Identity

There was a time in my life (right before the millennium when I was voted “most likely to buy Bronx Science for the sake of turning it into a parking lot”) when I was as passionate about music as I was about sports. Most of my peers (likely you being one) didn’t know that the real reasons that I wanted to be in music was because it seemed to be an easier avenue into the entertainment business than the sports industry. And if you were in that bunker with Saddam Hussein for the past few years, you would see that right now, getting into the music industry is as easy as getting a learner’s permit: read a book, take a ten minute test and you can walk out with a shiny new ID card. While at Bronx Science, I read a few things about how many artists were swindled and hustled from millions of earned dollars because of terrible contracts and even worse industry practices that ensured that everyone else got to eat before the artists themselves. Sure, many people knowingly spent money they didn’t have, yet the nature of the beast allowed (and still does) for a label that did little work to recoup much of the profits. Considering that I have a habit of problem-solving, I started asking questions and building my own alternate model for how the music business should act… you know, like an actual business. When I got to college, many of my experiences reminded me that my true calling was never in A&R and label politics. I discovered that the business just wasn’t for me. I saw the carrot to work in the business was gobbled up; my favorite artists were either dead, broken or about to be broken up, toiling in some obscurity without any promotion (I didn’t know Jon B. or Mr. Cheeks from the Lost Boyz had new albums until a year after they came out) or just kept getting in trouble. Then I realized that the music I loved had nothing to do with the times that were passing by. The Nineties were special for people like me; ticked off at the status quo, but looking for hope of a new dawn. The 2000s didn’t agree; y’all went partying, I mourned the loss of too many people, including my beloved, but crazy father. I realized that the music in the Nineties said to me “life is happening, but you can rise”. The music in the 2000s is far from that.

Shortly before my dad passed, I reassessed my goals, seeing that my true passions were budding over my superficial desires. I began to see a new vision of my future, one in which I didn’t have to wait until I made a billion dollars in music (ha!) to buy a NBA franchise and call myself a sports business player. I found new avenues, but I knew that I had the music business to fall back on if I wanted to still give it a try. Before he passed, Daddy finally told me stories of when he played semi-pro and high school football in the late fifties Philadelphia. I was reminded of everything I was ever taught about the games, especially the unique appreciation I have for them compared to my peers. After he died, I slowly began to make the switch. He would have reminded me to go with my heart anyway.

In college, I was heavily involved with radio from being an on-air personality to being a GM to interning with a station back home. I helped broadcast all sorts of events, including many basketball games for the College. I met different people within the sports business, especially reaching out to media personalities to learn about their lines of work. The problem-solver in me keeps looking at holes to this day, figuring out where I can carve my niche before challenging or becoming the establishment. It was in college where I found my true identity; a hopeful maverick seeking opportunities others are afraid to take.

Why am I telling you this?

My closest peers are writers and critics who are equally obsessed with music as sports. I think they will individually call themselves “music snobs” if they felt it applied. I listen and debate with them about topics that over the years have very little meaning to me. I may be labeled a hater for the fact that I didn’t exactly warmly receive Kanye West or I haven’t downloaded the new album from The Killers (whoever the hell they are). For the most part, I resisted the label because ‘hater’ is as overused as the pluralization of names in sports media (if I hear someone say “the Steve Nashes of the world” one more time… Sports Speak – that’s another piece). Yet, an article from Tara Henley at XXL brought about a lengthy, but pointed assessment of what I do and hope to do.

Her thoughts, titled “Build or destroy?” touch upon the constant hateration within the internet community, which has a strange concoction of legit journalists who look for angles, hack journalists looking to make a name off of something other than their own merits and bloggers who spend their entire days verbally assaulting everything this side of the Sun. She calls herself a lover, one who identifies the dregs and copycats in rap music while also looking for something positive to shine a light on for whoever may be a fan. I can appreciate that, even as I am disappointed with music as a whole. I can appreciate that someone wants to find something good inside a genre of prepackaged disasters.

