It seems like everyone on God's Green Earth considers themselves an "expert" in something. We've got math experts, history experts, physics experts, fellatio experts...the list goes on and on and on. I hold a deep respect for all of these experts, as their areas of expertise are ones I couldn't possible wrap my little lima bean brain around. But there's one "expert" I have NO love for...the "sports expert." You know why? Because every Tom, Dick, and Harry who watches three innings of a Blueclaws game fancies themselves some kind of "expert." ESPN has "experts", Fox has "experts"...Hell, the Shore Sports Network has "experts." But how qualified are these people? Do they really know what they're talking about or are they just souped up writers with "friends of friends" who inspire legions of wannabe experts to parrot their opinions, forcing a vicious, yet unbroken cycle.
Yet unbroken til right now that is. You see I, Michael Francis Krenek (Expert in Frivolous Writing and Hyperbole) have come up with a sure fire formula that will once and for all answer the question "Who's the Expert!" Please hold your applause until the end of this blog.
The formula is simple...I ask four people the same question...Three of those people can be heard weekly on The Shore Sports Report/The Weekend Sports Guide (I'll give you three guesses as to their identities) and one of them is an "everyday" fan whose knowledge of the question I hold in the highest regard. I take their answer to the question, remove their name, and post it here for public consumption. The task is then on YOU THE READERS to decide which of these Wannabes can truly call themselves The Expert. I'll leave it up for a week to saturate and allow people to vote. The Wannabes will always get a chance to "defend" their lineup at the outset, and will continue to be able to do so anonymously throughout the voting process if anyone questions a choice. The answers themselves, however, are final. Every Friday, I'll reveal the person behind the winning answer, and unveil the next question/answers.
Simple enough, right? Its fun, its painless, and if nothing else, every week someone will get to add "Expert" to their business card. Speaking of business...let's get down to it.
Question One was simple enough...Construct position by position what you consider to be the BEST lineup in baseball at this moment, factoring in defense and placement in the order...The only caveat was that every single player throughout the majors got a clean bill of health (yet shockingly no one chose Erik Bedard as their SP.) So without any further adieu, here are the WANNABE EXPERT'S "Dream Lineups"
WANNABE A:
1. Derek Jeter, SS
2. Carl Crawford, LF
3. Joe Mauer, C
4. Miguel Cabrera, 1B
5. Josh Hamilton, RF
6. Evan Longoria, 3B
7. Robinson Cano, 2B
8. Andrew McCutchen, CF
9. Roy Halladay, SP
Reasons: Jeter's "off" season is masked in a lineup this deep and his experience and leadership are invaluable on a team of guys under 30. Crawford is everything I envision a #2 being. Mauer is my #3 hitter despite big power outside of '09 because I like pure hitters in that spot. Gwynn, Helton, Mauer. He'll drive in 100+ with doubles. Cabrera is my favorite hitter to watch right now, so I'll bank on him staying sober. Ditto for Hamilton. Longoria has the best glove in the world at 3rd base and can relax and hit his 25-30 homers in the 6th spot. Think Scott Rolen 10 years ago...maybe even better. Cano over Utley because I know Cano isn't at the point yet where he has an ego to bat in the top of the lineup. Not saying Utley does, but I don't know if his hair gel would look good outside the 3 hole. It's kind of like the girl in high school who doesn't realize she's cute yet. So much easier to talk to than the one who knows all the guys are looking. Chase knows, Robbie doesn't. McCutchen is awesome. Brings some flair, defense, and would do jumping jacks to play with other professionals. I think my starting pitcher is pretty self explanatory.
WANNABE B:
1. Ichiro Suzuki, RF
2. Carl Crawford, LF
3. Albert Pujols, 1B
4. Josh Hamilton, CF
5. Alex Rodriguez, SS
6. David Wright, 3B
7. Robinson Cano, 2B
8. Joe Mauer, C
9. Adam Wainwright SP
REASONS: Ichiro and Crawford at the top of a lineup is dangerous enough, no matter who is hitting behind them. High averages, patience at the plate, fast as hell, and great defense in the corners. Behind them? We aren't just talking power hitters here, these 2 guys can do it all. Pujols and Hamilton hit home runs, drive in the guys in front of them, and while doing that, hit well over .300 and steal the occasional base as well. I moved A-Rod back to his original position of short stop because, well, he is better than Derek Jeter and Hanley Ramirez. I'll take a few more errors for the most dangerous bat in baseball. This allows me to have David Wright at third, a five tool player in his prime and already a five time all star. Robinson Cano puts up first baseman numbers, and plays second base, flawlessly I might add. Joe Mauer is the best all around catcher in the game, so that choice is a no brainer. Not everyone would pick the underrated Adam Wainwright to be the starting pitcher for the best team in baseball, but this guy has the best stuff. There aren't many pitchers who can consistently command a breaking ball on both sides oh home plate, to both right-handed and left-handed batters. And of course, there is the best curveball in all of baseball, which typically runs in the 73-75 mph range. You can usually find a pattern with pitchers, and the typical trend is fastball in, soft stuff away. With Wainwright, there is no pattern, and hitters can't get zoned in.
WANNABE C:
1. Ichiro Suzuki, RF
2. Joe Mauer, C
3. Ryan Braun, LF
4. Albert Pujols, 1B
5. Alex Rodriguez, 3B
6. Robinson Cano, 2B
7. Torii Hunter, CF
8. Jose Reyes, SS
9. Josh Johnson, SP
REASONS: Ichiro's self explanatory, he's a prototype for the top of a lineup even though he doesn't work walks. Mauer might not have the speed of your typical 2nd place hitter, but I know I can work the hit and run with a guy who is ALWAYS going to make contact when the speedy Ichiro is on base. When I think "Number 3 Hitter", I think Ryan Braun. Perfect combo of average, power, and deceptive speed. I couldn't assemble a lineup without the best hitter in baseball, so Mr. Pujols is penciled in at 1B and has an outside chance at Hack Wilson's 191. 600 HRs and still going strong? Give me Alex Rodriguez in the 5th slot. Robinson Cano would be a dream come true in the six spot. He'll almost always have guys on base to knock in, all the while setting himself up for the guy in the next spot, the consummate professional and team captain...Torii Hunter. I went with Hunter over Hamilton here because I feel like he'd be perfect for this team. Hitting lower in the order makes his already impressive offensive numbers all the more impressive, he can give me the timely hits I need here and makes my outfield defense legitimately impenetrable. Plus a veteran leader goes a long way. Reyes was my toughest choice...Hanley and Jeter are both better players, but if he's getting a clean bill of health, there's no one faster in the game. He'll clear the bases with triples and turn singles into triples with a swiped bag and then a pitcher bunt. Josh Johnson is the best in the game. Nobody spots their fastball better. Pinpoint control and intense heat. Team is super strong offensively, playing to ever managerial style and situation possible and defense should be sharp, especially in the outfield.
WANNABE D:
1. Ichiro Suzuki, RF
2. Chase Utley, 2B
3. Albert Pujols, 1B
4. Alex Rodriguez, 3B
5. Hanley Ramirez, SS
6. Josh Hamilton, LF
7. Joe Mauer, C
8. Carlos Beltran, CF
9. Roy Halladay, SP
REASONS: Halladay's pitching because he doesn't walk people. I like Ramirez ahead of Hamilton to almost reset the lineup after A-Rod. Defense would be a major strength too. Carlos Beltran is the best CF in the game when he's healthy. CF is a weak position.
So there you have it folks...A couple of experts decided to expound on their lineups, others let the numbers speak for themselves. Some paid a lot of mind to defense (Torii Hunter/Carlos Beltran in CF), another felt the way to win is to get the best bats into the lineup (A-Rod at SS) and someone felt youth needed to be served (Andrew McCutchen.)
So now the task is yours. Considering EVERYTHING....offensive talent, lineup positioning, defense, and starting pitcher...who is the one person worthy of calling themselves THE EXPERT when in comes to Major League Lineup building. The choice is yours. You can vote by commenting here, commenting on facebook, or hitting up my email at MKrenek31@gmail.com. Vote for who you think did the best job and maybe you be a part of a life changing experience. Its that important.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
2010 NBA Mock(ery) Draft
Well its that time of year again. Time for visions of Bowies and Darkos and Kandi-Men to dance in the heads of GMs. Time for "wingspan", "upside", and "added thickness" to add themselves to our vocabulary for an evening. Yes sir, its time for the NBA Draft! This year is sure to be a great Draft, chock full of future All-Stars and potential Hall of Famers! I'm very confident in my mock draft this year, I think its pretty accurate! I'm lying! Only one of the previous three sentences is the truth!
NBA MOCK DRAFT 2011!!!!
