The other day, in preparation for the Knicks regular season opener against the Celtics on Christmas Day, I asked my Mom if she could name anyone on the New York roster. She failed. When I asked her if the names Carmelo Anthony or Amar'e Staudemire rang a bell, she had absolutely no idea who, or what, I was talking about. Other than Michael Jordan or maybe LeBron James or Patrick Ewing (he was a big deal in New York back in the day, remember), no NBA player possesses the star power to pass what I refer to as the "Mom Test." Ask my Mom who Kris Humphries is, however, and I bet she can tell you that he was the guy that was married to Kim Kardashian for 72 days.
Since the start of the shortened NBA preseason, Humphries has heard it from every fan base that he and his New Jersey Nets have visited. For reasons that I can't really understand, Humphies has been booed continuously, and was recently voted as the NBA's most hated player (a title that should never belong to anyone other than LeBron). Personally, I have absolutely nothing against Humphries and actually like the guy. Not only is he one of the league's most underrated and hard working players, but I don't think he can be blamed for any of the celebrity drama with which he was involved this past year.
From what I can gather, and I don't really follow celebrity gossip at all, Humphries was completely blindsided by Kardashian's demands for a divorce after only 72 days of marriage. If this is indeed true, I feel horrible for the guy. More likely, though, the Humphries / Kardashian wedding was a joke from the start, and both parties were just using the spectacle as an excuse to make a few bucks and increase their popularity. Assuming this is the case, I ask: why should we criticize Humphries for that?
After the NBA lockout, we know two things: professional basketball is all about money, and no one is going to be looking after NBA players after they retire. If Humphries saw his "wedding" to Kardashian as an opportunity to make some spending cash, I say good for him. The people dumb enough to watch and follow his celebrity wedding should be booed, not Humphries. Perhaps Humphries cared more about becoming famous than becoming rich, though (after all, he will make $8 million for playing 66 basketball games this year). Again, what's wrong with that? Somehow, a Nets backup forward was able to do something that Dwyane Wade, Dwight Howard and Chris Paul can't - make my Mom know who he is.
If I get the chance to see Humphries play in person this year, I definitely won't be booing the guy. Instead, I'll be tipping my proverbial cap to a guy who was smart enough to work the system and make himself a bigger household name than some of the league's brightest stars. If he can turn his 15 minutes of fame into a productive career on and off the basketball court, Humphries should go down as one of the game's most unlikely big time personalities.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
All I Want for Christmas . . .
When you're a Jew, there's not a whole lot to do on Christmas Day other than hang out at home playing board games, go to a movie or watch NBA basketball games. Over the last few years, the latter has become a tradition for me - two years ago I went to Madison Square Garden to watch the green-uniform-clad Knicks drop a close one to the pre-LeBron Miami Heat, and last year I watched a number of games on TV. This season the league rushed to start the post-lockout NBA season on the 25th, understanding that Christmas Day professional hoops has become a big deal to fans everywhere.
In a way, you can't blame the NBA for shortening the pre-season to a meager two games in an effort to start the regular season on December 25 - failure to do so would mean losing a lot of revenue and disrupting an entertaining annual tradition. But if the rushed pre-season turns Christmas Day basketball into a collection of errant passes, blown defensive coverages and missed mid-range jumpers, will the league come to regret its decision to get the players back on the court by Christmas? Will the fans care if their Christmas Day hoops aren't mid-season quality?
I've now watched both of the Knicks' pre-season games against the New Jersey Nets, and if these games are any indication of what Sunday's game versus Boston is going to be like, I'm not too excited about it. The players look extremely rusty, as virtually every basketball sportswriter has pointed out ad nauseum, on both the offensive and defensive sides of the ball. The sloppy play has been exacerbated by the fact that the lockout compressed the free agent signing period so that teams are still filling out their rosters with just hours to go before the start of the regular season. Between the lack of continuity and the lack of repititions, the current quality of NBA basketball is far below what I've come to expect from Christmas Day pro hoops.
As much as I've grown to enjoy college basketball, I've always preferred the NBA because the quality of play is much higher. The NBA typically features fewer missed shots, fewer bad passes and fewer dropped rebounds. While the NCAA is all about who makes fewer mistakes, the NBA is supposed to be about who makes the most great plays. This year, however, the Christmas Day winners might well be the teams who can cut down the most on their sloppiness and most closely resemble an actual basketball team. While I'm still pumped for Knicks versus Celtics on Sunday at noon, I'm prepared for a game that's more fit for Rucker Park than for MSG.
In a way, you can't blame the NBA for shortening the pre-season to a meager two games in an effort to start the regular season on December 25 - failure to do so would mean losing a lot of revenue and disrupting an entertaining annual tradition. But if the rushed pre-season turns Christmas Day basketball into a collection of errant passes, blown defensive coverages and missed mid-range jumpers, will the league come to regret its decision to get the players back on the court by Christmas? Will the fans care if their Christmas Day hoops aren't mid-season quality?
I've now watched both of the Knicks' pre-season games against the New Jersey Nets, and if these games are any indication of what Sunday's game versus Boston is going to be like, I'm not too excited about it. The players look extremely rusty, as virtually every basketball sportswriter has pointed out ad nauseum, on both the offensive and defensive sides of the ball. The sloppy play has been exacerbated by the fact that the lockout compressed the free agent signing period so that teams are still filling out their rosters with just hours to go before the start of the regular season. Between the lack of continuity and the lack of repititions, the current quality of NBA basketball is far below what I've come to expect from Christmas Day pro hoops.
As much as I've grown to enjoy college basketball, I've always preferred the NBA because the quality of play is much higher. The NBA typically features fewer missed shots, fewer bad passes and fewer dropped rebounds. While the NCAA is all about who makes fewer mistakes, the NBA is supposed to be about who makes the most great plays. This year, however, the Christmas Day winners might well be the teams who can cut down the most on their sloppiness and most closely resemble an actual basketball team. While I'm still pumped for Knicks versus Celtics on Sunday at noon, I'm prepared for a game that's more fit for Rucker Park than for MSG.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Harder to Hate
It wasn't too long ago that the Yankees were by far and away the most hated team not only in Major League Baseball, but in all of American professional sports. Just a few years back, the Yanks would dominate headlines year round, dismantling the competition on the field during the season and in free agency during the winter. It wasn't at all uncommon to see the Bronx Bombers' annual spending spree steal the back page of Newsday, my hometown newspaper, from the Rangers, Giants or Knicks. More recently, though, it seems that the Yankees are spending less and less and, as a result, are becoming harder to hate.
On a slow New York-area sports day, today's Newsday back page features a premature preview of Saturday's Jets versus Giants game at the Meadowlands. Look deeper into the sports section, however, and you'll find a small article about the Texas Rangers winning the rights to negotiate a contract with Japanese starting pitcher Yu Darvish - for just over $57 million, Texas "wins" the chance to sign the 25 year old former Hokkaido Nippon Ham Fighter to what is almost assured to be an inflated and overvalued contract. Doesn't it seem like, just a few seasons ago, Darvish would have been headed to the Bronx (or at least the Red Sox or Mets), angering small market teams and fans everywhere and solidifying the Yankees' reputation as the Evil Empire of baseball?
Newsday's back page does feature a note about the Darvish article that reads "Hardly Knew Yu: Rangers, not Yanks, win bid on pitcher Darvish," indicating that having any team other than New York sign a high-priced free agent still comes to most of us as a surprise. But with top stars heading everywhere but the Bronx this offseason - Albert Pujols to Anaheim, Jose Reyes to Miami, etc. - maybe we shouldn't be so shocked about Texas winning the Darvish sweepstakes after all. Perhaps times have changed and the Yankees are getting smarter (there's almost no way, in my opinion, that any of the Pujols, Reyes or Darvish contracts pan out financially for their new teams) and, as a result, just a little less hateable.
Of course, the Yankees won't be truly respected by small market fans until high-priced signings like Mark Teixeira and C.C. Sabathia have long gone and until confirmed cheater and overpaid diva Alex Rodriguez has retired and opened a chain of tacky Miami-area nighclubs. But all indications suggest that the post-George Steinbrenner Yankees are moving back towards a period of controlled spending, calculated risks and homegrown talent that we haven't seen since Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada lifted the Yanks back to World Series caliber in the mid-1990s. While I'll miss aggressively hating the Bombers, it does seem like it was time for an aggressive change of strategy - after all, the Yankees haven't won a World Series in over two years now.
On a slow New York-area sports day, today's Newsday back page features a premature preview of Saturday's Jets versus Giants game at the Meadowlands. Look deeper into the sports section, however, and you'll find a small article about the Texas Rangers winning the rights to negotiate a contract with Japanese starting pitcher Yu Darvish - for just over $57 million, Texas "wins" the chance to sign the 25 year old former Hokkaido Nippon Ham Fighter to what is almost assured to be an inflated and overvalued contract. Doesn't it seem like, just a few seasons ago, Darvish would have been headed to the Bronx (or at least the Red Sox or Mets), angering small market teams and fans everywhere and solidifying the Yankees' reputation as the Evil Empire of baseball?
Newsday's back page does feature a note about the Darvish article that reads "Hardly Knew Yu: Rangers, not Yanks, win bid on pitcher Darvish," indicating that having any team other than New York sign a high-priced free agent still comes to most of us as a surprise. But with top stars heading everywhere but the Bronx this offseason - Albert Pujols to Anaheim, Jose Reyes to Miami, etc. - maybe we shouldn't be so shocked about Texas winning the Darvish sweepstakes after all. Perhaps times have changed and the Yankees are getting smarter (there's almost no way, in my opinion, that any of the Pujols, Reyes or Darvish contracts pan out financially for their new teams) and, as a result, just a little less hateable.
Of course, the Yankees won't be truly respected by small market fans until high-priced signings like Mark Teixeira and C.C. Sabathia have long gone and until confirmed cheater and overpaid diva Alex Rodriguez has retired and opened a chain of tacky Miami-area nighclubs. But all indications suggest that the post-George Steinbrenner Yankees are moving back towards a period of controlled spending, calculated risks and homegrown talent that we haven't seen since Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada lifted the Yanks back to World Series caliber in the mid-1990s. While I'll miss aggressively hating the Bombers, it does seem like it was time for an aggressive change of strategy - after all, the Yankees haven't won a World Series in over two years now.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Considering Adoption
Ever since I was a little kid, I've been following the Braves, Giants, Knicks and Islanders. When I got older and started college and grad school, I picked up Princeton and Stanford as my two NCAA interests. As I've moved across the country from New York to California, I've periodically found myself watching Dodgers, Clippers, Sharks or 49ers games, but never with any rooting interest - I've always stuck by my hometown teams and, with the exception of my two alma maters, haven't added to my roster of favorite teams since I was a child.
Recently, however, important influences in my life have had me gravitate toward Duke basketball. Over the last two years or so, I've seen a couple of Duke hoops games in person, toured Cameron Indoor Stadium on Duke's campus in Durham (twice), and watched dozens of Blue Devils games on TV (almost all of them are nationally televised on ESPNU or ESPN2 or even ESPN). Most recently, I sat in the Blue Devils fan section and watched Duke beat up on Washington at Madison Square Garden this past Saturday and, as much as it amazes me, found myself legitimately rooting for Duke.
As a kid, I always respected Duke, but never really liked them. I was always impressed by the way the school could maintain such high academic standards while remaining so competitive, year after year, on college basketball's biggest stage. As a college student I looked up to Duke as a model for what Princeton athletics should strive to become, and today I feel the same way about the comparison between Duke and Stanford basketball. But at the same time, Duke almost seemed to me like the Yankees of college basketball - always rebuilding and reloading while smaller schools struggled to recruit even the players who sat on the end of the Duke bench.
As I've watched more and more Duke basketball, though, and grown closer to one of their most diehard fans, my jealousy of - and contempt for - the school has slowly worn away. Now, I find myself listing Duke basketball as one of "My Teams" on my ESPN Android app, watching their games on TV and checking their postgame box scores online. For better or worse, I am now - at least on a minor level - a real Duke basketball fan. And while I can't ever imagine a world in which I care about Duke hoops more than I do Princeton or Stanford, at this point in my life I'm mature enough to realize that anything's possible.
Recently, however, important influences in my life have had me gravitate toward Duke basketball. Over the last two years or so, I've seen a couple of Duke hoops games in person, toured Cameron Indoor Stadium on Duke's campus in Durham (twice), and watched dozens of Blue Devils games on TV (almost all of them are nationally televised on ESPNU or ESPN2 or even ESPN). Most recently, I sat in the Blue Devils fan section and watched Duke beat up on Washington at Madison Square Garden this past Saturday and, as much as it amazes me, found myself legitimately rooting for Duke.
After Duke beat Washington, Oklahoma State and Pittsburgh tipped off.
As a kid, I always respected Duke, but never really liked them. I was always impressed by the way the school could maintain such high academic standards while remaining so competitive, year after year, on college basketball's biggest stage. As a college student I looked up to Duke as a model for what Princeton athletics should strive to become, and today I feel the same way about the comparison between Duke and Stanford basketball. But at the same time, Duke almost seemed to me like the Yankees of college basketball - always rebuilding and reloading while smaller schools struggled to recruit even the players who sat on the end of the Duke bench.