Henley’s column had me thinking about my current identity in the world. Which is stronger: the hater label that has been thrown my way or the lover side that I am working on displaying to the world? Hating is easy. Way too easy. Can it be fun? Sure, the jokes are great when they are mean-spirited and off-kilter. I can’t count with the hands of the New York Giants 53-man roster on how many times I railed on the Diplomats or Young Dro. As a part-time blogger, I’ve used the platform once or twice to talk smack about something negative. Yet, as I have experienced much more in my life, I find that loving something may be harder, but far more rewarding. I find that there is a joy in telling a story that I know will be overshadowed by more critiques on the latest Giants loss because I know that someone who is reading will appreciate that it’s not the recycled garbage in the other papers. I take pleasure knowing that I am trying to tell a story and give fans an idea on what players think of what just happened on the field or on the court. Most of all, I take satisfaction knowing that while there are millions of people who sit back and complain about how terrible and overhyped stories are, I am at least trying to do something about it. That can’t be said for most people in media; they tend to be jaded due to the fact that they failed at the very subjects they discuss.

Music and sports are none too different from anything else that is reported and discussed in the world; they are subject to the same unfounded and harsh debates, critiques and blatant attacks. I dislike as many things as I love. I can’t stand many of the popular musicians as much as I can’t stand the latest hype on Cowboys’ QB Tony Romo. Yet, I love 3 Doors Down as much as you may love The Fray. I’ll blast 2Pac until the day I die while you’re bobbing your head to Jay-Z. In this, I am reminded of why I have this professional pursuit. While I had a hand in the music business, the times had changed and the flame only flickered for a specific time in my life. Sports have always been a part of my life. Yes, I was a failed athlete, but I also knew that there was something missing for folks who can appreciate games from different points of view. I found that while haters exist everywhere and in everything, loving thrives because of those few who have a passion for something. Lovers are a small clique within every classification, group, taste, etc. they want to show you something more than the surface of what you hold in your hand. Lovers want you to at least acknowledge, if not embrace. Most of all, lovers remind the haters that talking smack from the sidelines is exactly that; from the sidelines.

I should remind myself of this when the latest bi-weekly “Rock is Back” issue from Rolling Stone.

Dumb

This may sound like a tinge of envy, but anyone with some form of common sense will nod their heads in agreement.

Normally, I stray from open commentary about the social lives of athletes and other entertainers because of a personal philosophy; ‘if it ain’t me, I don’t wanna hear it.’ However, in the advent of recent tell-alls from groupies in the entertainment industry, there is this uncomfortable acceptance of these players of the game. The issue is like a dodecahedron; it has many sides and hard to say without frustrating yourself. The notion that public figures have mistresses and slide-pieces is as old as the wheel, but there are as many stories as there are Final Fantasy games.

Karrine Steffans is the biggest name of the new millennium groupies thanks to her “Confessions” of one year ago. The list of SuperFriends, sorry, “Superhead’s” friends features ball players, rappers and the ever-appropriate porn stars. Her book has apparently inspired one from Carmen Bryan, who is in the middle of the Nas/Jay-Z beef from a minute ago. She also seems to have a Palm Pilot of names, one name being the Sixers’ Allen Iverson. Many who deal in the sports and entertainment industries would cry foul because there is a violation of the ‘rules of the game’: the only time a groupie is to be heard is in the bedroom, the groupie is never to be seen in public in the vicinity of the star, the groupie is not supposed to fathom contacting the star, etc. On the other hand, there are individuals who consider this sex-snitching as giving power and respect to the groupie herself, as if this rise to fame is not only necessary, but as empowering to others. Step back for a moment and ask yourself one question:

What?!?!

