Slippery Soapbox of College Football Announcers

So I'm watching the University of Kentucky and Florida State University playing in the Gaylord Hotels Music City Bowl, and some FSU defensive back named Tony Carter just did a forward flip into the endzone after an awful interception. One of the announcers, ESPN's Ed Cunningham, has spent the last five minutes railing on the moral decrepitude of this cornerback for his "selfish" flip into the endzone, and that he wants players that forward flip into the endzone on touchdowns to be ejected from the games. Indeed, while he's uptight because of the thirty yards in penalties the forward flip assessed, he keeps claiming that his ranting is because the forward flip is a safety hazard, and he doesn't want to see someone get hurt. While that's noble of him standing on his soapbox, it's a ridiculous excuse for his moral condemnation of the FSU players, because plenty of other rules in college football support much more dangerous maneuvers than the forward flip. In particular, the horse collar tackle, outlawed in the National Football League for its dangerous nature, is perfectly legal and the takedown of choice for many of college football's best defenders. Using a horse collar tackle, the tackler puts his victim at risk of serious injury by yanking his legs out from under him awkwardly by grabbing the back of the neck pads. In this case, the defender is putting the ball carrier at risk of injury; contrast this with the forward flip, which puts only the leaper at risk, the leaper who consciously made the decision to leap. Indeed, even if we assume that the forward flip risks safety, is it really deserving of a personal foul? Sure, it's often unnecessary, but I'd certainly rather see a flip, a feat of athleticism and skill, than Chad Johnson jumping into a camera operator's stand. Does the forward flip call attention to the individual scoring the points? Yes. But so what? Football's a team game, obviously, but college football gets a lot of revenue from these athletes; I see no reason to penalize players for showcasing their athleticism as they score a touchdown, risky or not. And, from his words at halftime, it sounds like Bobby Bowden agrees with me.

Blurring the lines: ESPN Conversation beta

I read the ESPN Ombudsmen whenever he or she posts (once a month nowadays) and, while I'll reserve my criticism of ESPN's Le Anne Schreiber for another day, I've never sent more than a short comment to him or her about anything I see on television. What I've often thought about sending in a comment about, though, deals not only with ESPN articles, but also AOL news items as well: the way reader comments are treated as a part of the news articles. While I'm not one of those people, like the Ombudsmen, that believes no news personalities should be able to endorse products (for one, I have no qualms about more Suzy Kolber on the air, and another, as long as the reporter doesn't have endorsement commercials running during his or her own broadcasts, there's no appearance of reporting; but I digress), I do feel like all news organizations run the risk of morphing user feedback into news. As far as online news articles, AOL's comment section appears directly below the article, and ESPN's similarly appears right below the information itself, separated by, if anything, a few crummy advertisements. But, while AOL only shows five comments on the front page (I assume they are the first five comments), ESPN employs moderators who get to post a few comments on the front page. While AOL's policy often results in vehemently racist or offensive messages (I have even reported some of the comments, and we all know my feelings about "snitching"), ESPN's method seems more prone to abuse, because the moderators have the ability to contribute in a sense to the article by adding opinion to the front page. In the screen shot I've posted alongside this, for example, there's a comment about ASU's blowout loss to Texas indicating a general PAC-10 weakness, drawing from an article by Bruce Feldman. While I certainly understand how an individual can draw such an idea from the article--which discusses, among other pieces, how Texas tore ASU apart despite an idiotic maneuver by a Longhorn employee--the article certainly doesn't demand such an deduction as "the PAC-10 conference is weak." That sort of suggestion is purely the creation of an individual reader, not Feldman himself in the article. Yet, there such a statement appears on the front page, right after Feldman's short bio, making it seem as though such commentary were part of the article. Indeed, by doing so, the moderators are doing more than just weeding out inappropriate responses because they are deciding what comments and conclusions are "worthy" of appearing alongside the article. AOL's method doesn't work (I could post one of the comments I reported, but I don't wish to be associated with that sort of awfulness even here) because anything can appear right there, but ESPN's method presents just as many moral dilemmas. Thankfully, I have a solution for ALL news organizations: simply make sure that each and every user comment appears ONLY on a separate forum page, and that no user comments appear alongside articles. This way, there is a clear distinction made between the news and the article its author has written and what Joe America has to say about that article or the topics discussed within it. By doing this, organizations like ESPN and AOL can offer users an excellent forum, and never worry about having negative or influencing comments from purporting themselves as anything more than non-journalistic commentary.