As I've watched more and more Duke basketball, though, and grown closer to one of their most diehard fans, my jealousy of - and contempt for - the school has slowly worn away. Now, I find myself listing Duke basketball as one of "My Teams" on my ESPN Android app, watching their games on TV and checking their postgame box scores online. For better or worse, I am now - at least on a minor level - a real Duke basketball fan. And while I can't ever imagine a world in which I care about Duke hoops more than I do Princeton or Stanford, at this point in my life I'm mature enough to realize that anything's possible.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Why the NBA Doesn't Make Sense
Update: Looks like I beat ESPN.com's Mark Kreider to the punch by about 12 hours. His article, posted today, does a good job of explaining how the new CBA failed to fix the league's fundamental small market problems and points out that the deal "did not lay a foundation for a future in which smaller-revenue teams have more equitable chances to compete for the biggest prizes." I think he misses the mark a bit on revenue sharing - the NBA doesn't have the cumulative profits to do what the NFL does - but his overall point is correct; the NBA system doesn't work.
By now, you've likely heard all about the Chris Paul trade that wasn't. In short, the league nixed a potential Paul-to-Los Angeles trade because a number of small market owners argued that the league - which owns Paul's current team, the New Orleans Hornets - was unfairly trading one of the game's biggest starts to a larger market. Never mind that, as J.A. Adande points out, the Hornets were set to receive a pretty good haul for a guy who is all but certain to leave New Orleans for free agency after this season (if he makes it that far). As far as the NBA owners were concerned, this was just another example of the league's large market vs. small market struggles.
Every league, whether it be the NBA or NFL or MLB, has small markets, so why is it that the NBA always seems to have problems with its weaker franchises while the NFL and MLB don't? To me, it's a simple matter of economics, and the recently ratified NBA labor agreement unfortunately does nothing to address the NBA's most fundamental problems. Unlike the NFL and MLB, the NBA has a critical misalignment between franchise revenues and expenses that threaten to continue to cripple the league. Allow me to explain using the simplest terminology possible.
In the NFL, most of the money is earned at the league level and split evenly among the 32 franchises. While each franchise controls its own ticket sales and local sponsors, most of the money comes from the national TV contracts and national sponsors, and as a result large and small market teams generate approximately equal revenues. The NFL has paired its more or less equal revenues with a hard salary cap, so that all teams are spending roughly the same amount on players (the largest expense line item for any professional sports team). So, NFL teams are making and spending about the same amount of money, regardless of market - this is why teams in Indianapolis and Pittsburgh and New Orleans can compete, both financially and athletically, with the ones in New York and Boston and San Francisco.
The MLB works in almost the exact opposite way. In the MLB, the majority of revenue is generated locally - local TV deals with regional sports networks, ticket sales and local sponsorships provide a team with the bulk of its cash inflows. At the same time, the league has no salary cap, so each franchise can spend what it wants on players. This way, large market teams like the Yankees can choose to spend a lot of money to make a lot of money, while smaller market teams like the Pirates can spend wisely and still have their modest revenues exceed their expenses. Every team has a chance to earn a profit, and while this system certainly won't have the competitive balance that the NFL has, at least all of the franchises can remain financial viable.
The NBA has mixed elements from the NFL and MLB collective bargaining agreements, effectively creating a "worst of both worlds" situation. On the revenue side, the NBA is more like the MLB - large market teams like the Lakers have huge local TV and sponsorship deals, while smaller clubs like the Milwaukee Bucks struggle to find media and sponsorship partners. But while large and small market NBA franchises have vastly different revenue levels, the league's soft cap system leads to closely-clustered player expenses, more like the NFL. As a result, you have 30 teams spending roughly the same amounts of money despite earning wildly different revenues. This is why small market teams, like the Hornets, don't stand a chance; the cap floor forces them to spend nearly as much as the Lakers do, despite generating only a fraction of the revenue. In theory this could be rectified through revenue sharing (where large market teams transfer money to small market teams to cover their losses), but even the new NBA CBA won't get the league to cumulative profitability and thus there won't be enough profits to go around.
This, in simple terms, is why the NBA's financial structure makes no sense and has never made sense. As long as this system remains in place, expect small market teams to continue to complain. While having Chris Paul go to Los Angeles could have benefitted NBA fans in both Los Angeles and New Orleans (not to mention Houston, the third team involved in the deal), the small market owners did what they do best; distracted NBA fans from the game of basketball and shined the spotlight on the league's financial problems.
By now, you've likely heard all about the Chris Paul trade that wasn't. In short, the league nixed a potential Paul-to-Los Angeles trade because a number of small market owners argued that the league - which owns Paul's current team, the New Orleans Hornets - was unfairly trading one of the game's biggest starts to a larger market. Never mind that, as J.A. Adande points out, the Hornets were set to receive a pretty good haul for a guy who is all but certain to leave New Orleans for free agency after this season (if he makes it that far). As far as the NBA owners were concerned, this was just another example of the league's large market vs. small market struggles.
Every league, whether it be the NBA or NFL or MLB, has small markets, so why is it that the NBA always seems to have problems with its weaker franchises while the NFL and MLB don't? To me, it's a simple matter of economics, and the recently ratified NBA labor agreement unfortunately does nothing to address the NBA's most fundamental problems. Unlike the NFL and MLB, the NBA has a critical misalignment between franchise revenues and expenses that threaten to continue to cripple the league. Allow me to explain using the simplest terminology possible.
In the NFL, most of the money is earned at the league level and split evenly among the 32 franchises. While each franchise controls its own ticket sales and local sponsors, most of the money comes from the national TV contracts and national sponsors, and as a result large and small market teams generate approximately equal revenues. The NFL has paired its more or less equal revenues with a hard salary cap, so that all teams are spending roughly the same amount on players (the largest expense line item for any professional sports team). So, NFL teams are making and spending about the same amount of money, regardless of market - this is why teams in Indianapolis and Pittsburgh and New Orleans can compete, both financially and athletically, with the ones in New York and Boston and San Francisco.
The MLB works in almost the exact opposite way. In the MLB, the majority of revenue is generated locally - local TV deals with regional sports networks, ticket sales and local sponsorships provide a team with the bulk of its cash inflows. At the same time, the league has no salary cap, so each franchise can spend what it wants on players. This way, large market teams like the Yankees can choose to spend a lot of money to make a lot of money, while smaller market teams like the Pirates can spend wisely and still have their modest revenues exceed their expenses. Every team has a chance to earn a profit, and while this system certainly won't have the competitive balance that the NFL has, at least all of the franchises can remain financial viable.
The NBA has mixed elements from the NFL and MLB collective bargaining agreements, effectively creating a "worst of both worlds" situation. On the revenue side, the NBA is more like the MLB - large market teams like the Lakers have huge local TV and sponsorship deals, while smaller clubs like the Milwaukee Bucks struggle to find media and sponsorship partners. But while large and small market NBA franchises have vastly different revenue levels, the league's soft cap system leads to closely-clustered player expenses, more like the NFL. As a result, you have 30 teams spending roughly the same amounts of money despite earning wildly different revenues. This is why small market teams, like the Hornets, don't stand a chance; the cap floor forces them to spend nearly as much as the Lakers do, despite generating only a fraction of the revenue. In theory this could be rectified through revenue sharing (where large market teams transfer money to small market teams to cover their losses), but even the new NBA CBA won't get the league to cumulative profitability and thus there won't be enough profits to go around.
This, in simple terms, is why the NBA's financial structure makes no sense and has never made sense. As long as this system remains in place, expect small market teams to continue to complain. While having Chris Paul go to Los Angeles could have benefitted NBA fans in both Los Angeles and New Orleans (not to mention Houston, the third team involved in the deal), the small market owners did what they do best; distracted NBA fans from the game of basketball and shined the spotlight on the league's financial problems.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Decisions, Decisions
Because I currently live on the West Coast but mainly follow East Coast teams, I don't often run into conflicts between live and televised sporting events; usually, I can make time to watch one of my teams play on TV in the afternoon and head to a game in person at night. Yesterday, however, I had a surprisingly difficult choice to make: Go to a sports bar to watch my Giants battle the previously undefeated Green Bay Packers on TV, or make the short drive to campus to watch an intriguing non-conference college basketball match-up between Stanford and the NC State Wolfpack. Both games started at 1 PM PST. I'll take you through my decision-making process, and you can tell me which way you would have leaned:
Reason to watch Stanford: It's a live sporting event. Televised games can be DVR'd and watched later in the day (although admittedly it's not the same), but there's nothing like watching sports live. There aren't that many Stanford basketball home games that I'm realistically able to attend - many of them are during the month that I'll be away for Winter Break - so I feel like I should take advantage of the opportunity to go to free college basketball games when I can, particularly when they feature interesting battles such as this one.
Reason to watch the Giants: I've been a Giants fan for way longer than I've been a Stanford fan, so picking the Cardinal over the G-men seems wrong. It would be like ditching your childhood best friend to go hang out with a guy you just met through work - something about it just rubs me the wrong way. I've invested so much time in the Giants in my life and received so much joy from them - highlighted, of course, by the Superbowl victory over New England in 2007 - that I feel like I owe it to them to watch their games whenever possible.
Reason to watch Stanford: Unlike the Giants, Stanford had a good chance to win their game (and they did, 76-72, in a hard fought battle). Although the Giants did put together an impressive performance (particularly offensively) in a narrow 38-35 defeat, I was pretty confident that the inconsistent Giants weren't going to take down the NFL's top team. While I'm certainly not a front-runner - I root for my teams no matter how awful they are - it is undoubtedly more fun to see a victory than a loss.
Reason to watch the Giants: The Giants' match-up with Green Bay was clearly more critical than Stanford's non-conference game versus NC State. At 6-5 entering Sunday and desperately needing a victory to save their seemingly sinking ship, the Giants would have received a major boost to their potentially crumbling playoff hopes had they been able to knock off the Packers. While Stanford's win over NC State might help them beat out another bubble team when Selection Sunday rolls around (but probably not), there's no doubt that a Week 13 NFL game is more significant than a December college basketball one.
There were some other factors that went into my decision-making process, but those were the main ones. In the end, I decided to go to Maples to watch the basketball game (it was the live versus televised factor that swayed me) and I'm glad that I did - the crowd was excellent by Stanford basketball standards, the team showed resiliency in coming back from a double-digit deficit in the second half and the Cardinal earned a valuable victory over a solid ACC opponent. I even made it out in time to "watch" the fourth quarter of the Giants game on my computer and, considering the way it ended, it's probably better for my sanity that I wasn't at the sports bar watching it.
Reason to watch Stanford: It's a live sporting event. Televised games can be DVR'd and watched later in the day (although admittedly it's not the same), but there's nothing like watching sports live. There aren't that many Stanford basketball home games that I'm realistically able to attend - many of them are during the month that I'll be away for Winter Break - so I feel like I should take advantage of the opportunity to go to free college basketball games when I can, particularly when they feature interesting battles such as this one.
Reason to watch the Giants: I've been a Giants fan for way longer than I've been a Stanford fan, so picking the Cardinal over the G-men seems wrong. It would be like ditching your childhood best friend to go hang out with a guy you just met through work - something about it just rubs me the wrong way. I've invested so much time in the Giants in my life and received so much joy from them - highlighted, of course, by the Superbowl victory over New England in 2007 - that I feel like I owe it to them to watch their games whenever possible.
Reason to watch Stanford: Unlike the Giants, Stanford had a good chance to win their game (and they did, 76-72, in a hard fought battle). Although the Giants did put together an impressive performance (particularly offensively) in a narrow 38-35 defeat, I was pretty confident that the inconsistent Giants weren't going to take down the NFL's top team. While I'm certainly not a front-runner - I root for my teams no matter how awful they are - it is undoubtedly more fun to see a victory than a loss.
Reason to watch the Giants: The Giants' match-up with Green Bay was clearly more critical than Stanford's non-conference game versus NC State. At 6-5 entering Sunday and desperately needing a victory to save their seemingly sinking ship, the Giants would have received a major boost to their potentially crumbling playoff hopes had they been able to knock off the Packers. While Stanford's win over NC State might help them beat out another bubble team when Selection Sunday rolls around (but probably not), there's no doubt that a Week 13 NFL game is more significant than a December college basketball one.
There were some other factors that went into my decision-making process, but those were the main ones. In the end, I decided to go to Maples to watch the basketball game (it was the live versus televised factor that swayed me) and I'm glad that I did - the crowd was excellent by Stanford basketball standards, the team showed resiliency in coming back from a double-digit deficit in the second half and the Cardinal earned a valuable victory over a solid ACC opponent. I even made it out in time to "watch" the fourth quarter of the Giants game on my computer and, considering the way it ended, it's probably better for my sanity that I wasn't at the sports bar watching it.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Why Dress to Impress?
In addition to NFL and NCAA football, my Thansgiving break was filled with lots of college basketball. Every November, I enjoy tuning in to the various pre-season college hoops tournaments that happen across the country - they give viewers the unique opportunity to see a lot of intriguing non-conference battles that you normally don't get before the NCAA Tournament and NIT begin in March. In particular, I enjoy the Maui Invitational - the combination of top-notch competition, unique setting and small gym atmosphere makes the tournament particularly fun to watch. Weirdly, though, perhaps more than anything I like how the coaches at the Maui Invitational dress.
