Shlep D-O Double Gizzle's Web Pizzle

I take full responsibility

for putting a GIANT jinx on Romo and the 'Boys in the earlier entry. It's all on me, I will now go fall on my sword.

OTSS

I wrote the following at the same time as the last entry, in a marathon-frenzy of pseudo sports blogging and shameful self involvement. But to continue the theme of not caring and making myself feel important, I'm putting the bball section into it's own entry in order to "maximize readership", here we go.....

******

Lost in the insanity of the gridiron was the start of the '06-'07 NBA Season! New synthetic balls that cut players' fingers get the axe for the ole Leather standby, the Knicks get booed at home, then instigate some fisticuffs that get the league's leading scorer suspended for 15 games. And the Sixers saddle themselves with so much bad basketball karma they might as well mail it in for the next 50 years. All in less than two months, Good times!

The Mavs' chance at redemption after letting a championship slip through their fingers got off to a bumpy start, but things are looking okay. We're still right up there with the Spurs and the Suns (now with Amare) and this years' playoffs should be just as riveting as last years' was........................................................................................
uuuuuuuuuuuuuntil the Sixers shipped off one of the 10 best guards to ever play the game to the Denver Nuggets. Now the Mavs' road to redemption just got a giant tattooed and corn-rowed obstacle thrown in its path. Not only that, but my rooting for my all time favorite non-Dallas athlete and my bleeding Maverick blue (or green or whatever) are now thrown into direct conflict. Sports used to be so easy...

Of course the whole trade drama allowed the media to pick sides and rehash everything that's right or wrong with AI again. And I must say I'm pretty disappointed in the doubters. These people remind me of Richard Dreyfuss's character in The American President . To paraphrase Annette Bening, they claim to love basketball, but clearly hate basketball players. Have they learned nothing in the past 5 years? I can't say anything that I haven't already said , or that the Sports Guy (and his readers ) hasn't already written 100x more eloquently, but I must say it is truly sad how poorly the Sixers, and other AI haters, treated one of the greatest athletes and one of the most resonant icons of our time.

I must also admit I'm ecstatic for AI. He finally gets to play with a real supporting cast in an up-tempo attack. He said he felt like "a newborn" after his first game as a Nugget, and he really did look happy. He was playing with an extra abandon, and all bets are off for his ceiling this year. So in tribute to the rebirth of The Answer here are a couple super sweet YouTube compilations of his best plays.

This one is the most bang for the buck. A simple top ten featuring a great look at the infamous Ty Lue step-over.

This one is a little long, but I think it has the most production value with the perfect Tupac soundtrack and the "Jordan crossover" intro. (Although skilled with the matching of video to audio, our guy doesn't have complete command of the English language. Only the Strong Survive....no 's').

******

Note: since his first game, AI has been just as good as expected. He hit 40 the other night and has kept up an increased pace in assists (although the Nuggets did falter a bit the next night on the road, I think the new offense and high altitude will suit him just fine, good for me the AI fan, bad for me the Mav fan).

This entry is long and possibly incoherent, and all about sports...

Hey! Look at that, I went an entire season without updating the Pizzle. (That's slightly ironic, because I live in a place where's not much difference between the seasons.) Wow that parenthetical was severely obnoxious. But what the hell, it's almost the new year, I'm typing this on a new laptop, let's leave that shit in. So what brings me back? Well, ESPN recently declared that Vince Young and the Horns beating USC was the top story of 2006. Brilliant! That game (followed by the Mavs, followed by the World Cup) merely whetted my already voracious appetite for football, and that's pretty much what's been occupying my time for the past 4+ months, FOOTBALL! (That, and a big implementation project at work, and my re-entry into the student world with a once a week foray into Intermediate Accounting, but mostly it was football)

I'm a nut, a ridiculous lunatic when it comes to the Great Game, and when it comes to the fantasy version of said game, I decided to throw all caution into the wind, and really test my limits. This past season, I decided to not say no and joined a total of three and a half leagues. I did this only a year after very reluctantly and with much trepidation joining a second league. After all, I thought, I should focus on one team, and I've got a title to defend. But of course money lured me in, and I ended up successfully defending that title, so when this season rolled around I thought, hey multiple leagues is easy! And I won money last time! Let's go all the freakin' way this year!

