I'm watching the women's gymnastics team final tonight (without spoilers, so I don't know how it ended up), and it would be hard to imagine a bigger difference from what I saw last night during the men's competition.
From the moment Al Trautwig said that Team USA "and seven other teams" would be competing until the time it was obvious the men weren't going to win anything, the team may as well have been the only ones in the arena. There was no coverage of any other team, no standings, no nothing. It took the standard USA-centric coverage to a ridiculous level.
Tonight, at least, Al, Tim Daggett and Elfie Schlegel are sort of presenting the women's competition as a sporting event, with the Americans having competition worthy of getting their routines shown and some sort of idea of how the teams related to each other.
The change actually started last night, when Daggett explained the ins and outs of the Japanese protest that ultimately led to the team getting the silver medal, right down to why the Japanese coach was carrying money (a filing fee). That was when the thought hit me ...
... NBC could do this differently, if they wanted to.
Now, I'm not saying NBC has been sabotaging its own Olympics. I'm sure the network isn't thrilled about #nbcfail. But think about some of the issues they've had:
The tape delays. (I don't have a problem with them, but I know lots of people hate them.)
Cutting out the 7/7 tribute because it wasn't "tailored" to an American audience.
Too many examples of turning the usual American-centric coverage into "NBC presents Team USA featuring the London 2012 Olympics."
Spinning for American athletes no matter what, especially in swimming, where Rowdy Gaines keeps insisting that Lane 8 is an advantage as long as an American is there, as if there's no reason why the slowest qualifier goes there, and Ryan Lochte can still do no wrong. (It's so bad that when an announcer isn't on the team, she gets called out on Twitter. Sorry Hope, I'm with Brandi on this one.)
Hiring Ryan Seacrest, who, as Robert Blanco of USA Today put it, "seems to have tapped into the deep reservoir of disdain every annoyed
sports fan has ever felt about any lightweight, extraneous sideline
reporter," which, if you ask me, greatly insults every lightweight, extraneous sideline reporter. This talentless, obnoxious twit is doing nothing that can't be done by any one of the scores of NBC people in London, including the reporter the local affiliate where I live sent. But he's a shiny bauble.
Each of these, to some degree, have been intentional. These aren't things that happened to NBC. These haven't been unexpected. Somebody decided to do, or in the case of the announcers, allow, each of these things.
Whoever this somebody is, or somebodies are, I hope they don't ever go near the Olympics again.
Dave Zirin has a piece on why the Penn State football program shouldn't be shut down, and it's hard to argue with his logic. I won't spoil his arguments, which you should read, but he ends his column this way.
If (Sally) Jenkins, (Rick) Reilly and others really want to do something other that
beat a dead Nittany Lion, they should call for the heads of the real
enablers. They should call for the resignation of the Penn State Board
of Trustees including board member Governor Tom Corbett. They should
call for the abolition of the NCAA. They should call for anything other
than the destruction of Penn State football: an action that would bring
vengeance without justice.
But as compelling as his argument is, I still disagree with it. Although I wouldn't go so far as abolishing football at Penn State, I would shut it down for a year or two, because I think that's the only way to make people in the Penn State community get it.
I wrote about the Joe Paterno dead-enders in my last post, but the fact that there are still dead-enders is a commentary on the rot in Happy Valley, as is the story about the hundreds of millions in donations as the Jerry Sandusky scandal was going on. Although not all the giving was for the football program, tell me this quote doesn't make you sick.
"We're very grateful - humbled really - to have this kind of response
from Penn Staters, who I think have rallied to the cause ... by the side
of the institution through a very difficult time," Rod Kirsch, senior
vice president for development and alumni relations, said Monday in an
interview.
And let's not forget what happened on campus after Paterno was fired. (I've used this video before, but it bears repeating.)
I also can't forget watching the start of the first game after Paterno was fired, where despite the moment of silence, I just got the vibe (just a vibe, and through my TV, so take it for what it's worth) that people at the game still thought something bad had happened to them because their football coach was fired.
Mrs. Last Honest Sport and I were talking about Zirin's column this morning, and the way she described her feelings on it is that "King Football" and the people at Penn State who worship it should sacrifice ... something. Because right now, they're not. The home games will still be sold out; the cameras will still show up, and since not every Penn State game will be a three-hour rehash about the scandal, it will eventually largely become The Unpleasantness Which Shall Not Be Named.
And come December, should the football team be good enough, they'll play in a bowl.
In other words, nothing will change for 12 weekends this fall, and it should.
But the only way to do that is to take football away.
Matt Millen isn't the only fool still defending Joe Paterno after Louis Freeh's report, perhaps just the most public.
