Taking Shelter

It's been a weird 2013 weather-wise in the New York area.  While things have been calmer post Hurricane Sandy, they haven't necessarily been more normal - temperatures have fluctuated between unseasonable cold and shockingly hot (this past week was a great example), the rain has come in bunches and it's still not clear if we're in Spring, Summer or some unexplored combination of the two.  This has wreaked havoc on the schedules for the Mets and Yankees, both of whom have already experienced their share of postponements and delays.  Last week I went to Citi Field to watch the Braves and Mets not only battle each other, but 40-degree temperatures and intermittent rain showers - the new normal for baseball in the northeast.

Fortunately, our tickets included access to a number of Citi Field's club areas.  While I'm not normally one to give up a "real seat" in favor of a bar stool and a high top table, on this night I made the exception - after a 20 minute delay prior to first pitch and three long innings of shivering in my seat, I moved to take cover inside.  Given that I love watching baseball from the upper deck right behind the plate, I figured Citi's Promenade Club would be a great place to go for a few innings.  Unfortunately (and hardly surprisingly), I wasn't the only person to have this idea.  While the game didn't draw a large crowd (official attendance was 32,325, but the actual show rate was clearly much lower), it seemed like everyone who did make it our to Queens on this night a) also had club access and b) had no interest in sitting outside.

While I consider myself a blue-collar kind of guy, I can't really understand what value the Citi Field club areas provide if they're not at least somewhat exclusive.  Yes, they are inside and provide a respite from bad weather, but each one was so crowded that it was a challenge to get a hot dog, let along a decent place to sit.  After striking up a conversation with a fellow Braves fan who was about to give up some prime real estate - two chairs at the counter right against the Promenade Club glass - we finally grabbed a seat with a view of the grass.  Unfortunately, Citi Field was designed so that even while sitting right against the glass, your view of the action is mostly obstructed (see below).  Despite my proximity to outside, I was still forced to watch the game on the club TVs, occasionally glancing outside when the ball was hit to the parts of the outfield that I could actually see.

This is the best view you're going to get from anywhere in Citi Field's Promenade Club.

Aside from the unexpectedly poor-design and limited sight lines, the Citi Field clubs offered little in the way of a special experience.  While the stadium's Acela Club - the field-level premium area reserved for top ticketholders - is pretty impressive, the Caesar's Club and the Promenade Club are little more than glorified concourse areas with a roof.  The food offerings are the same as everywhere else in the stadium, the lines are just as long and the people are the same.  The main difference is that, unlike the rest of Citi Field over the past few reasons, the club areas are actually crowded.

The Crying Game

As a kid who grew up playing soccer, basketball and baseball, I admit that I was often a pretty bad sport.  As a little leaguer I started by complaining about questionable called third strikes, and even now I've been known to give a rec league basketball referee an earful about a no-call on one of my patented out-of-control drives to the basket.  To me, the arguing comes naturally - I'm a verbose person who enjoys a good debate, and I've always been quick to engage an official in "conversation" after witnessing a call I don't agree with.  As I've been watching a ton of NBA basketball this season, however, I'm starting to truly see how annoying all of this bitching and moaning can be from an outsider's perspective.

After watching at least parts of the vast majority of Knicks games this season, I saw a TON of complaining to the officials.  While some of these seemed justified, seeing the same players complain after virtually every whistle eventually became, for lack of a better term, annoying.  When David Lee played for New York, he had a reputation for being a complainer, but I never really noticed it.  This year, however, all of the crying to the officials seemed to be contagious - it started with Tyson Chandler and eventually infected Raymond Felton, Carmelo Anthony, JR Smith and more.  By the playoffs, it was a full-blown outbreak of bitching.  Not only did it lead to numerous technical fouls and transition layups for the opposition, but as a Knicks fan it also became frustrating to watch.

Unfortunately, the complaining isn't contained inside Madison Square Garden.  Last night I watched Miami lose in Indiana to the Pacers and saw Chris Bosh, Ray Allen and even LeBron James whine relentlessly.  The NBA refs have received a lot of (often deserved) criticism over the last few weeks, but there's no way that every call they make could have been wrong.  Watching the reactions, body language and lips of the Heat players, however, you'd have thought that every single call (questionable or otherwise) had gone against them.  If I was rooting for Indiana before the series, I'm even more of a temporary Pacers fan after watching the first four games of the Eastern Conference Finals.  As a fan, watching players complain isn't much fun.

While my rec league basketball games don't have many fans to consider, realizing how annoying all of the complaining is has forced me to reconsider how I act towards referees and umpires.  While I've always had a short fuse and know that the refs are accustomed to it and can handle it, I imagine that my teammates, opponents and spectators find my behavior off-putting, just as I hate watching Chris Bosh whine about every call.  Unfortunately it's taken me almost 30 years to learn this valuable lesson, but I now recognize that, when it comes to crying to the refs, change is better late than never.

Playing the Lottery

Few seemingly-benign sports concepts are criticized more than the NBA Draft Lottery, the 2013 edition of which takes place tonight (8:30 PM ET on ESPN).  What on the surface seems like a pretty basic lottery system - a random drawing weighted by won-loss record in the previous season to determine which NBA teams get the draft's first three selections - is ripe with conspiracy theories and fans crying foul; SB Nation (admittedly not the most reputable of sports media publications) did a feature this morning entitled "An NBA Draft Lottery conspiracy theory for every team" rather than focusing its efforts on any legitimate analysis.  Whether or not you think the Lottery is rigged, it's likely that you have some complaint about the mechanics of the event.

Some people argue that the weighting is too heavily skewed towards the worst teams, giving teams incentive to tank at the end of the regular season to try and improve their odds of getting the top overall pick.  An equal number of people, however, argue the exact opposite, claiming that the worst teams don't win the lottery often enough to help them become competitive more quickly.  Even aside from debates about the lottery weighting, many people argue for a different system altogether.  Some want a tournament for non-playoff teams (or some subset thereof), with the winner taking the top overall selection. Others want the NBA to adopt the NFL model of giving the worst team (by record) the top pick, tanking be damned.  Advocates of the current system are few and far between, though the critics are far from agreeing on a next best alternative.

