Sunday, July 28, 2013

Jimmie Johnson hatred is no shock

In the hours before what is surely going to be 400 miles of insomnia therapy at Indianapolis Motor Speedway today -- hint to NASCAR, please go back to Eldora, but don't make it the week of Indianapolis unless you want the Brickyard 400 to keep suffering in comparison -- I came across this on the Twitter machine.

JJ is Jimmie Johnson, and JG is Jeff Gordon, but unlike Mr. Samrov, I'm not the least bit surprised that Johnson is not hated more than Gordon. In fact, it's only logical if you look at history.

Probably the primary complaint about Johnson is that he wins too much, much like Gordon back when he was dominating. Unless it's who you root for, what's the point of watching if you know who is going to win all the time? It's not as easy (or as much fun) to hate Gordon now, since he doesn't win that much.

(Strangely enough, my mother was a big Gordon fan back in the day but swore off NASCAR last year because she got tired of Johnson winning. The illogical nature of this has been pointed out to her multiple times, but I fear still may be lost on her.)

Now add that Johnson, much like Gordon was, is much more successful than all his Hendrick Motorsports teammates (one in particular, who we'll get to later), and it's not hard for fans to think that he's so good because he's getting all the best stuff and leaving the other drivers with leftovers.

In Ray Evernham and Chad Knaus, Gordon and Johnson, respectively, had or have crew chiefs who always seem to always make the right move and are willing to push the rulebook right to its limits. True, Evernham was never suspended for cheating like Knaus has been, but then again, does anyone remember the T-Rex?

Sure, it was legal, but NASCAR told Hendrick to never race it again.
Both Gordon and Johnson have been thought of as being "too slick" or "too polished," which I actually don't think is fair to Johnson. Gordon's old interviews sounded like they were programmed by some PR firm, and Johnson seems to have a decent sense of humor about the #BlameJJ hashtag on Twitter.




And you also can't forget the Earnhardt factor. When Gordon was coming up, Dale Earnhardt was the main man in NASCAR, and here was this kid, this milk-drinker knocking their man off the throne. That will earn you some hate.

Now Johnson and Dale Earnhardt Jr. are not only teammates, but shop-mates, yet Earnhardt somehow never manages to have cars as good as Johnson, and we Earnhardt Jr. fans are still waiting for Johnson to repay him for the finish at Talladega in 2011, pretty sure it's never going to happen. (This is a frequent topic of conversation between That_Sports_Chick and myself on Twitter.)


They share a shop, but seemingly not much else.

Basically, Jimmie Johnson is what Jeff Gordon used to be in the eyes of a lot of NASCAR fans. That's why they hate him.


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Thursday, July 25, 2013

Why I defend Alex Rodriguez

My pals Pizz and Gardner were having a few yuks-yuks about this morning's story on Deadspin regarding Alex Rodriguez being able to turn anything he touches into crap, or what I call the Sadim touch (it's Midas backwards). From the article:
"Could an athlete have been in a worse (non-murder division) situation than A-Rod found himself when he woke up this morning? He wants nothing more than to be adored and admired for his talent and he is The Worst Person Who Ever Lived as far as most people in and around baseball are concerned. The sport he loves is trying to kick him out for the rest of his life."
As the world prepares itself for an A-Rod suspension with a fervor that I can only compare with being near physical arousal, I frequently find myself defending him, not from the potential charges against him (although I can't wait to see Major League Baseball defend a suspension in front of an arbitrator or in court), but against the vitriol spewed his way.


Now why would I do such a crazy thing?

First, I'll confess, it's because he's a Yankee. Now, I won't reflexively defend every Yankee over everything, but my first instinct is to take the side of one of their players. (And along with that, I continue to be infuriated that David Ortiz remains celebrated to this day; it's kind of a thing with me.)

But it's not just that. It's that I don't feel the "punishment" fits the "crime."