1. Washington Wizards: John Wall, PG, Kentucky
2. Philadelphia 76ers: Evan Turner, SG, Ohio State
3. New Jersey Nets: Derrick Favors, PF, Georgia Tech
4. Minnesota Timberwolves: Wesley Johnson, SF, Syracuse
5. Sacramento Kings: DeMarcus Cousins, PF, Kentucky
6. Golden State Warriors: Greg Monroe, PF, Georgetown
7. Detroit Pistons: Ed Davis, PF, North Carolina
8. Los Angeles Clippers: Al-Farouq Aminu, SF, Wake Forest
9. Utah Jazz: Luke Babbit, SF/PF, Nevada
10. Indiana Pacers: Ekpe Udoh, PF, Baylor
11. New Orleans Hornets: Gordon Heyward, SF, Baylor
12. Memphis Grizzlies: Paul George, SF, Fresno State
13. Toronto Raptors: Patrick Patterson, PF, Kentucky
14. Houston Rockets : Cole Aldrich, C, Kansas
15. Milwaukee Bucks: Xavier Henry, SG, Kentucky
16. Minnesota Timberwolves: Eliot Williams, SG, Memphis
17. Chicago Bulls: Avery Bradley, PG/SG, Texas
18. Oklahoma City Thunder: Larry Sanders, PF/C, Virginia Commonwealth
19. Boston Celtics: James Anderson, SG, Oklahoma State
20. San Antonio Spurs: Kevin Seraphin, PF, France
21. Oklahoma City Thunder: Hassan Whiteside, C, Marshall
22. Portland Trailblazers: Gani Lawal, SF/PF, Georgia Tech
23. Minnesota Timberwolves: Solomon Alabi, C, Florida State
24. Atlanta Hawks: Tiny Gallon, PF/C, Texas
25. Memphis Grizzlies: Eric Bledsoe, PG/SG, Kentucky
26. Oklahoma City Thunder: Damion James, SF, Texas
27. New Jersey Nets: Jordan Crawford, SG, Xavier
28. Memphis Grizzlies: Craig Brackins, PF, Iowa State
29. Orlando Magic: Devin Ebanks, SF, West Virginia
30. Washington Wizards: Dominique Jones, SG, South Florida
Honestly, I don't expect to get more than two right. So many teams will be trading, so many teams will be moving around and on top of that...I never really know what I'm talking about. Either way, the NBA Draft is always a good time and tonight it will be EXTRA special, because you can join a live chat with Joe Giglio, Tyrone A. Johnson, and myself on www.shoresportsnetwork.com. Ask us questions, give us your take, mock our statements. Whatever floats your boat. Talk to you then, monkeys.
NBA MOCK DRAFT 2011!!!!
1. Washington Wizards: John Wall, PG, Kentucky
2. Philadelphia 76ers: Evan Turner, SG, Ohio State
3. New Jersey Nets: Derrick Favors, PF, Georgia Tech
4. Minnesota Timberwolves: Wesley Johnson, SF, Syracuse
5. Sacramento Kings: DeMarcus Cousins, PF, Kentucky
6. Golden State Warriors: Greg Monroe, PF, Georgetown
7. Detroit Pistons: Ed Davis, PF, North Carolina
8. Los Angeles Clippers: Al-Farouq Aminu, SF, Wake Forest
9. Utah Jazz: Luke Babbit, SF/PF, Nevada
10. Indiana Pacers: Ekpe Udoh, PF, Baylor
11. New Orleans Hornets: Gordon Heyward, SF, Baylor
12. Memphis Grizzlies: Paul George, SF, Fresno State
13. Toronto Raptors: Patrick Patterson, PF, Kentucky
14. Houston Rockets : Cole Aldrich, C, Kansas
15. Milwaukee Bucks: Xavier Henry, SG, Kentucky
16. Minnesota Timberwolves: Eliot Williams, SG, Memphis
17. Chicago Bulls: Avery Bradley, PG/SG, Texas
18. Oklahoma City Thunder: Larry Sanders, PF/C, Virginia Commonwealth
19. Boston Celtics: James Anderson, SG, Oklahoma State
20. San Antonio Spurs: Kevin Seraphin, PF, France
21. Oklahoma City Thunder: Hassan Whiteside, C, Marshall
22. Portland Trailblazers: Gani Lawal, SF/PF, Georgia Tech
23. Minnesota Timberwolves: Solomon Alabi, C, Florida State
24. Atlanta Hawks: Tiny Gallon, PF/C, Texas
25. Memphis Grizzlies: Eric Bledsoe, PG/SG, Kentucky
26. Oklahoma City Thunder: Damion James, SF, Texas
27. New Jersey Nets: Jordan Crawford, SG, Xavier
28. Memphis Grizzlies: Craig Brackins, PF, Iowa State
29. Orlando Magic: Devin Ebanks, SF, West Virginia
30. Washington Wizards: Dominique Jones, SG, South Florida
Honestly, I don't expect to get more than two right. So many teams will be trading, so many teams will be moving around and on top of that...I never really know what I'm talking about. Either way, the NBA Draft is always a good time and tonight it will be EXTRA special, because you can join a live chat with Joe Giglio, Tyrone A. Johnson, and myself on www.shoresportsnetwork.com. Ask us questions, give us your take, mock our statements. Whatever floats your boat. Talk to you then, monkeys.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Dear Ken
The human memory works in funny ways. There are people I know who can't remember what they had for breakfast but can tell you exactly where they were and what they were doing at a certain moment in time eons ago. Hell, I had a great-great aunt who called me "Gordon" and insisted she worked with everyone from Al Roker to Hulk Hogan at the "telephone factory", but still could tell stories about her and her sisters from some 7 decades prior. Maybe its that whole "selective memory" thing, maybe its a matter of hearing stories so many times that you manufacture the memories...I don't really know. But I do know that I am one of the aforementioned people. Listen to the show for just an hour and I guarantee you'll hear me either forget what guest is coming on next or parrot a point, verbatim, I just made 26 seconds before. Yet I've got these grainy video tapes in my brain...a veritable Netflix of parties I barely remembered the next day, kisses that seemed too good to be true, and breakups I wish I could forget playing on a loop. Its no surprise however, that the biggest collection in that library is entirely sports related.
Here's one that I've nearly worn out I've played it so much: Its September 1990. I'm living in Piscataway, NJ (I don't remember my address or phone number, but I can tell you the house was blue...I think.). My father had already realized that while he didn't have the next Mickey Mantle on his hands (Perhaps he still had hope for my brother Christian: 6 months old at the time. Anyone who knows my family knows how that turned out.), he sure as hell had a little sports fan sponge...I wanted to know every team, every player, every stat and I wanted to know them backwards and forwards. I remember walking to the "Ducky Park" and hearing all about the MLB, the NFL, and the NBA. I was hooked. This stuff was MUCH cooler than that whole "alphabet" business and "sharing" nonsense they were preaching at The Sundance School, man. I'm not going to pretend that at 4 years old, I knew what made a great ballplayer. I was too busy drawing on the wall and going down slides headfirst to understand the nuances of the game. In fact, my little toddler brain looked at things like "Batting Average" and "Runs Batted In" the same way my little adult brain looks at things like "WAR" and "UZR"...utter confusion. The only sports factoids I knew for sure at this point were that my father was a Yankee and Giant fan and my 6 year old sister's favorite players were Don Mattingly (because Dad liked him) and Darryl Strawberry (because he was handsome...Her words, not mine.) It was on one of these jaunts to the park that my longest committed relationship to date began. It was the first time my father told me about the young centerfielder way out west with the sweet swing. It was the first time I heard the name Ken Griffey Jr.
It wasn't his amazing upside that hooked me. It wasn't even any of his five tools either. In all actuality, the thing that began my Griffey fandom, and in turn, my Mariner fandom was a seemingly insignificant little factoid, a blip in the baseball annals. It was the story of this Griffey Jr. character hitting a home run RIGHT AFTER his daddy had hit one. This was mindblowing to me. I needed to know more. "How old is he? How old is his Daddy? What team do they play for? Who were they playing?" How this wasn't being taught in the "Moon Room" was beyond me. Once I had processed all of the pertinent facts, I came to the only obvious conclusion...."We'll do that too someday, Daddy."
From that moment on, "Griffey J.R." (no one ever said I was the smartest child) became my true passion. If his face was on it, I had to have it. I studied Griffey facts harder than I would ever study anything else in the years after and "impressed" my family with them at the breakfast table. I remember telling my mother that he hit a home run on the first pitch HE EVER SAW at the Kingdome! I'm pretty sure she responded with "Wow!...Michael you're spilling syrup on yourself!" but that's really beside the point. I started wearing my hat backwards, much to the chagrin of my father, solely because Junior did it. I nearly got into a fist fight with another kid on my block who INSISTED J.T. Snow was the best player in baseball and another in my 1st grade class who said Pete Incaviglia was MUCH better than Griffey. I had two little brothers who I desperately tried to shape into Mariner fans, dangling the greatness of Griff in front of their faces like candy bars. One of them never got into the whole sports thing and the other fell for the alluring charm of Willie McGee, Ray Lankford and the St. Louis Cardinals. My heart broke right along with Jr.'s wrist in the summer of '95, but was repaired by "Refuse to Lose" and of course, the ALDS (OF COURSE I didn't know Joe Giglio then, but was his best friend by 2001. Real fair.) I told anyone who'd listen that he was going to break every home run record there was...Maris', Aaron's, Oh's...They'd all be Junior's someday. To paraphrase another favorite of mine at the time...He was the best there was, the best there had ever been, and the best there ever was going to be.
