Expect
The last day + has provided this part-time scribe with a full-time quandary.
Though I have yet to see R. Kelly's rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner at Taylor-Hopkins 2 (and yes, I was wrong, but I'm not much of a betting man to begin with), I have read and heard several varying opinions. Scoop Jackson (as usual) provided the barbershop, in-the-crib perspective that countered the supposed intent of the American anthem in sports. A song that may have not had all groups of people in mind (racially, ethnically, economically, religiously, etc.) for a country that may have had the same reflection. A song that for all the flowery descriptions admist gloom is a story that will always be played out, the original A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or "Rose That Grew from Concrete", if you will. A song that when performed is supposed to allow for all of us to unite, no matter how divided we truly are. Allowed to be interpreted and performed by different walks of life because this is to be the country for different walks of life.
Fast forward to earlier this afternoon as I am watching a recap of last night's thriller in Seattle between the Knicks and Sonics. A commercial comes up promoting the New York Rangers where a father and son wearing personalized Ranger sweaters, sitting in an empty Madison Square Garden. Now, I pay attention to ALL team and league promos. So when the father talked about the character of these surprising Broadway Blues, I nodded my head, remembering how fractured and discombobulated the franchise had been since winning it all in 1994. Yet, he said that he wants to see the team playing every second of the game and playing as one unit, playing as a team.
Two different topics, one common thread. It's something you may not see right away, but as many times in life, it takes personal travails and/or triumphs to see what you need to understand. There have been a plethora of articles and discussions in sports media of the unifier of sports, and though I appreciate the sentiments, something is left unsaid. Something always leaves me unsettled, confused and disappointed. I see that we talk a good game, but we can't play for squat. And it's not just about how many media (wo)men can't tell as slant pass from a chest pass.
Forgive the Above the Rim-He Got Game-Remember the Titans feel.
Picture this: November in New England, but still warm. Ten basketball players at a basketball court in Boston on Essex Street near South Station, playing 5-on-5 ball, game 100, switch courts at 50. On one team, you have the usual team of streetball hustlers who could have gone about making their cash through other means, but have run this game for years. Two have mouths to feed, with one teetering on the brink of losing his mind with his baby mama. One has a steady relationship, though his boys don't know that he's not with a female. The other two have their own grind; one could have gone to BC, but didn't push himself enough to do so; the other thinks he's a balling version of 50 Cent, but only has that much left in his pocket. Somehow, with all they left behind, and even with what some would call a questionable living, they are looking like Eastern Conference All-Stars against their opponents. The other five all went to high school together in the city, the school's starting five the prior two years before graduating a few month ago. Two of the kids play for their colleges, but only one makes regular apperances on his squad right now. Both are struggling adjusting to college, one trying to make the grade in class (when he actually gets the chance to go), the other adjusting to the social makeup of the school. The other three have tried their luck in community college, junior college and working fulltime. Community is actually doing okay, but knows that transferring next year won't be easy. JuCo still wants to play for a D-1 school, but his target schools are passing him up. Fulltime moved out of the house with his girl and child, and he wasn't in a great mood before he got on the court. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Community is white, fulltime is Dominican and the others are black.
100-77. $50 a piece, a discount from the guys who taught these kids how to ball.
Both teams know their teammates; strengths and weaknesses, the hot hand, when and where to move to set up a shot or box out. Even if it's the street, it's still team ball, the kind of ball we all expect to play when there are many people on the court, the field, the ice. Yet, the hustlers, at least for this game, left their travails alone and collected that cash. The young bucks tried too hard to make a play. Maybe it's that they hadn't seen each other since August, maybe it's not playing with a crowd. Each one had a moment where they scowled at each other or at some invisible bad guy. They wanted to leave their world of uncertainty for their world of basketball, but they were caught in the middle with each jumpshot. You feel this?