I'm not saying I kicked the crap out of him for that, but he blocked me to make me stop.

I have no illusions about Alex Rodriguez. He's a narcissist. He's an admitted steroid user, and may have done a lot more performance-enhancing drugs than what we know about. He was at least accused of cheating on his former wife. Of course, this makes him different than ... how many people in MLB clubhouses? The fact that Madonna may have been one of his paramours? (Then again, it's Madonna, so maybe not.)

But does he ever have a way of screwing things up! I'd list as many as I could remember, but Sports Illustrated did a nice job of chronicling some of his not-so-greatest moments, although I'm still not sure why anyone should be embarrassed about one of the most-famous actresses in Hollywood feeding him on national TV during the Super Bowl, and I'm not even a Cameron Diaz fan.

So sure, he's a dope. He does one dumb thing after another. But are there any stories about him being mean, like Barry Bonds? Yet he's treated like Bonds, and only slightly better than Michael Vick or Aaron Hernandez. I do think people are willing to admit he never ran a dog-fighting ring or allegedly killed someone ... if you insist.

I've always thought the biggest problem with his personality relates to the Deadspin article ... that he cares so much about his image, and is lousy at cultivating it. The opposite example (of course) is Derek Jeter, who I would say is as image-conscious as A-Rod, but without the capacity for idiocy, which engenders him a lot of goodwill. Seriously, would Rodriguez ever have gotten away with this?

As I wrote previously, I think it all starts with the Texas contract, and everything since then has been shot through the prism of him being a bad guy by people who are angry about it. It's so bad that one of the other pieces of the A-Rod canon is that he refused a trade to the Red Sox, even though it's not true (it was the union that blocked it) and he has never gotten credit for moving to third when he was traded to the Yankees, even though he was a better shortstop than Jeter.

 For the last word on the topic, I'll leave you with Will Leitch.


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Sunday, July 21, 2013

Golf is still a four-letter word

This is where I spent my Saturday morning. How about you?


Golf would be a much easier sport if I was unrelentingly, hopelessly, lucky-to-even-make-contact-with-the-ball bad.

Because I would never play it.

I played in a golf tournament with my buddy Mix at Nonesuch Golf Course in Maine yesterday. There were plenty of bad shots; heaven knows there were plenty of bad shots. For one thing, I came home with six fewer golf balls than I started with.

I put balls in the woods and the bushes (although I don't think water, which is odd for me), spun balls off to the left, jerked them to the right, dribbled them along the ground and couldn't find a putt long enough to not blow past the hole. (I'm not kidding. I don't know exactly what the problem was, but I overshot a putt that must have been 40 feet by 10 feet.)

Fortunately, we were playing a scramble, so most of my shots didn't count. Otherwise, our score would have been a lot worse than the 2-over 72 we recorded, which as it was came in last among the 15 teams in the tournament. Although my exploding putter caused the most spectacular misses, none of us could make a putt to save our lives, other than the one Mix made to score our only birdie of the day.

And I managed to thoroughly embarrass myself, not by playing lousy, but by breaking my 3-iron over my leg out of frustration over dumping a shot in the woods. I didn't think I was actually going to break the thing, but I apparently don't know my own strength. I felt lousy after I did it, and not just because my 3-iron is my favorite club, but also because I let my temper actually turn destructive.

(This would be a visual approximation if Bo Jackson was white, playing golf and not one of the greatest athletes any of us has ever seen.)



But scattered among the horribleness were some actual decent shots, even with my 1-wood, which I pretty much swore off years ago because I was incapable of hitting a ball with it. Sure, they were short -- because my mechanics are so bad unless I swing fairly slowly, I can't really cut loose -- but they were solid contact and actually got off the ground and went in the general direction of where I wanted them to go.

They were the kind of shots that could make a delusional person think, "If I only played a little more, practiced a little more ... maybe I could actually suck a little less at this game." (Notice I didn't say "get good" ... baby steps, baby steps.)