One criticism I do agree with is that the lottery drawing shouldn't be held behind closed doors.  While I fully believe the system to be legitimate, doing the drawing before the announcement and not in plain sight leads to much of the conspiracy theory development.  While this might be what the NBA is in fact going for - people are talking about the NBA Draft Lottery after all, aren't they? - doing the actually drawing of the ping pong balls (or equivalent) in public could simultaneously add legitimacy to the system and make the event more exciting.  Don't people love to watch the local lottery ball drawings during the six o'clock news on their local broadcast affiliate?  Couldn't the NBA make the Lottery some awesome Deal Or No Deal-style drawing that would be super compelling for the live audience?  I would be 10x more likely to watch this than the current system, which at best features an awkward moment from the team representative and at worst is just plain boring.

Truth be told, I will tune into the NBA Draft Lottery tonight regardless, even though this year's potential rookie field lacks major star power.  I think, all things considered, the current system does a solid job of finding a middle ground between promoting competitive balance and discouraging late-season tanking.  While we'll always have the conspiracy theorists ready to pounce, I don't have as many issues with the current system as many others do.  If the Sacramento Kings (currently with the 6th-best odds) somehow land the top pick tonight, however, I might have to rethink my viewpoint.   

Showing Some Appreciation

I’ve always believed that every good sports experience has its own distinct feel.  As a Giants fan, the 2012 NFC Championship victory over the 49ers at San Francisco’s Candlestick Park had a feeling of swagger and confidence, as if a trip to the Super Bowl was all but guaranteed.  Team USA’s last-second victory over Algeria at the 2010 World Cup felt like desperation-tuned-jubilation as a win-or-go-home situation was flipped on its head in the most dramatic of ways.  On Saturday night, I returned to Nassau Coliseum for Game Six of a first round playoff series between my Islanders and the Pittsburgh Penguins, and experienced a combination of fear and appreciation unlike anything that I had previously felt as a sports fan.

I will definitely miss the Nassau Coliseum when the Islanders move to Brooklyn.

While most of my fellow Islander fans might be too proud to admit it, Game Six had an ominous feel from the start.  Yes, there was a great energy at the Coliseum from the moment we entered the building, but it seemed like much of the air had been let out of the proverbial playoff balloon once the Isles reached the brink of elimination.  Coming off of a disappointing Game Five shutout loss in Pittsburgh and more shaky play from their goaltender, the Isles and their fans were a bit jittery throughout Game Six.  Even when the home team took the lead – three separate times, in fact – neither the players nor the crowd ever felt truly confident.  Once the game went into overtime, everyone in the arena was thinking the same thing: We were about to witness the end of the 2013 Islanders season.

This isn’t to say, however, that the sense of fear made Game Six a bad experience - quite the opposite, in fact.  While the nervousness was noticeable, it was overpowered by a sense of appreciation that I found refreshing.  After six years without a playoff appearance and a certain future that will see the Islanders move to Brooklyn in two years, the Long Island faithful had so much pride for this young, rising, energetic team that it made me proud to be a New York Islanders fan.  Even after the Penguins scored the game winner in overtime, the fans didn’t turn away (something people typically associate with fans of other New York teams, particularly the Mets and the Jets).  Virtually everyone stayed until well after the final goal, sending off star play John Tavares with “MVP” chants and thanking the team for everything they did for Long Island this year.

It was uplifting to see the positive response even in the face of playoff elimination, because Islander fans truly do have much to be thankful for right now – and the bulk of the blue-and-orange faithful recognized that on Saturday night.  After years of futility, things are looking up for this young team led by an MVP candidate who is only getting better.  After years of hearing that their team would move to Kansas City or Canada, Isles fans will have to go no farther than Brooklyn’s Barclays Center to see the team play when they leave the Island.  And, despite the fear, the Islanders gave their fans something that they haven’t had much of over the last several seasons – hope.  And while hope can lead to pain – as it did when the season ended abruptly on Saturday night – it’s also a big part of what makes rooting for a perennial underdog like the Islanders so special.

Head to Head Competition

Despite NHL commissioner Gary Bettman's background as general counsel at the NBA, the two leagues are completely separate entities.  While the two organizations are loosely tied together by the fact that a number of American (and one Canadian) arenas house both NBA and NHL teams (and in some cases, like New York's Madison Square Garden, Toronto's Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment or Washington's Monumental Sports, the teams are owned by the same company), they are operated independently and, in many cases, actively compete with each other for viewers, game attendees and sponsors.  Nowhere is this more evident than during the playoffs, where many U.S. markets have basketball and hockey teams simultaneously competing for market- and mind-share.

New York is one of those markets, and I've been a fan caught in the middle.  Not only are the Knicks and Islanders both in the playoffs at the same time (hardly a common occurrence), but they're currently on the same game schedule.  On Wednesday, I had to choose between Knicks @ Celtics Game Five and Isles @ Penguins Game One (not to mention a nationally televised Braves game against NL East rival Washington).  Tonight, I'll be put in the same position as the Knicks try to close out their first round series in Boston while the Islanders try to even their series in Pittsburgh at the exact same time.  While I've been trying to flip back and forth between the two, I've been undoubtedly watching more basketball - mainly because I like basketball better as a sport, find the NBA playoffs more compelling than the NHL's, and have more positive memories associated with the Knicks postseason runs than I do the Islanders.  Plus, how can the NHL compete with the NBA's tradition of great nationally televised basketball?

While I'm all for open competition between the two leagues, I don't think it's too much to ask to have the NBA and NFL talk to each other about playoff scheduling, particularly in the first rounds when both leagues have eight series going on simultaneously.  I know there are a lot of factors to consider - television schedules, arena availability, etc. - but I find it difficult to believe that the Knicks / Isles schedule overlap couldn't have been avoided (especially considering that neither the Penguins nor the Islanders have an NBA team in their building to worry about).  Maybe there aren't a ton of fans of both the Knicks and the Isles - most Knicks fans are Rangers fans whereas Isles fans my be slowly gravitating towards the Nets, especially since the two will share Barclays Center in a few years - but there are enough to justify some rescheduling.

With the lack of playoff successes (and appearances) the Knicks and Isles have had over the last decade, perhaps I shouldn't be complaining - I feel lucky to have them both in the postseason this year, and flipping channels isn't the worst thing in the world.  Hell, it's even given me a legitimate excuse to use my picture-in-picture functionality.  But this week of playoff fun would undoubtedly be more enjoyable if I had one game to watch each night rather than two games scheduled simultaneously every other evening.  My fiance might disagree - we do have a lot of episodes of The Voice to catch up on, after all - but hopefully going forward the NBA and NHL scheduling departments will coordinate a bit more openly.