Shockingly, I was the lone Mariner fan at St. Joseph's Grade School in Toms River, so my allies were few and far between. Even my own brother, who was a hair over 5 when Jr. won his MVP was quick to remind me that "Willie McGee had won it first." But I had someone whose opinion who mattered much more than any other 5th graders or thumbsucking Cardinals fan's ever would in my corner...Dad's. The man who knew EVERYTHING there was to know about sports agreed with ME! The man who taught me more than any teacher would dare try thought I was RIGHT! We didn't agree on much at the time, but every day I'd go to school armed with a new "Well my dad told me..." fact to unleash on Mrs. Heitz's 5th grade class. "Right up there with Mantle" he'd say, "Probably a little better than Clemente." That was all I needed. The Oracle agreed with me, so who cared what anyone else thought.
Ken Griffey Jr. was a whole hell of a lot more than a baseball player to me. The evidence of this comes in a confession I'm about to make that has not ever hit human ears. I kept a journal from the 3rd grade til about the 7th. It was filled with all the angst that comes with being the first kid in your grade to ask a girl out and get rejected. The were entries about the lighter stuff (my favorite colors), the medium stuff (girls I liked, homework I didn't do), and the heavy stuff (familial issues). Is being a male who keeps a journal embarrassing enough? Sure. But these weren't your run of the mill "Dear Diary" entries, no sir. Every single one of them was formatted as a letter to the one person who I knew was there, the one person who seemed to have the whole damn thing figured out, the one person who I truly believed could bring me out of the funkiest of funks.
Yes, every journal entry was formatted as a letter to Ken Griffey Jr..
I threw the damn thing away right before 8th grade for fear of it falling it into the wrong hands, but I'll never forget how cathartic it felt to write out all my thoughts and tie them into a constant in my life: The Seattle Mariners and specifically, Ken Griffey Jr.. To this day I don't truly understand my thought process. I certainly never sent them to him and I certainly never had any intention to. Something about it just helped. A lot. I even asked him for a home run a couple of times when some 4th grade Jezebel had me really down. It didn't always happen right away...but he always delivered.
But as these things sometimes go, injuries started to pile up, my Dad's statements became punctuated with "Ifs", the journal was in the trash and before I knew it...February 10th, 2000 rolled around. The day Ken Griffey Jr. became a Red is still one of the saddest days of my life and I don't foresee it ever being pushed out of the top ten. (Sorry future ex-wife...I already know you don't compare.)
Flash forward another 9 years, almost to the day. After nearly a decade of Mariner triumph (2001), Mariner tragedy (2001), but mostly Mariner mediocrity, many things had changed. The little sports fan sponge who lived to know half as much as Dad had grown into cool guy rebel who knew more than everyone, ESPECIALLY his fossil of a father and simply couldn't find the time for anyone other than ol' number one and whatever girl was I was hanging all over at the time. Just like I had grown distant from one of my childhood heroes after that fateful day in 2000, I had grown even more distant from the other...my father. Throughout the four years I was at college, I simply could not find the time to call home and have those sports conversations that had shaped me so much in the 18 years prior. In fact, some of the only sports conversations we had were shallow covers for the real reason I was calling...grade reports were coming home, I had gotten into a "little bit" of trouble, I needed some extra cash for the bar...The disappointment in his voice when the truth would come out was palpable, but what did I care? I had a party to get to! I was a college graduate with little more than a piece of paper and a terrible attitude. The only future that looked bleaker than mine was that of the freshly minted 100 loss squad with the $100 million dollar payroll...The Fishermen. To say nothing was going well would be...well it'd be the f***ing truth.
However, things changed, as they oft do, on a dime. I was at my then girlfriend's house when a text came in from a good friend of mine that simply said "The Kid is Back!" I ran to the computer to confirm that what I'd been hoping for for nearly a decade was finally happening. Ken Griffey Jr. was coming home. Sure he was old, sure his Mariner jersey would certainly be a few sizes bigger, sure he wasn't half the player he once was...I didn't care. Griffey J.R. was an M again. Visions of one last 30 HR season and a dramatic playoff push danced in my head. I grabbed the phone and called the one person who I simply needed to discuss it with...The Oracle himself. After I breathlessly told him the news, he responded in that oh so saccharine Frank Krenek tone..."So? Is it 1998 or something?" For a moment or so...it was. I was a little kid again with no concerns further than Ken Griffey Jr.'s next at bat and I just HAD to know what my Dad thought. Flash ahead a few weeks later and I'm sitting next to Joe Giglio in a meeting with Millennium Radio higher ups about a project they were developing. To say everything was going well...well it'd be the f***ing truth.
One more flash-forward before your nose starts bleeding LOST-style...the Mariners season had drawn to an inauspicious close...a good deal of improvement, but ultimately, no postseason. The Kid found a way to run into 19 dingers, but he clearly had become The Old Man. I got my fair share of ribbing for his .219 average and the refrains of "time to hang 'em up" were ringing from all over. My dad's question from a few months ago had been resoundingly answered...it was indeed NOT 1998 anymore.
The writing was on the wall, not just for "The Kid" in Seattle, but also for "The Kid" in Toms River. Maybe it was time for Ken to go home, but it most certainly was time for me to grow up. But neither Ken nor myself was willing to turn the hat forward just yet. The Mariners announced that he'd be returning for the 2010 season to much eye-rolling from the M's faithful. I imagine truly "letting go" of your days as an elite level athlete is as much of a struggle as truly "letting go" of the mentality of being a responsibility-less 21 year old. Sometimes it takes a "wake-up" call moment. I had mine in December of 2009, when that same snotnosed Cardinal fan brother of mine called me and said I needed to get home because "Dad was sick." I'll never forget that day...rushing home to find the man I had viewed as invincible for so long helpless on the floor. Its an image that stays with you, no matter how much you'd like it to kindly leave. My 18 year old brother and I stood wordlessly as he was loaded onto a gurney and the entire "Dad" section of that mental Netflix started rolling...Walks to the Ducky Park, trips to Yankee Stadium when the Mariners were in town, and those "Greatest of All Time Discussions". The memories were almost cruelly vivid. The next few weeks were a blur, but within that blur came a moment that I can only imagine will still be with me years from now. It just so happened that I was the only family member currently at the rehab center when the doctor came in to review some "Post-Stroke Life" pamphlets. It was at this moment that I heard a question that bordered on the absurd....
"Are you the primary caretaker present?"
Pardon me, doc? Do you not know whose laying in that bed? Do you not know who you're talking to? You've got the roles completely backwards! Suddenly, maturation had been thrust upon me without anyone asking if I was OK with it. It was enough to make your head spin. I went home that night, shaken to the core by the whole situation. I turned on the MLB Network at around 3am only to find them discussing the one and only Junior. As they showed the obligatory crawl of highlights that accompanies any discussion of all time great, I couldn't help but notice a fleeting shot of Griffeys Jr. and Sr. embracing at home plate after their back to back home runs. It was the only time throughout the whole ordeal that I cried.
I'm sure some have wondered why I was so damn sad every time a new "Ken Griffey Jr. can't hack it story" came out. The fact of the matter is this...I like to think I did a lot of growing up in the past year or so. I've got a legitimate dream job, I get to work with my best friend every day, and I've made a lot of headway on repairing the relationships I disregarded for far too long. I look around and see the people I grew up with growing up around me. One's engaged, one will be very soon (O/U is 2.5 months...I'm all in for the under), and 98% are in situations that they are happy with. Most importantly, my dad made a full recovery and is back to calling/texting (a new talent he's picked up) The Shore Sports Report to tell us all the things we're doing wrong. We never did hit those back to back home runs, but I can't help but think the 2 or 3 times he's ever called the show to agree with something I said and take it to the next level, I can't help but think that's the industry equivalent. I am truly blessed for a billion reasons. But Ken Griffey Jr. in a Seattle Mariner uniform was the one thing still tangible at 24 that was tangible at 10. So many things have changed in the 20 years I've covered in this overlong post, but Junior? Junior came back. And just like he had been throughout the "journal years", Junior was there when I needed him the most. And with his quiet retirement today, that last iota of youth will quietly fade away too. But I, like millions of other Jr. fans will always have the memories. The 630 HRs, the 1836 RBIs, the 10 Gold Gloves, the Warehouse Home Run, scoring from first in '95...and even all those memories stats can't measure. The man made countless people love the game. Count me among them.
If you'll indulge me, I'd like to write one last letter to The Kid. I know this isn't a journal, but at 24, its the closest thing I've got.
"Dear Junior,
Thanks.