Part of the Hawaii-based tournament's laid back image involves the various coaches ditching their traditional suits and ties in favor of khakis and school-branded dri-fit polo shirts. Seeing Duke's Coach K man the sidelines dressed comparatively comfortably and casually got me thinking about why coaches normally dress the way they do. Why do basketball and hockey coaches dress so formally, putting on a jacket and tie for every single game? Why do baseball managers wear full uniforms, as if they might enter the game at any moment? Why is football the only sport that's found a reasonable middle ground, dressing its coaching staffs in branded polo shirts, jackets and hats? After all, doesn't the picture on the left look more practical than the one on the right?
Part of the Hawaii-based tournament's laid back image involves the various coaches ditching their traditional suits and ties in favor of khakis and school-branded dri-fit polo shirts. Seeing Duke's Coach K man the sidelines dressed comparatively comfortably and casually got me thinking about why coaches normally dress the way they do. Why do basketball and hockey coaches dress so formally, putting on a jacket and tie for every single game? Why do baseball managers wear full uniforms, as if they might enter the game at any moment? Why is football the only sport that's found a reasonable middle ground, dressing its coaching staffs in branded polo shirts, jackets and hats? After all, doesn't the picture on the left look more practical than the one on the right?
Isn't it time for basketball coaches to start dressing more casually on the mainland, too?
Sports uniforms and equipment change so much these days that it seems like athletes are wearing something different each and every week. It's a wonder, then, that coaches have seemingly been wearing the same thing for decades. While I certainly respect sports tradition, I don't understand why coaches wear what they wear. If I were coaching, I would want to balance looking professional and being comfortable, and football seems to be the only sport whose coaches have gotten things right. Basketball and hockey coaches seem way too overdressed to be running up and down the sidelines and screaming at the refs, while having 70 year-old baseball coaches dressed in baseball pants and stirrups is even more absurd. In my opinion, it's time for basketball, hockey and baseball coaches to change the way they dress for sporting events.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
A Blast from the Past
While it might be hard to believe based on the relative lack of coverage it receives on Caught Looking, while growing up I went to more hockey games than baseball or basketball games. Last season, I only went to two hockey games - one at HP Pavilion in San Jose and one at the RBC Center in Raleigh - but as kids my friends and I went to Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, New York to see the Islanders play multiple times each hockey season. On Friday, I made my return to the Coliseum after a multiple-season absence to watch the Islanders play host to the New Jersey Devils.
Even back in the late 1990s the Nassau Coliseum was considered one of the worst venues in professional sports, and it doesn't seem like any real capital improvements have been made on the arena in the last decade. As always, from the outside the Coliseum looked like a drab ball of concrete, although now most of the signage for the now-defunct New York Dragons of the Arena Football League has been replaced with cheesy ads for Optimum cable internet and television. The concourses were still simultaneously barren and crowded (there was a surprisingly respectable crowd at the game, probably because a lot of people were in town for Thanksgiving). The sponsors whose ads lined the boards of the hockey rink were far from the marquee national advertisers that you'd find at a New York Rangers or San Jose Sharks game - companies like New York Community Bank and CompressionStockings.com (whatever that is) even had their logos embedded into the ice itself (see below).
Even back in the late 1990s the Nassau Coliseum was considered one of the worst venues in professional sports, and it doesn't seem like any real capital improvements have been made on the arena in the last decade. As always, from the outside the Coliseum looked like a drab ball of concrete, although now most of the signage for the now-defunct New York Dragons of the Arena Football League has been replaced with cheesy ads for Optimum cable internet and television. The concourses were still simultaneously barren and crowded (there was a surprisingly respectable crowd at the game, probably because a lot of people were in town for Thanksgiving). The sponsors whose ads lined the boards of the hockey rink were far from the marquee national advertisers that you'd find at a New York Rangers or San Jose Sharks game - companies like New York Community Bank and CompressionStockings.com (whatever that is) even had their logos embedded into the ice itself (see below).
NYCB and CompressionStockings.com are low budget on-ice sponsors.
I was, however, pretty impressed with the fans who came out for the game. Even though the team gave the crowd absolutely nothing to cheer about (and a whole lot to boo about), the fans were relatively energetic and loud. There was the usual suite of anti-Rangers chants, which happen during every Islanders game regardless of opponent, which always puts a smile on my face. It was great to see the Islanders only "super fan" - an overweight Long Islander who sits in the first row behind one of the nets and wears a gold wig under an Isles hat - retaining his usual seat and working tirelessly to pump up the crowd. The game proved that, despite what you might read in the local papers, there will be plenty of angry people if the team does ever move to Kansas City or Canada as is constantly rumored.
Despite the extreme crappiness of the Nassau Coliseum (it rivals the Oakland Coliseum and Candlestick Park as the worst venues that I've visited in recent memory) and the even worse performance of the team itself (the Isles lost 1-0 to a weak New Jersey team and blew a golden opportunity to tie the game with a penalty shot in the third period), I still had a great time. Isles games take me back to a time in my youth when the Nassau Coliseum was the only venue that my friends and I were allowed to visit without our parents, since Uniondale was a lot closer and less intimidating for a group of young teenagers than the Bronx or midtown Manhattan. For that reason, the Coliseum and the Islanders will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter how incredibly dilapidated the Islanders or their home arena get.
Despite the extreme crappiness of the Nassau Coliseum (it rivals the Oakland Coliseum and Candlestick Park as the worst venues that I've visited in recent memory) and the even worse performance of the team itself (the Isles lost 1-0 to a weak New Jersey team and blew a golden opportunity to tie the game with a penalty shot in the third period), I still had a great time. Isles games take me back to a time in my youth when the Nassau Coliseum was the only venue that my friends and I were allowed to visit without our parents, since Uniondale was a lot closer and less intimidating for a group of young teenagers than the Bronx or midtown Manhattan. For that reason, the Coliseum and the Islanders will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter how incredibly dilapidated the Islanders or their home arena get.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
NBA, I Wish I Knew How To Quit You
With the 2011-12 NBA season potentially over, I've been trying to block everything related to professional basketball out of my mind. As much as I'd love to see the NBA and NBPA come to an agreement over the Thanksgiving break and get the season started by Christmas, it seems less and less likely to happen every day. Rather than get myself worked up over the loss of what could have been an exciting Knicks season, I've been telling myself to forget about the NBA and focus on bigger and better things - college football bowls, the second half of the NFL season, college hoops and maybe even a little NHL hockey.
It's been harder than I expected to stay away from NBA-related conversation over the last few weeks, however. For one, perhaps not surprisingly, every person I come across wants to talk about the NBA lockout. People are constantly asking me for my thoughts or trying to draw some inside information out of me (which I honestly don't have); it's happened so often over the past month that I pretty much have a scripted response memorized ("I haven't heard anything specific, but based on what I've been reading from public sources I don't feel optimistic. It's really a shame, especially after the fantastic finish to last season and considering all of the great young talent in the league blah blah blah").
There are other little reminders of the NBA's absense that I'm also forced to deal with everyday, though. ESPN's Scorecenter app for Android phones still lists basketball games among the upcoming events; on the "My Teams" tab, I have each previously-scheduled Knicks game staring me in the face, with a giant "CANCELLED" written where the start time would normally be. The other day I was watching a college basketball game being played at Madison Square Garden (and I'll be watching more from there this week when Stanford heads to the Big Apple to take part in the pre-season NIT semifinals starting on Wednesday) and noticed that the NBA three point line is still prominently painted on the hardwood. Every channel I turn to is either running a T-Mobile ad starring Dwyane Wade, an Adidas spot featuring Derrick Rose or the new (and amusing) Call of Duty commercial with the Dwight Howard cameo at the end.
Yes, there's a lot of sports to watch right now, even with the NBA on hiatus. But that doesn't mean it's been easy to forget about the NBA altogether. Whether it's the constant questioning from family and friends, the ESPN app, college basketball at MSG or seemingly every ad on TV, reminders of all the great professional basketball that we're missing right now are everywhere. Here's hoping that the two sides come to an agreement soon, before the 2011-12 season is lost forever and all we're left with is the (fitting) image of Dwight Howard firing a machine gun.
It's been harder than I expected to stay away from NBA-related conversation over the last few weeks, however. For one, perhaps not surprisingly, every person I come across wants to talk about the NBA lockout. People are constantly asking me for my thoughts or trying to draw some inside information out of me (which I honestly don't have); it's happened so often over the past month that I pretty much have a scripted response memorized ("I haven't heard anything specific, but based on what I've been reading from public sources I don't feel optimistic. It's really a shame, especially after the fantastic finish to last season and considering all of the great young talent in the league blah blah blah").
There are other little reminders of the NBA's absense that I'm also forced to deal with everyday, though. ESPN's Scorecenter app for Android phones still lists basketball games among the upcoming events; on the "My Teams" tab, I have each previously-scheduled Knicks game staring me in the face, with a giant "CANCELLED" written where the start time would normally be. The other day I was watching a college basketball game being played at Madison Square Garden (and I'll be watching more from there this week when Stanford heads to the Big Apple to take part in the pre-season NIT semifinals starting on Wednesday) and noticed that the NBA three point line is still prominently painted on the hardwood. Every channel I turn to is either running a T-Mobile ad starring Dwyane Wade, an Adidas spot featuring Derrick Rose or the new (and amusing) Call of Duty commercial with the Dwight Howard cameo at the end.
Yes, there's a lot of sports to watch right now, even with the NBA on hiatus. But that doesn't mean it's been easy to forget about the NBA altogether. Whether it's the constant questioning from family and friends, the ESPN app, college basketball at MSG or seemingly every ad on TV, reminders of all the great professional basketball that we're missing right now are everywhere. Here's hoping that the two sides come to an agreement soon, before the 2011-12 season is lost forever and all we're left with is the (fitting) image of Dwight Howard firing a machine gun.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Crumbling Candlestick Park
Note: Based on reader input, some additional detail has been added (in italics) to the third paragraph.
Despite having lived in the Bay Area for over a year now, I didn't know much about Candlestick Park - home of the San Francisco 49ers - until this weekend. I had heard that the stadium was known for being shockingly windy and cold, and that the team has been trying to build a new facility either in Santa Clara or near AT&T Park for years. I also recently attended a panel featuring some 49ers executives during which one of the team's senior marketing executives claimed that her job was to make sure the team was associated with the word "class." It was with this limited information that I made my way up to South San Francisco on Sunday to see the New York Giants battle the Niners at Candlestick Park.
While San Francisco isn't New York, it's still a large city where a lot of people regularly use public transportation. The city has both Caltrain, a commuter rail network, and BART, a metro system, but shockingly neither have a station anywhere near Candlestick. The Caltrain website recommends taking the Caltrain, BART and a bus to get to the stadium from Palo Alto, but after some research I discovered that the stadium is a fifteen minute walk through a quasi-shady San Francisco neighborhood from the nearest Caltrain stop. We took the 50 minute Caltrain ride from Stanford and then walked down streets, through parking lots and up unpaved hills to get to the field - hardly convenient. And we were far from the only ones doing it - we followed hundreds of other 49er jersey-clad fans who showed us the way. How the city of San Francisco hasn't developed a better public transportation alternative for reaching the stadium from the South Bay is beyond me.
Things didn't get much better once we reached the stadium, either. Once we got inside the Candlestick grounds, it was immediately obvious why the team is trying so desperately trying to construct a new facility. The stadium, like many other 1960s-era football stadiums (such as RFK Stadium in Washington, DC), is generic, concrete and ugly. The concourses are drab, narrow and empty, with extremely limited concessions and bathroom facilities. Also, because Candlestick was once a mixed-use venue (it housed the San Francisco Giants until AT&T Park opened), there is a section of temporary seating (removable for baseball games) which is improperly angled towards the sideline, so the rows and the yard lines aren't perpendicular and some views are obstructed - you can even sort of see it in the photo below. Perhaps most surprising, though, was the terrible quality of Candlestick's in-stadium technology. There were two tiny video boards that were nearly impossible to see, and the PA announcer was barely audible through the stadium's dilapidated stereo system. Ironically, Silicon Valley's team might have the least technologically sophisticated venue in the NFL.
As for the team's mission of "staying classy," as Ron Burgundy would say, I would say the 49ers are coming up short. While the team's fans were passionate and relatively loud (it's hard not to be when your team is 8-1), they were far from "professional." Overall, I would rate my first Candlestick Park experience as mediocre at best. At least the weather was fantastic - we were all way overdressed, having prepared for a freezing, windy afternoon. It's definitely time for the team to break ground on a new Santa Clara-based facility ASAP.
Despite having lived in the Bay Area for over a year now, I didn't know much about Candlestick Park - home of the San Francisco 49ers - until this weekend. I had heard that the stadium was known for being shockingly windy and cold, and that the team has been trying to build a new facility either in Santa Clara or near AT&T Park for years. I also recently attended a panel featuring some 49ers executives during which one of the team's senior marketing executives claimed that her job was to make sure the team was associated with the word "class." It was with this limited information that I made my way up to South San Francisco on Sunday to see the New York Giants battle the Niners at Candlestick Park.