I’ve been a sportswriter for a short period of time (a year and a half, to be exact) and having been in the locker rooms and press conferences, it was always evident that win or lose, athletes look forward to unwinding just like the corporate raiders and entry-level grinders after a tough or even great day at the office. Yet, it is just as obvious that athletes enjoy the excesses just a little bit harder than those of us who don’t use our physical being to make a living. Outside the locker room (mostly for the home team), the wives, fiancées and companions await their men and hope to enjoy downtime together. The visitors, meanwhile, enjoy a night on the town with a few drinks, a blunt and throw a female or two with a couple Cam’Ron lines. Watch real closely though and there would be the groupie that thinks that she is close to the star, violating one of the groupie rules by being seen in the vicinity by us media folks and fans. Imagine what happens when the player’s chosen one finds out. Can you recall “Playmakers” on ESPN? Ever watched an episode of “The Footballers’ Wives” on BBC? Did you read a bit of “Confessions” at Barnes and Noble?

Prior to becoming a sports scribe, I worked in public relations for nearly a year. PR is not for the weak-hearted, but the lessons on the truth about glamour industries are everlasting. Many people in this business believe that the bibles of the industry are Rush and Malloy, Page Six and People Magazine. While there are great efforts in publicity of consumer affairs, health care and public works, a publicist will never be more famous than if (s)he has a feature about seeing so-and-so at a midtown lounge with someone other than the significant other. The scary aspect of this is that the groupie is well aware of this and knows this is an advantage. Suddenly, there’s a new Marilyn Monroe. Suddenly, her story comes about on how she wanted to be in Hollywood or wanted to have a record deal, but life happened and there were some choices to make. Someone says she is (or some parts of her are) beautiful enough to appear in videos and can hopefully meet some power brokers in entertainment. She’s told that she may have to show a different kind of talent in order to make a name for herself. She gets involved with someone a little more than expected and after getting too close or ticking off the wife, she is kicked to the curb for another, who would be just happy enough to be the next. Now, she’s pissed. Now, she decides it’s time to tell the fans the truth about their heroes. Now, she enlists in the help of… a book publisher and a PR agency. It’s time for the story to be told and for some lawyers to revisit prenuptial agreements.

As a heterosexual black male, I should admire entertainers for the ability to have any woman his disposal just by recognition. Yet, the greatest trapping of fame in this modern world is that your private life can be thrown out there with relative ease; all of your mistakes and transgressions overshadow your accomplishments and contributions. The problem here is that these tell-alls give insights to what is in all honesty, none of our business. It may come off as high and mighty, but the fact is that whether it is public knowledge or not, all parties in some degree are disgraced. The groupie gets hell from other stars, groupies and women’s liberation groups. For a short while, the athlete gets his name thrown all over the media for reasons other than his latest game. The woman sitting at home, who was not blind to it all, has to deal with whispers, disappointed parents and the same media that is hounding her man. At days’ end, it’s still cheating, it’s still disloyal and it’s still between the three involved, not us.

As a young professional in the sports media world, these stories bother me because they take up space. Now, there are many media heads themselves who act a fool just as bad as the players in order to keep up, yet my story about how the Giants’ defense desperately needs their starting defensive ends back gets bumped because of these affairs is a problem. Sports media is already full of redundant and unintelligent banter, but to add the gossip pages takes away from stories that actually say something relevant. The logic always goes that these are public figures and whether it is fair or not; people need to know what is going on with their favorite celebrities. Which leads to the real heart of the matter.

Did these groupies not learn from Monica Lewinski? She was only linked to former President Bill Clinton. She only happened to have been the fuel to the fire of Republicans for the last decade in the most powerful country in the world. She only happened to be the figure behind the first impeachment of a President in 130 years. You’re talking about the most powerful and most scrutinized position in the world, the Presidency of the United States. She was an intern, looking to make a name for herself in the political arena, a place where decisions actually affect the daily motions of society. She had sixteen minutes of fame considering that it was Clinton that she had the affair with. "I'm well-known for something that isn't great to be well-known for”, Lewinski said a few years back. It not only dragged her down and impacted Clinton’s credibility in his second term, but many others were ruined because of her affair. If she couldn’t become a major player in the game from the President of the United States, what makes you think that these vixens, video hoes, “aspiring actresses” are suddenly going to run SonyBMG or Universal Studios because they had sex with an athlete or musician? What’s the point? Is fifteen minutes of fame worth it?