So I reconvened the traditional UT Austin/Moore-Hill friends and family league, re-upped with the Steve Cox yahoo money league, and even joined the Russ Abdullah total clusterfuck (way too many teams, way too many starting positions) league just for kicks. THEN, my boy Steve Cox made me another offer I couldn't refuse. A Cardinal Health office league on CBS Sportsline with an entry fee of $163 and featuring a number of middle to upper managers. More money and a chance to stick it to the man? Sign me up. So Steve and I split the entry fee and now find ourselves in the championship game on the brink of a pretty big payout. I'm not gonna jinx anything by naming the figure, but on the whole, this fantasy season will turn out pretty decently. I made the playoffs in all the leagues, and after a total initial investment of $155, my worst case scenario is a 167% net return. Beat that Wall Street!

That's not to say I'm not a little burned out (wow another obnoxious and crappy sentence, fuck it!, I'm pushing ahead and not looking back). By the time week 15 rolled around, I wasn't checking and re-checking my stat tracker as obsessively as I had been the first 14 weeks, and it actually felt pretty good. It was a relief not to be living and dying with every play in every game. Which, in a way, is a bad sign. It means I wasn't having as much fun anymore. So it's a good thing that the fantasy season has reached it's end, I'm going to need as much time as possible to recover until next August when the whirlwind will surely suck me back in.

*****

Real life football has also been pretty taxing. The acquisition of TO made the Cowboys relevant again, but we were still watching each game with the Bledsoe butterflies in our stomachs. We were supposed to be good, SUPPOSED to compete for the division, but our QB was so anti-clutch that we still didn't feel safe. We were still where we've been for the past 10 years. Rooting hard, loving the Star, but not truly believing. Thinking, yeah, maybe we sorta kinda had a small chance, but not really hoping, expecting the worst. Not really feeling the mojo.....and then.....

Ladies and Gentlemen, the magnificent TONY ROMO! A young, charismatic undrafted QB from division I-AA Eastern Illinois. He has worked his way up the depth chart, perfecting his mechanics and patiently awaiting his turn at the helm of America's Team!

Seriously, did this kid flip the script or what? He has exactly what the 'Boys needed, not just the mobility or the physical gifts, but the coolness and confidence (the, dare I say it, "Vince"-ness) to do the right thing with the game on the line and to elicit total trust from his teammates. There were some hiccups, the freaky loss in Washington, the beating from the Saints, but Tony's got us all feeling like anything is possible again. Man what a great feeling, he could go on to be a pretty mediocre QB over the next few years and, God forbid, he might not take us to the promised land, but Cowboy fans the world over will forever remember that he gave us that swagger and that excitement back. We are all Romosexuals, baby, and there is NOTHING wrong with that.

*****

Speaking of Vince, glad to see him start tearing it up way ahead of the schedule even his most ardent man-crushers like myself had laid out for him. All the doubters can take the "questionable delivery" and shove it and then they can Wonderlic(k) his balls, because he's a football player who is going to win games, pure and simple. His mojo did carry over to the pros and the rest of the league better start preparing for it. I'd be remiss as a trash talker not to take this opportunity to pour some salt on the Texan fans' wounds. Oh how you Houstonians loved talking shit about the 'Boys. Even when you didn't have a pro team you still had your inferiority complex and loved shitting on the Star when they were limping along in the post Triplet years.

And then, I had to endure all the barbs about how you beat us in your inaugural game, a full THREE years after it happened. Your team sucked, but you always feebly clung to the, "hey remember when we beat you" card. Well now it's my turn. Your team still sucks. And we got another chance, and we handed your asses to you on a silver fucking platter (with Bledsoe no less). Not only that, your team fucked up the first pick in one of the best drafts in recent memory. You could've had Reggie Bush and actually opened up your offense a little, or you could've had hometown hero Vince Young, but you decided to roll with David freakin' Carr and the short-pass-to-Andre-Johnson offense, with Ron Dayne and Samkon Gado as your running backs. It's perfectly fitting that Vince not only went to the old Houston team that you didn't even care enough about to keep, but that in his first game back, he did exactly what Vince Young does, and what the Texans could and never will be able to do. Win games. Now sit down, shut up and watch a real Texas pro football team go to work.