While San Francisco isn't New York, it's still a large city where a lot of people regularly use public transportation. The city has both Caltrain, a commuter rail network, and BART, a metro system, but shockingly neither have a station anywhere near Candlestick. The Caltrain website recommends taking the Caltrain, BART and a bus to get to the stadium from Palo Alto, but after some research I discovered that the stadium is a fifteen minute walk through a quasi-shady San Francisco neighborhood from the nearest Caltrain stop. We took the 50 minute Caltrain ride from Stanford and then walked down streets, through parking lots and up unpaved hills to get to the field - hardly convenient. And we were far from the only ones doing it - we followed hundreds of other 49er jersey-clad fans who showed us the way. How the city of San Francisco hasn't developed a better public transportation alternative for reaching the stadium from the South Bay is beyond me.
Can you see the video board? Neither could we from our seats in Section 61.
Things didn't get much better once we reached the stadium, either. Once we got inside the Candlestick grounds, it was immediately obvious why the team is trying so desperately trying to construct a new facility. The stadium, like many other 1960s-era football stadiums (such as RFK Stadium in Washington, DC), is generic, concrete and ugly. The concourses are drab, narrow and empty, with extremely limited concessions and bathroom facilities. Also, because Candlestick was once a mixed-use venue (it housed the San Francisco Giants until AT&T Park opened), there is a section of temporary seating (removable for baseball games) which is improperly angled towards the sideline, so the rows and the yard lines aren't perpendicular and some views are obstructed - you can even sort of see it in the photo below. Perhaps most surprising, though, was the terrible quality of Candlestick's in-stadium technology. There were two tiny video boards that were nearly impossible to see, and the PA announcer was barely audible through the stadium's dilapidated stereo system. Ironically, Silicon Valley's team might have the least technologically sophisticated venue in the NFL.
The 49ers fans were passionate, in a sloppy sort of way.
As for the team's mission of "staying classy," as Ron Burgundy would say, I would say the 49ers are coming up short. While the team's fans were passionate and relatively loud (it's hard not to be when your team is 8-1), they were far from "professional." Overall, I would rate my first Candlestick Park experience as mediocre at best. At least the weather was fantastic - we were all way overdressed, having prepared for a freezing, windy afternoon. It's definitely time for the team to break ground on a new Santa Clara-based facility ASAP.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Gameday at the Oval
For years, I've flipped the TV to ESPN on Saturday mornings and caught parts of College Gameday, the network's premiere weekly college football preview show. Given that Gameday is filmed each week on location at the site of the big, nationally-televised Saturday night game and is typically hosted at one of college football's iconic locales, I always figured that the odds of me ever attending a broadcast were almost negligible; not only would I have to be living near a Gameday location, but I'd also have to care enough about the game to get up early enough to attend the taping. As luck would have it, though, everything came together yesterday when Gameday made its first ever visit to Palo Alto for the Stanford game versus Oregon.
Even on the East Coast, Gameday involves getting up very early. The broadcast begins at 9 AM eastern, and fans begin jockeying for position behind the stage hours in advance. In California everything is of course three hours earlier, so fans were arriving at Stanford's Oval - a grassy area in front of the main campus - at 4 AM. While I wasn't quite that dedicated, I did drag myself out of my room in time to arrive at the Oval by 7, and by that time, hundreds of fans were sprawled across the grass in the dark of early morning, many carrying Gameday's traditional clever signs. I took a picture of some of my favorites (see below), and also particularly enjoyed other signs that read:
Even on the East Coast, Gameday involves getting up very early. The broadcast begins at 9 AM eastern, and fans begin jockeying for position behind the stage hours in advance. In California everything is of course three hours earlier, so fans were arriving at Stanford's Oval - a grassy area in front of the main campus - at 4 AM. While I wasn't quite that dedicated, I did drag myself out of my room in time to arrive at the Oval by 7, and by that time, hundreds of fans were sprawled across the grass in the dark of early morning, many carrying Gameday's traditional clever signs. I took a picture of some of my favorites (see below), and also particularly enjoyed other signs that read:
- Tebow - God + Talent = Andrew Luck
- Erin Andrews, will you be my non-technical co-founder?
- I hate LeBron
As predicted, Stanford fans came up with some clever Gameday signs.
After getting over the initial shock of how many (mostly) Stanford fans showed up before 7 AM to watch Gameday, I realized that seeing the show live isn't all that exciting. While it's kind of cool while the ESPN crew is talking - and especially while they're talking about Oregon and Stanford - there's a ton of down time while the show is either airing other pre-taped segments or, worse yet, in a commercial break where people are just standing around, somewhat tired and cold, waiting for a camera to pass by and give them a reason to cheer. While it's really not super-exciting, I'm certainly glad I got to see it once and can now cross it off my sports fan bucket list.
The Red Zone - the Stanford student section - was loud, energetic and surprisingly supportive.
The Gameday turnout was impressive - especially by Stanford standards - and was a reflection of the day as a whole. The Cardinal faithful (and, admittedly, a ton of Ducks fans) showed up for some excellent tailgating, entered the stadium early and were loud and supportive throughout. After time ran out on Stanford in their 53-30 loss, I honestly wasn't even that disappointed. On the field, Oregon was a vastly superior team that deserved the big victory. Off the field, I was proud of the Stanford fan support and hope that it continues even though the team's National Championship dreams are over - starting with Saturday's Big Game.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
The Power of Football
I went to the Stanford men's basketball game tonight against Central Arkansas, and there were less than 1,000 people in the stands. Every section was flooded with tons of empty red seats, and the bleacher seats up top were almost completely vacant. There was, however, one section that was moderately full, moderately loud and moderately energetic - amazingly, it was the 6th Man section, home of the Stanford students. You may recall that, last year, I criticized Stanford basketball fans for being apathetic and weak. At first blush, it seemed as if a new crop of students brought some life to Maples in time for the start of the 2011-2012 college hoops season.
This, however, wasn't true. In fact, the only reason students showed up to watch Stanford basketball was because of Stanford football. Tonight's obscure hoops match against Central Arkansas, you see, is worth one Red Zone (loyalty) point to next weekend's Big Game showdown with rival Cal, which is always a big game and this year is shaping up to be especially so. If Stanford can hold off Oregon tomorrow (plenty of coverage and pictures from that game and the festivities surrounding it - including ESPN's College Gameday broadcast live from the Oval tomorrow morning - to come), next Saturday's Cal game will be for a lot more than pride; it'll be to clinch the Pac-12 North division and a spot in the first Pac-12 Championship game, as well as a potential berth to the National Championship. If anything can get Stanford students to a non-conference basketball game, that'll do it.
The fact that the 6th Man section was somewhat crowded for tonight's game shows the power of a dominant football program. While a great basketball team can't drive success on the gridiron (as Duke painfully discovers year after year), big time football can generate enthusiasm for basketball. The question will be can Stanford build on the buzz around the football program, use it (and the loyalty points program) to push fans to basketball games, and maintain excitement in Maples after Andrew Luck is gone and the the days of National Championship contention are over? Even if not, it's smart for the Stanford athletic department to do anything they can to leverage the football team's success for other sports while it lasts.
But why stop at offering one loyalty point for this season's Big Game? Why not have a number of this season's basketball games earn Red Zone points for games next season? While such a program wouldn't appeal to people graduating (myself included), and even though next year's football team won't be nearly as good as the 2011 version, it couldn't hurt to try to use the allure of tickets to next season's USC game, for example, to get people to show up to big basketball games against UCLA or Arizona (which last year were empty). Tonight proved that football can drive traffic to other sports. It would be wise for Stanford athetics to ride the football team's tidal wave for as long as possible.
This, however, wasn't true. In fact, the only reason students showed up to watch Stanford basketball was because of Stanford football. Tonight's obscure hoops match against Central Arkansas, you see, is worth one Red Zone (loyalty) point to next weekend's Big Game showdown with rival Cal, which is always a big game and this year is shaping up to be especially so. If Stanford can hold off Oregon tomorrow (plenty of coverage and pictures from that game and the festivities surrounding it - including ESPN's College Gameday broadcast live from the Oval tomorrow morning - to come), next Saturday's Cal game will be for a lot more than pride; it'll be to clinch the Pac-12 North division and a spot in the first Pac-12 Championship game, as well as a potential berth to the National Championship. If anything can get Stanford students to a non-conference basketball game, that'll do it.
The fact that the 6th Man section was somewhat crowded for tonight's game shows the power of a dominant football program. While a great basketball team can't drive success on the gridiron (as Duke painfully discovers year after year), big time football can generate enthusiasm for basketball. The question will be can Stanford build on the buzz around the football program, use it (and the loyalty points program) to push fans to basketball games, and maintain excitement in Maples after Andrew Luck is gone and the the days of National Championship contention are over? Even if not, it's smart for the Stanford athletic department to do anything they can to leverage the football team's success for other sports while it lasts.
But why stop at offering one loyalty point for this season's Big Game? Why not have a number of this season's basketball games earn Red Zone points for games next season? While such a program wouldn't appeal to people graduating (myself included), and even though next year's football team won't be nearly as good as the 2011 version, it couldn't hurt to try to use the allure of tickets to next season's USC game, for example, to get people to show up to big basketball games against UCLA or Arizona (which last year were empty). Tonight proved that football can drive traffic to other sports. It would be wise for Stanford athetics to ride the football team's tidal wave for as long as possible.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Helmet-to-Helmet Hits: A Catch-22
Every week I watch a lot of NCAA and NFL football, and every week I cringe when I see players taking brutal shots to the head. As both the NCAA and NFL have acknowledged, a player's helmet can indeed be used as a weapon, and many (primarily) defensive backs have gotten into the habit of leading with their heads in an attempt to, at best, disconnect the offensive player from the ball or, at worst, inflict as much pain as humanly possible. Most often, it's Stanford wide receiver Chris Owusu that I see taking the dangerous blows to the head. But what I've come to realize, particularly after watching this past Saturday's Stanford game versus Oregon State, is that there's a very thin line between intentionally dirty play and well-intentioned, clean hits that result in head injuries.
On Saturday, Owusu caught a pass from Andrew Luck, ducked down in anticipation of contact, and was immediately hit by Oregon State safety Jordan Poyer (check out the video above). While replays did show that Poyer's helmet and shoulder pads made direct contact with Owusu's head, to me it was immediately obvious that Poyer wasn't looking to hurt the Cardinal receiver. On the contrary, Poyer was only trying to make a big play for his team and got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. While the penalty levied against Oregon State was appropriate according to the NCAA's rules - any direct contact to an opposing player's head, initiated by either the helmet, shoulder pads or arms, is grounds for a personal foul penalty - the play showed that not all seemingly vicious helmet-to-helmet hits are created equal. While some players celebrate after dealing a blow to the head, Poyer was remorseful:
If we can discourage defensive backs from intentionally leaving their feet on tackles and trying to make contact above the shoulders, we'll go a long way towards reducing traumatic hits to the head in both college and professional football. But at the same time, we have to acknowledge that, as Coach David Shaw said, football is a rough and ruthless game, and sometimes unfortunate incidents are bound to happen. While I'd never wish a concussion on anyone (let alone three, like Owusu has reportedly had already this season), we can't be naive and act like rule changes and fines are going to rid football of them entirely. I just hope that Chris Owusu fully recovers from this latest head injury, and that Jordan Poyer doesn't feel too bad about being unfairly labelled as a bad guy.
On Saturday, Owusu caught a pass from Andrew Luck, ducked down in anticipation of contact, and was immediately hit by Oregon State safety Jordan Poyer (check out the video above). While replays did show that Poyer's helmet and shoulder pads made direct contact with Owusu's head, to me it was immediately obvious that Poyer wasn't looking to hurt the Cardinal receiver. On the contrary, Poyer was only trying to make a big play for his team and got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. While the penalty levied against Oregon State was appropriate according to the NCAA's rules - any direct contact to an opposing player's head, initiated by either the helmet, shoulder pads or arms, is grounds for a personal foul penalty - the play showed that not all seemingly vicious helmet-to-helmet hits are created equal. While some players celebrate after dealing a blow to the head, Poyer was remorseful:
Conversely, the Oregon State player who put the hit on Owusu, Jordan Poyer, apologized to head coach David Shaw when he came on to the field to check on his wide receiver. “He came up to me and apologized and I put my arm around him and said ‘Hey, don’t worry about, just play. Play hard, man,’” Shaw said. “It happens in this game. It’s hard. It’s a split-second decision between ducking your head and just barely missing his head or getting helmet-to-helmet. I’m not going to say it’s easy. It’s hard. But when it’s close, the officials have told us they have to call it.”While it's difficult to watch an athlete, particularly one you root for on a weekly basis, go down in a heap after taking a direct shot to the helmet, I feel bad for Poyer in this situation. Here we have an overmatched defensive player trying his best to make plays against a juggernaut offense - he's going full speed, doing everything he can to keep his team in the game (and, down just 14-7 at the time, Oregon State was doing a good job for the first half of the game), and playing hard. Can we really expect a player like Poyer to pull up and avoid contact every time there's even a remote risk of helmet-to-helmet contact? Certainly not.
If we can discourage defensive backs from intentionally leaving their feet on tackles and trying to make contact above the shoulders, we'll go a long way towards reducing traumatic hits to the head in both college and professional football. But at the same time, we have to acknowledge that, as Coach David Shaw said, football is a rough and ruthless game, and sometimes unfortunate incidents are bound to happen. While I'd never wish a concussion on anyone (let alone three, like Owusu has reportedly had already this season), we can't be naive and act like rule changes and fines are going to rid football of them entirely. I just hope that Chris Owusu fully recovers from this latest head injury, and that Jordan Poyer doesn't feel too bad about being unfairly labelled as a bad guy.