It's an intoxicating feeling, the kind of feeling you want to chase.

So although all logic says I'll never actually be good at golf -- there are only so many hours in a day to practice as much as I would need to, and I do have to work and live the rest of my life -- and therefore should hide my clubs in the basement where I'll never find them, I'll probably do it again sometime.


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The trap Alex Rodriguez should avoid

Thanks to Buster Olney, I learned this morning that Bob Klapisch was concern-trolling about Alex Rodriguez, writing that if Alex Rodriguez really loves baseball, he would just confess about steroids and Biogenesis. (Given the use of quotation marks in Klapisch's tweet linking to the column, I'm inclined to believe he thinks A-Rod is full of it ... surprise, surprise, surprise.)
To Klapisch, and anyone who agrees with him, I say "Screw that" and "Why should he?"

If Alex Rodriguez sat down with a reporter tomorrow and came clean about everything -- the steroids between 2001 and 2003, anything he might have done since then, Biogenesis, all of it -- would it help him? Would baseball fans and media say, "Wow, that Alex Rodriguez is really a stand-up guy! Good for him! I hope Bud Selig takes it easy on him now."

Ummmm...no.

Alex Rodriguez will continue to the the pure embodiment of All That Is Wrong With Baseball, which he has been not since he admitted to taking steroids, but since he had the unmitigated gall to sign the contract that Tom Hicks offered him in 2000.

Unlike someone like Andy Pettitte or Jason Giambi -- who Klapisch cited as a role model for Rodriguez to follow, conveniently forgetting that Giambi's saving grace was not the admission, but people liking him -- between the steroids, the amazing ability to step on whatever rake he can find (this being but one example) and his postseason troubles (see below), he is hated enough so that his reputation will never recover.


Remember, this is a guy who got ripped by his own team for saying he was ready to play games again.

I also found this note in Klapisch's column revealing.
"In his heart, however, A-Rod knows exactly why Selig is obsessed with excising him. It’s because Rodriguez was once christened as the game’s savior, clean and hardworking, the very medicine baseball needed after Barry Bonds ensured the game’s Holy Grail – the all-time home run record – was fraudulent."
And if you think that's just my opinion and people will forgive Rodriguez if he just admits to what he did, let me remind you that he did it once before, and it got him nowhere.

Meanwhile, you have Ken Rosenthal carrying on the idiocy that people really shouldn't judge David Ortiz for having been on the list of players testing positive for performance-enhancing drugs in 2003, a benefit of the doubt that no one on the list has gotten because Ortiz is well-liked.





I have an idea. Alex Rodriguez should confess what he did (again, by the way) when David Ortiz confesses to what he did.

Which means it will never happen.


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Sunday, July 14, 2013

Golf and other four-letter words

My friend Mix has talked me into playing in a golf tournament in Maine next weekend.

In theory, it should be fun. Mix is a pal I don't get to see very often, but it's fun when we do. I can also return the wrestling DVDs he loaned me (which reminds me, I have to finish the last one).

There's just a small catch or two ...

... I'm a terrible golfer, 
... with a bad temper
... who doesn't like embarrassing myself in public.

Even when I did play somewhat regularly, I was lucky to break 90 on a par-3 course, and that was probably 15 years ago. The one time I actually kept score on a full-size course, I think I shot 124.

My father-in-law and I went a couple weeks ago, and we both decided not to keep score on the first hole. It was that bad.

So I figured I should do something to prepare, and I found a good video to address my biggest problem, which is topping the ball.


So it was with that in mind that I headed to a local driving range. As I got ready to hit the ball, I thought, "Relax your arms. Bring your back knee forward ..."

And I absolutely crushed the ball, straight, too! Then I did it again ... and again. This was actually working!

Then it happened.

I was hitting off the mats, not the grass, meaning I was hitting off the rubber tees that stick up a few inches. On my fourth swing, I got more tee than ball, and the ball went straight, but not far.

