Klosterman argues that the NBA's problems are not image-related but instead are premised upon simple realities about the game that effect the way people watch it. Although many of his points are well taken (especially his point about the unshared societal nature of NBA players and their fans) his argument about "potentiality destroying happiness" seems somewhat misplaced. In short, Klosterman states that people have an image of what basketball is in their brains (analogous to a platonic ideal of a basketball game) and that ideal is free flowing and showcases extraordinary athleticism on every play. When the game inevitably fails to live up to this ideal on a regular basis people tend to decry the game as not being fun to watch anymore. While this is clearly true for people who expect to watch poster-worthy dunks on every play, Klosterman misses something when he ascribes this problem to basketball specifically.
If this were truly the problem that led to some disenchantment with basketball, why wouldn't it affect other sports as well? Many think of football as the ultimate "smashmouth" sport but moments of true hard hitting tackles and goal line charges into the defensive line are the exception rather than the rule. Despite this football remains the most popular sport in America. Similarly, baseball games frequently aren't close one and two run contests in the final innings that produce high drama but that hasn't deterred from baseball's mystique, especially in October. As a result, basketball isn't the only sport that should suffer from a cognitive dissonance with what the eyes view while watching the games.
If any sport really suffers from a gap of what it is that people imagine the sport to be and what it actually is, it's boxing. In that sport everyone is waiting for the next Ali or a class of heavyweights who will smash each other's brains in with little regard for their own health. With the exception of only a few boxers or a few fights in the last several decades, I'm not certain that ideal sport has ever existed on a regular basis. And in that sense, Klosterman writes a great article but mis-aims his ideas. He must have something going for him though. His books have frequently disclosed the fact that enough women want him that he's frequently tempted into infidelity. A true accomplishment when you look like this:
An offer to mock we can't refuse: Annie Whittaker reported on jazzbots that Carlos Boozer would become the "Godfather" of this season's team. If Boozer is the Godfather (although our own LTV would probably have dubbed Raul Lopez the Godfather in past seasons based upon his weight) this raises the natural question of which Jazz players best fill the role of the Corleone sons.
Fredo Corleone: Matt Harpring. If Harpring's father was assassinated I'm sure the immediate response would be to try to retaliate, shuffle rapidly in the direction of the assassin, then fall over and yell Woop with one hand raised in the air. Sounds like Fredo to me.
Sonny Corleone: Andrei Kirilenko. Career killed by rival gang (the diabolical Sloan family). As a sidenote, Sloan is exactly the kind of guy who would kick someone in the face for good measure after shooting them dozens of times.
Micheal Corleone: Deron Williams. If we exceed the scope of the Jazz it's easiest to go with Stephon Marbury given that he's already said he wants to run away to Italy after helping Isiah brutalize the Knicks franchise.
White guys don't make good enforcers: Stanton Huntington points out that the Jazz don't have a real enforcer now that Karl Malone's elbows have retired. Harpring Sucks suggests Kevin Lyde start sharpening his elbows. Given his body shape it's hard to imagine he's going to be any good at actually playing basketball.
The best blog on the internet: Harpring Sucks gives the "Mustaches of the Nineteenth Century" blog a hearty recommendation. Behold the ferocious face-shelf:
Blogoetry fails to win Battle Rap: Josh Leavitt uses poetry to "call out" the Houston Rockets. Unfortunately his best insult is "Yao moves with the rapidity of Jell-O!" While the use of the word rapidity indicates he was trying to make his syllable counts match this time around he's not doing much in the way of combating stereotypes that the pigmentally-challenged can't rhyme. If he had ever watched a single episode of Nick Cannon's Wild N Out he'd understand that the best rhyme insults go after the way people look and their sexual prowess.
As a result, appropriate topics would have included Tracy McGrady's lazy eye, Yao Ming's equipment not being proportionately sized, Rick Adelman's moustache, Rafer Alston's lurid activities on the And-1 bus with "Escalade" and "The Professor," and Shane Battier's head looking like a pack of hot dogs. In no instance should Jello moving slowly enter the equation.
Mangled Metaphors: Cameron Hansen argues that Jerry Sloan's approach of being aloof and above the team is what makes him a good coach. Although we don't necessarily agree with this conclusion (we link to a site called retiresloan.com after all) Harpring Sucks would like to award Cameron Hansen with a special "our favorite mangled metaphor of the month" award.
The metaphor in its entirety is as follows:
An example of this I can think of is if you were to be sewing a sweater: You
want it to be sewn together well, but you don’t want the sewing needles sewn in
there. A coach should sew together his team well, but not be included in that
type of camaraderie. It is the coach’s responsibility to get the team to
function well. Jerry Sloan understands this concept. I still cannot believe he
has never won Coach of the Year. In my opinion, he has deserved it multiple
times.
I had no idea that sewing needles had camaraderie. In related news, Cameron Hansen is a student at the University of Utah whose English department is currently unranked by US News and World Report.
More and (likely) back to absurd lengths on Thursday.
Matt also provides pictures of himself playing quaterback in high school. I know what you're thinking, and I thought it too: "Quarterback! Doesn't that position involve passing?!" Don't worry, Matt assures us that his black hole tendencies were alive and well even during his formative football years. As Matt writes: "I liked to run as much as pass!"