I could go on and on about the ridiculousness of the Paterno defenders, the people who insist on saying his role in the Jerry Sandusky scandal shouldn't overshadow all his good works, but all I'll say is that if someone knowingly, intentionally enables a child molester, especially when he had more power than anyone else to stop it, he doesn't get to take credit for good works. There are no works good enough to make up for that.
Instead, I want to offer this advice to the Paterno dead-enders.
Let him go.
It's OK.
Let. Go.
He's not worth it.
I find it abhorrent in light of Sandusky, but I know why the attachment to Paterno exists. He defined an institution, and therefore everyone associated with it, for decades. He made Penn State matter.
And he fooled a lot of people, including Rick Reilly, right until the end.
As Joe Paterno lay dying, I actually felt sorry for him. Little
did I know he was taking all of his dirty secrets to the grave. Nine
days before he died, he had The Washington Post's Sally Jenkins in his
kitchen. He could've admitted it then. Could've tried a simple "I'm
sorry." But he didn't. Instead, he just lied deeper. Right to her face.
Right to all of our faces.
Joe Paterno was a fraud, a lying, despicable excuse for a human being whose inaction allowed young boys to be hurt because he didn't want the cult of the football team and the cult of personality he built around himself to be harmed.
For all the people who were fooled into believing he did things "the right way," there is no shame in admitting that.
So Reggie Jackson said a few things lately that have gotten people's attention -- that there are a bunch of Baseball Hall of Fame members who don't belong there, that "no Hall of Famer will attend" the induction ceremony if anyone linked to performance-enhancing drugs is elected.
And yeah, he had some stuff to say about Alex Rodriguez.
"Al's a very good friend," Jackson says. "But I think there are real
questions about his numbers. As much as I like him, what he admitted
about his usage does cloud some of his records."
The Yankees are somewhat displeased about Reggie's comments about A-Rod, while Keith Olbermann is somewhat displeased about the way the Yankees have handled the situation.
As for me, Reggie was my first favorite player from when I was a child, and since his birthday is a couple weeks before mine, seeing the annual reminder that he's getting older makes me feel a little bit older, too. I don't particularly agree with his comments, especially that he seems to have the same tunnel vision about cheating as so many people have, which is especially funny coming from Reggie, given his history with Gaylord Perry. (I tried to find the video with the water bucket, but I couldn't.)
But he's entitled to have his opinion, and I'm entitled to disagree. What really bugged me, however, is what he said about Andy Pettitte.
"The question is going to be a guy like Andy Pettitte, who admitted that
he got involved for a while, but who is so universally respected in the
game. I think he'll get in, but there will be a lot of [members] who
won't go."
Would Reggie? Jackson takes a deep breath.
"He's an awfully
good friend," he says. "I've known Andy since he was 20. I'll leave it
there."
Andy Pettitte used performance-enhancing drugs. He may not have done enough to look like a cartoon character who could throw a ball 200 mph, but he did them.
But people like Andy Pettitte (including me, by the way), so Reggie backpedaled just a bit. It's easier to dump on Alex Rodriguez (or Barry Bonds, who is also mentioned in the article); after all, no one likes him.
In other words, Reggie is like so many other people when it comes to PEDs -- get all high and mighty when it comes to someone unpopular, because that's safe, but it's a different story when it comes to someone who's well-liked.
I will not be a professional athlete for reasons that start and end with a lack of ability.
I could get into sportswriting, but I'm at the stage in life where my teenage dream of being the world's greatest play-by-play man probably won't happen.
I have this here blog, with it's accompanying Twitter account, that I hope people like.
But I have decided that my great contribution to the world of sports will be through a book, nothing as brilliant as what I've recently read from John Feinstein, Frank Deford or Dirk Hayhurst, but something that needs to be written.
The book's title?
"Sit the #@!& Down!" (Yes, it's inspired by this.)
I've had the idea in mind for about a year, ever since last year's Futures at Fenway, and I've touched on it very briefly here, but the Pawtucket Red Sox game Mrs. Last Honest Sport and I went to last night (they had fireworks) convinced me it had to be written.
During the game, I'm estimating we had to get up 30 times to let people in and out of our row for people getting food, going to the bathroom, calling their bookies ... I don't know what. The lowest point was the people who arrived in the second inning and then had to get up within 10 minutes ... to get wine! Who drinks wine at a ballpark, much less a minor league ballpark? What is that conversation?
"Did you say a 1981? That was the year of the 33-inning game! That's the best Koza! Let's go! I know we just got here, but a 1981 Koza cannot wait!"
But I digress.
The book will cover several basic themes that will make the game more enjoyable for the people who read it and for the people around them at the ballpark. (Any and all other ideas are welcome.)
1. Try to arrive on time -- Traffic and lines will be what they are, so it's not always possible to be seated by the first pitch, kickoff, tip or faceoff. But if you arrive in the second inning or after the first period ends (the latter of which happened at a Boston Bruins game a few years ago, and they were obnoxious kids to boot), you get no sympathy from me. Plus it's impractical; you bought a ticket for the whole game, so you should try to see as much of it as possible.