On Schilling, or Me pretending to be a Sports Columnist

I certainly admire Curt Schilling's performance on the field. Between the bloody sock mythological heroics or the time when he came back as a closer because there just wasn't anyone else and proceeded to stink (mostly), there's a lot to like in his portfolio as a pitcher and a future Hall of Famer. What I don't like about Schilling is his purported voice as a moral compass for the rest of the baseball world, specifically because, while he certainly has a point, his suggestions seem more like providing a voice for Joe Message Board grumbler than that of someone who, whether he likes it or not, is one vindicative clubhouse attendant away from some accusation himself. I don't like the idea that people "cheated" to succeed in baseball, though I'm not repulsed by it at all either. People do bad things to get ahead in life, and the pressures to succeed are strong. That's not an excuse, it's just a thought process. But, while Schilling's right to be ticked about losing out on Cy Young's or all-star votes to people sporting a chemical advantage, what he's not right about is his assertion that Roger Clemens--accused of being a steroid user by a clubhouse employee--must prove his innocence or lose the hardware. "The numbers should go away if he cannot refute the accusations," Schilling says in his blog according to ESPN.com, and certainly, I stress, I understand the chip weighing down his mighty right shoulder. But Schilling, as any politically active mind should realize, misunderstands the burden's placement: since there are no canceled checks in the Mitchell Report featuring the Rocket's John Hancock, Clemens need not "prove" his innocence. The burden is to prove his guilt, not vice versa; while the court of public opinion wields a gavel without restriction, it remains a fact that one is legally presumed innocent until proven guilty. Like it or not, then, Schilling's mistaken in claiming that Clemens needs to prove himself. Besides, how exactly can Clemens prove that he DIDN'T do any of those things, other than issuing sketchy statements? Drop his drawers and showcase a hide without holes?

A-Rod

I've seen in at least a handful of places assertions that A-Rod is what's wrong with baseball today. Somehow, by exploiting the market for his relatively small-scope skills, A-Rod is "destroying" the national pastime's highest competitive level.

Really? Really?

For one, the steroid debate--regardless of how I feel about it--seems of much more concern to baseball's health as a sport now, because of so many calling it an "integrity of the game" issue. For another, how about the issue of providing quality umpiring, or ensuring a watchably-competitiv e World Series? Are those issues really trumped by A-Rod net worth?

If anything, A-Rod's situation is indicative of a growing problem in baseball, which is that salaries are growing faster than Jack's beanstalk. I can admit this to be a valid topic of debate but, on the one hand, A-Rod is clearly not the only individual bound to be grossly overpaid. Carlos Zambrano's contract, or Roger Clemens's, or Carlos Silva's future deposits should be just as intimidating as A-Rod's. While $300M is SO big it sounds like the biggest culprit, I'd much rather spend $200M+ on A-Rod's production than $90M on what could be dead weight of Zambrano, in a Mike Hampton sort of way. Is the risk for A-Rod greater? Sure; there's more money. But is the likely return better? Dollar for dollar, I say it probably is.

Tim Duncan recently took $10M less than his maximum value to give the Spurs some flexibility in the future; kudos to Tim Duncan. I like to imagine (dream?) that if I were in his situation, I would do the same, with the adulation of even greater Texans and the respect of fans throughout the country being gained with an undeniably classy move. But do I fault A-Rod for going after every dollar OUTSIDE of New York? No, not the least of which because of the crap he dealt with there, from fans un-swayed by his production. People point out his penchant for being photographed with attractive blondes that aren't his wife as a negative, but, while I hate adulterers, that's him. I'd rather my baseball players do their job on the field and be duplicitous, cheating arrogant people off the field, than have them be steroid-infected or crappy performers.

Baseball is a business, and in this business, production is key. The A's and Twins and Marlins produce without huge financial reserves. Obviously, A-Rod is not on their horizon. But for some time with the financial werewithall to do it, A-Rod will be a big part of whatever 2008 success they achieve. I personally root for St. Louis, where the fans would recognize A-Rod for what his is: the ultimate baseball PLAYER of the 2000s.

So complain all you want about A-Rod being a "disgrace" to the game and baseball's "disgusting underbelly." But just remember, if you were in the business of baseball, wouldn't you want this player, this player capable of carrying a team to the playoffs with his skills, on your team, even at steep cost? I know I would, knowing full well that A-Rod is not a detriment to baseball, but rather just a supremely skilled participant that's about to get a whole lot richer.