("Boy, that escalated quickly... I mean, that really got out of hand fast.")

*****

Speaking of great players (WEAK transition! AND this entry's already about 1,000 words too long, but I don't care, I'm gonna keep on truckin' baby), alot has been made of LDT's assault on the record books, but let me heap a little more praise on the already gleaming pile. I always hear that speed, power and vision are the keys to any running backs' success, and that LDT has them all in unfair amounts. But I've spent the last three seasons watching the Chargers more than any other team, and I'd like to submit an alternate theory.

What makes LDT great is precision. And with that, timing and efficiency. When LDT runs, he is precise with each and every movement of his body. There is not a single wasted step or muscle twitch. He knows exactly when to hit a hole or break it outside, when to accelerate or slow down, when to juke, when to head-fake, when to stiff arm. He makes it look easy not because of his physical gifts, because there are other backs that are faster and stronger, but because he knows exactly when and where to use each gift.

A corollary to this is that in addition to not wasting energy making unnecessary moves, he never wastes energy fighting through tackles and creating extraneous collisions. If he knows he's about to go down, he shifts his body and falls forward. It's simple, and not always pretty (you'll never see him pop a DB and drag a few defenders) but it creates two very positive outcomes. One, he rarely gets stopped for negative yards, if the defense penetrates, he simply falls forward to get a yard or two. Secondly, it keeps him fresh and injury free for the next play, the next game and really the rest of his career. (see the difference in the career lengths of Emmitt Smith or Jerome Bettis vs. that of upright bruisers like Eddie George or Earl Campbell) It's part of the reason he can reel off 85 yard touchdown runs in week 15.

*****

That concludes the football portion of our program, stay tuned for the bball entry and more sporty good-ness...

*****

Priest: ...ask yourself if that corpse of a slut is worth dying for.
Marv: Worth dying for.
[shoots priest]
Marv: Worth killing for.
[shoots him again]
Marv: Worth going to hell for.
[shoots him again]
Marv: Amen.

And so it is...

So it looks like the Mavs brought a magnificently anti-climactic end to their wonderful playoff run. We folded under the pressure of actual expectations, great interior defense, ridiculous officiating and an unstoppable superstar, and lost to the Heat 4-2. The Mavs brought me to the brink, only to spectacularly knock me back down. In a way, the circle is complete. My manager Mark may have jinxed it when he said after game 2, Good, so you've got two teams winning championships this year. But the reality is I got a taste of both extremes. Absolute Euphoria and Horrible Heartbreak. And so it is.

****

I had a day to digest and vent and unwind the anger and sadness of it all, but the part that still gets to me is that for whatever reason, the Mavs that made it through the West never really showed up in the Finals. Sure we had our chances to put it away, but even when we were winning, it just wasn't the same Swiss Army knife team that ran the Spurs off the court and clamped down on the Suns. I think from the coaches down, once we choked away Game 3 to D-Wade's I'm-stealing-Dirk's-mojo-for-good transcendent fourth quarter, everyone was just too nervous, too afraid to lose. It's like once we were the favorites, we lost that toughness, that underdog swagger and forgot to play loose and have fun. I hate to admit it, but that's probably where Shaq's, Riley's even Payton's and Zo's experience came in. The wisdom and patience that comes with age. I think that, even more than D-Wade, was the real difference.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the officiating. I've never been one to complain about refs. I've hated certain calls, but I'm always quick to give them the benefit of the doubt. After all, it's a hard job, they have to make judgments on things that happen in split seconds, and of course there are mistakes, they're only human. I've always believed that referees try their hardest to call a fair game. And then Game 5 came along. I can't really say anything that our man Bill Simmons hasn't already said, but as my friend Steve says, it's always good to see affirmation of your injustice in print. Some key observations from Simmons,

First, Dwyane Wade shot as many free throws (25) as the entire Dallas team in Game 5. I just don't see how there's any way this can happen in a fairly-called game. It's theoretically impossible...not only did Salvatore officiate Sunday night's Game 5 (in which Miami had a 40-12 free-throw advantage at one point), but Salvatore called the foul on Wade's final drive in overtime (remember, the call where ABC couldn't find a replay to show that anyone touched him?) even though he was standing at midcourt a full 35-40 feet from the play, and even though two other refs were closer to the play. Not only was that NOT his call, he butchered it.