How do we unite when we are fractured? It's not only in the demographics that The Banner is supposed to represent. It's not only in the organizations that are deciding whether or not to interview minority candidates for head coaching positions or ownership stakes. And it's not just a dress code or World Baseball Classic. It's when our families have unresolved issues that delve deeper than the eye can see. When you argue with the (wo)man you deeply love because you are from a different background than (s)he is. When your car broke down to start the worst day of your life that was worse that last week's worst day of your life. When you have an ill relative who is reminding you to remain strong despite your worries. With all of that going on in our own lives, whether we wish to recognize them or not, it's amazing that an athlete could even show up to work with all of US scrutinizing him/her with such impersonality.
Do we go to work or school or home thinking that we must be unified with our coworkers, classmates or relatives? For the most part, no. There may be one apparent goal for a team (WIN), but there are many that are not as obvious for each player, coach, executive and fan. Well, the same goes for us non-athletes. We go to work not just for money, but mobility, for justification of our needs and possessions, for leaving an indellible mark somewhere in our worlds. School is supposed to be for education, but we all have social connections and desires to go to the next level. And we are a part of a family, reasons for them are without saying.
So why do we expect a team to play as one at all times? Well, we do pay the cable bills that allow the broadcasting, the tickets and merchandising that pay the rent for the stadium, the products that the corporate owners sell that gave way for the naming rights and/or team ownership, the attention that we have given sports since we were kids through media or through acquaintance of these athletes. So, I agree with all. Yet, life happens, and even we tend to forget that with our own lives. How can we expect a united anything when we are already divided?
By trying.
Say What?!?!: In a much, much lighter tone, I amazed that there is an actual logo for the baseball winter meetings. Yankee fans, see where your revenue sharing excesses have gone? As for an actual game, I must be the only person who believes that if Indianapolis defeats Jacksonville, there is no doubt that they will go undefeated. Sure, it is the NFL, and anything can happen, but the Jaguars have been the only team other than New England to give the Colts fits, even with little offensive prodution themselves. The Jags has been primed as a team creepin-on-the-ahhhh-come-up and have been thisclose to beating them for the last three years. If the starters are rested, there is still adequate depth, especially as it is possible that Edgerrin James may be rested until the Divisional Round. Dominic Rhodes has filled in well for James in the past and the running game can still be strong with the depth at o-line. Yet, undefeated or not, this is the year.
Though I have yet to see R. Kelly's rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner at Taylor-Hopkins 2 (and yes, I was wrong, but I'm not much of a betting man to begin with), I have read and heard several varying opinions. Scoop Jackson (as usual) provided the barbershop, in-the-crib perspective that countered the supposed intent of the American anthem in sports. A song that may have not had all groups of people in mind (racially, ethnically, economically, religiously, etc.) for a country that may have had the same reflection. A song that for all the flowery descriptions admist gloom is a story that will always be played out, the original A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or "Rose That Grew from Concrete", if you will. A song that when performed is supposed to allow for all of us to unite, no matter how divided we truly are. Allowed to be interpreted and performed by different walks of life because this is to be the country for different walks of life.
Fast forward to earlier this afternoon as I am watching a recap of last night's thriller in Seattle between the Knicks and Sonics. A commercial comes up promoting the New York Rangers where a father and son wearing personalized Ranger sweaters, sitting in an empty Madison Square Garden. Now, I pay attention to ALL team and league promos. So when the father talked about the character of these surprising Broadway Blues, I nodded my head, remembering how fractured and discombobulated the franchise had been since winning it all in 1994. Yet, he said that he wants to see the team playing every second of the game and playing as one unit, playing as a team.
Two different topics, one common thread. It's something you may not see right away, but as many times in life, it takes personal travails and/or triumphs to see what you need to understand. There have been a plethora of articles and discussions in sports media of the unifier of sports, and though I appreciate the sentiments, something is left unsaid. Something always leaves me unsettled, confused and disappointed. I see that we talk a good game, but we can't play for squat. And it's not just about how many media (wo)men can't tell as slant pass from a chest pass.
Forgive the Above the Rim-He Got Game-Remember the Titans feel.
