One Way Rivalry

As you'll see from the relatively few hockey-related posts on Caught Looking, I don't make a habit of watching a ton of NHL games on TV.  Despite the fact that I grew up following the Islanders closely, the league's deterioration over the past decade (a lost season, yet another lockout this year and the consistently disappointing play of the Isles) has driven me away from the ice and much closer to basketball.  Whereas I've always been a diehard MLB and NFL fan, as I've aged the NBA has taken over the place in my heart where hockey used to live.  Now, my role as a relatively-casual Islanders fan (and yes, it hurts to classify myself as such, but it's true) is to do little more than check the box scores, follow the race for the 8th seed in the East and make a point of watching every game against the Rangers.

As a kid growing up on Long Island, Islanders versus Rangers was actually a big deal.  In the days before Interleague Play and baseball's Subway Series in 2000, the Mets / Yankees rivalry was minimal (and you'd constantly run into kids who claimed to be fans of both teams), whereas the Giants and Jets rivalry was essentially nonexistent (they play only once every four years and throughout my lifetime Big Blue has always been New York's NFL alpha dog).  Isles / Rangers was the only true New York sports rivalry - two teams, separated by a short train or car ride, who regularly competed in the regular season and occasionally met in the playoffs.  I can distinctly remember regularly joining a pack of other Islander fans in chanting "1940!" at a group of blue-and-red-clad Rangers supporters, mocking their 50+ year Stanley Cup drought (this was before the Blue Shirts won the title in 1994).

Almost twenty years ago the Rangers won their first Stanley Cup title in more than half a century.  Not only did this end the Rangers' misery and all of the "1940!" chants in the middle school hallways, but it was also the beginning of the end of the Islanders / Rangers rivalry.  Since 1994, the Isles have done nothing but underachieve, cut payroll and continue to let the Nassau Coliseum fall apart, whereas the Rangers have remained competitive, spend freely and play in a newly renovated Madison Square Garden.  What was once a fun inferiority complex on the part of Isles fans has since become simply depressing, so much so that the Rangers fans have begun to ignore the rivalry whatsoever.  In watching the Isles at Rangers game last night, I noticed that the atmosphere at the Garden was no different than it would be for any other game.  While the Rangers consistently sell out and don't see a game versus the other New York team as anything special, the regular season games against the Rangers are all us Islander fans really have to care about.

With the Islanders set to move to Brooklyn in another three seasons, there's still hope for a rekindling of the New York hockey rivalry.  Until the Isles move to Barclays (and become competitive), though, hockey's battle for New York will remain nothing more than another Eastern Conference game where the Rangers seek to take two points from an overmatched opponent (as they did last night).  I can deal with being hated by Rangers fans - in fact, I spent much of my childhood in heated debates with them, and enjoyed nearly every minute of it.  Unfortunately, now we're in a position where the Rangers just ignore us, and that is truly sad for the Isles faithful.   

Unplugging Momentum

Sports analysts and fans love to debate the importance of momentum.  Whether discussing hitting in baseball, shooting in basketball or passing in football, people love to talk about "streaks" and how certain players and teams seem to sometimes find a rhythym that makes them appear nearly unstoppable.  At the same time, others have argued that there's no such thing as momentum in sports, and have some pretty compelling data to prove it.  As with many sports debates, the discussion about momentum is one of anecdotes vs. data.  On one had, you have a plethora of academic papers and statistical analyses saying that momentum doesn't really exist.  And on the other hand, you have last night's Blackout Bowl.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to most of you that I side with the stats geeks on the whole momentum debate.  When you dig into the data, it's pretty clear that hot streaks are bound to happen based on the principles of statistics, and that just because a QB has completed 10 consecutive passes (for example) doesn't mean that he's "hot" and thus more likely to complete his next one.  I often refer to a simplified, yet relevant, example based on flipping a coin:  Imagine everyone in the world flipped a coin, with anyone who flipped a heads moving on to the next round while everyone who flipped a tails was eliminated, until only one person was left.  Eventually, someone would be the last person standing - it would take around 33 consecutive heads to do it - and be proclaimed the Coin Flipping Champion of the World.  Obviously, this person isn't "good" at flipping heads - it's just statistical probability that, out of six billion people, someone would flip 33 straight heads.  The same can be said of momentum in sports.

One of the reasons that even ultra-rational people like myself love sports, though, is the way that certain games can make you question what you know to be the truth.  Last night, the Ravens were rolling over the 49ers and seemed en route to a Super Bowl blowout when the Mercedes-Benz Superdome lost power.  After a 34 minute delay, the Ravens looked tight, tentative and tired while San Francisco seemed recharged, almost pulling off one of the most stunning come-from-behind victories in Super Bowl history.  There's no logical reason to think that the blackout would have slowed Baltimore's momentum or benefitted the Niners more than the Ravens, and yet while watching the game I couldn't help but think that maybe "fate" had knocked the power out and given Colin Kaepernick and Co. a chance to get back into the game.