That's basically all there is to it. It wasn't enough that Miami's D was very good and knocked us off our game. It wasn't enough that Wade was playing at an astronomically high level, but now we have to deal with this? And we still had plenty of chances to put the Heat away. We just lacked the testicular fortitude to stand up to all that. In my mind, we legitimately choked away games 3 and 6, lost game 4 outright, but game 5 was stolen by the refs, pure and simple.

(The really sad part is all the backlash from casual and even die-hard NBA fans. Non Heat and Mav affiliated basketball fans wanted to see good games. As the sidebar from the column shows, one-sided officiating doesn't just tick off a team's fan base, it drives people away. For awhile yesterday I was in their camp. But I know next May, a Mavs-Spurs or a Mavs-Suns game is gonna blow me away and suck me back in.)

****

The Mavs youth and lack of experience is obviously also a positive. Dirk's the oldest starter at only 28, and Avery Johnson isn't much older than him. And that's really the second best thing about sports (after the aforementioned euphoria). There's always a next. A next game, next series, next season. I believe we'll sign Terry and Howard and contend once again. I believe in Cuban's whiny persistence and Avery Johnson's tenaciousness. I believe Dirk will once again work his ass of this summer and figure out the Haslems and Poseys like he did the Bowens and Marions last summer. My annointment of Dirk's playoff run into the Dallas sports Pantheon may be a bit tainted, but I believe he's got way more to show us. I believe I'll be posting about another deep playoff run next year, and I believe the US will beat Ghana tomorrow morning, Italy will beat the Czechs and we'll have a first round date with the best football team in the world, Brazil.

Sure, we don't stand much of a chance, but it's the ride that counts baby, and it's why we love our games.

Go USA.

****

"You play your heart out for eight, nine months every night ... all the way until the middle of June. You make it to the finals, to the big stage, then go home. Second is tough. ... But I'm sure that the more time goes by, we can be proud of what we did this year."
---Dirk Nowitzki

I am a big, bright, shining star

Last year around this time I was writing a euology for the Dallas Mavericks. They had just been knocked out of the second round of the playoffs by the Suns, and another slightly-above-average season was in the books for the Mavs. Throughout the Mark Cuban era, we've been perennial 50 game winners, but never really broke through to elite status.

Ohhhhhhh what a difference a year makes. Cuban and the Donnie Nelson stopped tinkering with the roster, and even though we lost Nash (who went on to win two straight MVPs in Phoenix, at least one of them questionable) and did not pursue Shaq, the Mavs actually ended up with one of the most versatile and athletic rosters in the league. It's a roster that is good enough to beat both Phoenix and Miami and ironically those are the two teams standing between Dallas and the title.

My list of good and bad signs were heeded quite well it seems. A full year of Avery Johnson (who turned out to be a brilliant coach) at the helm did indeed whip the Mavs into shape. While we probably won't ever be known as defensive stalwarts, we can get stops and rebound with some consistency. Most importantly, Dirk did not lie when he pledged to get right and work his ass off in the offseason. Not only is he having an absolutely unconscious playoff run (capped off by a 50 point explosion last night, more on that later) you can tell he's really matured as a player and as a leader. He's figured out how to affect the game without scoring (passing, rebounding, defense), and he knows what to say to his teammates and when to say it. The Diggler even has a sneering, tongue-baring new attitude that the team, especially the younger guys, feeds off of.

*****

In January 1994, the Dallas Cowboys of Aikman, Smith and Irvin met the Giants at the Meadowlands for all the regular season marbles. A division title, a first week bye and home field throughout the playoffs were all on the line. In the second quarter, Smith suffered a separated shoulder, but after missing only two snaps continued to play the game. By the end, Emmitt had rushed for 168 yards on 32 carries and added 10 receptions for 61 yards. During the game winning drive in overtime, he accounted for 41 of the Cowboys' 52 yards. All of this despite excruciating pain and with one arm hanging limp by his side. This article by Ed Werder of the Dallas Morning News is a great recap.