First Round Flame Out

It's Game Five of the first round of the NBA Playoffs.  Your team is down 3-1, but they're returning home for a critical match-up and the chance to get back into the series with a W.  Your home turf is not only in the middle of one of the world's greatest basketball markets, but your team plays in a brand new building in front of fans that, until last week, had never tasted NBA post-season action.  And, if you're the Brooklyn Nets fan base, you somehow manage to pack the Barclays Center to the brim but forget all of your energy and passion at home.

When I got the opportunity to attend my first Brooklyn Nets game for Game Five of their first round match-up against Chicago (somehow, I failed to make it to any of the team's 41 regular season games), I jumped on it.  Despite a 3-1 series deficit, I was anticipating a raucous crowd - a Game Five win (which the Nets ended up getting) would put them a road win away from a very winnable Game Seven back at Barclays.  I got to the arena around 20 minutes prior to tip and was impressed to see a mostly black-clad crowd - given the Nets newness in the market, I was expecting a lot more Bulls fans.  After taking in the fan wardrobe, however, the long list of disappointments sank in.

First, the arena was virtually empty at tip-off.  By the time the first quarter was winding down there were people in almost every seat - it was clearly a sell-out - but people were arriving super late. With transportation to the Barclays Center ultra-convenient and logistics at security and Will Call pretty sound, I have to blame the Nets fans on this one.  While I'm sure a lot of Brooklyn-dwelling Nets fans have the typical hipster "too cool for school" attitude (stereotype much?), this is the playoffs - you just have to show up on time.  Even when the fans did sit down, they were very quiet.  While the game was close and exciting throughout, the fans didn't get loud until the last few minutes of the fourth, when the game was all but won by the Nets.  What kind of fans aren't energetic until after a victory is secured?

The Barclays Center looked great - but sounded empty - on Monday night.

Some of this can be explained by the fact that the Nets are new to town - typically, a new team doesn't make the playoffs in its first year (either because it's an expansion franchise or because the relocated team is terrible, like Oklahoma City in its first season), so the fans have a few seasons to get into it before they head to the post-season.  But given how much hype there has been around Brooklyn basketball for years now, the Game Five showing was very disappointing.  If the Nets can manage to win Game Six in Chicago (no small task), their fans better come out a lot stronger for Game Seven if they want to create any kind of home court advantage.  

42: A Review

Itching for a great new baseball movie for some time now (Trouble with the Curve certainly didn't do it for me), I was very excited to see 42 last week.  There's no point in providing the plot synopsis for the film: If you don't know Jackie Robinson's story you must have been living underneath a rock for the past 65 years, and that's what makes 42 such a bold and daunting project.  As spectacular as Robinson's tale is, virtually every American knows it by heart, putting pressure on this movie to add a new dimension or layer to one of sports history's greatest true stories.  While 42 did a nice job of covering Robinson's journey from Negro Leaguer to Hall of Famer, it failed to show me a side of the story that I hadn't already heard before.

On one hand, this can be seen as a good thing.  Unlike some other sports movies that over-dramatize the "facts" in order to create a more entertaining story, 42 looked pretty realistic.  Other than Harrison Ford's portrayal of Dodgers owner Branch Rickey (which at times was a bit over-the-top), I thought most of the other characters felt true to life.  On the other hand, however, the film definitely lacked the drama associated with other Rocky-esque sports films that I've come to know and love.  At times 42 screened more like an educational documentary than it does a sports movie, and while there's nothing wrong with that it's worth noting before you enter the theater and expect to be fired up by a movie that feels like Miracle.

We all know that, over time, Jackie Robinson was able to win over the majority of his racist critics and cement himself as one of the greatest and most beloved players in MLB history.  I'm not exactly sure how that transition was made, and 42 didn't really do much to explain it.  If the movie is correct, Robinson played hard enough to pretty easily and rapidly convince his teammates to abandon their deep-rooted racist beliefs and rally behind him.  The movie suggests that even opposing players and managers were quickly and naturally won over by Robinson's athleticism, professionalism and kindheartedness.  While I find the fact that the transition was so smooth hard to believe, it's better than having the film build to some super-cheesy, unrealistic climax. 

Overall, I give 42 a decent but unspectacular rating.  While I certainly enjoyed the film and recommend it to any baseball fan, it didn't truly win me over.  This might be another example of "the grass is always greener," where I'm happy that the movie was true to itself but simultaneously left wanting something a bit more exciting and made for Hollywood.  No matter how I look at it, though, I'm glad I spent the time and money seeing 42, and suggest you all do the same.    

Part of the Healing Process

After tragedy struck the Boston Marathon on Monday afternoon, I had no intention of blogging about it.  While Monday's bombing did occur during a major participatory and spectator sporting event, the sports-related angle seemed petty and insignificant.  As the week went on, however - culminating in an emotional series of events this afternoon at Fenway Park - it became increasingly evident that, even in trying times such as these, sports are far from an afterthought.  As many have noted this week, the events in Boston serve as yet another reminder of how important sports are to our society - as a distraction from the harsh realities of "real life," as a symbol of normalcy during otherwise unbelievable times, and even as a vital part of the post-tragedy healing process.

When the Boston Bruins returned to TD Garden for their game against the Buffalo Sabres earlier this week, I didn't originally think much of it - in fact, I didn't even think to check up on the game until the following morning, when video footage from the contest's national anthem was already all over TV and the internet.  Of course ESPN's SportsCenter carried the footage - the first sporting event in Boston post the bombings was undoubtedly a big story for the nation's largest sports network - but I was shocked to see video from the game on Good Morning America, The Today Show and virtually every other morning news outlet, too.

The trend continued during Friday night's manhunt in Watertown, which caused the postponement of that night's scheduled Red Sox and Bruins games.  I was incredibly surprised to hear the newscasters on both Fox News and CNN comment on what a shame it was that the sporting events were cancelled, since the entire community was looking forward to watching their local teams compete and having something to to take their minds off of the week's surreal events.  Much like the first Giants, Jets, Mets and Yankees games following 9/11, this weekend's Boston sporting events will serve as a reminder of the strength of the city of Boston and the closeness of its community.