If you don't like him, great, I probably wouldn't get along with him either. But I respect his talent, and know that some organization is going to be very happy next year...albeit a lot lighter in the wallet.

The Plight of Cherry Coke...

I took a sandwich with me to work today, and noticed when I went to eat it a little before 1:00 that the refridgerator was full of Cherry Coke. Cherry Coke had long been a preferred beverage of mine, particularly in fountain form at Subway. Of course, during my five-year-caffeinated-beverageless run, I was deprived of Cherry Coke, because the Coca-Cola company does not produce caffeine-free Cherry Coke. Hence, when I gave up on the no-caffeine mentality, I was excited to come back to Cherry Coke.

And the return was good. That catchy red-and-black edgy can design was appealing, and the taste sharp and unique. It was definitely Coke, but it wasn't the flagship product with deceptive labeling to pretend it was differently-flavored.

But then, something sinister happened: Coca-Cola company went insane and changed Cherry Coke. Not the flavor mind you. Just the can.

Instead of the edgy, confetti-like red and black coloring with a cool font, the new Cherry Coke isn't Cherry Coke, but Coca-Cola Cherry and it looks utterly ridiculous. I don't know which marketing person thought of this, but it's turning me off big time. I assume some of the motivation behind the ugly fuchsia-pink coloring is to appeal to a "healthier" beverage, with a less-edgy color scheme and the amply presence of eerily-pink cherries. Plus, the addition of the normal script Coca-Color reminds the average buyer that the artist-formerly-known as Cherry Coke is a Coca-Cola brand product.

But pink? Who's the target audience here? I mean, it's great to attract a pink-leaning group, but doesn't anyone else think that the excessively pink coloring might turn off a key demographic, like ME? I wouldn't consider it hip to walk around holding this new Cherry Coke can. In fact, I think it looks decidedly unhip, what with bulbous cherries prancing around the can and that decidedly ugly shade of pink I've been harping on. Whether you agree or not, wouldn't it be a good idea to package a product in a design that appeals to the college-aged male soda drinker? Wouldn't a significant loss in that group more than outweigh a modest gain in another area?

I'm going to only purchase Wild Cherry Pepsi from now on, which isn't as badass as the old Cherry Coke, but at least it ain't fuschia.

Another sad addition to the plaque...

I relate the anecdote to myself whenever someone passes on: David Ferber and I were in the library at LCHS when he noticed a small plaque above the copier. We looked at the names, and realized they belonged to the students who died during their time at Laguna. It sent a shiver through both of us, realizing that those small gold labels were the physical "remains" of those LCHS students. David said, before we left, "I hope they never fill that up."

Today, LCHS lost a member of its family, but Elk Grove youth baseball lost the man who one might even call its godfather or CEO. Ted Herrera, a baseball coach at LC, and the guy I know best for running Sac County Baseball, died of an apparent heart attack at home. I had teams in more than a few of Ted's tournaments, often at LCHS itself, where he hosted them himself, always greeted me warmly, and checked in my stuff personally. As Doug Penney said, he always gave Elk Grove Babe Ruth related teams a discount, which he was never obligated to do, and even came over personally to remind me about the discount if I had a group to get in this year when I attended another tournament. Recognizing a guy who enters only 1-2 tournaments each year shows the kind of guy Ted was. When a player on my team broke his wrist and we ran out of subs, his tournament director said it was a forfeit; when we discovered the ruling was errant, he not only apologized but let us finish up the game, at his own expense, to make sure even us--the 7th seed out of 8 in the tourney--got what we signed up for.

The amount of work Ted put into Sac County Baseball (now Norcal Super Series) I have to imagine, changed the way youth baseball worked in Elk Grove and maybe Northern California, making tournament ball a permanent part of the youth sports landscape and drawing players, coaches, and parents to Elk Grove and LCHS to see high-quality baseball. He proved that tournaments could not only be a good business, but that there was a demand for more baseball, and a quality baseball experience. He offered teams needing fundraising outlets the chance to host and make some money, he listened to complaints and acted on them, and made Sac County Baseball tournaments something you looked forward to. I can't even say how many time's I've heard SCB events just called "one of Ted's tournaments," a testament to the esteem and respect held for Mr. Ted Herrera throughout the region.