I can hear the words now: I’m a hater, I’m jealous, I’m attacking them. This stuff is none of our business and any celebration of it makes us apologists for those who play this game. Is it different because this happens to involve people with public personas and million-dollar contracts? No, because it’s still fooling around with someone waiting at home. If athletes want to bed multiple women, that’s their business. If their spouses want to stick with them and spend their cash as part of the deal, it’s their business. If the groupie wants to keep going, it’s her business. Yet, if it’s wrong in your private life, there’s no way to bend that rule for our favorite celebrities. And there is no way that real power can be gained from giving a little…

Say What?!?!: The Colrs are fighting harder to win in the regular season than in recent years. Phillip Rivers may live to Marty Schottenheimer’s comparisons to Bernie Kosar in the early going. The Patriot Way laughs in the faces of those who thought that New England wouldn’t lead the AFC East this season. Yet, the fact that the Baltimore Ravens are still considered under the radar is a joke. An 9-2 record, a smackdown of the Super Bowl Champion Steelers and a W over the Chargers (before Rivers hit his stride) have to vault the Ravens as the current team to beat in the AFC, and likely the entire NFL. In addition to acquiring Steve McNair in the offseason, one of the unsung moves of the year was their addition of Trevor Price from Denver. Adding him to a defensive line to team with Terell Suggs has allowed Ray Lewis and emerging LB Bart Scott to roam free, keeping receivers inf front of Ed Reed and giving corners Chris McAlister and Samari Rolle the chance to deflect and intercept. They may gain a first-round bye and if Indianapolis continues to give opponents too much hope, the run to Miami is going through Charm City.

Apathy

Apathy is an end result. It is the culmination of being inundated with information to the point that either one can become obsessed with an event or have a nonchalant attitude towards it. Think of how hype has ruined your favorite television show or music artist’s career. To become apathetic means that you have become so disenchanted or so bored with the information around you that the eventual information overload compels nothing more than a shrug. Usually this time of year, apathy sinks in as you get ready to hibernate for fall and have trouble staying awake because of the longer days. Since you are a sports fan, it has further effects.

Shawne Merrimen’s four-game suspension has carried much more weight than other performance-enhancing violations in the National Football League. After all, he was last season’s Defensive Rookie of the Year and has been considered by many to be the best defensive player in the entire game in his second season. Yet, if you believe what you hear, no one seems to give a damn. This is one of those moments where you have to sympathize with baseball. Maybe. There is a question posed on ESPN’s SportsNation which asks if Merriman’s suspension is the beginning of a larger performance-enhancing crisis in the NFL. In looking at the questions, you may be able to figure out what kind of responses they hope to illicit; however, there is an answer to the question. The only way that the suspension is part of a larger problem is if someone makes a big enough stink about it. It took a couple of reporters to ask about a small bottle in Mark McGwire's locker for any action from baseball itself, not long before Jose Canseco’s book shone some light on the issue. Until the recent scrutiny for baseball, football already has its poster boy for the use of performance enhancers; Lyle Alzedo. Even though it hasn’t been proven that anabolic steroids led to his death in 1992, he felt that his was a cautionary tale when he admitted to using ‘roids, especially since he was a star in the league. You’d think that it would be a reason that the public would clamor for a stricter response than a suspension for Merrimen. Yet, there is a general acceptance, if not acknowledgement of the brutal realities and history of the game. It wasn’t a beloved game until television and the numbers aren’t as (for the lack of a better term) sexy as baseball stats. To many people, performance enhancers destroy the meaning of numbers in one sport while they are an underlying layer of another that few care to realize.