Major national events like the Boston Marathon bombing help put life in perspective, and remind us that there's so much more to life than sports.  At the same time, however, it would be wrong to assume that sports have no place in the midst of tragedy.  As this week has shown us, the power of sports should not be underestimated, and no other form of entertainment can bring a city together in quite the same way.  

Through the Plexiglass

Even though I previously covered my experience at Raleigh, NC's PNC Arena (formerly known as the RBC Center), my second trip to the home of the Carolina Hurricanes was certainly unique enough to warrant its own post.  The first time around, I credited RBC for being a well-run, efficient hockey facility inhabited by a great fan base, especially considering that a) the Raleigh-Durham area doesn't have any other professional sports franchises and b) North Carolina isn't what comes to mind when you think about a hockey-loving state.  For my second trip, however, I got to do something that I've never done at an NHL game before - sit in the first row, right behind the glass.  More specifically, as the picture below will attest, I was sitting directly behind one of the nets with a goalie's-eye view.

If you thought the prospect of being an NHL goalie was terrifying before, you need to experience a hockey game from these seats.  The first thing you notice is the pure speed of everything - the puck, the players and even the referees are moving so quickly that losing focus for even a split-second can be catastrophic for a netminder.  The fact that there aren't 10+ goals scored by each team, each game seems incredible to me.  Even more amazing are plays like the save highlighted in the video below, which I had an absolutely perfect view of (if you look closely, you can see me right behind the net in a grey hooded sweatshirt, sitting next to my Dad in a dark green polo).   

I've had the opportunity to sit in the front row for MLB games and courtside for NBA games, but nothing can compare to the wow-factor associated with these rink-side seats directly behind the goal.  Even from other great seats, I've always felt like I was watching a game.  From these seats, however, I could feel an adrenaline rush normally reserved for someone playing in a game.  I found myself adopting a goaltender's mentality, scanning the ice for developing scoring chances and even positioning my own torso to mimic Hurricanes goalie Justin Peters.  When Peters shifted towards his right (like in the photo below, which gives you a great feel for my view), I couldn't help but do the same.

Now I know what an NHL goalie sees during a professional hockey game.

The other incredible thing about sitting right up against the glass was how loud everything was.  The sound of the puck smacking off of the glass on an errant shot consistently made me flinch - although I knew I was completely protected, I couldn't help it.  Every time the players crashed into the boards behind the goal (which happens more often than you might realize while watching the game from a different vantage point), you can hear and feel a thunderous boom that underscores the strength and speed of NHL athletes.  After sitting in these incredible seats at PNC Arena, I honestly think I have a new-found appreciation for the sport of hockey.  With the league (and the Islanders) heading into the playoffs later this month, my timing couldn't have been more perfect.  

Covering the Cards

I'm honestly not trying to be an asshole in this post, but I do want to start out with a caveat: If you're the type of sappy sports fan who wishes that every game ended like a made for TV movie, this post might not be for you.  If you love the way the Olympics cuts away from live event coverage to bring you a story about how some cross-country skier from Slovenia spent a year living in his car, you might want to go back to reading a Rick Reilly article. After all, what I'm about to do is, in most people's minds, worse than criticizing Mother Theresa, Gandhi and Sesame Street combined.  I'm going to criticize the media's coverage of injured Louisville basketball player Kevin Ware.

Kevin Ware's injury was undoubtedly one of the more gruesome things I've witnessed in 20+ years as a sports fan, and I cringe every time I think about the freak accident - not to mention the long path to recovery that awaits Ware as he works to return to high-level college basketball.  That being said, I feel that the coverage of Ware's injury - and of the Louisville team's response to it - has been overblown.  Players suffer significant injuries that require them to miss games all the time.  While Ware's injury was clearly more severe, traumatic and unusual that your typical high ankle sprain, broken wrist or concussion, does the severity of the incident make it any more worthy of extensive press coverage than any of these others?

CBS cut to a shot of Kevin Ware approximately once every 10 seconds (hyperbolic estimate).

The media has talked a lot about how Louisville's national championship victory in Ware's absence signifies that the Cardinals are a "team" in the truest sense of the word.  In reality, though, don't teams in both college and professional sports win in the face of injuries all the time?  There's no doubt that Louisville's ability to roll past Duke, Wichita State and Michigan without the services of a key bench player is impressive - I'm the first to acknowledge that role players are much more critical to a team's success than most star-obsessed fans give them credit for.  But Louisville is far from the first team to have players step up for a fallen colleague.  Granted, most of those fallen colleagues didn't have their bones sticking inches out of their skin - but the fact remains that Ware's injury is different from so many others only in terms of its gruesomeness, not in terms of its significance.

Do I believe that the Louisville players truly like and care about each other?  Sure.  Do I think that's the reason they were able to overcome Ware's injury and defeat Michigan in Atlanta last night?  Not really.  At the end of the day, the Cardinals were 2013's best college basketball team, and a potent combination of guard play (Peyton Siva and Russ Smith), clutch shooting (Luke Hancock) and an inside presence (Gorgui Deng) propelled them to victory.  While I feel for Kevin Ware and wish him the best in his attempt to recover from an injury that I can't even really imagine, to say that the team "won it for Kevin" is a bit much.  Unlike the athletes who have been removed from their sports to battle life-threatening illnesses like cancer and AIDS, Ware will surely recover fully and resume his athletic career.  In an attempt to write a compelling personal story, the media failed to provide enough coverage of the players who actually made the 2013 national championship happen for the Cards - the ones that actually played.

The DH Debate

Despite approaching its three year anniversary (April 23), Caught Looking has never offered its opinion on Major League Baseball's designated hitter. While the existence of the DH in the American League is debated each season during Interleague Play, the All Star Game and the World Series, this year should be particularly heated because it marks the 40th anniversary of the rule change. In honor of the occasion, ESPN recently did a series of pieces on the DH, from Tim Kurkjian's mindless interviewing of a random array of Major Leaguers to Christina Karl's uninspired opinion piece. Now, it's time for me to weigh in - after all, everybody else is doing it!