Monday, November 7, 2011
An Angry Stanford Fan Rants
Last night, I had already written half of a blog post that I was intending to add this morning when I heard about this week's BCS standings. As you've likely heard by now, Stanford still trails undefeated LSU and Oklahoma State, as well as one-loss Alabama, in the BCS rankings. Despite watching Alabama lose on Saturday at home in a game in which they could barely complete a pass or kick a field goal, the BCS has determined that the Crimson Tide is superior to a Stanford squad that has yet to lose a game and has had only one team come within 25 points of beating them (USC last weekend). While I usually try not to post emotion-filled rants about why things suck (and, believe me, with the BCS that's often very difficult), I need to get a few thoughts down before this coming weekend when this all likely becomes moot because a) Stanford beats Oregon and jumps Alabama or b) Stanford loses to Oregon and falls out of the National Championship picture altogether.
First, I'll address the obvious: In sports, a team that doesn't lose a game should win its league. Stanford is not only part of the NCAA and FBS football, but it's also a BCS conference school. All of the (in my mind ridiculous) arguments that have been used against undefeated schools in the past, including Boise State, TCU and Utah in recent years, shouldn't apply to the Cardinal. While Stanford's schedule admittedly isn't as rigorous as that of an SEC team like Alabama, they're still playing solid, major conference competition on a weekly basis. And, not only are they playing them, they're destroying them. Saturday's game against Oregon State might have been the Cardinal's sloppiest performance of the 2011 season, and they still won by 25. They passed a very difficult road test at USC, winning in overtime, and manhandled a previously ranked Washington team at home. It's not Stanford's fault that the Pac-12 isn't stellar this year. If LSU and OKST run the table as well and Stanford gets left out as the third wheel, I could live with that. But the Cardinal getting bumped out by a one-loss Alabama team would, in my mind, eliminate any shred of credibility that the BCS has left.
Next, there's the absurd notion that because the LSU-Alabama game was close, the two SEC titans must be the two best teams in the country. In response, I'll first point out that the two worst teams in the country would probably play a close game, so the fact that Alabama only lost by three to mighty LSU suggests that LSU might not be as dominant as people think as much as it suggests that Alabama still might be the second best team in the nation. Before the game, commentators were talking about how, if LSU and Alabama played a classic game, the loser would still very much remain in the National Championship picture. Well, Saturday night's game was close, but it was far from a classic. The contest was marked by sloppy play on both sides, inconsistent offense and pathetic special teams. Based on Saturday night, it appears that both LSU and Alabama are far from complete teams primed to roll over any challenger in the National Championship game. Why must we assume that a 9-6 overtime game proves that these teams are the country's top two? Isn't it at least possible that Oklahoma State and Stanford are not only better than Alabama, but better than both of them?
Last, the argument that really drives me crazy is one I heard this morning from a friend who suggested that if Stanford played Alabama or LSU, they might put up a couple touchdowns but they'd probably allow 40+ points. What about Saturday night's SEC showdown suggests that either of these teams could score 40+ on Stanford? I understand that both team's have top defenses, but you don't need a team of future NFL stars to make most of the plays that the LSU and Alabama defenses were making on the opposing offenses. LSU couldn't complete a pass down field (other than the two that Tigers quarterback Jarrett Lee threw directly at the Alabama secondary), and Alabama's offense tried to get way too cute with an option pass that was intercepted. Why couldn't Stanford load up against the run, force these inconsistent quarterbacks to throw and make a few big defensive plays? It might not be likely, but by placing Alabama ahead of Stanford the BCS is unjustly taking it out of the realm of possibilities.
First, I'll address the obvious: In sports, a team that doesn't lose a game should win its league. Stanford is not only part of the NCAA and FBS football, but it's also a BCS conference school. All of the (in my mind ridiculous) arguments that have been used against undefeated schools in the past, including Boise State, TCU and Utah in recent years, shouldn't apply to the Cardinal. While Stanford's schedule admittedly isn't as rigorous as that of an SEC team like Alabama, they're still playing solid, major conference competition on a weekly basis. And, not only are they playing them, they're destroying them. Saturday's game against Oregon State might have been the Cardinal's sloppiest performance of the 2011 season, and they still won by 25. They passed a very difficult road test at USC, winning in overtime, and manhandled a previously ranked Washington team at home. It's not Stanford's fault that the Pac-12 isn't stellar this year. If LSU and OKST run the table as well and Stanford gets left out as the third wheel, I could live with that. But the Cardinal getting bumped out by a one-loss Alabama team would, in my mind, eliminate any shred of credibility that the BCS has left.
Next, there's the absurd notion that because the LSU-Alabama game was close, the two SEC titans must be the two best teams in the country. In response, I'll first point out that the two worst teams in the country would probably play a close game, so the fact that Alabama only lost by three to mighty LSU suggests that LSU might not be as dominant as people think as much as it suggests that Alabama still might be the second best team in the nation. Before the game, commentators were talking about how, if LSU and Alabama played a classic game, the loser would still very much remain in the National Championship picture. Well, Saturday night's game was close, but it was far from a classic. The contest was marked by sloppy play on both sides, inconsistent offense and pathetic special teams. Based on Saturday night, it appears that both LSU and Alabama are far from complete teams primed to roll over any challenger in the National Championship game. Why must we assume that a 9-6 overtime game proves that these teams are the country's top two? Isn't it at least possible that Oklahoma State and Stanford are not only better than Alabama, but better than both of them?
Last, the argument that really drives me crazy is one I heard this morning from a friend who suggested that if Stanford played Alabama or LSU, they might put up a couple touchdowns but they'd probably allow 40+ points. What about Saturday night's SEC showdown suggests that either of these teams could score 40+ on Stanford? I understand that both team's have top defenses, but you don't need a team of future NFL stars to make most of the plays that the LSU and Alabama defenses were making on the opposing offenses. LSU couldn't complete a pass down field (other than the two that Tigers quarterback Jarrett Lee threw directly at the Alabama secondary), and Alabama's offense tried to get way too cute with an option pass that was intercepted. Why couldn't Stanford load up against the run, force these inconsistent quarterbacks to throw and make a few big defensive plays? It might not be likely, but by placing Alabama ahead of Stanford the BCS is unjustly taking it out of the realm of possibilities.
Friday, November 4, 2011
DVR Danger, or How I Missed "The Helmet Catch"
This Sunday will mark the first time that my New York Giants have played against the New England Patriots (not counting preseason) since the Giants pulled off one of the greatest upsets in Super Bowl history less than four years ago. While New York won the game on a 14-yard touchdown pass from Eli Manning to Plaxico Burress, the play from that game that has burned itself into the minds of sports fans is Manning's desperate heave to backup receiver David Tyree, now known (affectionately in New York and disgustedly in Boston) as "The Helmet Catch."
Every Giants (and Pats) fan can tell you exactly where he was when Tyree made his improbable grab, and can describe exactly how he felt while watching it live. Every Giants fan, that is, except for me. As much as it pains me to admit it, I didn't catch (no pun intended) Tyree's grab live. Instead, I fell victim to the dangers of DVR and, with the Giants once again set to take on New England in an important (but admittedly much less significant) match-up this Sunday, I want to issue a few words of warning to NFL followers everywhere. While DVR seems to provide us with great opportunities to pause live action, re-watch critical plays and subsequently blow through commercial breaks, Digital Video Recorders are far from all fun and games.
I watched the Giants-Pats Super Bowl with some coworkers at a house in Beverly Hills. Periodically while watching, we'd pause the action to let someone go grab another beer and some food or to let someone use the bathroom, or we'd rewind to take another look at a nice catch or a big hit. The Super Bowl was scheduled to run for four hours (including pregame and halftime), but any NFL fans knows that the Superbowl always runs long - unfortunately, Adelphia Cable wasn't aware of this seemingly obvious fact. By the time the fourth quarter rolled around and Manning was preparing to launch his wobbly pass towards Tyree, the scheduled run time for the Super Bowl was set to expire, and in fact did so just as Manning released the pass.
Or so we thought. You see, when our DVR'ed broadcast reached the moment just before "The Helmet Catch," we were probably 30 seconds or so behind the live broadcast. What happens when you reach the end of a scheduled broadcast on some DVRs? The TV jumps immediately to live programming - in our case, 30 seconds ahead to what was scheduled as the Super Bowl post game show, but what turned out to be the moment immediately following Tyree's grab. All we saw while watching was Manning spin and fire the ball - then a weird break as the TV jumped to live programming - and then the Giants celebrating down field and the announcers going crazy. Or course, shortly thereafter we saw dozens of replays of the catch (and I've seen it hundreds of times since), but the truth is that I never saw it live.
The message here is that the next time you choose to watch a live sporting event on delay using your DVR, be careful. As much as we wish it wasn't so, the DVR doesn't know you're watching one of the most significant sporting events of your lifetime at the most significant time. All it knows is that when a program is scheduled to end, it's time to jump to the start of the next show, regardless of what David Tyree might be doing at the time.
Every Giants (and Pats) fan can tell you exactly where he was when Tyree made his improbable grab, and can describe exactly how he felt while watching it live. Every Giants fan, that is, except for me. As much as it pains me to admit it, I didn't catch (no pun intended) Tyree's grab live. Instead, I fell victim to the dangers of DVR and, with the Giants once again set to take on New England in an important (but admittedly much less significant) match-up this Sunday, I want to issue a few words of warning to NFL followers everywhere. While DVR seems to provide us with great opportunities to pause live action, re-watch critical plays and subsequently blow through commercial breaks, Digital Video Recorders are far from all fun and games.
I watched the Giants-Pats Super Bowl with some coworkers at a house in Beverly Hills. Periodically while watching, we'd pause the action to let someone go grab another beer and some food or to let someone use the bathroom, or we'd rewind to take another look at a nice catch or a big hit. The Super Bowl was scheduled to run for four hours (including pregame and halftime), but any NFL fans knows that the Superbowl always runs long - unfortunately, Adelphia Cable wasn't aware of this seemingly obvious fact. By the time the fourth quarter rolled around and Manning was preparing to launch his wobbly pass towards Tyree, the scheduled run time for the Super Bowl was set to expire, and in fact did so just as Manning released the pass.
Or so we thought. You see, when our DVR'ed broadcast reached the moment just before "The Helmet Catch," we were probably 30 seconds or so behind the live broadcast. What happens when you reach the end of a scheduled broadcast on some DVRs? The TV jumps immediately to live programming - in our case, 30 seconds ahead to what was scheduled as the Super Bowl post game show, but what turned out to be the moment immediately following Tyree's grab. All we saw while watching was Manning spin and fire the ball - then a weird break as the TV jumped to live programming - and then the Giants celebrating down field and the announcers going crazy. Or course, shortly thereafter we saw dozens of replays of the catch (and I've seen it hundreds of times since), but the truth is that I never saw it live.
I've seen "The Helmet Catch" from every vantage point but one: The live video broadcast.
The message here is that the next time you choose to watch a live sporting event on delay using your DVR, be careful. As much as we wish it wasn't so, the DVR doesn't know you're watching one of the most significant sporting events of your lifetime at the most significant time. All it knows is that when a program is scheduled to end, it's time to jump to the start of the next show, regardless of what David Tyree might be doing at the time.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The Not-So-Big Even-Less-East
Not long ago, I criticized the NCAA for allowing its once notorious and powerful conferences to destroy themselves in the names of nationalization and profitability. At the time, I figured the post would cover the issue for awhile and that I wouldn't have to revisit conference realignment issues until something major happened to really shake up the college sports landscape. Well, while it might have come earlier than I anticipated, today is that day. In an effort to recover from the losses of Syracuse and Pittsburgh to the ACC and West Virginia and (recently-added) TCU to the Big XII, the Big East is expected to extend invitations to six schools for football, three of which would become Big East members in all sports.
The first thing a rational person notices when looking at the list of new Big East schools is that most of them are located nowhere near the East Coast. Some of them - Boise State and Air Force - are nowhere near the eastern half of the country, and another two - SMU and Houston - are right smack in the middle. Only two of the six additions - Navy and Central Florida - are on the East Coast, and even those are located in traditional ACC territory as opposed to Big East turf. But let's look past the geography for a minute - after all, the notion of location-agnostic Super Conferences has been thrown around for a while, so maybe it's no surprise that the Big "East" is looking well outside of New England for new members.
Aside from geography, the next thing you might notice are that these six schools aren't all that big, either - at least by college sports standards. While some of the Big East additions boast huge enrollments, they are far from college sports powerhouses. Unlike the SEC and Big XII, which have been poaching schools from other BCS-caliber conferences, most people don't associate schools like Houston, Navy and Central Florida with the NCAA's cream of the crop. Even Boise State - the crown jewel of these six because of it's perennially powerful football program - won't become an all-sports member of the Big East, and it remains to be seen how six-plus east coast trips a year will impact the school's football team and its ability to recruit local talent. In short, not one of these six schools is Big and East, and half of them aren't even either one.