You can also add the World Series to the list of “what we don’t care about”. Whether it’s been poor-to-no hitting, the talk about Kenny Rogers’ hand or the fact that these are two Midwestern teams that sputtered down the stretch, the Fall Classic between St. Louis and Detroit hasn’t captured the imagination of the country. You’ll hear a few redundant theories on why this is the case, but the most prevalent is that these are two small market teams flawed beyond comprehension. You’ll hear that if it were the New York Yankees or the Boston Red Sox in the championship that ratings would be so huge that every other network would bow to the power of FOX and shut down operations because of the impossibility to compete with Rupert Murdoch’s base-stealing machine. So maybe the CW would cease to exist, but the tone is there amongst fellow media heads. To quote Ignignokt, “your logic is flawless”. Actually, outside of die-hard fans and a few bars around town, the Yankees have been a poor draw in the World Series and considering that there are two teams in New York, at least half of the Five Boroughs could have cared less. There are a few teams in baseball that have what can be considered a true national following (Yankees, Red Sox and somehow, the Cubs) while several can be considered great regional teams (Cardinals, Dodgers, Giants, Braves, Mets, Phillies, Astros, Twins). It would be expected that the numbers would reflect the regions those teams play in, yet for the much-garnered national stage, only the Red Sox’s sweep of St. Louis in 2004 made the country take notice. Where region dictates the ratings for other teams, the utopia of another Yankee World Series is far-fetched: they are far more hated than loved over every hill and down every valley of the US and half of the streets of New York. As for this current series, it won’t matter if the rest of the week was rained out or if suddenly the sun wouldn’t set on the Midwest until the last pitch is thrown. ‘Dirtgate’ could have national security implications and Jeff Suppan can appear in thirty anti-stem cell research ads. It won’t amount to a hill of beans. The nature of any championship series is that unless you are a fan of the participants, you’ve cleaned out your locker along with your favorite team when the season ended. After investing nearly 200 days of the year to reaching the goal of a title only to fall short means now is the time to heal, rejuvenate and gear for next season. You’d just pay little to no attention to those still in the game.

They say that the only way to get on the news is for something bad. The unfortunate part is that these are two stories that overshadow some of the good that has transpired for both sports over the past few days. In a relatively quiet fashion, baseball has done something right for a change in extending the current CBA for another five seasons, avoiding the usual mudslinging and pretentious hatchet-burying at the eleventh hour. While it should be celebrated by all fans of the sport, it received about one-tenth of the attention of the first three weeks of the New York baseball offseason and one-twentieth of Rogers’ palm. As for the NFL, the Saints are off to an unexpected 5-1 start and the Jets could be 5-3 at the halfway point of the season. Yet, you wouldn’t know it because on sports editors’ desks across the nation are drafts on impending Terrell Owens’ blowups, another DUI in San Diego and Cincinnati and another Denny Green press conference. Actually, I think I’d like another classic loss-of-sanity briefing to the scribes.

Say What?!?!: Raiders. Cardinals. Dolphin Stadium. Miami. Super Bowl XLI. The Rematch. Stop laughing. Please, I’m dead serious.

Peaked

One of the top twenty rushers in NFL history. The second best total yards from scrimmage season in history. Bucked the conventional thoughts that only a guy of Jim Brown’s size can lead a team to success. Overcame fumbleitis and a rift with one the premier defensive players in the league, who happens to be another loquacious media-driven players who wants the city by his side (and a teammate). Proved critics that only viewed you as a third-down RB wrong by carrying the team’s offense on your shoulders for the past six seasons. Showed that you haven’t broken down past the age of thirty.

And you still want more.

Most running backs in the NFL who punish their bodies by running into a minimum of twelve hundred pounds of man for a living have several motivators to keep them on the field. You play to prove someone wrong, that you should have been drafted higher or that you can return from a devastating injury or that you can bulldoze through linebackers instead of shying away from contact. You play for a major contract that can set yourself and your family for life, even at the sacrifice of your physical being. You keep running to show that this year’s draft pick needs to stay on the pine and watch you rack up 150 yards against the toughest D-lines in the league. You push hard to win that elusive Super Bowl, the championship that you will be forever linked to by fans and media alike.