Of course, the analyst in me recognized that, after a terrible first half, the game was due for some regression to the mean - allowing the 49ers to climb back into the contest and do to Baltimore exactly what the Ravens had done to San Francisco for the first 35 minutes of playing time.  Whereas every big play went Baltimore's way in the first two-plus quarters - from some big passes to Jacoby Jones' 108-yard kickoff return for a touchdown - San Francisco was bound to pull off a few huge moments of its own in the second half.  The fact that the turnaround coincided precisely with the loss of power in the Superdome was purely coincidence, and luckily the Ravens held on and spared us all from weeks of having to hear about how a power surge in New Orleans decided the Super Bowl for Baltimore and San Francisco.

As a rational person, this is what I'm forcing myself to believe.  Although I will admit that last night's Super Bowl momentum shift was pretty bizarre, and thus maybe makes the momentum debate worth having for just a little while longer.

Preparing for Super Bowl Sunday

Truth be told, I'm not a huge fan of the Super Bowl.  While I've been fortunate enough to have experienced two Giants Super Bowl victories in the last five years, I spent those games watching with a close group of blue-clad New York fans, focusing on the action as actively as I would any other big game.  When the Giants aren't in the big game, however, it's been a whole different story.  In those years I've elected to do what any good American is supposed to do on Super Bowl Sunday - go to a party with friends, pretend to watch the game and leave with more memories of the the E-Trade baby than of the game itself.

For the most part, I'm fine with this.  I spend the fall and winter watching dozens of NFL and NCAA football games, so it's not like I'm desperate for gridiron action.  I also realize, and on some level appreciate, the fact that the Super Bowl is much more than a sporting event - it has evolved into a pseudo national holiday that brings people together for not only a football game, but for a halftime show, a handful of clever (and a ton of not-so-clever) ad campaigns and some Papa John's pizza.  I actually enjoy Super Bowl parties the most when there's virtually no talk about football - like most normal-ish people I like to see friends, eat some wings and socialize, and the NFL's championship game is as good a reason as any to get people together.

Ironically, it's the football part of any Super Bowl Sunday that frustrates me the most.  For the same reason that I really dislike going out on New Year's Eve - every restaurant and bar is filled with a ton of people who haven't been out in a year, can't control themselves and turn things into Amateur Night - I take issue with Super Bowl parties.  For too many guys in particular, the Super Bowl is the one time a year to try to impress their buddies and girls with their knowledge of NFL football.  The problem with these guys is that 90% of them have no idea what they're talking about.  Of course, there's nothing wrong with not following the NFL (OK, there's something a little wrong with it, but nothing overly serious), but I draw the line at having to listen to these "fans" spend four hours spewing incorrect football-related information.

In my experience, the types of Super Bowl Sunday B.S. fall into three main categories.  The first, and least offensive, is what I call the "Ridiculous Opinion."  While everyone's entitled to their own opinion, of course, no real football fan wants to hear some meathead argue that Joe Flacco is a Top Five quarterback.  The Ridiculous Opinion is often (although not always, if you're lucky) followed up with some "Terrible Logic," the second type of Super Bowl nonsense: "Of course Joe Flacco's a Top Five QB - he's the quarterback of one of only two Super Bowl teams, isn't he?"  If a debate follows the Terrible Logic, you're likely to move into the third and most infuriating phase - the "Imaginary Statistic."  Despite the presence of a roomful of internet-connected devices with fact-checking ability, you're bound to hear someone quote a stat that's completely false.  What better way to settle the Flacco debate than to note that Flacco had the third most completions in the NFL this season, even if it's not true?

For us real football fans, it's tempting to get involved in these arguments.  It often seems like a good idea to refute a Ridiculous Opinion, break down some Terrible Logic and correct an Imaginary Statistic.  Take it from me, though - it's not worth it.  There's no way to win one of these patented Super Bowl Sunday arguments with a faux-fan, because the normal debate skills like intelligence, knowledge and rationality won't help you.  If you want to give yourself a chance at enjoying Super Bowl Sunday, ignore the football and go for the food and the friends.  And if you feel compelled to evesdrop on some conversation, you'd be best off listening to what the E-Trade baby has to say.

Part of the Action

Though I've been to Cameron Indoor Stadium previously, this Saturday was my first chance to attend a game at what is arguably college basketball's mots famous venue.  After more than two seasons of unsuccessfully trying to get to a Duke home game, I finally got my chance to see the Blue Devils take on current ACC rival (and future Big Ten afterthought) Maryland for a Saturday matinee.  Heading into the game, my expectations for the experience were sky high - there was seemingly no way that the contest could possibly live up to the lofty expectations that I had developed over the past few seasons of watching Duke basketball.  And yet, somehow, it did.  I can honestly say that my first experience at Cameron Indoor was one of the more memorable sports experiences of my lifetime - something I suggest that all sports fans put towards the top of their Bucket Lists.