And then I hit the tee flush. Granted, I crushed it, and hit it straight, but the ball sat where I left it. Then it happened again, and again. 

At this point, I was getting rather upset, if you consider pounding my bag with my club multiple times "rather upset." (Did I mention something about a temper?)

Making matters worse, my entire thought process centered around not hitting the tee, mechanics be damned. I started spraying the ball everywhere, when I actually managed to hit it, and I got angrier and angrier and further and further into my own head.

This tournament should be reeeaallllyyyy interesting.



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Sunday, July 7, 2013

Two continents, two tales of woe

My English friend was slightly pleased after Andy Murray won Wimbledon today. He wrote the following on Facebook:
WAAAAHOOOOOOOOO!First the Red Sox, now Andy Murray. Come on Cubbies, you're up fellas!
When I replied that the English national soccer team has a better chance of ending its World Cup drought than the Cubs do of ending their World Series dry spell, he suggested I write about "who sucks more."

Consider it done, mate.

* * * * *

Other than the fact that neither has won the big prize in a long time, comparing English soccer and Cubs baseball actually isn't actually fair.

From my distance of being both in America (at least until my vacation coming up in London this fall) and a fairly new soccer fan, it's interesting to see the English obsession with its national soccer side. Every personnel move, coaching change and result -- whether a competitive match or friendly -- is a morality play, with fans and pundits dissecting every little detail to figure out What It All Means.

In their excellent book "Soccernomics," Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski dedicate an entire chapter not just to the stages of English World Cup campaigns leading up to the inevitable failure and rationalizations that follow (the English version of the book is called "Why England Lose"), but also to the argument that based on a series of factors, including population, England actually does as well, if not a little better, than it should.

England typically fields a good team, with good players, but they always manage to fall short somehow. (In my real life, I am famous/infamous in my circle of friends for providing running commentary on Facebook about awards shows. This year's Oscars featured the post "A tie for an Oscar? I say penalty kicks! So long as no one involved in either movie is English." Easiest joke ever.)

The Cubs, on the other hand, certainly have their history of heartbreaking moments ... 



... but they've also been terrible a lot of the time.

Seriously, while England fans surely will be convinced that next year will the year they bring home the World Cup, and they no doubt will be taking a good team to Brazil if they qualify, any Cubs fan who thinks they'll win the World Series next year either knows something the rest of us don't or is seriously deluded.

I put my money on seriously deluded.




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Wednesday, July 3, 2013

No, Bonnie Bernstein, Bobby Bowden is not Florida State

Bonnie Bernstein responded to the news that Bobby Bowden has agreed to reconnect with Florida State University by writing this on the Twitter machine:
@BonnieBernstein Great to see the legendary @TheBobbyBowden re-engaging with FSU. The 2 really are 1 and the same ...
And this on the Facebook machine:
So great to see the legendary Bobby Bowden re-engaging with FSU, especially considering he was unceremoniously shoved out the door after 34 seasons, 2 National Championships and a Hall of Fame career. Despite the uncomfortable parting of ways a few years back, the 2 really are one and the same!
No they're not.

Florida State University is an institute of higher education, with students, some of whom are athletes, but most having nothing at all to do with sports; professors; and faculty, some of whom are coaches, but most having nothing at all to do with sports.

Bobby Bowden was one of those faculty members. He was the most famous faculty member. His work probably brought the university more attention than anyone else's. His name is probably the first one people think of when they think of Florida State University, especially if they have no connection with the university otherwise.

But Bobby Bowden is not ... let me repeat, is NOT ... Florida State University.

Let me be clear that the academic fraud at Florida State committed while Bowden was coach is in no way close to comparable to doing nothing about a child molester walking on campus, much less the actual child molestation itself, it's that attitude of the coach being synonymous with the university, taken to its worst extreme, that led to the reaction at Penn State when Joe Paterno got fired.





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