First, let's set the stage here: The DH debate is one of the most tightly argued in all of sports. While ESPN's SportsNation polls are in no means scientific, they do give us a decent understanding of how the general sports populace feels about a given issue. The recent DH poll, which as of this writing had a meaningful 24,333 responses, say 30% of people say they wanted the DH to remain an AL-only rule, 37% of people say they want the DH abolished altogether, and the remaining 33% say they'd want the DH adopted in the NL, too. Put simply, about a third of people want more DHing, a third want less, and a third want the same amount - not exactly the sort of definitive sentiment you want while assessing a sport-altering potential rule change. But while the total population is on the fence about the DH, it seems like virtually no individual person is split - everyone, myself included, has a strong opinion on the issue.

As a lifelong fan of the National League, it probably won't surprise you to hear that I'm a big anti-DH guy. In addition to being a Braves fan, I also consider myself a student of the game who valued baseball for its strategy - strategy that, in my opinion, is greatly dumbed-down in American League games. I like how Nationals manager Davey Johnson (who has managed in both leagues) put it in the Kurkjian article; talking about NL baseball, Johnson said "when the pitcher is in there, things are on an even keel. There is more strategy in the game; that's a part of baseball. There is more little ball, there are tougher decisions on pitching strategy. It involves your bench more." My favorite part of any NL game is the situation Ned Yost mentions in his quote - that moment when "you have two outs, a man on second, down by a run in the sixth inning, with your pitcher at the plate. Do you hit for him or not?" These are the moments that can make-or-break an MLB 2K13 game, let alone a MLB contest with playoff implications.

I understand that the DH provides a job for defensively-challenged, big-bat types and for aging stars who can no longer play the field. But is it the American League's job to institute a rule change that creates a role for guys that can't play the sport the way it was originally meant to be played? What's more, the majority of teams use the DH slot to rotate position players out of the field, giving them a de facto day off without removing their bat from the lineup. Come World Series time, this could theoretically be a significant advantage for a well-rested AL team over a bruised and battered NL one. As a baseball purist, I cast my SportsNation vote to get rid of the DH altogether. After 40 years of the DH debate, though, I can't say that I can add anything to the conversation that you haven't already heard before.

Come Interleague Play, this man will likely be Atlanta's starting DH.

Hope Springs Eternal

It's clearly a cliche, but the best part about Major League Baseball's Opening Day is that each of the league's thirty teams starts undefeated.  For some, like the Toronto Blue Jays and the Los Angeles Dodgers, expectations are unusually high and confidence is abundant.  For others, like the New York Mets and the Houston Astros, there's a "Hey, you never know!" atmosphere surrounding tomorrow's games - the fact that each and every year, at least one team comes out of nowhere to capture a division crown produces an aura of optimism in every Major League clubhouse.  That optimism - combined with the knowledge that the first baseball games mean that Spring and warm weather are just around the corner - make MLB's Opening Day a sporting event worth its capitalization.

Personally, I've been looking forward to tomorrow night's Atlanta opener against the Philadelphia Phillies - nationally televised on ESPN2 - pretty much since the New York Giants season ended in December.  No offense to the Knicks (and only limited offense intended to the Islanders), but the indoor winter sports lack the significance that I associate with big dates on the MLB and NFL calendars.  This year, my anticipation around Opening Day is especially high.  Coming off of a disappointing exit to the 2012 MLB playoffs (you can read my post on the Infield Fly Rule Game here), the Braves have recovered and reloaded.  In a perfect scenario, guys like Kris Medlen and Mike Minor will build on their late season successes, acquisitions like B.J. and Justin Upton will pay dividends and youngsters like Julio Teheran and Freddie Freeman will continue to grow.  As things currently stand, the Braves seem poised to be an NL pennant contender in 2013 and beyond.

Of course, for most teams Opening Day will soon become little more than the start of a disappointing season that results in losses, injuries and a September finale.  For my Braves, there's a realistic possibility that Justin Upton continues last season's negative statistical trend, Jason Heyward again fails to live up to his tremendous potential and Brandon Beachy is unable to recover from Tommy John surgery.  For every great thing that might happen, there's an equally likely negative scenario that, combined with other rough outcomes, could realistically derail Atlanta's season.  But while these downside scenarios are certainly possible, the beauty of Opening Day is that no one (outside of maybe the occasional self-deprecating Mets fan) spends April 1 thinking about them.  MLB's Opening Day is a day for optimism, hope and "what ifs."

I've already cleared my calendar for tomorrow night so that I can make sure to be settled on my couch at 7 PM when Tim Hudson throws the season's first pitch.  Hopefully all of you will be doing the same, convincing yourselves that tomorrow will be the start of something special for your team.  After all, that's what Opening Day is all about.

Missed Opportunity

The NHL is a league of missed opportunities.  Most recently, the league decided to follow up a Los Angeles Stanley Cup victory - and the chance to boost the popularity of the sport in the country's second-largest market - with a near-season-ending lockout, once again damaging the NHL brand and slowing the momentum created by the Kings.  This is far from the first time the NHL has dropped the ball (or puck) on an opportunity to boost league popularity.  Earlier today, the Calgary Flames traded forward Jarome Iginla to the Pittsburgh Penguins, which got me thinking about one of the league's most underrated and un-talked-about screw-ups.

For those of you that don't watch hockey (or have forgotten), Iginla was one of the NHL's best and most dynamic players during the 2000s.  He led the NHL in points with 96 in 2001-02 (and was league MVP), and topped the 90 point mark again in 2006-07 and 2007-08.  He scored 50 goals in a season twice, led the Flames to the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals (they lost to Tampa Bay in one of the least watched NHL finales in league history) and Team Canada to the 2002 Olympic gold and was incredible to watch.  Perhaps even more important from a marketing potential standpoint, however, is that Iginla is half black - his father was born in Nigeria.  In a league starving for racial diversity, the NHL had a bi-racial MVP and never used that to help market the game to a new (and growing) set of potential hockey fans.

Arguably the NHL's best minority player, Iginla languished in Calgary for 16 seasons.

People criticize the NBA for being overly star-driven and for marketing individuals as much as teams, and some of that criticism is fair.  At the same time, I've felt for a decade now that the NHL was doing itself a major disservice by refusing to use Iginla as a tool to grow the sport of hockey among minorities.  While the NBA has used players like Dirk Nowitzki to tap into Europe and Yao Ming to expand in China, not once have I heard about the NHL leveraging Iginla's notoriety and build its brand with non-white fans.  Part of this can be blamed on the fact that Iginla played for Calgary up until today; perhaps if he was on the Rangers, Kings or Capitals he would have been a bigger star and a role model for potential minority hockey players.  But I find it hard to believe that the NHL couldn't have done more to build Iginla's brand.