Your Friend,
Mikey"
Here's one that I've nearly worn out I've played it so much: Its September 1990. I'm living in Piscataway, NJ (I don't remember my address or phone number, but I can tell you the house was blue...I think.). My father had already realized that while he didn't have the next Mickey Mantle on his hands (Perhaps he still had hope for my brother Christian: 6 months old at the time. Anyone who knows my family knows how that turned out.), he sure as hell had a little sports fan sponge...I wanted to know every team, every player, every stat and I wanted to know them backwards and forwards. I remember walking to the "Ducky Park" and hearing all about the MLB, the NFL, and the NBA. I was hooked. This stuff was MUCH cooler than that whole "alphabet" business and "sharing" nonsense they were preaching at The Sundance School, man. I'm not going to pretend that at 4 years old, I knew what made a great ballplayer. I was too busy drawing on the wall and going down slides headfirst to understand the nuances of the game. In fact, my little toddler brain looked at things like "Batting Average" and "Runs Batted In" the same way my little adult brain looks at things like "WAR" and "UZR"...utter confusion. The only sports factoids I knew for sure at this point were that my father was a Yankee and Giant fan and my 6 year old sister's favorite players were Don Mattingly (because Dad liked him) and Darryl Strawberry (because he was handsome...Her words, not mine.) It was on one of these jaunts to the park that my longest committed relationship to date began. It was the first time my father told me about the young centerfielder way out west with the sweet swing. It was the first time I heard the name Ken Griffey Jr.
It wasn't his amazing upside that hooked me. It wasn't even any of his five tools either. In all actuality, the thing that began my Griffey fandom, and in turn, my Mariner fandom was a seemingly insignificant little factoid, a blip in the baseball annals. It was the story of this Griffey Jr. character hitting a home run RIGHT AFTER his daddy had hit one. This was mindblowing to me. I needed to know more. "How old is he? How old is his Daddy? What team do they play for? Who were they playing?" How this wasn't being taught in the "Moon Room" was beyond me. Once I had processed all of the pertinent facts, I came to the only obvious conclusion...."We'll do that too someday, Daddy."
From that moment on, "Griffey J.R." (no one ever said I was the smartest child) became my true passion. If his face was on it, I had to have it. I studied Griffey facts harder than I would ever study anything else in the years after and "impressed" my family with them at the breakfast table. I remember telling my mother that he hit a home run on the first pitch HE EVER SAW at the Kingdome! I'm pretty sure she responded with "Wow!...Michael you're spilling syrup on yourself!" but that's really beside the point. I started wearing my hat backwards, much to the chagrin of my father, solely because Junior did it. I nearly got into a fist fight with another kid on my block who INSISTED J.T. Snow was the best player in baseball and another in my 1st grade class who said Pete Incaviglia was MUCH better than Griffey. I had two little brothers who I desperately tried to shape into Mariner fans, dangling the greatness of Griff in front of their faces like candy bars. One of them never got into the whole sports thing and the other fell for the alluring charm of Willie McGee, Ray Lankford and the St. Louis Cardinals. My heart broke right along with Jr.'s wrist in the summer of '95, but was repaired by "Refuse to Lose" and of course, the ALDS (OF COURSE I didn't know Joe Giglio then, but was his best friend by 2001. Real fair.) I told anyone who'd listen that he was going to break every home run record there was...Maris', Aaron's, Oh's...They'd all be Junior's someday. To paraphrase another favorite of mine at the time...He was the best there was, the best there had ever been, and the best there ever was going to be.
Shockingly, I was the lone Mariner fan at St. Joseph's Grade School in Toms River, so my allies were few and far between. Even my own brother, who was a hair over 5 when Jr. won his MVP was quick to remind me that "Willie McGee had won it first." But I had someone whose opinion who mattered much more than any other 5th graders or thumbsucking Cardinals fan's ever would in my corner...Dad's. The man who knew EVERYTHING there was to know about sports agreed with ME! The man who taught me more than any teacher would dare try thought I was RIGHT! We didn't agree on much at the time, but every day I'd go to school armed with a new "Well my dad told me..." fact to unleash on Mrs. Heitz's 5th grade class. "Right up there with Mantle" he'd say, "Probably a little better than Clemente." That was all I needed. The Oracle agreed with me, so who cared what anyone else thought.
Ken Griffey Jr. was a whole hell of a lot more than a baseball player to me. The evidence of this comes in a confession I'm about to make that has not ever hit human ears. I kept a journal from the 3rd grade til about the 7th. It was filled with all the angst that comes with being the first kid in your grade to ask a girl out and get rejected. The were entries about the lighter stuff (my favorite colors), the medium stuff (girls I liked, homework I didn't do), and the heavy stuff (familial issues). Is being a male who keeps a journal embarrassing enough? Sure. But these weren't your run of the mill "Dear Diary" entries, no sir. Every single one of them was formatted as a letter to the one person who I knew was there, the one person who seemed to have the whole damn thing figured out, the one person who I truly believed could bring me out of the funkiest of funks.
Yes, every journal entry was formatted as a letter to Ken Griffey Jr..
I threw the damn thing away right before 8th grade for fear of it falling it into the wrong hands, but I'll never forget how cathartic it felt to write out all my thoughts and tie them into a constant in my life: The Seattle Mariners and specifically, Ken Griffey Jr.. To this day I don't truly understand my thought process. I certainly never sent them to him and I certainly never had any intention to. Something about it just helped. A lot. I even asked him for a home run a couple of times when some 4th grade Jezebel had me really down. It didn't always happen right away...but he always delivered.
But as these things sometimes go, injuries started to pile up, my Dad's statements became punctuated with "Ifs", the journal was in the trash and before I knew it...February 10th, 2000 rolled around. The day Ken Griffey Jr. became a Red is still one of the saddest days of my life and I don't foresee it ever being pushed out of the top ten. (Sorry future ex-wife...I already know you don't compare.)
Flash forward another 9 years, almost to the day. After nearly a decade of Mariner triumph (2001), Mariner tragedy (2001), but mostly Mariner mediocrity, many things had changed. The little sports fan sponge who lived to know half as much as Dad had grown into cool guy rebel who knew more than everyone, ESPECIALLY his fossil of a father and simply couldn't find the time for anyone other than ol' number one and whatever girl was I was hanging all over at the time. Just like I had grown distant from one of my childhood heroes after that fateful day in 2000, I had grown even more distant from the other...my father. Throughout the four years I was at college, I simply could not find the time to call home and have those sports conversations that had shaped me so much in the 18 years prior. In fact, some of the only sports conversations we had were shallow covers for the real reason I was calling...grade reports were coming home, I had gotten into a "little bit" of trouble, I needed some extra cash for the bar...The disappointment in his voice when the truth would come out was palpable, but what did I care? I had a party to get to! I was a college graduate with little more than a piece of paper and a terrible attitude. The only future that looked bleaker than mine was that of the freshly minted 100 loss squad with the $100 million dollar payroll...The Fishermen. To say nothing was going well would be...well it'd be the f***ing truth.
However, things changed, as they oft do, on a dime. I was at my then girlfriend's house when a text came in from a good friend of mine that simply said "The Kid is Back!" I ran to the computer to confirm that what I'd been hoping for for nearly a decade was finally happening. Ken Griffey Jr. was coming home. Sure he was old, sure his Mariner jersey would certainly be a few sizes bigger, sure he wasn't half the player he once was...I didn't care. Griffey J.R. was an M again. Visions of one last 30 HR season and a dramatic playoff push danced in my head. I grabbed the phone and called the one person who I simply needed to discuss it with...The Oracle himself. After I breathlessly told him the news, he responded in that oh so saccharine Frank Krenek tone..."So? Is it 1998 or something?" For a moment or so...it was. I was a little kid again with no concerns further than Ken Griffey Jr.'s next at bat and I just HAD to know what my Dad thought. Flash ahead a few weeks later and I'm sitting next to Joe Giglio in a meeting with Millennium Radio higher ups about a project they were developing. To say everything was going well...well it'd be the f***ing truth.
One more flash-forward before your nose starts bleeding LOST-style...the Mariners season had drawn to an inauspicious close...a good deal of improvement, but ultimately, no postseason. The Kid found a way to run into 19 dingers, but he clearly had become The Old Man. I got my fair share of ribbing for his .219 average and the refrains of "time to hang 'em up" were ringing from all over. My dad's question from a few months ago had been resoundingly answered...it was indeed NOT 1998 anymore.
The writing was on the wall, not just for "The Kid" in Seattle, but also for "The Kid" in Toms River. Maybe it was time for Ken to go home, but it most certainly was time for me to grow up. But neither Ken nor myself was willing to turn the hat forward just yet. The Mariners announced that he'd be returning for the 2010 season to much eye-rolling from the M's faithful. I imagine truly "letting go" of your days as an elite level athlete is as much of a struggle as truly "letting go" of the mentality of being a responsibility-less 21 year old. Sometimes it takes a "wake-up" call moment. I had mine in December of 2009, when that same snotnosed Cardinal fan brother of mine called me and said I needed to get home because "Dad was sick." I'll never forget that day...rushing home to find the man I had viewed as invincible for so long helpless on the floor. Its an image that stays with you, no matter how much you'd like it to kindly leave. My 18 year old brother and I stood wordlessly as he was loaded onto a gurney and the entire "Dad" section of that mental Netflix started rolling...Walks to the Ducky Park, trips to Yankee Stadium when the Mariners were in town, and those "Greatest of All Time Discussions". The memories were almost cruelly vivid. The next few weeks were a blur, but within that blur came a moment that I can only imagine will still be with me years from now. It just so happened that I was the only family member currently at the rehab center when the doctor came in to review some "Post-Stroke Life" pamphlets. It was at this moment that I heard a question that bordered on the absurd....