When you get to an NBA arena about 30 minutes before tip-off, even if it's Miami at Los Angeles, the building is virtually guaranteed to be empty.  At Cameron Indoor, however, the energy level was high well before the game started.  The student section - or Cameron Crazies as they are affectionately known - were in full force from the moment we walked in, and remained engaged in the game throughout.  Even as Duke began to pull away in the second half, the fans never got bored.  No one left even a minute early, despite the fact that the Blue Devils built a 20-point second half lead and emptied the bench in the final minutes.  It was really quite different from the NBA and college basketball experiences that I'm used to, almost as if the fans were there for more than just a basketball game.

For one of the last times as a member of the ACC, Maryland visited Cameron Indoor Stadium.

If there was an overarching theme that emerged from my first Cameron experience, it was the sense that the Duke fans feel like they are truly part of each individual piece of the game.  Whereas the fans at an NBA contest are there to watch their favorite stars, the Cameron Crazies (and, by extention, the rest of the fans in attendance) are themselves part of the show, working hard to affect every single play.  From their in-game rituals to their clever signs and chants, the Crazies work hard to make an impact on the outcome of the game.  Combine the student section with the band and the mascot and you get a multi-sensory game experience that was unlike any basketball game I had ever been a part of.  As you can see from the picture above, I had a great seat - but even if you're sitting in the last row, I bet you'd feel connected to the rest of the fans such that it wouldn't really matter.  At a Duke game, it's more about feeling than it is about watching. 

View from my seat just beyond the outstretched arms of the Cameron Crazies.

Aside from a small pool of Maryland red located just beyond the Terps bench (see above), the entire arena was a sea of Duke blue and (unfortunately, for the uniform purist in me) black.  Perhaps it was the fact that I had a great view of the game, or maybe it was because the Dukies were coming off of a terrible road loss at Miami, but never before had I seen so much emotion from athletes playing in a regular season game.  After being there, though, it makes a ton of sense - the roar of the crowd, the tightness of the arena and the magnitude of the game (a CBS-televised weekend afternoon game against a conference rival) had clearly rubbed off on the Duke players, propelling them to a higher level.  Take a look at Duke's results this year and you'll notice that they lost convincingly to both NC State and Miami - both on the road.  When the Wolfpack and Hurricanes have to come to Cameron Indoor Stadium later this season, however, I'm betting it'll be a much different story.

Trouble with the Curve: A Review

Believe it or not, my favorite movie of all time is Major League.  I'm admittedly a sucker for cliched sports movies - from The Mighty Ducks to Rocky - and love a good underdog story (including Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story, of course, shameful Lance Armstrong cameo not withstanding).  There's something about the highly predictable David-over-Goliath climax that I can't get enough of, no matter how ridiculous the film is.  This only applies, however, to movies like the ones mentioned above that don't take themselves too seriously.  As long as the film doesn't try to be anything more than a fun sports movie, I'm all for it.  When a movie shifts over into For Love of the Game territory, however, I draw the line.  Thus begins my review of Clint Eastwood's Trouble with the Curve.

Let me start with the usual caveats.  I saw this movie on a United Airlines flight from New York to Miami, so I didn't get a full cinematic experience.  That being said, the best thing I can say about Eastwood's most recent film is that, at 111 minutes, it took up basically the entire flight.  The worst I can say?  Where should I begin? Let's start with a brief synopsis.  You can read more here, but the plot is essentially exactly what you'd expect it to be: Eastwood plays an old-school baseball scout for the Atlanta Braves whose health and eyesight are deteriorating as he travels around North Carolina following a high school baseball prospect.  His daughter (Amy Adams) joins him on the roadtrip to made sure he's doing OK, despite Eastwood's solitary style.  While on the trip, Adams gets close to a rival scout (Justin Timberlake), and they all learn a lot about baseball, love and family along the way.

Sigh.

I would have been more disappointed if I had paid anything to see this movie.

As much as I like predictable baseball movies, Trouble with the Curve was just awful - and this coming from one of the only people in America that genuinely liked Eastwood's Gran Torino.  Every character in this movie is way over-dramatized, from the cocky (and unintentionally hilarious) high school prospect to the Moneyball-types that populate the Atlanta GM's office.  In an obvious effort to create some memorable, non-traditional baseball characters, the movie goes way overboard - everyone in the film has way too much personality, to the point that the film quickly becomes exhausting and unrealistic.  Even if you can look past the fact that the Braves are supposedly employing a scout that can't see well enough to drive (which, frankly, I couldn't), there are dozens of other "what the . . .?" moments throughout the movie that I found incredibly distracting.  No offense to the daughters of any baseball scouts, but there's just no way that a woman could out-scout a bunch of pros after spending years away from the game to pursue law school and a career at a top-notch law firm.

Again, if Trouble with the Curve acknowledged how absurd its entire plot is, I'd have been OK with it.  I have no problem with Major League's plot, even when the Indians pulls an ex-convict out of prison, give him a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and turn him into Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn.  Eastwood's movie is so self-righteous, though - as if it's teaching you things about baseball and life that you never even imagined before - that it just drove me nuts.  Had I paid money to see this in the theaters - which I almost did, only to be talked off the ledge by a mediocre Metacritic score - I'd have been genuinely pissed.  As airplane movies go, I've seen worse - but this was still pretty bad.  In a sentence, I had a lot of Trouble with this Movie.