The NHL has a loyal fan base made of almost entirely of white males from Canada, the Northeastern U.S. or the Great Lakes region.  While other professional sports leagues have successfully expanded internationally (like the NBA), regionally (like the MLS) and culturally (like the NFL), hockey has remained stagnant and has failed to capitalize on opportunities to tap into new segments of sports fans.  As the USA continues to become more diverse and the percentage of Caucasian Americans continues to decrease, the NHL will likely struggle to grow.  Jarome Iginla could have been a key tool in helping professional hockey expand its reach.  Instead, the former MVP is now a 16-year veteran whose trade to Pittsburgh barely made the ESPN Headlines this afternoon.  Add Iginla's story to the long list of the NHL's missed opportunities.

March Badness

If you root for upsets, then the first second round of the 2013 NCAA tournament was for you.  Ten higher seeds won games on Thursday and Friday, including one 15, one 14, one 13 and three 12s, and trendy Final Four selections like New Mexico and Georgetown were sent home early.  Like most college hoops fans without a team to root for, I love to see all of the upsets - it's a large part of what makes this tournament so exciting.  And while it's true that parity in college basketball in increasing, I'd argue that it's not so much that teams like Harvard or LaSalle are much better this year than 13 and 14 seeds normally are.  Instead, this year's high-seeded victors seemed to take advantage of some ugly basketball by their heavily favored opponents, making this year's major upsets a little less satisfying than the Cornell-esque runs we've seen in the recent past.

That's not to take anything away from the likes of the Crimson, Explorers, the Oregon Ducks, the Ole Miss Rebels or the Cal Bears.  Each of these teams came into tournament weekend ready to play (and, is LaSalle's case, had to meet another tournament worthy team just to get a shot to play on Friday) and got the job done.  But as I watched at least part of each of these upsets, I wasn't particularly impressed with any of these supposed Cinderellas.  While Harvard played solid defense, it was really New Mexico's inability to hit a shot that lead to their demise.  Ole Miss managed to win despite a terrible game from their star guard Marshall Henderson because Wisconsin simply can't score consistently.  The only major upset team that actually looked aggressive, cohesive and threatening was, shockingly, Florida Gulf Coast, who used their athleticism and intensity to beat up on Georgetown.  For their part, though, the Hoyas and Big East Player of the Year Otto Porter Jr. looked dazed and confused from the opening tip to the final whistle.

The Big East sent eight teams to the 2013 NCAA Tournament and is supposedly the strongest conference in the country.  Of those eight, only Syracuse, Louisville and Marquette (barely) survived; in addition to Georgetown, Notre Dame, Pittsburgh and were knocked out by higher seeds the Cincinnati and Villanova were pushed around by beatable opponents.  We spent the year talking about how the Mountain West had the highest RPI of any conference, but of its five tournament teams only Colorado State and San Diego State made it through, while New Mexico and UNLV were upset badly.  Meanwhile, LaSalle had to beat the Mountain West's Boise State just to get a chance to play Kansas State, which suggests that the NCAA tournament selection process isn't as efficient as it needs to be.

If the NCAA is trying to create drama by matching overrated Big East and Mountain West teams against sneakily strong mid-major opponents, they're doing a great job.  In reality, however, this week's upsets are as much about overrated NCAA favorites getting matched up against feistier, psyched-up opponents with nothing to lose.  As much as I'd like to credit teams like Harvard for rising to the occasion, I find it hard to believe that a team that recently lost to Columbia and Princeton is all of a sudden evenly matched against the Lobos, the best team in the supposedly toughest conference in the nation, despite not playing particularly well.  Instead, the Crimson were the beneficiaries of some sloppy seeding by the NCAA and took advantage of it - like any group of smart Ivy Leaguers would do.

Make It Count

In just a few short hours, Selection Sunday will commence and we'll know the names of the 68 schools that will participate in the 2013 NCAA men's college basketball tournament.  The majority of the schools in the bubble, however, are from the NCAA's power six conferences - teams that, after a long regular season filled with RPI top-100 opponents, still have a chance at the Big Dance despite having flamed out of their conference tournaments earlier this weekend.  Living in Manhattan, the home of the Big East tournament, most of the talk and media coverage this weekend has revolved around schools live Georgetown, Notre Dame, Louisville and Syracuse, schools that are locks for the NCAA tournament.  But while most college basketball fans have spent the last couple of days watching the top teams in the country battle for the BCS conference crowns, I'm much more interested in watching the desperate teams fighting for the postseason lives in the smaller conference tourneys.

Don't get me wrong - I've caught parts of a number of BCS conference tournament games this week, and enjoyed some great college basketball from the likes of Georgetown vs. Syracuse, North Carolina vs. Miami and Kansas vs. Kansas State.  And while it's great to watch the best players in the country represent the nation's biggest schools, the downside for the losers of these major conference tournament games is pretty limited.  While there's no doubt that the players for North Carolina wanted to win today's ACC championship game, the Tar Heels ultimate goal for 2013 - as it is every year - is to take home an NCAA national title.  As soon as the final buzzer sounded in Greensboro today, UNC undoubtedly began to look ahead to a Thursday or Friday matchup in Round 2 of the newly-reformatted Big Dance.

As a result, these BCS conference tournament matchups lack the desperation and fight that you can find from the smaller conference playoffs.  Unlike North Carolina, tournament finals losers like Vermont (America East), UC Irvine (Big West) and Morgan State (MEAC) certainly won't be headed to the NCAA tournament next week.  Like most of the country's Division I teams, their chance at the NCAAs depended entirely on their ability to win their conference postseason tournaments - their failure to do so will result in, at best, a trip to the NIT and, at worst, an abrupt end to the 2013 basketball season.  While the quality of basketball in the America East might not be able to match what you find in the Big East, the added passion and emotion generated by the win-or-go-home mentality more than make up for the discrepancies in shooting ability or ball-handling skill.

