olympic Year.
Players need to rest muscles after a treacherously long season.

4) The court will be lengthened by two feet on each end and one foot on each side.

5) The 3 point line will be extended back one foot.

6) The European key configuration will be adopted.

7) There will be no expansion until teams begin to reach some kind of parity. If they can't, two teams will be
shut down and the best players allotted to the sub-500 teams in inverse order of their standings.
at the end of the last season.

8) All season tickets and regular tickets will be lowered to a reasonable rate. Players, management, and
owners will have to 'suck it up" and see their salaries and profits reduced. NBA fans finally deserve a
break.

9) Teams can not have more than three assistant coaches. How's that for cost-cutting? Those
empty seats behind the bench could be sold at a premium. Speaking of cost cutting, if I know
anything about bureaucracy, I'll bet management is top heavy with responsibility redundancy. Do you
really need that assistant to the assistant?

10) There will be two significant rule changes: 1 - A point system determining team standing will go into effect: During each game seven points will  be awarded, three for winning the game and one point for each quarter in which a team outscores their opponent. Team standings will be determined by number of points rather than win/loss percentage. 2 - A player can't foul out of a game. After a player's 6th foul, the opposing team receives an automatic free-throw.

When I Got It Right   by Carl Lindner

The ball would lift
light as a wish,
gliding like a blessing
over the rim, pure,
or kissing off glass
into the skirt of net.
Once in began
I couldn't miss.
Even in the falling dark,
the ball, before it left
my hand, was sure.

Effort and Toughness

   Following the defeat of the Warriors by the New Orleans Hornets, Warriors coach, Keith Smart, was quoted as saying, "The NBA takes two things, effort and toughness. If you don't show any of that against the good teams, they're going to force their will [on you]."
   Smart could just as well have been talking about any of the sub 500 teams in the NBA.
   Effort and toughness - call it ET. Play around with these letters and you can create a number of different possibilities: The effort of toughness; the toughness of effort. Without toughness, effort breaks down eventually. Without effort, toughness devolves into a series of on-court muggings and endless trips to the foul line. Most teams put out some sort of effort. But only a few teams put out effort consistently. And only the elite teams put out ET consistently.
    In my mind ET is required as much on offense as it is on defense. ET is required of coaches and coaching staff as much as it is of players - I mean all players from starters to every single sub.  And not to belabor the point, for GM's as well as owners. For the purposes of this blog, however, let's consider it as it applies to defense only.
    There are only two teams so far this season that are playing defense with ET consistently: The Boston Celtics and the San Antonio Spurs. They do it because their coaches demand it. They do it because their veteran players demand it. If a team's vet starters don't understand what it takes to play with ET, the team has a problem, and management better find some who do.
    How do you recognize teams who play with ET?
    It's not too darn hard. You know the old saying: If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, etc. The minute a team engages another team playing with ET, they know they're in for a physical struggle all night, not just for a quarter or even for three quarters.
    I hear the word "swagger" used a lot these days by the pundits. Though I'm not crazy about the word, I'll settle for it to make a point. Swagger represents a condition of the mind, that will not allow an offensive player to get an advantage. A player who plays defense with ET plays with an offense-mind-set. Attack! Don't wait for the offensive player to dictate the play. Attack! It requires will-power and a stubborn desire to win.
    Allow me to create a scenario that describes "swagger."
    When I was growing up in San Francisco, there were times I found myself in some of the rougher neighborhoods of my city. I learned that when certain groups of guys were approaching me, I needed to make a decision. Did I cross to the other side of the street or did I keep walking?
    In the day-to-day of life, discrection is (and was for me) always the better part of valor, but in the NBA, you can't cross the street. You MUST keep on walking. When a tough team approaches, you can't back off.
   Not an easy thing to do.
   I suspect most sub-500 teams when they see Garnett, Pierce, Perkins, Shaq, and Big Baby approaching, might find themselves mentally jaywalking across rush hour traffic to get out of their way. That goes for the Spurs as well. And the ref hasn't even thrown the ball up yet.
   On the other hand, imagine one of the weaker teams in the NBA approaching you down that metaphorical street (Read basketball court). Ask yourself if there is someone leading the group that makes you nervous? Ask yourself, how many guys on the team have the swagger? Which of the players on any of those weaker NBA teams is going to grab you by the shirt and shake you silly for getting in the way? Ask yourself if the players are going to draw the defensive line in the sand and dare the opposing offense to cross it?
    As long as they can't or won't, they'll never win big. Never! You're right, Coach Smart, ET is where it's at in the NBA. It always has been.

    I couldn't find a poem about playing D. I guess I'll try writing one myself. In the meantime I offer a piece of prose from John Edgar Wideman's wonderful memoir Hooproots about Ed Fleming, a player from Wideman's Pittsburgh neighborhood who played in the NBA.