These facts make these invitations extremely disappointing to those of us who grew up in Big East territory. In recent years, it became clear that the conference was much more concerned with getting bigger than it was getting better and, despite some excellent suggestions on how to improve the conference, the league's grasp over its members was always tenuous at best. The Big East was always willing to sacrifice either the Big (Cincinnati) or the East (TCU), but now the flood gates have completely opened. And while a name change and a re-branding will help some - the notion of a conference being called the Big East while including Air Force, SMU and Houston is laughable - the conference also needs to take a hard look at itself and figure out what it wants its identity to be. If the Big East doesn't do something, it may soon become known as the conference that used to receive an automatic BCS bowl bid.
The first thing a rational person notices when looking at the list of new Big East schools is that most of them are located nowhere near the East Coast. Some of them - Boise State and Air Force - are nowhere near the eastern half of the country, and another two - SMU and Houston - are right smack in the middle. Only two of the six additions - Navy and Central Florida - are on the East Coast, and even those are located in traditional ACC territory as opposed to Big East turf. But let's look past the geography for a minute - after all, the notion of location-agnostic Super Conferences has been thrown around for a while, so maybe it's no surprise that the Big "East" is looking well outside of New England for new members.
Aside from geography, the next thing you might notice are that these six schools aren't all that big, either - at least by college sports standards. While some of the Big East additions boast huge enrollments, they are far from college sports powerhouses. Unlike the SEC and Big XII, which have been poaching schools from other BCS-caliber conferences, most people don't associate schools like Houston, Navy and Central Florida with the NCAA's cream of the crop. Even Boise State - the crown jewel of these six because of it's perennially powerful football program - won't become an all-sports member of the Big East, and it remains to be seen how six-plus east coast trips a year will impact the school's football team and its ability to recruit local talent. In short, not one of these six schools is Big and East, and half of them aren't even either one.
These facts make these invitations extremely disappointing to those of us who grew up in Big East territory. In recent years, it became clear that the conference was much more concerned with getting bigger than it was getting better and, despite some excellent suggestions on how to improve the conference, the league's grasp over its members was always tenuous at best. The Big East was always willing to sacrifice either the Big (Cincinnati) or the East (TCU), but now the flood gates have completely opened. And while a name change and a re-branding will help some - the notion of a conference being called the Big East while including Air Force, SMU and Houston is laughable - the conference also needs to take a hard look at itself and figure out what it wants its identity to be. If the Big East doesn't do something, it may soon become known as the conference that used to receive an automatic BCS bowl bid.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Hoping For The Heisman
Like most things related to NCAA football (including the AP and USA Today polls), the Heisman Trophy is, for the most part, a popularity contest. Voters decide beforehand who they want to win, and then spend the rest of the season trying to justify their initial choice. Luckily for Stanford fans, this year the media almost unanimously crowned Andrew Luck the 2011 Heisman winner before the season started and, assuming Stanford continues to roll towards another BCS bowl game (or, better yet, the National Championship), it'll be hard for any of the other candidates to surpass him. If Luck somehow does get passed up, though, it'll be Stanford head coach David Shaw's fault.
First, let me note that I'm not bashing David Shaw in this post. I don't think that anyone can argue that he's doing anything other than a great job this season; the Cardinal are 7-0, haven't played a remotely close game yet, and are in position to do something no Stanford team - not even last year's Jim Harbaugh-led Orange Bowl winners - has done before. Saturday's homecoming game versus a ranked Washington Huskies squad clearly proved that Shaw has his team ready to play against good competition, and that the Cardinal are far from a one-man Andrew Luck show. Stanford ran for a school record 446 yards en route to a 65-21 demolishing of UW, and Shaw showed the country that his team has an excellent rushing game and a solid defense to complement its star quarterback.
But herein lies my problem with David Shaw. Andrew Luck is a once-in-a-lifetime talent, not only for Stanford, but for college football as a whole. Just as Stanford fans attached themselves to John Elway for years, going forward it might be Andrew Luck who we think of when we talk about the best, and most significant, player in Stanford history. Having Luck win the Heisman this season will not only add to Luck's list of accolades, but will help Shaw's Cardinal team as well. The ability to go into the homes of future QB recruits and tell them that he coached Andrew Luck to a Heisman Trophy will resonate with some kids as much, if not more so, than telling them he coached the team to a National Championship. Getting Luck the Heisman will undoubtedly help the program solidify it's place alongside other national powers and help give the team an advantage with the media and potential recruits.
David Shaw doesn't seem to realize this, though. While pounding the ball via the run is nice and, as we learned against Washington on Saturday, can be extremely effective, it might be a shortsighted move. Giving Luck more opportunities to throw, particularly in the red zone where touchdowns seem to come easily to Luck and his talented tight ends, will help build the QB's Heisman resume and, in turn, help Shaw pull in top talent down the road. I know Shaw's first priority is to win games, but when the team is up by 2+ touchdowns why not let number 12 throw a little more? Sure, there's a slightly increased injury risk, but he's on the field anyway and almost never gets touched. Perhaps most importantly, having Luck's numbers skyrocket could actually have a huge impact on the team's success this season; if you think the poll voters wouldn't like to put the Heisman Trophy winner into the National Championship game again this year, you're kidding yourself.
First, let me note that I'm not bashing David Shaw in this post. I don't think that anyone can argue that he's doing anything other than a great job this season; the Cardinal are 7-0, haven't played a remotely close game yet, and are in position to do something no Stanford team - not even last year's Jim Harbaugh-led Orange Bowl winners - has done before. Saturday's homecoming game versus a ranked Washington Huskies squad clearly proved that Shaw has his team ready to play against good competition, and that the Cardinal are far from a one-man Andrew Luck show. Stanford ran for a school record 446 yards en route to a 65-21 demolishing of UW, and Shaw showed the country that his team has an excellent rushing game and a solid defense to complement its star quarterback.
But herein lies my problem with David Shaw. Andrew Luck is a once-in-a-lifetime talent, not only for Stanford, but for college football as a whole. Just as Stanford fans attached themselves to John Elway for years, going forward it might be Andrew Luck who we think of when we talk about the best, and most significant, player in Stanford history. Having Luck win the Heisman this season will not only add to Luck's list of accolades, but will help Shaw's Cardinal team as well. The ability to go into the homes of future QB recruits and tell them that he coached Andrew Luck to a Heisman Trophy will resonate with some kids as much, if not more so, than telling them he coached the team to a National Championship. Getting Luck the Heisman will undoubtedly help the program solidify it's place alongside other national powers and help give the team an advantage with the media and potential recruits.
With the Stanford offense on the field, get ready for a running play.
David Shaw doesn't seem to realize this, though. While pounding the ball via the run is nice and, as we learned against Washington on Saturday, can be extremely effective, it might be a shortsighted move. Giving Luck more opportunities to throw, particularly in the red zone where touchdowns seem to come easily to Luck and his talented tight ends, will help build the QB's Heisman resume and, in turn, help Shaw pull in top talent down the road. I know Shaw's first priority is to win games, but when the team is up by 2+ touchdowns why not let number 12 throw a little more? Sure, there's a slightly increased injury risk, but he's on the field anyway and almost never gets touched. Perhaps most importantly, having Luck's numbers skyrocket could actually have a huge impact on the team's success this season; if you think the poll voters wouldn't like to put the Heisman Trophy winner into the National Championship game again this year, you're kidding yourself.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Grass Is Always Browner
When I make my first visit to a sports venue, I almost always find something to complain about. If the traffic into our out of the stadium isn't a disaster, then the concessions are weak, the bathroom lines are long or the parking lot is flooded. Every venue - even the awesome ones like AT&T Park, the RBC Center and Cowboys Stadium - have plenty of flaws. What we don't step back and think about, though, is how much worse these entertainment experiences could be. Last night I went to the Foo Fighters concert at Oracle Arena - the same arena that hosts the artists-formerly-known-as the Golden State Warriors. While the venue was perfectly enjoyable when I was there for NBA basketball, the arena morphed into an over-priced, poorly-planned dump for the concert.
For those of you familiar with game theory, you've no doubt heard about how, during repeated interaction games, you're less likely to be screwed by your opponent. Basically, when you know you'll be dealing with your opponent in the future, you're far less likely to push them around, even if you can, because you have an ongoing relationship to maintain. For sporting events, the sales that happen between team / venue and fan are repeated interaction events - there are a lot of games out there, so the team has limited incentive to screw the fans if it expects them to come back later in the season. For a concert, though, it's a one-shot deal. The venue knows you're going to see your favorite band when they're in town no matter what (the Foo Fighters, my favorite, only come to Northern California once a year, and that's if they're on tour), so they're ready to take advantage of you however they can.
How does this manifest itself? Well, whereas parking for a Warriors game is a quirky $18 (or at least it was last year), parking at the concert was a rather absurd $35. While the concessions during the Warriors game were reasonably plentiful and moderately priced, concert-goers with general admission floor tickets had one meager stand selling hot dogs, pretzels and beers and no alternative option. There was one men's room and one women's room available to the entire general admission population, which might have been adequate for the females but certainly not for a predominantly male crowd. Had the red neon lights on the outside of the building not read "Oracle Arena," I would have doubted that it was the same place where I had enjoyed NBA basketball less than a year ago.
For those of you familiar with game theory, you've no doubt heard about how, during repeated interaction games, you're less likely to be screwed by your opponent. Basically, when you know you'll be dealing with your opponent in the future, you're far less likely to push them around, even if you can, because you have an ongoing relationship to maintain. For sporting events, the sales that happen between team / venue and fan are repeated interaction events - there are a lot of games out there, so the team has limited incentive to screw the fans if it expects them to come back later in the season. For a concert, though, it's a one-shot deal. The venue knows you're going to see your favorite band when they're in town no matter what (the Foo Fighters, my favorite, only come to Northern California once a year, and that's if they're on tour), so they're ready to take advantage of you however they can.
How does this manifest itself? Well, whereas parking for a Warriors game is a quirky $18 (or at least it was last year), parking at the concert was a rather absurd $35. While the concessions during the Warriors game were reasonably plentiful and moderately priced, concert-goers with general admission floor tickets had one meager stand selling hot dogs, pretzels and beers and no alternative option. There was one men's room and one women's room available to the entire general admission population, which might have been adequate for the females but certainly not for a predominantly male crowd. Had the red neon lights on the outside of the building not read "Oracle Arena," I would have doubted that it was the same place where I had enjoyed NBA basketball less than a year ago.
The Foo Fighters were awesome (as usual). The $35 for parking? Not so much.
The NBA, NFL, MLB and NHL work hard to make sure that all of their venues meet at least a minimum set of standards that we, as fans, often take for granted. Because these leagues and their teams receive feedback from their fans, they have an incentive to make the experience as positive as reasonably possible for their repeat customers. Concerts, on the other hand, have no reason to do anything other than maximize profit. The fact that, after all of those negatives, I still consider the Foo Fighters show to have been fantastic says everything you need to know - there's really nothing that these venues and concert promoters can do that will stop me from seeing Dave Grohl and Co. next time they're in my town. So next time you're at one of the country's crappier arenas for a game (more on this next month when I make my triumphant return to Nassau Coliseum), be thankful that at least you're there for a league-backed sporting event.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Running Into Your Ex
There's a great Family Guy clip (video below) where the show pokes fun of the awkwardness of running into an ex-girlfriend. In an effort not to seem bitter and petty, guys will appear overly-enthusiastic about bumping into a former flame and hearing all about how well she's doing - inside, though, you know he's wishing that her life had fallen apart so that he can feel like he was the thing keeping her from completely imploding. This situation isn't unique to former boyfriends and girlfriends, though - a similar set of reactions can be expected from Stanford football fans after former coach Jim Harbaugh left the school for the NFL's San Francisco 49ers.
After Sunday's victory over previously undefeated Detroit, Harbaugh's 49ers are 5-1 and threatening to run away with the admittedly weak NFC West. On the surface, Stanford football fans seem thrilled with the prospect of Harbaugh turning the 49ers around - everyone around the school talks about the coach positively and seems excited to celebrate his early success. To be fair, some of this enthusiasm might be legitimate; there is, after all, a large overlap between Stanford students / alums and San Francisco 49ers fans. Most Stanford supporters seem to agree that Harbaugh left the school on good terms, kept his promise of staying in the Bay Area (contrast this with former MLB pitcher Mike Hampton, who famously justified a mega contract with the Colorado Rockies by praising the Denver area's public school system), and played a large (if not the largest) role in bringing the school to the top-ten ranking it enjoys today.
But below the surface, you have to wonder if some of these smiling Stanford fans are, like the guy who bumps into his ex-girlfriend, silently rooting for Harbaugh's 49ers to fail. As long as Harbaugh succeeds in the NFL, it is he who will receive all of the credit for everything Stanford football did last year and for much of what the team continues to do this season. For all of the talk about the brilliant play of Andrew Luck, the solid head coaching debut of David Shaw and the emergence of the team's three-headed tight end monster, Harbaugh's early dominance of the NFL competition seems to suggest that he deserves the bulk of the credit for Stanford football's reemergence. If Harbaugh can turn the 49ers around, does that mean he was the sole reason for Stanford's stunning turnaround over the past few seasons? Had Harbaugh taken a job at Cal or Oregon State or Washington State, would it have been the Golden Bears or the Beavers or the Cougars currently destroying PAC-12 competition? With Harbaugh to the NFL and Luck set to join him after this season, are the Cardinal destined to fall back to mediocrity by the middle of the decade?