(Some of my favorite quotes: '"He told us in the huddle to make sure we ran behind him so someone could pick him up," offensive lineman Nate Newton said.' and '"Jimmy told me to go in," [backup running back]Coleman said, "but Emmitt told me to get out"')

Emmitt's performance that day left an indelible mark on me. For years it defined guts and will and athletic excellence. Whenever someone would bring up other great performances, like the Jordan flu game, I would always counter with Emmitt's game that day against the Giants. He (literally) singlehandedly willed the Cowboys to victory, and we would go on to win a second straight Super Bowl.

There hasn't been too many moments in Dallas sports since to challenge Emmitt in 94, but I do believe we finally have a contender. Dirk's playoff run this year has been just as inspiring, just as amazing, and hopefully will end in the same way with a title. I could've picked game 7 against the Spurs as Dirk's moment, but then he went and decided to destroy the Suns by himself last night, so I'm gonna have to fudge a bit and give him the entire playoffs as his moment. During the game itself, it was easy to get lost in the ebb and flow and miss the enormity of what Dirk was achieving. All I cared about was that we come back, build a lead and get some stops. It wasn't until we had a comfortable lead and Dirk reared up for that last 3 to hit 50, that I realized I was witnessing (sorry Lebron) something truly great. In perfect refuse-to-lose, carry-my-team-and-the-fans-to-a-higher-place fashion, Dirk has at last affirmed his and the Mavs' place among the NBA's elite.

*****

The ride has been amazing so far. The Mavs have given us a little bit of everything. We've totally dominated (4-0 sweep of the Grizzlies), we've been up (fighting to a 3-1 lead against the defending champ Spurs), down (losing that 3-1 lead, then losing a 20-point lead in game 7), and fought back with our backs against the wall (winning game 7 in OT, Dirk last night). We've also had a dose of unintentional comedy with the whole Hasselhoff subplot. Our hope is genuine, and our chances are real, here's to the ride and to seeing it to through the end.

Go Mavs.

*****

"Jimmy told me to go in, but Emmitt told me to get out."
--Lincoln Coleman (I couldn't resist)

He's a bad mother...shut yo mouth

Exactly a week ago, I had a minor stroke. You may have heard that my alma mater, the University of Texas, won the national championship in college football. But the Longhorns didn't just win, in 6 minutes and 42 seconds we scored 15 points and defeated what was allegedly one of the "greatest teams ever". A USC team that hadn't lost in 34 games, that had not one but two Heisman trophy winners. None of it mattered though, because in those 6 minutes the UT football team broke through and provided real-live, honest-to-goodness drama. Suspense not even the producers of 24 could top. It was a teeth-gnashing, soul-rendering, pulse-racing, heart-bursting (with joy) 6 minutes. And before the last touchdown, 4th down from the 8 yard line with 19 seconds to go, I think I blacked out.

****

Here's what I remember, after Vince Young took us 69 yards on 8 plays, scoring on a 17 yard TD run, USC had to get a first down to try and run out the clock. Our defense, the best the Trojans had seen, had performed admirably in the first half, but in the second the balanced Trojan attack had scored 4 times in a row. Their main weapon was power-running back LenDale White gashing the Horns up the middle. I don't think there's an adequate metaphor for what the Horns D faced on that last Trojan drive. I remember thinking, the only thing, the ONLY thing Vince Young needs handed to him is time, the rest he can handle. We HAD to stop them. Trojan QB Matt "Sore Loser" Leinart passes for a first down (after the game he insisted they were still the better team, that USC had lost more than UT had won, hey Matt, when your supposed offensive juggernaut can't get one damn yard when the national championship is riding on it, you're not the better team). Two White rushes and an incomplete pass later, it's 4th and 1 and if the Trojans make it, they can kneel for the crystal football. So they go for what's worked all game even though everyone and their mother knew what it would be. My heart drops into my stomach and a second later, leaps into my throat. White up the middle and absolutely stuffed at the line. DE-NIED.

My vise-like death grip on the sofa cushion gets even tighter, and I teeter on the edge of the couch, my feet are bouncing up and down like lottery balls in the spinner. My inner voice: If there's anyone, ANYONE, who's perfectly equipped to pull this off, it's Vince Fucking Young . I know this, I've felt this, Vince Young doesn't just lead this team, he inspires it. He infuses and surrounds it with his charisma and confidence. He stands above yet among his teammates, with a preternatural calm to complement his freakish athleticism (and if it sounds like I have a budding man-crush on him, well...) he always, ALWAYS finds a way to win, and he's the reason why I add life-affirming to the list of hyphenated gerunds two paragraphs above.