Tiki Barber, on the other hand, wants to explore opportunities off the field. The New York Giants’ all-time leading tailback is leaning towards retiring at the end of this season. Now, for fans of Big Blue, Barber’s retirement talk can cause some heart attacks and visions of the dreaded 1970s. Okay, maybe not the seventies, but it would be a Herculean effort to replace his production and guile, even though Brandon Jacobs has some ability. The shame is that he has proven to be a stellar source of stability for a team that finds a way to fall on its own sword every season. Unless there's a bias towards smaller backs, Barber will be enshrined in the Hall of Fame and not just because he has been better with age, but because of his second calling. Most players long in years would be motivated by chasing that championship that every player desires to hold at the end of the Super Bowl. Pro Bowls and accolades from peers and former players are wonderful being that football is the consummate team sport, yet, Super Bowl champions are near deities in their towns. Tiki says that he would be okay to walk away without having played for a Super Bowl. Having all of your faculties into old age is another reason why he’d be okay (see Earl Campbell). Many other players likely feel similar sentiments, but it had me thinking. If you were at the top of your game, could you walk away confident in all that you have done despite a void here and there? How could you feed that competitive fire as the years from your career move forward? What would you do after building your young years into the one thing very few people can excel in and even fewer can play for more than three years?

This leads to that second calling for Barber. Those who watch Good Day New York on Fox 5 have likely seen him as a part-time co-anchor to the morning show. This isn't a hobby for him, in fact, he has the potential to be as good as a media talkie as a football player. Unlike most players when they have retired from the game, Barber is more vested into non-football works than others. Football, as any other sport for former athletes, is all some have ever known whereas Tiki (and twin brother Ronde) may have had more encouragement to have diverse interest outside of the game.

How often do you hear of former athletes, musicians and other celebrities adjusting to life after the fanfare and the freebies? The glorified stories are on the extremes: either a successful transition for former jocks into media or many stories of those who have succumed to constant failures and karma (insert your celebrity here). What you can appreciate about what Tiki hopes to accomplish is that he has taken advantage of the media market that is New York City; having seen the positives and the negatives of the largest hype machine in the world. As he shifted through the Falcons' defensive line on Sunday, he could use his experience as a subject of interviews to possibly become a different media figure, knowing how words and actions get misconstrued and how negativity sells more than objectivity. What you may worry about is that despite his skills and willingness, his peers may not respect him because there is still the existence of the dumb jock mentality. Maybe he follows the lineage of Peter Jennings for all we know. Just pray that he doesn't become overfrizzed, self-absorbed and, well a walking catchphrase... like Ryan Seacrest.

Say What?!?!: Would you be buried in a Tampa Bay Devil Rays coffin? Well, now you can!

Ballllllin'

Word has it that the NBA is making a comeback.

Yes, that’s supposed to sound absurd if you are a true fan of hoops. The rule changes have opened up the game much more compared to even the late nineties. Walt “Clyde” Frazier coined the term ‘matador D’ and for good reason as the league has instituted clear path fouls, focused more on calling technicals and enforced defensive three-second violations. Last season’s playoffs, highlighted by an amazing first-round series between the Lakers and Suns as well as the Cavaliers-Pistons set in round two, were a boon for the NBA as its ratings had not witnessed national heights since Michael Jordan last played in Chicago. There was a good chance that your co-worker remembered that there was a pro team in your town (unless you were here in New York… or Boston… or Portland) and put away his UCLA hoodie for a while. Speaking of the NCAA, did you know that Florida won the national title?

Exactly. I think the players in Florida forgot, too.