Personally, I'm happy for Jim Harbaugh. I have nothing against the 49ers and, with the exception of their upcoming game against the Giants at Candlestick Park, I wish them well. But to the extent that a few Harbaugh failures would build some credibility for the Stanford football program and shift some of the credit from their former coach to their current staff and players, I'm all for that, too. While I'll smile outwardly every time I see Harbaugh energetically celebrating after a big win, I have to admit that I'll smirk inwardly if Harbaugh's 49ers do happen to come apart at the seams.
After Sunday's victory over previously undefeated Detroit, Harbaugh's 49ers are 5-1 and threatening to run away with the admittedly weak NFC West. On the surface, Stanford football fans seem thrilled with the prospect of Harbaugh turning the 49ers around - everyone around the school talks about the coach positively and seems excited to celebrate his early success. To be fair, some of this enthusiasm might be legitimate; there is, after all, a large overlap between Stanford students / alums and San Francisco 49ers fans. Most Stanford supporters seem to agree that Harbaugh left the school on good terms, kept his promise of staying in the Bay Area (contrast this with former MLB pitcher Mike Hampton, who famously justified a mega contract with the Colorado Rockies by praising the Denver area's public school system), and played a large (if not the largest) role in bringing the school to the top-ten ranking it enjoys today.
But below the surface, you have to wonder if some of these smiling Stanford fans are, like the guy who bumps into his ex-girlfriend, silently rooting for Harbaugh's 49ers to fail. As long as Harbaugh succeeds in the NFL, it is he who will receive all of the credit for everything Stanford football did last year and for much of what the team continues to do this season. For all of the talk about the brilliant play of Andrew Luck, the solid head coaching debut of David Shaw and the emergence of the team's three-headed tight end monster, Harbaugh's early dominance of the NFL competition seems to suggest that he deserves the bulk of the credit for Stanford football's reemergence. If Harbaugh can turn the 49ers around, does that mean he was the sole reason for Stanford's stunning turnaround over the past few seasons? Had Harbaugh taken a job at Cal or Oregon State or Washington State, would it have been the Golden Bears or the Beavers or the Cougars currently destroying PAC-12 competition? With Harbaugh to the NFL and Luck set to join him after this season, are the Cardinal destined to fall back to mediocrity by the middle of the decade?
Personally, I'm happy for Jim Harbaugh. I have nothing against the 49ers and, with the exception of their upcoming game against the Giants at Candlestick Park, I wish them well. But to the extent that a few Harbaugh failures would build some credibility for the Stanford football program and shift some of the credit from their former coach to their current staff and players, I'm all for that, too. While I'll smile outwardly every time I see Harbaugh energetically celebrating after a big win, I have to admit that I'll smirk inwardly if Harbaugh's 49ers do happen to come apart at the seams.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Brandon Marshall: A Not-So-Tough Guy
With the NBA permanently temporarily cancelled, the sports world has been partially devoid of stupid comments made by professional athletes. Statistical analysis proves that NBA athletes provide sports media with the vast majority of empty threats, unsubstantiated claims and worthless guarantees,* so it shouldn't come to a surprise that it's been a relatively quiet autumn so far. That being said, we can always count on the NFL to pick up the slack with the NBA on hiatus - this week, it was Miami Dolphins WR Brandon Marshall who grabbed the headlines when he said he intends to get ejected during the second quarter of this Sunday's game against the New York Jets. Here's an excerpt from Marshall's rant (more information via ESPN here):
First off, by publicly proclaiming his intentions to start a fight with various members of the Jets defense, Marshall has put a bullseye on his uniform for all of the referees and opposing players to stare at throughout the game. When a player makes a public threat like this one, fans aren't the only ones reading it - you better believe that the refs will be looking to flag Marshall for even the smallest offenses, and that every Jets player will be looking to plant the wide receiver on his backside at every opportunity in order to provoke him into doing something dumb. Additionally, Marshall's comments add yet another distraction to the locker room of a winless team already dealing with injuries (QB Chad Henne is out for the season) and other problems.
Brandon Marshall probably wants to show the world how tough he is by announcing his intentions to get into a fight during Sunday's contest. But true football fans know that a truly tough player would never abandon him teammates by intentionally risking ejection or put his already-disadvantaged team in an even bigger hole by turning himself into a target for penalty flags. If Marshall really wants to become the "monster" he says he can be, it's time for him to stop talking and start producing. If the admittedly-talented Dolphins WR can focus his energy on the field, instead of continuing his history of becoming a distraction off of it, he might have a chance to do something that would really prove that he's tough - lead his winless team to a win over the heavily-favored Jets.
*I made this up, but is seens entirely believable, doesn't it?
"I'm not joking. I'm serious," Marshall told the South Florida Sun-Sentinel. "They're going to fine me. It's probably going to be like a $50,000 fine. But that quarter and a half that I'm out there, I'm going to play like a monster."It's not completely clear why Marshall said what he did. If we give him the benefit of the doubt, we can assume he was trying to come up with a witty rebuttal to the various people claiming that "he hasn't played with enough emotion in the first four games." Or perhaps he's trying to pump up his teammates by showing them that he will do whatever it takes to inject some life into a winless team. It's also possible that this could also be tied to Marshall's confirmed case of borderline personality disorder. Then again, Occam's Razor would suggest that the simplest answer is the correct one, so perhaps Marshall is just an idiot. Regardless of Marshall's intentions, I'm willing to bet that the end result will not be a good one.
First off, by publicly proclaiming his intentions to start a fight with various members of the Jets defense, Marshall has put a bullseye on his uniform for all of the referees and opposing players to stare at throughout the game. When a player makes a public threat like this one, fans aren't the only ones reading it - you better believe that the refs will be looking to flag Marshall for even the smallest offenses, and that every Jets player will be looking to plant the wide receiver on his backside at every opportunity in order to provoke him into doing something dumb. Additionally, Marshall's comments add yet another distraction to the locker room of a winless team already dealing with injuries (QB Chad Henne is out for the season) and other problems.
Brandon Marshall probably wants to show the world how tough he is by announcing his intentions to get into a fight during Sunday's contest. But true football fans know that a truly tough player would never abandon him teammates by intentionally risking ejection or put his already-disadvantaged team in an even bigger hole by turning himself into a target for penalty flags. If Marshall really wants to become the "monster" he says he can be, it's time for him to stop talking and start producing. If the admittedly-talented Dolphins WR can focus his energy on the field, instead of continuing his history of becoming a distraction off of it, he might have a chance to do something that would really prove that he's tough - lead his winless team to a win over the heavily-favored Jets.
*I made this up, but is seens entirely believable, doesn't it?
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Real Steel: A Review
I'll start off with a caveat: Real Steel, starring Hugh Jackman, isn't exactly a sports movie. It's actually a film about robot boxing which, in the year 2027, has replaced human boxing as the preferred form of combat-for-sport because of people's desire to see increasing levels of brutality, carnage and pain that only robots can provide. Amid this not-so-subtle critique of Mixed Martial Arts is a film about relationships, fatherhood and most of all, remote-controlled fighting robots. And since boxing is (sort of) a sport and, other than Moneyball, no one has made a widely-released sports movie in a while, Real Steel will have to count as a sports movie for the purposes of this blog post.
Next, let me state the obvious. Real Steel is a terrible movie according to the way films are traditionally judge by "legitimate critics." As evidenced by it's mediocre 58% score on Rotten Tomatoes, the film is predictable, contrived and formulaic. From the opening credits, you know exactly what's going to happen - against all odds, Jackman and his son, with whom he has been reunited due to the untimely death of the boy's mother, are going to build a fighting robot on a shoestring budget that can hang with - and ultimately defeat - bigger, stronger, faster and more expensive robotic competition. That last sentence doesn't even merit a "Spoiler Alert!" tag because it's so painfully obvious. If you can't guess the plot going into the movie, you've probably never seen an underdog-style sports movie before, and I pity you for that.
But fortunately for Real Steel, I don't judge my sports movies based on traditional movie ranking criteria. In fact, when I see a sports movie, I want it to be predictable. I want the underdog to slowly improve throughout the course of the movie, preferably through the lens of a well-timed and appropriately soundtracked montage, and in the end get a shot at the title. Anything more "clever" would ruin a perfectly good, proven formula of sports movie success. If it's been good enough for classics such as Major League, Rudy and The Mighty Ducks, you better believe it's good enough for Real Steel. So not only did I avoid complaining about the corny dialog and unoriginal plot - I applauded it. With Real Steel, I got exactly what I asked for.
With all that being said, a new sports movie needs something to differentiate it from others that have come before it. Warrior, for example, tried to take the classic boxing movie formula, cross out the word "boxing" and replace it with "MMA," and carve out a new niche for itself. For me, this wasn't enough to make me want to see the film - I need more of a "hook" to get me to spend my $10. Real Steel, on the other hand, added a futuristic element and some top-notch special effects to the sports movie recipe, and the resulting dish was solid. Think Transformers meets Rocky and you have a decent feel for what Real Steel was all about. Sounds intriguing, doesn't it? So don't feel bad if you, like me, have the urge to check out the movie in theaters. Just make sure you're not expecting anything more than some cool visuals, some unintentionally-comical writing and a moviegoer-tested, studio-approved plot and you'll have a great time.
Next, let me state the obvious. Real Steel is a terrible movie according to the way films are traditionally judge by "legitimate critics." As evidenced by it's mediocre 58% score on Rotten Tomatoes, the film is predictable, contrived and formulaic. From the opening credits, you know exactly what's going to happen - against all odds, Jackman and his son, with whom he has been reunited due to the untimely death of the boy's mother, are going to build a fighting robot on a shoestring budget that can hang with - and ultimately defeat - bigger, stronger, faster and more expensive robotic competition. That last sentence doesn't even merit a "Spoiler Alert!" tag because it's so painfully obvious. If you can't guess the plot going into the movie, you've probably never seen an underdog-style sports movie before, and I pity you for that.
But fortunately for Real Steel, I don't judge my sports movies based on traditional movie ranking criteria. In fact, when I see a sports movie, I want it to be predictable. I want the underdog to slowly improve throughout the course of the movie, preferably through the lens of a well-timed and appropriately soundtracked montage, and in the end get a shot at the title. Anything more "clever" would ruin a perfectly good, proven formula of sports movie success. If it's been good enough for classics such as Major League, Rudy and The Mighty Ducks, you better believe it's good enough for Real Steel. So not only did I avoid complaining about the corny dialog and unoriginal plot - I applauded it. With Real Steel, I got exactly what I asked for.
Yes, I enjoyed Real Steel. Don't judge me.
With all that being said, a new sports movie needs something to differentiate it from others that have come before it. Warrior, for example, tried to take the classic boxing movie formula, cross out the word "boxing" and replace it with "MMA," and carve out a new niche for itself. For me, this wasn't enough to make me want to see the film - I need more of a "hook" to get me to spend my $10. Real Steel, on the other hand, added a futuristic element and some top-notch special effects to the sports movie recipe, and the resulting dish was solid. Think Transformers meets Rocky and you have a decent feel for what Real Steel was all about. Sounds intriguing, doesn't it? So don't feel bad if you, like me, have the urge to check out the movie in theaters. Just make sure you're not expecting anything more than some cool visuals, some unintentionally-comical writing and a moviegoer-tested, studio-approved plot and you'll have a great time.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Not Ready For The Big Time
On Saturday, while fasting for Yom Kippur, I headed down to Stanford Stadium for my first in-person look at the 2011 Stanford Cardinal football team. I was excited not only to see the team in action, but also to be a part of what is a completely different fan atmosphere this season. The buzz around Stanford's National Title hopes and Andrew Luck's Heisman Trophy candidacy can be heard all over Palo Alto and, unlike for most games last season, I knew that Saturday's crowd would be good. Having secured a student ticket earlier in the week, I had a gameplan: check out the tailgating scene for a bit before zipping through the student entrance in time to see some pregame warmups and watch the team come charging onto the field.
While the tailgating scene was good - pretty lively and better than anything I saw on campus last season, despite the fact that Saturday's game was against lowly Colorado and lots of Stanford students were likely up in San Francisco for Fleet Week festivities - entering the stadium was a complete nightmare. The company hired to man the turnstiles was clearly unprepared to deal with the large number of students arriving just prior to kickoff. There was one meager entrance open to thousands of students, while the general admission gates were wide open but unwilling to scan student IDs. As a result, there was a 45-minute backlog to get into the stadium, preventing the majority of the "Red Zone" - the Stanford student section - from getting into their seats before kickoff. By the time I finally made it in, Stanford had just scored its second touchdown, and the first quarter was basically half over with the Cardinal leading 13-0.
Stanford had a great opportunity to build on the early season buzz and momentum and create a great game experience for the fans, but stadium management blew it big time. At any school with a solid fan base, the student section brings the noise, energy and enthusiasm. Any fan of a school in the SEC or Big XII or Big Ten, where stadiums hold 70,000+ and many of those are students, can tell you the same. What does it say about Stanford football, then, when stadium management can't figure out how to get the students into the stadium in an orderly and timely fashion? To me, it says that while Stanford's football team is ready to compete with anyone in the country, the athletic department still has a long way to go if it wants to put Stanford football on the map.