He drives us inside the 15 with a combination of passes and scrambles. My non-football-fan wife, who normally revels in the chance to needle me when my team is losing, says don't worry, Vince will do it. Sure, but anxiety is still dominating me and I have to shake my head to try and focus, I have to take deep breaths and try to project my (false?) confidence through the TV up the 100 miles to Pasadena and onto my team. Pass to Limas Sweed incomplete. VINCE TAKES OFF!!....5 yard gain. Pass to Limas Sweed incomplete again. 4th down. Part of me says, shit, just get the first down and spike it. Another part of me says, if we lose how devastated will I actually be, I mean does it matter, should I take it that hard, in the grand scheme of life....OH MY GOD HE'S TAKING OFF AGAIN...

I see him a step or two from the goal line, I'm off the couch, in the air and somehow on the other side of the coffee table, the poor sofa cushion flung somewhere across the room, I'm screaming, and here's the thing...I don't remember seeing Vince ever cross the goal line. Sure I've seen it a million times on replay, but in that split second between his last step and the ref's signal, there was too much for me to process. It was like all the adrenaline, all the built up anxiety rushed out of me so quickly, I forgot to actually watch the touchdown. I'm on the phone with Ram and I can't fucking believe it. By the time I look back at the TV, now right in front of me, Vince is walking back towards the field, with the Bevo mascot's arm around him. He's clutching the ball to his chest like if he lets it go, he might lose the moment. And the best part of it is his calm, cool gaze. His stillness. A moment of silence, reflection before giving in to the euphoria.

cue "Touch the Sky" by Kanye West

****

I grew up in Dallas, and since I'm not really a fan of baseball or hockey, I was left with the Mavericks and Cowboys as the teams to call my own. I want to compare this championship with the Cowboys first Super Bowl, but it's not possible. First of all, that game was over in the third quarter. And second, I was a kid back then and I never doubted the 'Boys would come through. I was just learning about sports and was growing into being a fan. I didn't know any better. That's why the Horns winning it all this year is so much more significant for me. It's going to sound cliche, but it made me feel that same purity and innocence again. As a married, working adult I have thoughts and concerns about my life and about my future that constantly cloud my brain. As an aware citizen of the world, news of war and scandal shake my faith in man, and news of natural disasters shake my faith in God. I'm so much more critical and cynical towards the world that it feels damn good to not only be able to give my unconditional loyalty to something, but to also have that loyalty rewarded in such an amazing way.

There are probably thousands of different ways people have tried to place sports in our society. As a prism to help understand ourselves, or as a last refuge of traditions and culture, for example. I've compared sport to art, since they are both manifestations of humans making physical reality out of something they imagine in their minds. In that respect, it is the ultimate demonstration of what sets us apart of other animals, our ability to use our minds to imagine and experience things beyond our physical senses. It is our humanity.

In an essay about his love of soccer, Salman Rushdie summed up the relationship between sports and its fans with these two thoughts,

"Continuity is everything, and so is loyalty in times of adversity, and small gratifications offer great emotional rewards."

"If they have won, the weekend feels richer. If they have lost, a black cloud settles. It's pathetic. It's an addiction. It's monogamous, till-death-us-do-part love."

Jeff MacGregor of Sports Illustrated called sports, "the perfection of the unnecessary". But because we pour so much of our time and money and, like any human endeavor, so much of ourselves into it, sports can also reveal things about us, (I'll ask you to excuse the extended quotation)

"...to watch, to simply see it, is a kind of necessary and loving witness to whatever human excellence is...if it is in our nature to make sports important, then it is our bad habit to make it too important...do we ask too much of sports? or do they ask too much of us? we ask that sports not only reveal our character but create it. We ask that athletes not just entertain us but transform us."

MacGregor continues by saying that sports is that one remaining connection we have to our ancestral past, when running and jumping meant survival, not distraction,

"We don't play the games just for glory, or even for the money...we play, as we always have, to remind ourselves that we're here, that we're present in the present and part of the larger life of the world. Insulated from virtually every physical experience but the ones we choose, sheltered and fed by our technologies, we cling to sports more desperately than ever. the packaging and the payouts have changed, the delivery systems are slicker, but the essence of it, the tug and grunt and struggle, remains the same.