While we are all fixated on the NFL and the baseball playoffs, we almost forgot that the NHL season started last week. Okay, you don’t care as much as I do, but when the puck drops, the leather roundball… wait, synthetic roundball isn’t too far behind. Here are a few things that are worth looking at during the year:

Is that a witch doctor or a real one?: Okay, I didn’t mean to insult anyone who prefers alternate medicines, but if you’re a fan of the Rockets, Grizzles, Magic or any other team that has dealt with (or in Memphis’ case, is about to deal with) significant injuries, you better pray that the team hired both as part of the medical staff. Houston, a team that was considered a playoff contender by critics to start the 2005-06 season, could not succeed without Tracy McGrady or Yao Ming. They lead the league in games lost to injury (274 "man games" including 35 by McGrady, 25 by Yao - a 21-10 record with both players on the floor). As defensive minded a coach as Jeff Van Gundy is, at least for most of his time in New York, he had Patrick Ewing, Allan Houston, Latrell Sprewell or Larry Johnson to carry some offensive load. The Rockets couldn’t expect Luther Head to drop buckets until both players were at full strength. Though they have added Bonzi Wells, Shane Battier and Kirk Snyder, T-Mac and Yao need to be on the floor. In another southern state, Orlando has been used to having to play without Grant Hill, who rebounded to have a stellar season in ‘04-’05. Missing him was exasperated by the eventual trade of Steve Francis to New York as Dwight Howard and Jameer Nelson were still forming a chemistry on the court. Hill’s presence could have counted for at least five more wins in a Southeast Division that while not winnable (Miami), was capable of a third playoff team. There were other injured stars that were unable to help their teams compete, but the major injury of last season occurred during a preseason game where Phoenix Suns C Amare Stoudemire sprained his right knee and struggled when trying to return in March. The Suns were predicted to be at least in the Finals in part to the fast break offense lead by Steve Nash, the insane athleticism of Shawn Marion and the acquisition of F/C Kurt Thomas from… you guessed it, New York! Having Thomas would have allowed Stoudemire to switch between the pivot and around the key to create matchup havoc in the Western Conference. Amazingly, the Suns looked as if they didn’t miss a beat with 6’7”Boris Diaw playing center (even when Thomas himself missed 23 games). Amare’s return to the lineup once again has Phoenix talking championship, but how game-ready his knee will be is a question to be answered. Here is something that’s certain, Memphis is in for a world of hurt without C Pau Gasol. Gasol broke his foot playing for his native Spain in the World Championships this summer, and Grizzles management was none to happy to hear the news (or Pau for that matter). He is expected to miss the first three months of the season, which does not bode well for a team in the Southwest Division that has to deal with the Texas Triangle and a remodeled Hornets team.

Speaking of those guys, are we going to get our team back?: The Saints return to the Bayou has, for a moment, reenergized the Gulf Coast, notably the city of New Orleans. While it was a moment that will be hard to forget if you watched their triumphant return against the Atlanta Falcons, the reality is something that is seeping out of the minds of most Americans. Surely, New Orleaneans won’t forget that Hurricane Katrina ripped through their home, but many of them are displaced and may not ever return. The Hornets had just arrived from a nasty divorce from Charlotte in 2003 and was still a team whose roots were not firmly set into the city soil. This wasn’t a playoff team, either, despite the talent that arrived in town. Jamal Mashburn’s career was ended by injuries and Baron Davis was shipped overnight mail to Oakland. They were left with Louisiana native PJ Brown and… Chris Paul. Though he was drafted in June ‘05 and prepared to play in the Crescent City, Katrina washed out the city two months later. Oklahoma City welcomed the team with open arms; so open in fact that the college-like atmosphere seemingly charged up a young, but rootless franchise. For Oklahoma City, this was not just a civil effort, but a tryout for an expansion franchise or any team looking to relocate. The experiment continues this season as once more, the Hornets will make their nest there while playing six games in the New Orleans Arena. Though owner George Shinn has said that he will bring the team back to N.O., there are significant economic questions; some are similar to what the Saints face. Unlike their football counterparts, the Hornets were a toddler in the house; waddling its way though trying to figure out its place. Having to move to a third city in five years, the team doesn’t have a true fan base compared to the rest of the league and the potential fans are now scattered throughout the country or trying to rebuild in a city without the financial wherewithal. Because the future of the Gulf is uncertain, Oklahoma City has already planned for a permanent next. Yet there is a wild card in all of this; the Saints have San Antonio and Los Angeles, the Hornets have Las Vegas. Sin City will host this year’s All-Star Weekend, but has pined for a pro sports team for decades. Even the XFL’s Outlaws had a following for the one fateful season of its existence. While one weekend may not determine sustained viability, Vegas is a larger market than several current NBA cities, (New Orleans was actually the smallest pre-Katrina). Keep a watch on Commissioner Stern’s desk to see what he may decide in the coming months regarding the future of the Hornets.