Picture this: November in New England, but still warm. Ten basketball players at a basketball court in Boston on Essex Street near South Station, playing 5-on-5 ball, game 100, switch courts at 50. On one team, you have the usual team of streetball hustlers who could have gone about making their cash through other means, but have run this game for years. Two have mouths to feed, with one teetering on the brink of losing his mind with his baby mama. One has a steady relationship, though his boys don't know that he's not with a female. The other two have their own grind; one could have gone to BC, but didn't push himself enough to do so; the other thinks he's a balling version of 50 Cent, but only has that much left in his pocket. Somehow, with all they left behind, and even with what some would call a questionable living, they are looking like Eastern Conference All-Stars against their opponents. The other five all went to high school together in the city, the school's starting five the prior two years before graduating a few month ago. Two of the kids play for their colleges, but only one makes regular apperances on his squad right now. Both are struggling adjusting to college, one trying to make the grade in class (when he actually gets the chance to go), the other adjusting to the social makeup of the school. The other three have tried their luck in community college, junior college and working fulltime. Community is actually doing okay, but knows that transferring next year won't be easy. JuCo still wants to play for a D-1 school, but his target schools are passing him up. Fulltime moved out of the house with his girl and child, and he wasn't in a great mood before he got on the court. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Community is white, fulltime is Dominican and the others are black.
100-77. $50 a piece, a discount from the guys who taught these kids how to ball.
Both teams know their teammates; strengths and weaknesses, the hot hand, when and where to move to set up a shot or box out. Even if it's the street, it's still team ball, the kind of ball we all expect to play when there are many people on the court, the field, the ice. Yet, the hustlers, at least for this game, left their travails alone and collected that cash. The young bucks tried too hard to make a play. Maybe it's that they hadn't seen each other since August, maybe it's not playing with a crowd. Each one had a moment where they scowled at each other or at some invisible bad guy. They wanted to leave their world of uncertainty for their world of basketball, but they were caught in the middle with each jumpshot. You feel this?
How do we unite when we are fractured? It's not only in the demographics that The Banner is supposed to represent. It's not only in the organizations that are deciding whether or not to interview minority candidates for head coaching positions or ownership stakes. And it's not just a dress code or World Baseball Classic. It's when our families have unresolved issues that delve deeper than the eye can see. When you argue with the (wo)man you deeply love because you are from a different background than (s)he is. When your car broke down to start the worst day of your life that was worse that last week's worst day of your life. When you have an ill relative who is reminding you to remain strong despite your worries. With all of that going on in our own lives, whether we wish to recognize them or not, it's amazing that an athlete could even show up to work with all of US scrutinizing him/her with such impersonality.
Do we go to work or school or home thinking that we must be unified with our coworkers, classmates or relatives? For the most part, no. There may be one apparent goal for a team (WIN), but there are many that are not as obvious for each player, coach, executive and fan. Well, the same goes for us non-athletes. We go to work not just for money, but mobility, for justification of our needs and possessions, for leaving an indellible mark somewhere in our worlds. School is supposed to be for education, but we all have social connections and desires to go to the next level. And we are a part of a family, reasons for them are without saying.
So why do we expect a team to play as one at all times? Well, we do pay the cable bills that allow the broadcasting, the tickets and merchandising that pay the rent for the stadium, the products that the corporate owners sell that gave way for the naming rights and/or team ownership, the attention that we have given sports since we were kids through media or through acquaintance of these athletes. So, I agree with all. Yet, life happens, and even we tend to forget that with our own lives. How can we expect a united anything when we are already divided?
By trying.
Say What?!?!: In a much, much lighter tone, I amazed that there is an actual logo for the baseball winter meetings. Yankee fans, see where your revenue sharing excesses have gone? As for an actual game, I must be the only person who believes that if Indianapolis defeats Jacksonville, there is no doubt that they will go undefeated. Sure, it is the NFL, and anything can happen, but the Jaguars have been the only team other than New England to give the Colts fits, even with little offensive prodution themselves. The Jags has been primed as a team creepin-on-the-ahhhh-come-up and have been thisclose to beating them for the last three years. If the starters are rested, there is still adequate depth, especially as it is possible that Edgerrin James may be rested until the Divisional Round. Dominic Rhodes has filled in well for James in the past and the running game can still be strong with the depth at o-line. Yet, undefeated or not, this is the year.
posted by Jason Clinkscales @ 9:13 PM
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