While the tailgating scene was good - pretty lively and better than anything I saw on campus last season, despite the fact that Saturday's game was against lowly Colorado and lots of Stanford students were likely up in San Francisco for Fleet Week festivities - entering the stadium was a complete nightmare. The company hired to man the turnstiles was clearly unprepared to deal with the large number of students arriving just prior to kickoff. There was one meager entrance open to thousands of students, while the general admission gates were wide open but unwilling to scan student IDs. As a result, there was a 45-minute backlog to get into the stadium, preventing the majority of the "Red Zone" - the Stanford student section - from getting into their seats before kickoff. By the time I finally made it in, Stanford had just scored its second touchdown, and the first quarter was basically half over with the Cardinal leading 13-0.
Once they were finally allowed in, over 50,000 fans packed Stanford Stadium on Saturday,
Stanford had a great opportunity to build on the early season buzz and momentum and create a great game experience for the fans, but stadium management blew it big time. At any school with a solid fan base, the student section brings the noise, energy and enthusiasm. Any fan of a school in the SEC or Big XII or Big Ten, where stadiums hold 70,000+ and many of those are students, can tell you the same. What does it say about Stanford football, then, when stadium management can't figure out how to get the students into the stadium in an orderly and timely fashion? To me, it says that while Stanford's football team is ready to compete with anyone in the country, the athletic department still has a long way to go if it wants to put Stanford football on the map.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
To True To Be Good? An NBA Labor Proposal
With the NBA dangerously close to having to cancel regular season games for the first time in over a decade, basketball fans are finally starting to panic. While over the summer the NBA labor negotiations took a firm back seat to the NFL labor strife, regular season baseball and women's World Cup coverage, reality is finally beginning to set in for sports fans and the media. ESPN and other mainstream media outlets have begun to cover the NBA labor progress (or lack thereof) on a daily, rather than weekly, basis, and independent news outlets and bloggers are chiming in more heavily than ever. Unfortunately, the NBA and the players association (NBPA) have made very little progress over the last few weeks, and the start of the season - if not the entire season - is officially in jeopardy.
Earlier this year, during a conversation about the NBA labor dispute, I verbally outlined my plan for saving the NBA for the first time. At the time, I was encouraged to publish my thoughts, but hesitated to do so for two main reasons. The secondary reason, which I masqueraded as the primary factor, is that I am professionally involved in the world of sports, and didn't want people thinking I was speaking out of turn on what has become a hotly contested issue. The true primary reason, though, was that my proposal is so incredibly simplistic that I felt it couldn't possibly be taken seriously. As we near the NBA's self-imposed drop dead date for starting the regular season on time, however, all of the NBA vs. NBPA debates I've heard have been bogged down by some combination of philosophy-based, accounting-based or economics-based disagreements. Thus, I think it's time for me to try and steer us back to basics.
First, what do we know - or at least think we know - about the NBA labor dispute? For one, the NBA is losing money. How much money is up for debate, but I think both sides can agree that, in aggregate, the league has lost money over the last few seasons. In other words, the teams are paying the players more money than they generate after subtracting non-player costs. This is, obviously, not a sustainable business model. Second, this is a very public debate. While the fans don't have a direct say in the negotiations, the court of public opinion will undoubtedly sway the resulting agreement, if we ever get one. This is why the owners portray the players as overpaid, greedy kids and why the players paint the owners as old, stuffy and exceedingly wealthy tyrants. Both sides want the fans on their side to pressure the opponent into making a deal. Third, the NBA and NBPA's attempts to fix a complex problem by bolting on additional layers of complexity haven't worked. Amending a needlessly complicated Basketball Related Income (BRI) computation formula with even more convoluted mathematical adjustments won't build trust or get us to a deal any time soon.
So what if the NBA offered the players 100% of all revenues after deducting non-player expenses? The NBA would convert the current revenue sharing model - which provides limited downside protection if expenses explode (which they have, for various reasons too numerous to cover here, over the last five years or so) - to a profit sharing model, and for a year or so give the players 100% of the pre-player-cost profits. For one, this would assure the owners a cumulative breakeven (although individual teams might make or lose money, depending on where we end up on revenue sharing) - they wouldn't make money, but they wouldn't lose it either - which is an improvement over last season's reported $400 million loss. Yes, the players would take a pay cut, but it would be hard to argue against the reduction in the court of public opinion. After all, the owners would be offering the players everything for a season. How could the players ask for more than 100% of the pie while keeping a straight face? Over time, the owners would receive a small chunk of the profit (say up to 5%), and the players would retain most (95%) of the pre-player-expense pool. This reduces the argument between the two sides from dozens of issues to only a few, and if the NBA and NBPA could agree on a reasonable list of legitimate expenses, they'd be much closer to a deal than they've been in years. It's a crazy diversion from the current complex system - but might it be crazy enough to work?
Why would the sides not agree to this? Well for one, the NBPA might not trust the NBA's spending policies - if the NBA spends too much, profits would be reduced and the player salaries would be negatively impacted. The solution here is easy enough - cap the fixed expenses at some reasonable level (either a fixed amount or, more appropriately, as a percentage of revenue), above which the NBA would have to pay out of its own pockets. This would encourage the league and teams to cut overhead, which is a good thing, and preserve a minimum guaranteed margin for the players. The NBPA might also feel like this plan doesn't give the NBA league and teams enough incentive to grow revenue. However, since the NBA will, after the first year, receive a portion of the profits, the incentive to grow the pie and make good deals should be there from day one - the NBA can't take a season off and expect to have success next year. The NBA could also guarantee a revenue number for the first few years, which with reasonable effort they should be able to hit, or the profit sharing structure could be a waterfall, where at certain profit milestones the NBA begins to receive increasingly larger proportions of the incremental profit created. The possibilities are numerous - once the two sides agree that this problem should be viewed as one of growing and sharing profits, not spending ruthlessly in a misguided attempt to grow revenue.
With such a system, the NBA and the NBPA would become something they claim to be but aren't - true partners. Furthermore, the league would become an actual business, rather than a loose confederation of teams that seeks to please the players and fans at any cost. The best way to align incentives among partners is through profit sharing, and until the league and the players come to terms with this and give up on a failed revenue sharing-based structure, it's going to be very hard for the sides to come to terms on an agreement that both sides will be happy with. By framing the negotiation as a profit sharing proposal and offering the players 100% of the profits for the first season, the NBA can force the players to view the proposal as a gain of 100% of the profit pool, rather than as a loss of some piece of the revenue pie. The sides may be tempted to stick with a revenue-based plan because more revenue means more power in the world of sports - the NBA likely wants to be seen as a legitimate peer to MLB and the NFL - but at this point a slightly smaller, well-managed and at-minimum-breakeven NBA is better than no NBA at all. While this plan is super-simple and, in and of itself, can't constitute the majority of a major Collective Bargaining Agreement, a profit sharing-based proposal can redefine the problem in terms that both sides can more readily agree on and understand.
Even after reaching a macro-level agreement, it's clear that the sides will have to go through the complicated process of determining how the player salary pool, however defined, will be distributed to the NBPA. How much will rookies make? How will existing contracts be amended? What will the non-salary terms of contracts (length, guarantees, bonuses, etc.) look like? Once the two sides agree on an overall formula for the player pool, though, we'll be much closer to making progress on these issues, and the NBA can potentially trade some of these issues that are important to the players (such as the continuation of guaranteed contracts, for example) in exchange for progress on a profit sharing plan. In any event, it's clear to me that both parties need to take a step back from the current heated discussions about revenue and think about what's best for the sport of basketball. This admittedly simple proposal gives the players the continued opportunity to dominate the NBA profitability landscape while giving the owners a chance to operate financially sustainable teams that are incentived to run more effectively, and most importantly aligns owner and player incentives in a way that is beneficial to both the NBA and the NBPA.
Earlier this year, during a conversation about the NBA labor dispute, I verbally outlined my plan for saving the NBA for the first time. At the time, I was encouraged to publish my thoughts, but hesitated to do so for two main reasons. The secondary reason, which I masqueraded as the primary factor, is that I am professionally involved in the world of sports, and didn't want people thinking I was speaking out of turn on what has become a hotly contested issue. The true primary reason, though, was that my proposal is so incredibly simplistic that I felt it couldn't possibly be taken seriously. As we near the NBA's self-imposed drop dead date for starting the regular season on time, however, all of the NBA vs. NBPA debates I've heard have been bogged down by some combination of philosophy-based, accounting-based or economics-based disagreements. Thus, I think it's time for me to try and steer us back to basics.
First, what do we know - or at least think we know - about the NBA labor dispute? For one, the NBA is losing money. How much money is up for debate, but I think both sides can agree that, in aggregate, the league has lost money over the last few seasons. In other words, the teams are paying the players more money than they generate after subtracting non-player costs. This is, obviously, not a sustainable business model. Second, this is a very public debate. While the fans don't have a direct say in the negotiations, the court of public opinion will undoubtedly sway the resulting agreement, if we ever get one. This is why the owners portray the players as overpaid, greedy kids and why the players paint the owners as old, stuffy and exceedingly wealthy tyrants. Both sides want the fans on their side to pressure the opponent into making a deal. Third, the NBA and NBPA's attempts to fix a complex problem by bolting on additional layers of complexity haven't worked. Amending a needlessly complicated Basketball Related Income (BRI) computation formula with even more convoluted mathematical adjustments won't build trust or get us to a deal any time soon.
So what if the NBA offered the players 100% of all revenues after deducting non-player expenses? The NBA would convert the current revenue sharing model - which provides limited downside protection if expenses explode (which they have, for various reasons too numerous to cover here, over the last five years or so) - to a profit sharing model, and for a year or so give the players 100% of the pre-player-cost profits. For one, this would assure the owners a cumulative breakeven (although individual teams might make or lose money, depending on where we end up on revenue sharing) - they wouldn't make money, but they wouldn't lose it either - which is an improvement over last season's reported $400 million loss. Yes, the players would take a pay cut, but it would be hard to argue against the reduction in the court of public opinion. After all, the owners would be offering the players everything for a season. How could the players ask for more than 100% of the pie while keeping a straight face? Over time, the owners would receive a small chunk of the profit (say up to 5%), and the players would retain most (95%) of the pre-player-expense pool. This reduces the argument between the two sides from dozens of issues to only a few, and if the NBA and NBPA could agree on a reasonable list of legitimate expenses, they'd be much closer to a deal than they've been in years. It's a crazy diversion from the current complex system - but might it be crazy enough to work?
Why would the sides not agree to this? Well for one, the NBPA might not trust the NBA's spending policies - if the NBA spends too much, profits would be reduced and the player salaries would be negatively impacted. The solution here is easy enough - cap the fixed expenses at some reasonable level (either a fixed amount or, more appropriately, as a percentage of revenue), above which the NBA would have to pay out of its own pockets. This would encourage the league and teams to cut overhead, which is a good thing, and preserve a minimum guaranteed margin for the players. The NBPA might also feel like this plan doesn't give the NBA league and teams enough incentive to grow revenue. However, since the NBA will, after the first year, receive a portion of the profits, the incentive to grow the pie and make good deals should be there from day one - the NBA can't take a season off and expect to have success next year. The NBA could also guarantee a revenue number for the first few years, which with reasonable effort they should be able to hit, or the profit sharing structure could be a waterfall, where at certain profit milestones the NBA begins to receive increasingly larger proportions of the incremental profit created. The possibilities are numerous - once the two sides agree that this problem should be viewed as one of growing and sharing profits, not spending ruthlessly in a misguided attempt to grow revenue.
With such a system, the NBA and the NBPA would become something they claim to be but aren't - true partners. Furthermore, the league would become an actual business, rather than a loose confederation of teams that seeks to please the players and fans at any cost. The best way to align incentives among partners is through profit sharing, and until the league and the players come to terms with this and give up on a failed revenue sharing-based structure, it's going to be very hard for the sides to come to terms on an agreement that both sides will be happy with. By framing the negotiation as a profit sharing proposal and offering the players 100% of the profits for the first season, the NBA can force the players to view the proposal as a gain of 100% of the profit pool, rather than as a loss of some piece of the revenue pie. The sides may be tempted to stick with a revenue-based plan because more revenue means more power in the world of sports - the NBA likely wants to be seen as a legitimate peer to MLB and the NFL - but at this point a slightly smaller, well-managed and at-minimum-breakeven NBA is better than no NBA at all. While this plan is super-simple and, in and of itself, can't constitute the majority of a major Collective Bargaining Agreement, a profit sharing-based proposal can redefine the problem in terms that both sides can more readily agree on and understand.
Even after reaching a macro-level agreement, it's clear that the sides will have to go through the complicated process of determining how the player salary pool, however defined, will be distributed to the NBPA. How much will rookies make? How will existing contracts be amended? What will the non-salary terms of contracts (length, guarantees, bonuses, etc.) look like? Once the two sides agree on an overall formula for the player pool, though, we'll be much closer to making progress on these issues, and the NBA can potentially trade some of these issues that are important to the players (such as the continuation of guaranteed contracts, for example) in exchange for progress on a profit sharing plan. In any event, it's clear to me that both parties need to take a step back from the current heated discussions about revenue and think about what's best for the sport of basketball. This admittedly simple proposal gives the players the continued opportunity to dominate the NBA profitability landscape while giving the owners a chance to operate financially sustainable teams that are incentived to run more effectively, and most importantly aligns owner and player incentives in a way that is beneficial to both the NBA and the NBPA.
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