It's hard to realize that Ted Herrera is gone, and I doubt that tournament baseball in Elk Grove will ever be the same, ever possess that personal, friendly touch Ted brought. I know that I won't ever attend or enter a tournament without thinking about the guy who responded quickly when I first inquired about entering the 2004 NL 14 All-Stars during a Memorial Day tournament, that gave an extra day to get Phillips Goodenough's birth certificate, who helped financially with all the other entries--the 2006 15 All-Stars, the Ripperz, the Longhorns with Doug--and who always recognized me. He was a good guy who left a major mark on Elk Grove and its youth baseball, and who's amiability really gave his work a personal touch. I wish the best to his wife and sons--Teddy was in preschool with me--and I offer my condolences to them.

Ted may be gone, but his mark on that which so many of us love won't soon fade.

R.I.P. Ted Herrera. You're on our plaque forever.

Book Review: McCarthy's No Country for Old Men

Though my parents know and love all the classic western films, the cowboy genre never really appealed to me. I suppose the separation from my world is part of it, but maybe also the dry, hot Texas plains just made me feel...well, dry and hot.

My first venture into cowboy literature was reading "Brokeback Mountain" by Annie Proulx, which I read out of my choir friend, Joy's, creative writing book. After all, I had penned a short story about a young man scared to death to see the movie with his girlfriend and so, while I grinned at exploiting it without seeing the film, I felt I needed some basis in the story to run with. If there's one thing I remember about Proulx's short story, it was the vivid sensory details, particularly the smells, which was a unique experience in my short reading history. While I still wasn't sure precisely how to react to the story she told, it was told with a sense of detail I hadn't before encountered, capturing the rash, confused nature of the cowboys' relationship.

Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, like Proulx's piece, is a modern western. The novel is set in 1980 Texas, running through deserts and into trailer homes and oasis hotels, following the chain of events set into motion by Llewelyn Moss, a habitually sarcastic war veteran, who chances upon the carnage of a drogas-related-massacre and pockets the suitcase of cash inexplicably left behind. Trying desperately to find him are two men, troubled Sherriff Bell and ghost-like hitman Anton Chigurh.

McCarthy's novel communicates the barren landscape of its setting and characters strongly, but rather than doing so with ample sensory detail--though the author hardly fails there--No Country's presentation suggests this strongly, with traditional syntactical devices hurled to the wayside like a bystander interfering with Chigurh's work. McCarthy uses neither quotation marks nor commas (I counted just one, though in absorbed reading I might have missed some) and this works well, putting description, dialogue, and thought all on the same plane, the same way the three uniquely-equipped characters seem to stay ahead of one another. While the syntax at first makes reading a little cumbersome, as dialogue and thinking look identical, it makes the read unique and really offers a sense of the way each character prioritizes their communication.

While Moss takes up most of the novel, Bell and Chigurh are the characters that make it work. Moss puts himself in one awful situation after another, and although he realizes at each step that his little run will surely end in death, he continues making one mistake after another, and his constant refusal to even listen to a word his grounded wife says frustrates quickly. Bell, the only character McCarthy offers first person insight into, reflects a reluctant version of the classic sherriff: owns a perfect record of solving homicide, exudes an aura of quiet confidence, but always doubts himself as a human being. Bell gives a clear look into the drug-infested wild west of today, and shows a depth of conscience that either Moss lacks, of McCarthy wants the reader to miss.

Chigurh, while the sort of cold blooded killer we cross our fingers doesn't exist, also possesses Bell's deep attachment to morality. At first presentation, Chigurh is almost catlike, toying with a potential victim, demanding he call a coin flip for his life. Though the situation suggests a sort of grim pleasure at the prospect of murder, Chigurh discloses no disappointment when the store owner calls it correctly; indeed, Chigurh is not a monster for his penchant for murder. Rather, Chigurh governs himself by a horrifying set of morals, never above murdering a meddlesome hotel clerk, but also thoughtful enough to use small bullets so as not to spill glass on innocent bystanders. Killing for cash, yes, and with a cold efficiency, but the hit man adheres strictly to his word, "even to a dead man," and turns into as deep a character as Bell (although Chigurh feels none of the guilt that haunts every moment of Bell's existence).

If you're into the classic western, I think McCarthy's novel will offer a nice change of pace, and with the movie on the near horizon (my initial motivation to read it; the trailer was a masterpiece), getting to understand the characters a little bit is surely worth the time. It's definitely a unique read, stylistically and story-wise.