Oh, and about Vegas: Dipset performs prior to the All-Star tip-off. It will be the debut of the Cam’Ron/Elivis Costello collabo, “Touch It or Not” remix and Jim Jones will actually test his baaaaaaaaaaaalin’ skills during the 2-Ball challenge with Becky Hammon. Welcome to Dip City.

Another chance to chase a dream, another chance to feel alive: Alter Bridge’s “Metalingus” would be a perfect theme song for the Dallas Mavericks. Reason One, it is blaring though these speakers as of this writing. Reason Two, it is the theme track of WWE superstar, Edge and considering how I want a WWE-style entrance to my apartment, the song works even more. Reason Three, a 2-0 series lead headed to Miami. O’Neal hasn’t dominated. Dwayne Wade is nicked up. Jason Terry had already torched Tony Parker and Nash (a back-to-back MVP), what were Jason Williams (White Chocolate) and Gary Payton going to do? The Mavs’ defense has propelled them throughout the season and playoffs against stiff competition while the Heat clawed itself through offensively-challenged New Jersey and Chicago before dispatching Detroit. The Miami Heat were older, slower and fatigued. Except for D-Wade. The bigs rebounded, Antoine Walker was effective and Wade got fouled and fouled and fouled some more. Miami won four games. Dallas lost four straight games. Dallas reloaded. For Marquis Daniels, Adrian Griffin and Darrel Armstrong arrived Austin Croshere, Devean George and Anthony Johnson (whose offense against the Nets in the playoffs raised his stock). They added players who've been in the Finals in hopes to close out games. Yet while young players are believed to be overwhelmed in the postseason, veterans can reflect to past failures. There is a good chance the Mavs may return, but the games don't play themselves.

Jack Bauer: To borrow notoriousjtb's moniker for Mr. Bryant, Kobe was nothing short of amazing last season. Most kept labeling his performances as Jordan-esqe, giving more fodder to critics who believe that he is trying to emulate the legend. Even the new numero adds fuel to their bonfire - as one has already envisioned, some will say "24? What, he thinks he's above Mike?". Kobe Bauer... er, Bryant carried an offensive load unlike any player since Wilt Chamberlain. For the first time since his arrival in the NBA, his play was the story, not his former teammate, not his former coach-turned-current coach, not Colorado (well, not so much). The corny cliche truly applied to his game last year as he willed the young and lithe Lakers into a sixth seed in the Western Conference and a seven-game war with the Phoenix Suns. The on-court questions are simple: how much more can he do? Will he fade at points in the season to prove that the team needs some help as he was accused of doing in the fateful Game 7 against the Suns? Off the court will be interesting as he has hoped to rebuild his image to the basketball public. The basketball public being the subject because as his recent endorsements have shown, he has taken a similar route to Baltimore Ravens LB Ray Lewis, who after his trial in 2000, was absorbed into a strictly football diet in terms of his image.

There are plenty more scintillating stories throughout the season and those will be rightfully reflected. Just remember one thing; everyone has something to hope for... until Halloween.

Say What?!?!: R.I.P. Mr. Lidle.