"Are you the primary caretaker present?"
Pardon me, doc? Do you not know whose laying in that bed? Do you not know who you're talking to? You've got the roles completely backwards! Suddenly, maturation had been thrust upon me without anyone asking if I was OK with it. It was enough to make your head spin. I went home that night, shaken to the core by the whole situation. I turned on the MLB Network at around 3am only to find them discussing the one and only Junior. As they showed the obligatory crawl of highlights that accompanies any discussion of all time great, I couldn't help but notice a fleeting shot of Griffeys Jr. and Sr. embracing at home plate after their back to back home runs. It was the only time throughout the whole ordeal that I cried.
I'm sure some have wondered why I was so damn sad every time a new "Ken Griffey Jr. can't hack it story" came out. The fact of the matter is this...I like to think I did a lot of growing up in the past year or so. I've got a legitimate dream job, I get to work with my best friend every day, and I've made a lot of headway on repairing the relationships I disregarded for far too long. I look around and see the people I grew up with growing up around me. One's engaged, one will be very soon (O/U is 2.5 months...I'm all in for the under), and 98% are in situations that they are happy with. Most importantly, my dad made a full recovery and is back to calling/texting (a new talent he's picked up) The Shore Sports Report to tell us all the things we're doing wrong. We never did hit those back to back home runs, but I can't help but think the 2 or 3 times he's ever called the show to agree with something I said and take it to the next level, I can't help but think that's the industry equivalent. I am truly blessed for a billion reasons. But Ken Griffey Jr. in a Seattle Mariner uniform was the one thing still tangible at 24 that was tangible at 10. So many things have changed in the 20 years I've covered in this overlong post, but Junior? Junior came back. And just like he had been throughout the "journal years", Junior was there when I needed him the most. And with his quiet retirement today, that last iota of youth will quietly fade away too. But I, like millions of other Jr. fans will always have the memories. The 630 HRs, the 1836 RBIs, the 10 Gold Gloves, the Warehouse Home Run, scoring from first in '95...and even all those memories stats can't measure. The man made countless people love the game. Count me among them.
If you'll indulge me, I'd like to write one last letter to The Kid. I know this isn't a journal, but at 24, its the closest thing I've got.
"Dear Junior,
Thanks.
Your Friend,
Mikey"
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Mock Draft 2010: Prime Time
I just realized how much "Prime Time" is influencing this NFL Draft. I know, I know...some of you may be thinking "And the last horse finally crosses the finish line", but bear with me. Firstly, for those who live under a rock, the Draft is being broadcast in prime time for the very first time. You might not think this changes the landscape *too* much, but with an entire day to wheel and deal for 2nd round draft choices, I expect to see a lot of teams exploring trades once the dust settles on tonight. 2nd of all, a trip to "Prime Time's" humble abode might cost the (in my opinion) very best player in this entire draft to slip to a very happy team in the latter part of the evening. Most importantly, Joe Giglio and myself will be hosting the first ever Shore Sports Report NFL Draft Party at Mulligan's Bar and Grill on Hooper Avenue in Toms River. Prime Time indeed. But enough of the chatter...let's get down to the meat and potatoes. Its time for my Mock Draft! Will it be wildly inaccurate? Probably. Did I have a lot of fun putting it together? Definitely. With Joe's mock up and running, its time to see who wins lunch in the Annual Battle of The Co-Hosts. Wish me luck.
Mike's Mock:
1. St. Louis Rams: Sam Bradford, QB, Oklahoma
2. Detroit Lions: Ndamukong Suh, DT, Nebraska
3. Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Gerald McCoy, DT, Oklahoma
4. Washington Redskins: Russell Okung, OT, Oklahoma State
5. Kansas City Chiefs: Brian Bulaga, OT, Iowa
6. Seattle Seahawks: Trent Williams, OT, Oklahoma
7. Cleveland Browns: Eric Berry, S, Tennessee
8. Oakland Raiders: Bruce Campbell, OT, Maryland
9. Buffalo Bills: Dan Williams, NT, Tennessee
10. Jacksonville Jaguars: Joe Haden, CB, Florida
11. New York Giants (TRADE): Ronaldo McClain, ILB, Alabama
12. Miami Dolphins: Jason Pierre-Paul, DE/OLB, South Florida
13. San Francisco 49ers: Earl Thomas, S, Texas
14. Seattle Seahawks: CJ Spiller, RB, Clemson
15. Denver Broncos (TRADE): Maurkice Pouncey, OG/C, Florida
16. Tennessee Titans: Derrick Morgan, DE, Georgia Tech
17. San Francisco 49ers: Jimmy Clausen, QB, Notre Dame
18. Pittsburgh Steelers: Mike Iupati, OG, Idaho
19. Atlanta Falcons: Brandon Graham, DE, Michigan
20. Houston Texans: Ryan Matthews, RB, Fresno State
21. Cincinnati Bengals: Taylor Mays, S, USC
22. Dallas Cowboys (TRADE): Dez Bryant, WR, Oklahoma St.
23. Green Bay Packers: Anthony Davis, OT, Rutgers
24. Philadelphia Eagles: Kyle Wilson, CB, Boise State
25. Baltimore Ravens: Jared Odrick, DT, Penn State
26. Arizona Cardinals: Sean Weatherspoon, LB, Missouri
27. New England Patriots (TRADE): Tim Tebow, QB, Florida
28. San Diego Chargers: Jahvid Best, RB, Cal
29. New York Jets: Terrence Cody, DT, Alabama
30. Minnesota Vikings: Devin McCourty, CB, Rutgers
31. Indianapolis Colts: Charles Brown, OT, USC
32. New Orleans Saints: Sergio Kindle, DE/LB, Texas
Well folks, there you have it. I don't know what I'm going to look back on as more embarrassing...Predicting two trades or putting Saint Tim in the first round. Whatever way you slice the cake, tonight is going to be a whole lot of fun. Come on out to Mulligan's in Toms River and hang out with us. It'll be worth it just to see our faces if one of our teams takes Jason Pierre-Paul.
Mike's Mock:
1. St. Louis Rams: Sam Bradford, QB, Oklahoma
2. Detroit Lions: Ndamukong Suh, DT, Nebraska
3. Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Gerald McCoy, DT, Oklahoma
4. Washington Redskins: Russell Okung, OT, Oklahoma State
5. Kansas City Chiefs: Brian Bulaga, OT, Iowa
6. Seattle Seahawks: Trent Williams, OT, Oklahoma
7. Cleveland Browns: Eric Berry, S, Tennessee
8. Oakland Raiders: Bruce Campbell, OT, Maryland
9. Buffalo Bills: Dan Williams, NT, Tennessee
10. Jacksonville Jaguars: Joe Haden, CB, Florida
11. New York Giants (TRADE): Ronaldo McClain, ILB, Alabama
12. Miami Dolphins: Jason Pierre-Paul, DE/OLB, South Florida
13. San Francisco 49ers: Earl Thomas, S, Texas
14. Seattle Seahawks: CJ Spiller, RB, Clemson
15. Denver Broncos (TRADE): Maurkice Pouncey, OG/C, Florida
16. Tennessee Titans: Derrick Morgan, DE, Georgia Tech
17. San Francisco 49ers: Jimmy Clausen, QB, Notre Dame
18. Pittsburgh Steelers: Mike Iupati, OG, Idaho
19. Atlanta Falcons: Brandon Graham, DE, Michigan
20. Houston Texans: Ryan Matthews, RB, Fresno State
21. Cincinnati Bengals: Taylor Mays, S, USC
22. Dallas Cowboys (TRADE): Dez Bryant, WR, Oklahoma St.
23. Green Bay Packers: Anthony Davis, OT, Rutgers
24. Philadelphia Eagles: Kyle Wilson, CB, Boise State
25. Baltimore Ravens: Jared Odrick, DT, Penn State
26. Arizona Cardinals: Sean Weatherspoon, LB, Missouri
27. New England Patriots (TRADE): Tim Tebow, QB, Florida
28. San Diego Chargers: Jahvid Best, RB, Cal
29. New York Jets: Terrence Cody, DT, Alabama
30. Minnesota Vikings: Devin McCourty, CB, Rutgers
31. Indianapolis Colts: Charles Brown, OT, USC
32. New Orleans Saints: Sergio Kindle, DE/LB, Texas
Well folks, there you have it. I don't know what I'm going to look back on as more embarrassing...Predicting two trades or putting Saint Tim in the first round. Whatever way you slice the cake, tonight is going to be a whole lot of fun. Come on out to Mulligan's in Toms River and hang out with us. It'll be worth it just to see our faces if one of our teams takes Jason Pierre-Paul.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Ten From Ten: NBA Edition
Today on Monmouth AND Ocean County's highest rated sports talk radio program that runs from 3-6:20pm, "The Shore Sports Report", my esteemed co-host/cohort Joseph Glenn Giglio (who wrote a great piece about Big Bum) had a brief conversation about the Top 10 NBA players drafted from 1995 on. Don't ask why such a thing came up on local New Jersey radio in the year 2010, just take it and like it. Anyways, the conversation prompted me to do a lot of thinking, a hobby that is altogether absent from my normal existence. I took a mental stroll back to my youth to try and figure out just when I went from normal chubby un-athletic child to chubby un-athletic child with a borderline unhealthy obsession with professional sports. The first two sports memories that I have are watching Bowe/Holyfield I (Nov. 1992) and Bills/Cowboys I (Jan. 1993) with my father. I have a recollection of telling ol' Frank C. Krenek that Holyfield and Buffalo respectively were going to win. I also recollect him calling me "stupid" for my soon-to-be incorrect predictions, setting many precedents still in play 18 years later. There are brief snippets of other sports memories I have in the few years after that (Praying Drew Bledsoe got past New England/Rick Mirer being drafted by the Seahawks, attempting to punch my father at the conclusion of the '94 Eastern Conference Finals), but it wasn't until 1995 that I became the addict I am today.