2. Plan your trips -- Almost every sporting event has natural breaks. That's when you should go to the concession stand, bathroom (unless it's a dire emergency), team store, convenient place to call the bookie, etc. Yes, that's when there might be lines, but it's less of an inconvenience for everybody.
3. Get up judiciously -- How often, exactly, do you need to get up? Assuming you arrive early enough to go to the store beforehand or go afterward, twice should be about the limit ... once to get the hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza or whatever and then a second time for ice cream if you're so inclined. Potty breaks can be incorporated into either trip.
4. Say "excuse me," but not "I'm sorry" -- If you must make me get up once, twice or so many times that the people behind me spend half the time staring at my behind, by all means, say "excuse me." That's the minimum level of politeness. But don't say "I'm sorry." You're not. If you were that concerned, you wouldn't be squeezing by me.
5. Have a clue -- Not everybody is as obsessive as I am about sports. I get that. However, if you're at a baseball game and don't know who Jacoby Ellsbury is (or insert home team player rehabbing that night in that very minor league ballpark here), call the former Cardinals and current Angels star "Alex Pujols" or ask if "Mark McGwire had been disqualified," I don't want to be anywhere around you. (All of these happened last night.)
I also don't want to be near you if, as was the case at the Padres game I attended last year, you yell at the other fans for not knowing what they're doing and then you do the wave while the home team is batting/has the ball/shooting free throws.
6. Watch the game -- Would you go to a movie and then do everything but watch the movie? A play? A concert? Of course not. So why would you do it at a game?
I have gone to one game in a private box in my life, a Durham Bulls game where the company our friends worked for had a box that night. I have to say, it was pretty cool, especially since it was air-conditioned on a night where the game-time temperature was 103 degrees and we didn't need to go to the concession stand because they brought us food.
Yet as I looked around the box, of the 15 or 20 people who were there, I think my wife and I were the only ones actually watching the game. Everyone else was treating it as a social event ... loudly.
That's why this guy is a hero of mine.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. If you don't want to watch the game, stay home and watch a game on TV. The refrigerator and bathroom are there for the using. You can talk on the phone or surf the Internet to your heart's content. You don't have to fight traffic. If the game is boring, you can change the channel or shut off the TV.
A friend of mine wrote this on Facebook the other night:
In 2008 everyone was rooting for Michael Phelps because he was Superman.
The reason why his 2012 story intrigues me is because despite still
being fantastic, in some events he's not a guarantee.
What I find intriguing about Phelps this year is that, assuming this is his last Olympics at age 27, he's on the greatest victory lap ever, and, as crazy as this may seem, I don't think we fully appreciate what he did in Beijing.
London is a victory lap for Phelps because even if he gets left in the blocks in every race (and he won't, since he's still one of the best swimmers in the world, if not the best, so he will likely win at least some gold medals), he's in the history books. For most Olympic athletes except maybe hockey, basketball or tennis players, and maybe some boxers depending on what happens afterward, one gold medal is the pinnacle.
Phelps has 14, plus a couple bronze medals. Eight of those were in Beijing. The only number he has to beat is Larissa Latynina's 18 total medals.
But we know the numbers. We saw the races in 2008, a couple in particular.
Yet the thing I don't think we fully appreciate is the circumstance under which he did it, namely that he accomplished the impossible ... when he was supposed to.
Mark Spitz's seven gold medals in 1972 was the unreachable star. Matt Biondi made a run at it in 1988, but his of his seven medals, "only" five were gold, and Phelps won six golds and two bronzes in 2004.
So Phelps came to Beijing with a career that would have been the envy of 99.99 percent of athletes who ever took part in the Olympics, and if he had done the exact same thing, it would have been a disappointment. At a minimum, he had to equal Spitz, and that would have probably been a letdown, especially if the race he didn't win came early. (Of the two races above, I believe the relay was his second gold, and the butterfly was his seventh.)
After weeks if not months of hype beforehand, NBC's prime-time lineup for the first week of the Olympics was an eight-part drama called "Can Michael Phelps Do It?" We came back every night for the latest in the series, live finals in East Coast prime time thanks to a convenient 12-hour time difference between New York and Beijing that and a schedule switch that put the finals in the morning Beijing time.
The only way it would work was for Phelps to run the table, and while making NBC happy wasn't his motivation, don't think he didn't know what the expectations were.
And he pulled it off.
Phelps is probably going to race another eight events in London, and while he'll get a lot of attention, it won't be the same. How can it be? It can't be "Watch Michael Phelps try to do the impossible ... a second time."
We saw him do that four years ago. This year, let's just watch and appreciate and understand we may never see anyone like him again.