    "Fleming was six-foot-three forward, an inside player his entire college and professional career. The sort of smart banger, hustler, who contests every free ball. Persistent, fearless, he picks up the loose change most players treat as below their notice, chump change floating around at unspectacular moments in a game. He earns small victories in pitched skirmishes peripheral to the main action, battles unrecorded on stat sheets or in scorebooks, relentless because he understands that the little stuff accumulates and determines who wins or loses close games, who winds up winning championships."

Something's Wrong

    Something is Wrong when the average annual salary of top university football coaches is $925,000, with incentives, while the colleges' most prestigious professors do not earn a third of that amount. Some football coaches' contracts fall into the category of the obscene. For example, the University of Iowa pays Coach Kirk Ferentz 4.6 million dollars a year. I attended graduate school at the University of Iowa and would not begrudge the Hawkeyes a winning football program, but half of Ferentz' salary would help support hundreds of deserving graduate students in their difficult quest to earn degrees. That would leave Coach Ferentz a paltry 2.3 million dollars to buy whatever he can buy for that amount, possibly a second Hummer.

    Something is Wrong when the highest paid member of the University of California, Berkeley, faculty is Ted Tedford, the football coach, who is paid more than John Clark, physicist and Professor of Experimental Physics, Fellow of the Royal Society and a significant contributor to the field of superconductivity.

    Something is Wrong when the University of California is paying Ted Tedford more than the combined salaries of law professor Alan Dershowitz, and Poet Laureate of the United States, Robert Hass.

    Something is Wrong when Central Florida University pays their football coach, George O'Leary an additional $50,000 per year if none of his players are arrested, indicted, or convicted of a crime. Are they kidding? For that kind of money I'd have bed-check every night of the year.

    Something is Wrong when bonuses are paid to football coaches if 60% of their players graduate. Hmm, I thought graduation was the purpose of going to college. OK, color me naive. 

   Something is Wrong when the University of California has enough money to build a state-of-the-art football stadium and athletic facility, but doesn't have enough money to support its minor sports, concomitantly raising student tuition by 32%. Are students so jaded that they take this crap lying down?  Where are the protesters? Didn't a fellow named Mario Savio attend UC Berekely?

   Something is Wrong when Florida State University paid their football coach Bobby Bowden $250,000 in recognition of his 30th season. I wonder how much my colleague, one of the most revered and successful English teachers in Reno's public schools, got when she retired after 30 years of teaching? A certificate of appreciation, if I remember correctly.

    Something is Wrong when football coaches are paid longevity bonuses, euphemistically called "continuation incentives" running anywhere from $400,000 to 3 million. Shouldn't some bonuses be paid to nurses around the country who've worked their tails off for thirty years for the same hospital? Maybe all the people nurses have helped and comforted over the years should form an Alumni Association.

    Something is Wrong when the Governor of the State of Kentucky takes 3 billion in federal stimulus money, then allows the University of Kentucky, a public institution, to hire John Calipari as its basketball coach for an 8 year, 31.65 million dollar contract. (That's 4 million a year, folks.) At the same time the trustees of that university voted to cut 15 staff members, eliminate 170 jobs, and hike student tuition 5%.

    Something is Wrong when Billy Donovan, the University of Florida's basketball coach makes 3.5 million dollars, Bill Self of Kansas 3 million, Roy Williams of the Tarheels, 2.11 million, while the President of the United States makes $400,000. OK, I didn't include Mike Krzyzewski at 1.2 million which proves absolutely nothing except that I'm crazy about Coach K's coaching. Besides, anybody who looks like a mad ferret when he's angry has to be cut a little slack. The next time Coach K negotiates a new contract, he needs to ask for one dollar more than Coach Calipari, the way Bill Russell did after he heard what Wilt Chamberlain had signed for.

   Something is Wrong when perks for major university coaches include the following: personal use of jets; low-interest home loans; land deals, millions in annuities; pricey luxury suites at school stadiums; use of vacation homes; and family travel accounts.

   Something is Wrong when the University of Texas that brought in $46.2 million in 2006-7 for sports, and contributed a paltry 4.7 million to academics. That leaves 41.5 million heading to ... supporting minor sports, they argue. Why does the Pinocchio story come to mind?

    Something is Wrong and Shameful. If it isn't, I'd like to know why not. I welcome your comments.

    On the lighter side, here's a terrific little poem about golf, the only sport where sweating is not allowed.

One Down    By Richard Armour

Weight distributed,
   Free from strain,
Divot replaced,
   Familiar terrain,
Straight left arm,
   Unmoving head -
Here lies the golfer,
   Cold and dead.