1995...ahh the memories. Reggie's 8 in 8, Griffey from first, Dennis Erickson being hired by the 'Hawks...'Twas a glorious year. It was the year that molded me into the man I am today. In fact (I promise you this is not apocryphal), I can vividly remember being in the family pool in the summer of '95, telling my father and his best friend Paul that I hated Timberwolves guard Isiah Rider because he was a "criminal." (sound familiar, Misters Roethlisberger/Jones/Stallworth et. al?) After the hurricane of sports emotion that was 1995, I decided that this was the life for me. I was going to pour over drafts, fantasy, free agency, hirings/firings, trades...If it involved pro sports, I was going to eat it up. And so, in 1996, I became a man...
Allow me to rephrase, actually. In 1996, I became a boy who really, really liked sports. Who would someday become a man who got paid to talk about that which he really, really liked...
One last rephrasing....In 1996, I became a boy who really, really liked sports. Who would someday become a much bigger boy who got paid to talk about that which he really, really liked.
And so friends, I come to the point of this blog (only took me 440something words to get here). This soul-searching, coupled with the conversation had on today's show, prompted me to put together some lists. Its a little something I like to call Ten From Ten ('cuz I was ten in '96! Oh the cleverness of me!) I'm going to try to do one of these puppies a week...Please plan your weeks/lives accordingly. The debut edition? Why its paying homage to today's SSR convo! Hope you enjoy it.
TOP TEN NBA PLAYERS DRAFTED FROM 1996-ON
1. Tim Duncan
2. Kobe Bryant
3. Lebron James
4. Allen Iverson
5. Dirk Nowitzki
6. Paul Pierce
7. Steve Nash
8. Dwyane Wade
9. Ray Allen
10. Tracy McGrady
Analysis:This list isn't in "order" persay, but the first 7 guys are non-negotiable. You have your First Five:
Duncan: My favorite player of the era, a winner, and the quintessential PF. There really isn't a hole in his game, unless "pizazz" starts showing up on stat sheets.
Kobe: By all accounts, the closest thing we have to Jordan. Anytime Joe and I talk to a former NBA-er about today's game and ask the inevitable "Is there a "next Jordan"?" question, we are told A. No one is even close to MJ's all around mastery of the game and B. If forced to pick someone who reminds them of His Airness, the answer is inevitably Number 24. Its almost frightening to watch him at the end of games.
Bron-Bron: He has to win at least ONE RING (more like six) before any of this "best ever" talk is justified. But on sheer talent he is, quite frankly, the most unique athlete I have ever watched play the game of basketball or perhaps any sport. If Kobe is Michael, its almost as if a mad scientist took aspects of a few of MJ's contemporaries (Take The Mailman's scoring ability, The Reignman's explosiveness, The Glove's defensive tenacity and ability to run the floor {Note: Lebron James is SIX FOOT EIGHT and he can run the floor} and hell, why not a splash of John Stockton's passing ability. Oh and also, former Washington Bullet Michael Adams' speed...clearly this mad scientist wanted us all to poop our pants in fear the first time we saw Lebron play) and created a super human to send into the future to enslave the human race. Or average a triple double. Whichever comes first.
A.I.: 6' in heels, 175 soaking wet...yet his game was to drive to the hole like it was his only escape route from practice. Totally under-appreciated because of how he went out, AI could very well be the best pure scorer on this list.
Dirk: Hated him for most of my teenage years. Then I realized he was going to the Hall of Fame and wasn't the jump shooting softy I liked to pretend he was. Far from prototypical, but a damn fine basketball player.
The rest of the gang? Paul Pierce is a complete, versatile forward who toiled for years with crappy Celtics teams before finally winning the big one/getting noticed. Nash has won as many MVP Awards during this period as LBJ and The Mamba combined, so he gets a nod. After these guys, it got interesting. Dwyane Wade? He's had two seasons cut short by injury and won his title with help from both Shaq and some shaky officiating. But he's capable of dropping 50 on any given night, finds himself in position to grab 5-6 rebounds a contest, and creates for his teammates with his passing. He's also an underrated defender, so Mr. Wade's spot is safe. The last two? Not so much. Carmelo Anthony is standing on the doorstep, Kevin Durant just parked his car, Dwight Howard just pulled up to the curb and Deron Williams/Chris Paul are tandem bicycling down the block. But for now, T-Mac and Allen hold the last two spots. Ray Allen is the second best pure shooter I have ever seen (behind Reggie). He could score at a prolific rate, pass well, and wasn't a GREAT defender, but by no means a bad one. His best days were in Milwaukee and Seattle (read: no one cared), but even in his old age, he played a huge role in The Boston ThreeParty's run to the trophy. Did I give him the nod over a more talented guy like Vince Carter because he seemed to try hard every night? Yes. Yes I did. Maybe if there was one singular person out there who actually liked and rooted for Ol' Horseshoe Hair, I'd have to deal with some complaints. As for The Backless Wonder...McGrady is always going to be one of the great What-Ifs. Any basketball fan who watched him play when he was young and healthy would tell you he had IT. He could score with the best of them (2 time scoring champ, 45 career 40+ games), play two positions on the floor at an All-Star level, rebound, pass, defend...His story became one of injuries and playoff failures, but make no mistake about it...Tracy McGrady was a Hall of Fame caliber talent. There are guys I left off the list who will likely have better careers (the aforementioned group of Young Bloods who are apparently visiting my metaphorical home) and guys who brought more consistency to the table (Pau Gasol/Chauncey Billups/Tony Parker), but at his peak moments, Tracy McGrady was just about as good as anyone in that First Five. That bought him a spot.
Toughest Omission: 'Melo. Always a prolific scorer, but has become a complete player. Paul Pierce 2.0.
Easiest Omission: Korleone Young. To all the High School Seniors who are forced to spend one year at college...You have guys like our buddy KY to thank. His own high school coach was "shocked" by his decision to declare back in '98. He was last seen being waived by an Isreali team. Leave the memories alone, Kor.
Rising Fast: Kevin Durant. Oh mama, what a freak. He's averaging 30 points a night, has become a defensive force, and is the star of one of the next great Western Conference powers. All this and I'm not sure he's reached his full potential yet. I'm excited in ways I shouldn't be for this guy.
In the spirit of the glorious television program LOST, I leave you with a hint about next's week's edition of The Ten From Ten...The subject of Joe's blog WILL make an appearance. Until then, keep on listening to the Shore Sports Report and we'll keep right on loving you. That's all folks!
1995...ahh the memories. Reggie's 8 in 8, Griffey from first, Dennis Erickson being hired by the 'Hawks...'Twas a glorious year. It was the year that molded me into the man I am today. In fact (I promise you this is not apocryphal), I can vividly remember being in the family pool in the summer of '95, telling my father and his best friend Paul that I hated Timberwolves guard Isiah Rider because he was a "criminal." (sound familiar, Misters Roethlisberger/Jones/Stallworth et. al?) After the hurricane of sports emotion that was 1995, I decided that this was the life for me. I was going to pour over drafts, fantasy, free agency, hirings/firings, trades...If it involved pro sports, I was going to eat it up. And so, in 1996, I became a man...
Allow me to rephrase, actually. In 1996, I became a boy who really, really liked sports. Who would someday become a man who got paid to talk about that which he really, really liked...
One last rephrasing....In 1996, I became a boy who really, really liked sports. Who would someday become a much bigger boy who got paid to talk about that which he really, really liked.
And so friends, I come to the point of this blog (only took me 440something words to get here). This soul-searching, coupled with the conversation had on today's show, prompted me to put together some lists. Its a little something I like to call Ten From Ten ('cuz I was ten in '96! Oh the cleverness of me!) I'm going to try to do one of these puppies a week...Please plan your weeks/lives accordingly. The debut edition? Why its paying homage to today's SSR convo! Hope you enjoy it.
TOP TEN NBA PLAYERS DRAFTED FROM 1996-ON
1. Tim Duncan
2. Kobe Bryant
3. Lebron James
4. Allen Iverson
5. Dirk Nowitzki
6. Paul Pierce
7. Steve Nash
8. Dwyane Wade
9. Ray Allen
10. Tracy McGrady
Analysis:This list isn't in "order" persay, but the first 7 guys are non-negotiable. You have your First Five:
Duncan: My favorite player of the era, a winner, and the quintessential PF. There really isn't a hole in his game, unless "pizazz" starts showing up on stat sheets.