Whatever sports were and whatever they become, at the far-away beginning and the impossible end of everything is only the hammer of a beating heart, that pulse drumming and the lungs bellowing, all the deafening, defining racket of life roaring in your ears, that syncopation of blood and wind, legs working and you running , down at last out of the trees, fully alive and feet on the earth, racing for glory or simply for joy, racing for history's bright and unattainable horizon."

Ask football fans in Louisana how much the last second victories by the Saints and the LSU Tigers just days after Hurricane Katrina meant to them. Or ask Iraqis how much it meant that their soccer team competed so well at the 2004 Athens Olympics. Ask them, even if it was for a brief moment, if they weren't brought closer to that horizon by their teams. And ask me how much it meant to see, on a beautiful, clear California night, confetti raining down on a man with one arm raised. His middle and ring fingers are clapsed to his palm, his index and pinky fingers pointed towards the heavens. Years and years from now, when the racket of my life is still roaring in my ears, I can look back to January 4, 2006 as the night my monogamous, addictive love was re-affirmed. When my unequivocal, zealous loyalty wasn't discarded as naive or wide-eyed, but was rewarded in the most inspiring and uplifting way possible.

Hook'em Horns.

"I want to touch the sky, come up in the spot looking extra fly"

"La La La La Laaaaa La La"

Abacus Porn

First, a moment of silence for the Dallas Mavericks. We gave it a good go, but just could not keep up.

Good signs: we played D (just not when it mattered), once again, I think a full year of Avery will tighten things up; we're still fun to watch especially when Stackhouse and Terry are on; speaking of which, I like that Terry has become our younger Van Exel, complete with the knee-high socks; Dirk showed signs of being the "vocal leader" an important first step to the big gaping hole in his game, "making others better".

Which brings us to the bad signs: Dirk is vocal, but his ranting and raving at teammates is just whining until he backs it up by NOT going 0-5 in overtime. Dude, it's cool you want the ball in crunch time, and that you aren't afraid to let your team hear it when they screw up, but you HAVE to back it up. Here's to hoping he's not kidding when he tells reporters that he's even harder on himself and that he's going to work his ass off this summer.

On another sports related note, IMDB says that Red McCombs was in The Longest Yard playing himself. I saw this movie on Friday (yes, I'm not usually the type to, you know, pay for an Adam Sandler movie, but I was in the mood for some cheap laughs, actually, I live in La Jolla, so they weren't all that cheap but whatever) but I don't remember seeing him or hearing another character refer to him, like "Hi, Red McCombs, what're you doing?" I can't believe I missed it, I am, after all, a graduate of the Red McCombs School of Business. On second thought, I have no idea what he looks like, I mean I've seen pictures of him, but all old, white men look alike to me. And I really didn't pay that much attention to the dialogue, it's not as if I was dealing with David Mamet or Aaron Sorkin. With gems like, "Get yo' country ass back in the huddle", you tend to set aside the part of your brain that has to work hard.

Not that I didn't enjoy the movie, it was funny and entertaining, and since I am a member of the worthless generation that never saw the original, I wasn't incensed about ruining a classic or anything. Really, with a cast that includes not just Chris Rock and Adam Sandler, but also pro-wrestlers Goldberg, Steve Austin (very convincing as a racist guard), Kevin Nash (even more convincing as a steroid-fueled guard gone femme when they switch his roids with estrogen pills), a real old-school criminal , a 387-pound Indian powerlifter , and Brian Bosworth (that's right, THE BRIAN BOSWORTH ), how could you go wrong?

Speaking of the cast, Michael Irvin also turned in a better than decent performance as the convicts' receiver Deacon Moss. The character wasn't much of a stretch, but it was great to see Irvin once again with all his charismatic brashness on display. In another lifetime (by that, I mean high school) I wrote a review of Jerry Maguire and said that Cuba Gooding's portrayal of Rod Tidwell was a mix of Charles Barkley's attitude and Michael Irvin's brash charisma. The lesson is, of course, that I haven't learned too many new words since I was seventeen. Seriously though, I worshipped the Dallas Cowboys of the early '90s, and I always loved the way Irvin was arrogant, but in a likable way. He was the heart, soul and mouth of those great teams, and until his demons caught up with him in an all too public way, a certain first ballot Hall of Fame receiver (hopefully the voters will still do the right thing and induct him along with Aikman and Emmitt). He may have gotten busted with the coke and the strippers and such, but I will always contend (backed up by statements from his teammates, including Emmitt) that he was one of the hardest working players, and one of the most motivational leaders to be around. But all that is for another time and another Greatest Misses post coming soon to a theater near you. Since I've already shattered the record for linking to imdb.com sites in one post, I'll wrap this up now.