Next up, on Jim's suggestion, another future movie: The Golden Compass by Phillip Pullman.

Film review: Blades of Glory

If anyone's to blame for my viewing of Blades of Glory, it's the team behind Anchorman. As I have mentioned many times, Anchorman is the stuff of comedic legend for me, as it took a mildly unexciting plot and used absurd, random jokes to turn it into a quotable machine, pumping out enough memorable lines to enable three UC Davis students to engage in a lengthy conversation consisting of but quotes from the movie...and laughter.

So what was wrong with Blades?

Simply put, it just wasn't up to the caliber of legendary Anchorman or even Talladega Nights.

The story itself seems like the kind to generate at the very least cheap laughs, and the plot does deliver. Jim McElroy (Napoleon Dyna...err, I mean Jon Heder) is the efemminite graceful skater; Chaz Michael Michaelson (Will Ferrell) is his bad ass, lady-lovin' nemesis. Together, they share a gold medal at the movie's Olympics, but verbal sparring at the award's podium leads to physical fisticuffs, and their disgraceful showing prompts a lifetime ban...from men's singles. Years later, neither prepared to give up, a stalker informs them that they can slip into the "mixed" doubles figure skating competition and try to reclaim some of their lost glory.

As you might expect, the result is comic outrage, with plenty of gay jokes (among them, "As if figure skating wasn't gay enough already") and awkward situations left to play out. And the situations themselves are funny; the movie itself just doesn't follow suit, as Ferrell and Heder's lines often seemed forced and lack the smooth nature of all of Anchorman, Will Arnett is absolutely unfunny and almost all his lines lack the zest of those in the gag reel, and none of the other characters offer enough lines to even make an impression. Jenna Fischer, playing Heder's love interest and Arnett and Amy Ploeher's younger, guilt-ridden sister, is quaint and attractive, but despite her alleged commitment to morals, she never ceases to do the wrong thing, even with the best intentions. Craig T. Nelson, worth at least a mention, is cast as...a coach...which sounds oddly familiar.

If there's any one film that Blades reminds me of, it's Juwanna Mann, a story about a disgraced athlete at the top of his game that must enter a new area of his sport and change his self-centered ways to resurrect his livelihood. But see, that's the problem with Blades: Juwanna had built-in laughs from all the cross-dressing, dual-identity jokes that Miguel Nunes milked for most of the film's humor. Blades, on the other hand, had only a short string of predictable gay jokes to run on, so when those were exhausted--quickly--all that's left is the random one-liners that carried Anchorman. So, while the story plays out well, and the movie never takes itself seriously, the one-liners fail to deliver and so the movie misses the chance to capitalize on comedians put into a funny situation.

Tomorrow, I think I'll extend my review of Cormac McCarthy's novel (and future cinematic release) No Country for Old Men.

An introduction

I'll start this off by admitting that I strongly suspect this could go to the wayside. For me, there's only one "blog" dear to my heart, that being LJ, where I have written since the summer before my senior year of high school. Of course, as readers have dwindled on LJ--and my entry-writing frequency reacted accordingly--I'd begun to wonder whether it wasn't an idea to start writing somewhere else about other things. At the same time, my writing on LJ was of such a...personal...nature, that leaving the comforts of my $25-per-year journal seemed like a stark reality.

But then, while I was reading some comment responses in Keith Law's ESPN blog, I found my way to his other blog. While Law's baseball blog is, without a doubt, my favorite corner of ESPN.com, thanks to both his insight into the sport and his willingness to respond to even the most assanine comments on his posts, I found "The Dish" interesting in that his entries dabbled in all sorts of subjects, from cheeses and restaraunt commentary to book reviews. It seemed to me that Law used his personal blog to discuss everything his more publicized blog prohibited (everything non-baseball).

Thus it was that, when Roseanne sent me her blog, I decided to follow Keith Law's lead and maintain this second blog. On LJ--my home--I will continue debating the things most important to me: life, love, and faith. Here, I will do everything else, commenting on the news and sports (especially the latter), and reviewing books, movies, and, if I feel particularly into myself, video games. I hope to make this something worthwhile and entertaining, at least for myself, since I wonder whether anyone else will ever really get into reading what I write.

Then again, I never would have anticipated LJ becoming so important a part of my life for almost five years, after just being an afterthought discovered in a survey written by Cristina.