Kobe: By all accounts, the closest thing we have to Jordan. Anytime Joe and I talk to a former NBA-er about today's game and ask the inevitable "Is there a "next Jordan"?" question, we are told A. No one is even close to MJ's all around mastery of the game and B. If forced to pick someone who reminds them of His Airness, the answer is inevitably Number 24. Its almost frightening to watch him at the end of games.
Bron-Bron: He has to win at least ONE RING (more like six) before any of this "best ever" talk is justified. But on sheer talent he is, quite frankly, the most unique athlete I have ever watched play the game of basketball or perhaps any sport. If Kobe is Michael, its almost as if a mad scientist took aspects of a few of MJ's contemporaries (Take The Mailman's scoring ability, The Reignman's explosiveness, The Glove's defensive tenacity and ability to run the floor {Note: Lebron James is SIX FOOT EIGHT and he can run the floor} and hell, why not a splash of John Stockton's passing ability. Oh and also, former Washington Bullet Michael Adams' speed...clearly this mad scientist wanted us all to poop our pants in fear the first time we saw Lebron play) and created a super human to send into the future to enslave the human race. Or average a triple double. Whichever comes first.
A.I.: 6' in heels, 175 soaking wet...yet his game was to drive to the hole like it was his only escape route from practice. Totally under-appreciated because of how he went out, AI could very well be the best pure scorer on this list.
Dirk: Hated him for most of my teenage years. Then I realized he was going to the Hall of Fame and wasn't the jump shooting softy I liked to pretend he was. Far from prototypical, but a damn fine basketball player.
The rest of the gang? Paul Pierce is a complete, versatile forward who toiled for years with crappy Celtics teams before finally winning the big one/getting noticed. Nash has won as many MVP Awards during this period as LBJ and The Mamba combined, so he gets a nod. After these guys, it got interesting. Dwyane Wade? He's had two seasons cut short by injury and won his title with help from both Shaq and some shaky officiating. But he's capable of dropping 50 on any given night, finds himself in position to grab 5-6 rebounds a contest, and creates for his teammates with his passing. He's also an underrated defender, so Mr. Wade's spot is safe. The last two? Not so much. Carmelo Anthony is standing on the doorstep, Kevin Durant just parked his car, Dwight Howard just pulled up to the curb and Deron Williams/Chris Paul are tandem bicycling down the block. But for now, T-Mac and Allen hold the last two spots. Ray Allen is the second best pure shooter I have ever seen (behind Reggie). He could score at a prolific rate, pass well, and wasn't a GREAT defender, but by no means a bad one. His best days were in Milwaukee and Seattle (read: no one cared), but even in his old age, he played a huge role in The Boston ThreeParty's run to the trophy. Did I give him the nod over a more talented guy like Vince Carter because he seemed to try hard every night? Yes. Yes I did. Maybe if there was one singular person out there who actually liked and rooted for Ol' Horseshoe Hair, I'd have to deal with some complaints. As for The Backless Wonder...McGrady is always going to be one of the great What-Ifs. Any basketball fan who watched him play when he was young and healthy would tell you he had IT. He could score with the best of them (2 time scoring champ, 45 career 40+ games), play two positions on the floor at an All-Star level, rebound, pass, defend...His story became one of injuries and playoff failures, but make no mistake about it...Tracy McGrady was a Hall of Fame caliber talent. There are guys I left off the list who will likely have better careers (the aforementioned group of Young Bloods who are apparently visiting my metaphorical home) and guys who brought more consistency to the table (Pau Gasol/Chauncey Billups/Tony Parker), but at his peak moments, Tracy McGrady was just about as good as anyone in that First Five. That bought him a spot.
Toughest Omission: 'Melo. Always a prolific scorer, but has become a complete player. Paul Pierce 2.0.
Easiest Omission: Korleone Young. To all the High School Seniors who are forced to spend one year at college...You have guys like our buddy KY to thank. His own high school coach was "shocked" by his decision to declare back in '98. He was last seen being waived by an Isreali team. Leave the memories alone, Kor.
Rising Fast: Kevin Durant. Oh mama, what a freak. He's averaging 30 points a night, has become a defensive force, and is the star of one of the next great Western Conference powers. All this and I'm not sure he's reached his full potential yet. I'm excited in ways I shouldn't be for this guy.
In the spirit of the glorious television program LOST, I leave you with a hint about next's week's edition of The Ten From Ten...The subject of Joe's blog WILL make an appearance. Until then, keep on listening to the Shore Sports Report and we'll keep right on loving you. That's all folks!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Dancin' Card
Just moments away from the Selection Show, its time for me to make my predictions...Without further adieu, the Field of 65 According to Mike Krenek!!!
AUTOMATIC BIDS:
Ivy- Cornell
Atlantic Sun- E. Tennessee State
Ohio Valley- Murray State
Missouri Valley- Northern Iowa
Big South- Winthrop
MAAC- Sienna
CAA- Old Dominion
WCC- St. Mary's
Southern- Wofford
Sun Belt- North Texas
Horizon- Butler
Summit- Oakland
Northeast- Robert Morris
Big Sky- Montana
America East- Vermont
MAC- Ohio
Atlantic 10- Temple
MEAC- Morgan State
ACC- Duke
Mountain West- San Diego State
Big 12- Kansas
Big East- West Virginia
Pac 10- Washington
Patriot League- Lehigh
SEC- Kentucky
Big 10- Ohio State
Southland- Sam Houston State
SWAC- Arkansas Pine-Bluff
Conference USA- Houston
WAC- New Mexico State
Big West- UC Santa Barbara
THE AT LARGES!
Big East: Georgetown, Syracuse, Marquette, Louisville, Villanova, Pittsburgh, Notre Dame
ACC: Maryland, Georgia Tech, Florida State, Clemson
Big 12: Texas, Baylor, Oklahoma State, Missouri, Kansas State, Texas A&M
Big 10: Wisconsin, Purdue, Michigan State, Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota
Pac 10: Cal
Mountain West: New Mexico, BYU, UNLV
WAC: Utah State
Conference USA: UTEP
Atlantic 10: Xavier, Richmond
WCC: Gonzaga
SEC: Tennessee, Vanderbilt
AUTOMATIC BIDS:
Ivy- Cornell
Atlantic Sun- E. Tennessee State
Ohio Valley- Murray State
Missouri Valley- Northern Iowa
Big South- Winthrop
MAAC- Sienna
CAA- Old Dominion
WCC- St. Mary's
Southern- Wofford
Sun Belt- North Texas
Horizon- Butler
Summit- Oakland
Northeast- Robert Morris
Big Sky- Montana
America East- Vermont
MAC- Ohio
Atlantic 10- Temple
MEAC- Morgan State
ACC- Duke
Mountain West- San Diego State
Big 12- Kansas
Big East- West Virginia
Pac 10- Washington
Patriot League- Lehigh
SEC- Kentucky
Big 10- Ohio State
Southland- Sam Houston State
SWAC- Arkansas Pine-Bluff
Conference USA- Houston
WAC- New Mexico State
Big West- UC Santa Barbara
THE AT LARGES!
Big East: Georgetown, Syracuse, Marquette, Louisville, Villanova, Pittsburgh, Notre Dame
ACC: Maryland, Georgia Tech, Florida State, Clemson
Big 12: Texas, Baylor, Oklahoma State, Missouri, Kansas State, Texas A&M
Big 10: Wisconsin, Purdue, Michigan State, Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota
Pac 10: Cal
Mountain West: New Mexico, BYU, UNLV
WAC: Utah State
Conference USA: UTEP
Atlantic 10: Xavier, Richmond
WCC: Gonzaga
SEC: Tennessee, Vanderbilt
Friday, February 19, 2010
Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright
Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
-William Blake
When Billy Blake penned this bad boy back in the 1800s, Eldrick Woods wasn't on his mind. But after watching our Tiger burn bright in the forests of the media since Thanksgiving, plenty of people have written plenty of things. And why not? It was too good to pass up! The infallible, pristine Tiger Woods...CHEATING? With PORN STARS? And ESCORTS? and PERKINS WAITRESSES??? (the punctuation here isn't mock alarm-ism...I'm sincerely puzzled.)
And in the days that followed the infamous Woods Family Thanksgiving Smackdown, all the man heard was "HOW COULD YOU?!?!?" "THINK OF THE CHILDREN!?!" "YOU RUINED MY LIFE!!!!" Which is to be expected from a jilted wife. Except it wasn't coming from a jilted wife. Elin Woods was in Sweden...it was coming from us.
I'm not going to put the media on blast here. What's the point? They've got a job to do. Sell stories. Sell papers. Sell websites. Complaining about them is tilting at windmills. The mass media has changed over the past decade. We've reached a point where what was once one Page 7 on the National Enquirer now is on the front page of CNN.com. I kind of wish the great Walter Cronkite was still with us and on the air... "According to Ms. James, star of My First Sex Teacher, Tiger Woods enjoyed Male/Male/Female Threesomes. And that's the way it is."