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Actually, there's a couple more things to note. First, a thanks to the Sports Guy's Intern for linking to the following article by Conan O'Brien. He is, as stated in many a forum by many a writer, an unstoppable Shaming Force for all those who try to entertain through the written word. We have all offically been put in our place. Damn those Ivy League boys.

Speaking of Ivy League boys and writing, my very own brother has started a blog. Yes, that's right, he's a bit late to the Pizzle party, but he has been linked right over there to the side. So take a gander at the Other Kalam's view of the world and enjoy!

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"This racism...is killing me inside"
---Dave Chappelle as Clifton the Milkman in perhaps the greatest sketch ever, the Niggar Family.

Now...Where was I?

For some reason, I'm enjoying this season's NBA playoffs alot more than seasons past. Maybe it's a function of exciting teams to watch (Suns, Mavs, Heat, Wiz, Sonics) actually playing well and advancing. Maybe it's a function of a whole new crop of stars (Amare Stoudemire, Dwyane Wade, Manu Ginobli, Gilbert Arenas, Dirk Nowitizki) taking over. Or maybe its just that one commercial that ESPN ran during the first round. The one with the Miami Heat players in a tight huddle around Shaq, all bouncing and chanting in unison: "Thun-Thudada-Thun-Thudada-Da!!!!" That kind of stuff always gets me fired up. I kinda wanted to get all the warehouse guys together at work and do that before our physical inventory. But you know, I didn't want them to think I was weird or anything.

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Of course since I wrote that last paragraph Arenas and the Wiz got swept out by Wade's Jordanesque and Shaqless performance. Plus, the Sonics probably won't get past the Spurs even though it's fun to watch Ray Allen try to get in Bowen's face. (Jesus is picking a fight!) Also, Nowitzki is playing okay, his shots aren't falling so he's taking it to hole pretty hard and he's doing the all important "Other-things-to-help-the-team", but he still hasn't had a breakout, dominant game that we all know he's capable of. Stoudemire has had it, so has Wade, we're still waiting for the Diggler to take over. Maybe he should pretend the Suns are Team USA in last year's Olympics.

About the Suns-Mavs: The Suns are damn good. But the Mavs have some good matchups. Plus we're so freakin deep, it's got to catch up with them eventually. We need to work harder on get getting the Suns starters in foul trouble early. I hope Cuban doesn't tinker too much with this squad either, I think I full year of Avery will whip them into Strong-Contender shape.

One other note about that ESPN commericial, it's brief and subtle, but look closely to the left of Shaq and you'll see a grin of unbridled joy on the face of Alonzo Mourning. Something about how happy he looks, how much pleasure he's taking in just being a part of a successful team again, gives me the warm-and-fuzzies inside. This is a guy who was out of the league for two years with a mysterious kidney ailment, had a kidney transplant (read those last two words again), and now he's back filling in for the Diesel. Couple that with this little piece from Chris Palmer of ESPN.com:

'Alonzo Mourning walked out of the visitors' locker room at MCI Center in one of his impeccable suits after the Heat's Game 3 triumph over the Wizards when a small television monitor caught his eye. On it were highlights of him in a Georgetown uniform swatting away shot after shot. He paused, transfixed on the screen. His now-grizzled face wore a sentimental grin.

He spent most of his career being the player you love to hate. Now he's the guy you gotta love. Just ask anyone in D.C. '

It makes me want to make a bunch of Zo-Strong wristbands and hand them out to everyone.

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Finally, GO MAVS!!

THUN-THUDADA-THUN-THUDADA-DA!!!! THUN-THUDADA-THUN-THUDADA-DA!!!
THUN-THUDADA-THUN-THUDADA-DA!!!! THUN-THUDADA-THUN-THUDADA-DA!!!!