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.