We all know about supply and demand (Just ask Tiger! HEY NOW!) Its an economic practice so simple that I actually understand it. Give the people what they want and you'll succeed. Why did the New York Post cover sordid details of Tiger's affairs? Why did ESPN.com run full color photos of his harem? Supply and demand baby. America ate it up like we were at a China Buffet and they just refilled the Lo Mien.
Well guess what...I'm puking. I'm puking it back up right here on this little blog. Because it makes me sick. It turned my stomach to see Tiger Woods squirm and sweat his way through an uncomfortable apology to America this morning. But what turned this into Vom Party 2010 was people's reactions.
"Insincere!"
"Liar!"
"Not good enough for me!"
To those gnashing their teeth and beating their breasts, I've created a little flowchart I'd like you to consult.
I AM ANGRY THAT TIGER WOODS CHEATED!!!
Are you Elin Woods?
If you answered no to the above, are you related to Elin Woods or Tiger Woods?
If you answered no to the above, get a life.
Tiger Woods owes us NOTHING. Not an explanation, not a refund on his endorsements, and CERTAINLY not an apology. Think about this sentence for a moment and if you don't see the sheer absurdity of it, do yourself a favor and go lie down.
"I am angry that you cheated on your wife because you are good at golf."
There. That's the crux of this whole big damn deal. Don't tell me its more than that, because if it is, you're overthinking. The only reason we know the name Eldrick Tont Woods is because of a game. From his putt-off on "The Mike Douglas Show" in '78 to his face off with the media today, the only thing Tiger Woods has done worth noting is played golf. And playing it better than anyone ever has. But they didn't give him the Green Jacket for fatherhood. Last time I checked, his last ESPY wasn't for "Husband of the Year." We know him because he GOLFS. That does not make him a role model. That does not make him an icon. That makes him a man doing what he is great at. My father, Frank Charles Krenek, is a great transportation manager. If they had a transportation manager Hall of Fame, he would have been in the inaugural class. But if my father ever cheated on my mother (eligible for Mon Don Teacher HOF in 2013), he wouldn't have to go on ESPN and apologize. Why? Because nobody cares about the life of a transportation manager. But people care about Tiger Woods. Because he's on TV! He's in commercials! That makes him DIFFERENT! Why? Why does it make him different? I understand he has an "image." But that "image" was the product of a marketing team and publicist. Because that's what we want on our cans of shaving gel and boxes of cereal. An image. An image that we just CAN'T WAIT to tear down once someone gets it. To think we "knew" Tiger Woods because of how he sounded in interviews with Men's Health is mindbending. To those who say "The minute he signed up to be a spokesman, he signed up to be a role model!"...If I give you $5 million to say you like our radio show, you turnin' it down? Didn't think so.
Tiger Woods is a failure as a husband and Tiger Woods is a failure as a father. This is not in doubt. But you know what else its not? Our business. It is so unfair to say that it is simply because he's living out what seems to be his destiny...playing golf. The only people who have any right to feel let down by Tiger's actions are his family and friends. Watching him play golf on Sundays, buying products with his face on them...these things do not make you his friend. We live in a society in which everyone is OBSESSED with fame and OBSESSED with gossip. The minute someones face comes across a movie screen or a Jumbotron, we flock to them like vultures to carrion. Why? What makes them better than us? The money? The recognition? Those things come from a combination of luck and talent. Nothing else. Are we to begrudge them that? Athletes are not role models. Celebrities are not role models. Hitting a ball or signing a song does not make a person "great." It makes them "great at something." Its high time we got our noses of the tabloids and back into reality. If you are the type of person who needs a "role model"....maybe the vetting process should be more stringent than "Rich/Talented." There are role models in your own life...people you can actually SPEAK to. People who can actually GUIDE you. Not posters on your wall or faces on the Wheaties Box. Find those people, leave Tiger to lick his wounds, and listen to The Shore Sports Report on Fox Sports 1310am and 1160 WOBM AM. Joe Giglio?...Now that's a role model.
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
-William Blake
When Billy Blake penned this bad boy back in the 1800s, Eldrick Woods wasn't on his mind. But after watching our Tiger burn bright in the forests of the media since Thanksgiving, plenty of people have written plenty of things. And why not? It was too good to pass up! The infallible, pristine Tiger Woods...CHEATING? With PORN STARS? And ESCORTS? and PERKINS WAITRESSES??? (the punctuation here isn't mock alarm-ism...I'm sincerely puzzled.)
And in the days that followed the infamous Woods Family Thanksgiving Smackdown, all the man heard was "HOW COULD YOU?!?!?" "THINK OF THE CHILDREN!?!" "YOU RUINED MY LIFE!!!!" Which is to be expected from a jilted wife. Except it wasn't coming from a jilted wife. Elin Woods was in Sweden...it was coming from us.
I'm not going to put the media on blast here. What's the point? They've got a job to do. Sell stories. Sell papers. Sell websites. Complaining about them is tilting at windmills. The mass media has changed over the past decade. We've reached a point where what was once one Page 7 on the National Enquirer now is on the front page of CNN.com. I kind of wish the great Walter Cronkite was still with us and on the air... "According to Ms. James, star of My First Sex Teacher, Tiger Woods enjoyed Male/Male/Female Threesomes. And that's the way it is."
We all know about supply and demand (Just ask Tiger! HEY NOW!) Its an economic practice so simple that I actually understand it. Give the people what they want and you'll succeed. Why did the New York Post cover sordid details of Tiger's affairs? Why did ESPN.com run full color photos of his harem? Supply and demand baby. America ate it up like we were at a China Buffet and they just refilled the Lo Mien.
Well guess what...I'm puking. I'm puking it back up right here on this little blog. Because it makes me sick. It turned my stomach to see Tiger Woods squirm and sweat his way through an uncomfortable apology to America this morning. But what turned this into Vom Party 2010 was people's reactions.
"Insincere!"
"Liar!"
"Not good enough for me!"
To those gnashing their teeth and beating their breasts, I've created a little flowchart I'd like you to consult.
I AM ANGRY THAT TIGER WOODS CHEATED!!!
Are you Elin Woods?
If you answered no to the above, are you related to Elin Woods or Tiger Woods?
If you answered no to the above, get a life.
Tiger Woods owes us NOTHING. Not an explanation, not a refund on his endorsements, and CERTAINLY not an apology. Think about this sentence for a moment and if you don't see the sheer absurdity of it, do yourself a favor and go lie down.
"I am angry that you cheated on your wife because you are good at golf."
There. That's the crux of this whole big damn deal. Don't tell me its more than that, because if it is, you're overthinking. The only reason we know the name Eldrick Tont Woods is because of a game. From his putt-off on "The Mike Douglas Show" in '78 to his face off with the media today, the only thing Tiger Woods has done worth noting is played golf. And playing it better than anyone ever has. But they didn't give him the Green Jacket for fatherhood. Last time I checked, his last ESPY wasn't for "Husband of the Year." We know him because he GOLFS. That does not make him a role model. That does not make him an icon. That makes him a man doing what he is great at. My father, Frank Charles Krenek, is a great transportation manager. If they had a transportation manager Hall of Fame, he would have been in the inaugural class. But if my father ever cheated on my mother (eligible for Mon Don Teacher HOF in 2013), he wouldn't have to go on ESPN and apologize. Why? Because nobody cares about the life of a transportation manager. But people care about Tiger Woods. Because he's on TV! He's in commercials! That makes him DIFFERENT! Why? Why does it make him different? I understand he has an "image." But that "image" was the product of a marketing team and publicist. Because that's what we want on our cans of shaving gel and boxes of cereal. An image. An image that we just CAN'T WAIT to tear down once someone gets it. To think we "knew" Tiger Woods because of how he sounded in interviews with Men's Health is mindbending. To those who say "The minute he signed up to be a spokesman, he signed up to be a role model!"...If I give you $5 million to say you like our radio show, you turnin' it down? Didn't think so.
Tiger Woods is a failure as a husband and Tiger Woods is a failure as a father. This is not in doubt. But you know what else its not? Our business. It is so unfair to say that it is simply because he's living out what seems to be his destiny...playing golf. The only people who have any right to feel let down by Tiger's actions are his family and friends. Watching him play golf on Sundays, buying products with his face on them...these things do not make you his friend. We live in a society in which everyone is OBSESSED with fame and OBSESSED with gossip. The minute someones face comes across a movie screen or a Jumbotron, we flock to them like vultures to carrion. Why? What makes them better than us? The money? The recognition? Those things come from a combination of luck and talent. Nothing else. Are we to begrudge them that? Athletes are not role models. Celebrities are not role models. Hitting a ball or signing a song does not make a person "great." It makes them "great at something." Its high time we got our noses of the tabloids and back into reality. If you are the type of person who needs a "role model"....maybe the vetting process should be more stringent than "Rich/Talented." There are role models in your own life...people you can actually SPEAK to. People who can actually GUIDE you. Not posters on your wall or faces on the Wheaties Box. Find those people, leave Tiger to lick his wounds, and listen to The Shore Sports Report on Fox Sports 1310am and 1160 WOBM AM. Joe Giglio?...Now that's a role model.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)