By this time next week, virtually every mid-major basketball team will be eliminated from the NCAA tournament - most of the small conference schools that have made it this far will serve as little more than second round prey for the nation's traditional basketball powers.  Before we reach that point, I've enjoyed another opportunity to see schools for the Patriot League, the MAC and the SWAC compete on a national stage.  There will be plenty of time to watch Duke, UCLA and Michigan State play throughout the rest of March - hopefully you were able to enjoy some do-or-die mid major basketball before it was too late.

What's Next?

Despite having worked in sports strategy and analytics for five years (with a stop at business school in between), I had never been to the famous MIT Sloan Sports Analytics Conference before this year.  What was once ~100 sitting in a conference room talking about advances stats metrics has ballooned into a 2,700+ person event attended by everyone from team owners, presidents and GMs to college students and weird people obsessed with the likes of Bill James and John Hollinger.  While the conference was once all about sabermetrics and statistics like WAR and BABIP, now the event is as much about using analytics and technology to provide more value to fans and, in turn, generate more revenue to teams and leagues.  While I learned a lot of helpful professional insights from my two days at the Boston convention center, I wanted to share a few tidbits from the conference on what sports analytics will soon mean to all of us as sports fans.

NBA COO Adam Silver speaks on a panel alongside Patriots owner Jonathan Kraft and ESPN's John Skipper.

• Get ready for in-venue WiFi: If you've gone to a professional sporting event recently, you probably noticed that the cell phone coverage ranged from mediocre to awful - a ton of people confined in relatively small space simultaneously reaching for their phones doesn't lead to fast downloads or good call quality.  Teams and leagues are now investing millions of dollars to build out in-venue WiFi to combat this issue.  This not only means that you'll be able to post videos to Facebook during a game, but also that teams will be able to use the internet to offer you a host of new products.  In-seat concessions ordering from your phone, the ability to upgrade your seats (for a fee) via mobile and near-real-time highlights delivered to your second screen are all on the horizon.

• Customization is coming: If you've ever looked at the back of your ticket stub, you probably noticed an offer to redeem your ticket for something - a six-inch Subway sandwich or 15% off one item at Modell's Sporting Goods, perhaps.  You also probably noticed that the offer you got wasn't for something you actually want.  As teams move to digital ticketing and use technology to learn more about their fans, however, they will have the ability to target specific offers to specific groups of people, increasing the likelihood that you'll get something that has value to you.  Gone are the days of one-size-fits-all promos - while all of the customization might seem a big Big Brother-ish at first, fans will soon come to love having their sporting event experience customized.

• Say goodbye to paper tickets: Every year, ticket cards and mobile ticketing become more and more prevalent in sports.  In an effort to curb brokers and the secondary market, teams are moving towards non-paper tickets to better monitor who actually comes to games (it's not always the person who purchased the ticket from the team, as we know from the rapid growth of StubHub's business) and protect fans from potential fraud.  Whether it's linked to a separate card, a credit card or a mobile application, the days of paper tickets are coming to an end for anything other than souvenir / commemorative purposes.

There's a lot more coming our way over the next few years, but these were a few of the more interesting trends that emerged from the 2013 MIT Sloan conference.  While change is almost always met with resistance at first, I think most fans with quickly come to appreciate all of the changes coming our way.  Each sports fan is unique - it's about time teams started treating us like it. 

Power to the People

Unlike a baseball or a football game, where you really need to be sitting in the stands with the "real people" to properly experience the game, basketball games are typically awesome from inside a luxury suite.  The arenas are much smaller, so well-placed luxury seating (most relatively modern areas have their suites located in between the lower and upper bowls) combined an excellent vantage point with amenities including food, drinks, television and comfortable seats.  When I found out that my first visit to Boston's TD Garden would be in a luxury box for a mid-week game against the Golden State Warriors, I was excited and knew that I'd have a great view of the game (see below).

Boston's TD Garden isn't filled with the corporate-types you find at New York's MSG.

As a New Yorker, I've been trained to hate everything related to Boston sports.  That being said, I have to give it to the Celtics fans - despite the team's relative struggles on the court this season and the loss of the team's most-exciting player (Rajon Rondo) to injury, the TD Garden crowd was every bit as loud and passionate as any mid-week crowd for a Knicks game at MSG.  While the stands during a Knicks game are filled with tie-wearing corporate types coming straight from the office, the Celtics crowd was way more blue-collar.  Even on the suite level, it was hard to find people that looked like they have come to TD Garden directly from work, and I felt out of place in a suit and tie.

The vast majority of fans were wearing Celtics gear and were shockingly vocal, and when the Celtics made a push in the fourth quarter to put the game out of reach, the noise level was quite impressive.  Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised - given the tradition and greatness associated with Celtics basketball, it makes sense that the Boston faithful would turn out in droves no matter how well (or poorly) the Celts are playing.  Add in the fact that, even without Rondo, Boston's roster features two of the most popular players in the NBA (Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce), and all of the green-and-white jerseys make a lot more sense.

Overall, I liked TD Garden.  While it was a relatively generic NBA arena, it certainly does the job.  Like many newer NBA arenas, including Brooklyn's Barclays Center, it's very steep, so the upper level seats still feel right on top of the court.  I also liked the way the arena is located directly adjacent to a metro station (much like MSG), providing relatively easy access from anywhere in the city.  While there was nothing especially "Boston-ish" about the building or the luxury seating areas - most the the amenities and offerings seemed pretty generic - TD Garden seemed to be yet another example of a well-designed, highly functioning NBA venue.      

Can't We All Just Get Along?

I got up early this morning to catch an Amtrak train to Boston, so instead of my typical morning routine (a quick shower, shave and directly off to work) I got up extra-early to ensure that I wouldn't leave anything to chance timing-wise.  Naturally, I had some extra time before I had to head off to Penn Station and decided to flip on the local news.  I was shocked to see the local sports anchor transition to highlights of a regular season NBA game between Golden State and Indiana, and assumed that an incredible feat of athleticism must have occurred in order to justify such unexpected local media coverage.  I was disappointed to see, however, that the only reason the game made the local New York-area news was because of a fight that broke out between David Lee of the Warriors and Roy Hibbert of the Pacers.

The fight, which threatened to spill into the crowd and potentially put courtside ticket holders in harm's way, is thankfully a rare occurrence in the modern NBA, so based on its rareness you can argue that the additional media coverage is justified.  And while you'd think that the NBA likes the idea of New York residents getting exposed to highlights from a Pacers game - expanding its reach from the SportsCenter crowd and touching a broader audience that potentially includes casual basketball fans - it's not clear if footage of an almost-brawl is good or bad for the league.  While on one hand the increased exposure is great, promoting the fight potentially cheapens the league's brand and might imply that Lee and Hibbert's antics were more entertaining than the game itself.

  The fight between the Warriors and Pacers threatened to spill into the Bankers Life Fieldhouse stands.

As a fan of the NBA and a lover of professional basketball, I'd rather not have seen any highlights from this game than see it covered because of the fight.  The scuffle marred what was otherwise an entertaining game between two of the NBA's better teams (coming into the game both were 10+ games over .500), and takes away from the season-long accomplishments of Hibbert and Lee, two of the league's better big men.  Part of the blame certainly lies with the players, who allowed their emotions to get the best of them and shifted the focus from playing to brawling.  I believe that more of the culpability, however, lies with the fans for showing more interest in video of the fight than in video of the rest of the game.  While I can't blame the media for giving the people what they want, I can blame the people for wanting it.

Going Once, Going Twice . . .

While I've never been much of a collector of sports memorabilia, I've always admired impressive collections of signed game-worn jerseys, game-used equipment and trading cards.  As a kid I had a pretty extensive baseball card collection - impressive in terms of volume but, outside of a few choice pieces, not very valuable - and there are still a handful of signed baseballs lying around my childhood bedroom.  I never really understood paying big money to own the types of pieces that you might find in Cooperstown, Springfield or Canton, though - to me, those are meant for museums, better to be seen by the masses than to be possessed by a few.  When I got an offer to go to a preview for an upcoming Heritage Auctions sports memorabilia show, I jumped at the chance to see some awesome pieces of sports history before they are sold and kept away from public view.

The preview show, held at a mansion on Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, had a number of great items up for bid - "Miracle on Ice" captain Mike Eruzione's game-worn jersey from Team USA's victory over the USSR, Curt Shilling's bloody sock from the 2004 World Series and a Lou Gehrig game-worn Yankees jersey - displayed beautifully in glass cases with museum lighting.  Mike Eruzione himself was in attendance chatting with prospective bidders, as was Hall of Fame pitcher Walter Johnson's grandson (who was pushing a book that he recently wrote about his famous grandfather, apparently).  It was awesome to see so many sports artifacts in such an intimate setting, free of the crowds and noise that you might fight at the Baseball Hall of Fame.

   Got ~$1 million?  If so, you can own Mike Eruzione's game-worn "Miracle on Ice" jersey.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the event attendees were seemingly more about the investment opportunity than about sports history.  While the people inspecting the items were undoubtedly aware of, and interested in, their historical significance, most of the conversation seemed to revolve around resale values and condition ratings.  While I was mentally ranking the items in my mind based on my own personal definition of "coolness," the estimated going rates for each items seemed to reflect a different set of priorities.  I thought this game-worn Lew Alcindor Milwaukee Bucks jersey was really awesome, but it wasn't even among the top half in terms of most expensive items at the auction.  At the same time, this "LeRoy Neiman Original Watercolor Inscribed to the Artist by Muhammad Ali" was somehow going for almost as much as Alcindor's jersey, though I'd much rather have the former hanging in my home.

The Heritage Auctions event taught me that I'd never be a great sports memorabilia investor - I care way too much about the historical significance of the items than I do about their resale value.  If you don't care about investing, I think you can pick up some really awesome items at these events for relatively cheap - sometimes the items that weren't deemed ultra-valuable by the professionals seemed among the coolest pieces up for bid.  For now, though, I'll leave the buying to the pros and take advantage of opportunities to view these amazing artifacts while I still can.

Stepping It Up

One of the main reasons that I will never like college football as much as the NFL is the wide variation in the quality of teams.  During the conference schedule, you'll regularly see the likes of Ohio State beat up on an Indiana by three-plus touchdowns; the more I follow the Pac-12, the more I notice the talent discrepancies between the haves (USC, Stanford and Oregon) and the have-nots (Washington State and Colorado).  And if you think the conference schedule includes too many duds, then you undoubtedly feel that the non-conference games are almost always a total joke.  At least a team like Duke has a chance (however slim) of upsetting a Florida State - for the majority of non-conference matchups, a 30-plus point victory for the favorite (always the home team) is a virtual lock.

The worst of these non-conference games, of course, are the ones against FCS opposition.  Earlier today, however, University of Wisconsin Athletic Director (and 2013 Rose Bowl interim head coach) Barry Alvarez announced that Big Ten teams would stop scheduling games against FCS schools starting in 2016.  Wisconsin in particular has filled its schedule with cupcakes in recent years - in 2012, the Badgers' non-conference games included a trip to Oregon State and home games against FCS Northern Iowa and FBS "mid-majors" Utah State and UTEP - and will again play a FCS school (Tennessee Tech) in 2013.  As a whole, the Big Ten conference is no stranger to FCS opponents; its schools have already scheduled a number of such games for 2013, 2014 and 2015.

So while Alvarez's announcement is surprising, it's undoubtedly also a great thing for college football.  Americans are hungry for as much high-quality football action as they can get, and gone are the days when NCAA gridiron fans only cared about the conference schedule.  Arguably the NCAA's biggest advantage over the NFL is its start date - college teams get a two week jump on their NFL counterparts, so there are two weekends where college teams compete only with baseball for viewers.  Instead of scheduling games against Hofstra during that period, Big Ten programs will now play smaller FBS programs (at worst) or big time BCS conference teams (at best).  Either way, it'll be better than the Northern Iowa game that the Badgers scheduled last season.

Big Ten schools like Wisconsin will run past the likes of Northern Iowa no longer.

It's hard to tell if the Big Ten's announcement was in any way caused by the NCAA's move to a college football playoff system, but it couldn't have hurt.  Now that teams no longer need to go undefeated in order to compete for a national championship, schools like Wisconsin, Ohio State, Penn State and Michigan can challenge themselves a bit more with higher quality opponents without worrying about having their seasons ruined in September.  This is exciting news for college football fans, and hopefully other conferences will soon follow the Big Ten's lead.  The more solid college football we can get in early September, the better.

One Way Rivalry

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

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

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

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

Unplugging Momentum

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

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

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

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

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

Preparing for Super Bowl Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

Part of the Action

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trouble with the Curve: A Review

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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