So yesterday, my colleague Nicole and I went to an ACT Convention in Madison, and guess what. I brought a pen! Here's how it went down:
7:45...I arrive at Nicole's house in Janesville. She's driving because her husband works at a car dealership and I drive a 2000 Toyota Corolla. We don't have directions to the hotel, so I'm concerned, but apparently I'm a caveman--we have OnStar. This is my first experience with OnStar, and it's very exciting. Before the day is over, we will have used it 4 times.
8:30...We pull up to the Sheraton and head inside. Incidentally, it's chilly. This morning, I actually heard a guy on the radio say, "It won't be as cold tonight. You can expect a low of 4." 4! That's what we get excited about here in the Midwest now.
8:35...There's a continental breakfast, but we're not hungry. Nicole stands in line for coffee for 5 minutes while I find us a seat in front of a coffee machine with no line. I should probably have let her in on that.
8:45...Joining us at the table today: Mary Ellen McCormick-Mervis. If you think you should recognize that name, you shouldn't. I just thought it was funny. There's some other lady here too.
8:55...When asked what UW-Madison looks for, an admissions counselor in the crowd says, "High-ability students." You don't say.
9:00...We have some time to kill. I'm reading The Inner Game of Tennis, about which you should definitely be expecting a blog when I finish it. Nicole is reading Alive. So far, this conference is money well spent.
9:30...The guy who's introducing the keynote speaker says, "Paul Weeks certainly doesn't need an introduction to this crowd." I think he does. Anyway, it turns out that he used to work at Ripon--Sara remembers him as being nice. However, he now works for the ACT, which she loathes, so I wonder how she reconciles those two emotions. Anyway, here are some of the interesting things about his address:
1. He refers to the "Wisconsin mafia." Does anyone know what this means?
2. He begins by saying, "It wouldn't be a Paul Weeks presentation if I didn't give Carlos Garces a prize." I'll say.
3. He passes out instant lottery tickets to people who answer questions. Nice.
4. He claims that ACT (the corporation) is "so much more than the test." He never convinces me that this is true.
9:40...Here are four questions to ask yourself if you're wondering whether you're disturbing the people around you: 1) Are you moving the table a lot? 2) Are you making more noise than anyone else around you? 3) Are you taking up more than your fair share of the table? 4) Are a lot of the people sitting near you looking at you a lot? Mary Ellen McCormick-Mervis, you should commit that list to memory.
9:50...The line of the morning comes when Paul is explaining that monitoring without intervention isn't helpful: "Weighin' the hog don't make it fatter." Nice.
9:55...Did you know that all students in Colorado, Illinois, and Michigan have to take the ACT? It's true.
9:56...Speaking of Colorado, we're looking at a map right now, and it's always farther south that I remember. Always.
10:20...Heading into our first break-out session, I see a lot of people on cell phones, and it becomes clear that everyone in the world has a nicer cell phone than I do. I feel like I'm carrying around a Zach Morris model circa 1992.
10:30...Andy, who was supposed to present about designing your own ACT prep course, is mysteriously absent. Over the next hour, we will be told that he is sick, that he has a sickness in the family, and that he's gone for personal reasons. We will also be told that he notified them as late as Tuesday night and as early as Friday. If no one sees Andy by the end of the week, we should make a phone call. Anyway, Patricia is stepping up.
10:45...Okay, so clearly Patricia knows what she's doing. We should just hire her. She talks a lot about the course she organizes through UW-Milwaukee. Some interesting sidenotes:
1. Roughly 75% of her students see improvement. I'm not a violent person, but Charlie would get a beating if I paid $175 for an ACT prep course and he didn't improve.
2. This guy says something about getting out of the course as much as you can, and I thought of a cool line to use at the beginning: "Your job is to get out of this course as much as you can get out of this course. Otherwise, get out of this course." That'd scare the little punks.
11:30...The session is over--it was genuinely helpful, I think--and we're headed out for lunch. We decide on a Mexican place called El Pastor (which means "the pastor"). We both go with the chicken burrito. Nicole gets the medium and I get the large. There is no small, which begs the question, why not call the medium "small"? Doesn't medium mean it's in the middle? It can't be in the middle if there are only two sizes. Anyway, neither one of us finishes what we got. But they were excellent. If you are away from home and don't know the local cuisine, a sit-down Mexican restaurant is your best bet.
This blog entry is getting long, and nothing interesting happened in the afternoon. (Whether anything interesting happened in the morning is up to you to decide.) Anyway, I would say that this was a useful day. We learned some things. Hopefully, so will our students, although that seems less likely. So it goes.
Later gators.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
sex, drugs, and qdoba
If this were a serious blog, I would have brought a pen with me last night.
Last night, you see, my long-lost friend Bryn and I met at her place in Madison and, after a quick dinner at Qdoba, went to see Chuck Klosterman speak at UW. And he was awesome. However, I can't remember hardly any of the reasons why he was awesome. What I do remember is a number of times when I thought, Man, I should totally include that on my blog tomorrow. I mean, this is the sort of event that really lends itself to a blog entry. But I'm having a very difficult time recalling any details. That won't surprise anyone who knows me well--that is, anyone who's had to grab my wallet for me as we walked out of a restaurant, anyone who's decided it would be funny to hide my keys when I left them in the computer lab (I'm looking at you, Beckford), anyone who shares a household income with me and has to constantly remind me to deposit my paycheck. In some ways, I have an excellent memory. In many, many more ways, I do not. I'll do my best, though. Here are 11 things I remember about last night's event:
1. CK is pretty tall. Like maybe 6'2 or 6'3.
2. If you've seen a picture of him, you know he has a floppy haircut. I don't understand guys who do that. He was constantly brushing it away from his face. Isn't that a hassle?
3. He was wearing a Doors (I think) t-shirt; a black, zip-up, hooded sweatshirt; and blue jeans. However, whenever he stepped behind the podium, I imagined that he was wearing red pants. It wasn't a conscious thought. I was just surprised whenever he stepped out and his pants weren't red.
4. His voice is very unique. I've listened to him reading Chuck Klosterman IV on CD, so I knew that, but it bears mentioning. I suppose that nasally is the best word to describe it, but that's a negative description, and his voice isn't really annoying. Actually, it's sort of engaging. But in a nasally way.
5. Sometimes, when I have time to kill in class, I have the kids play a public speaking game where they have to talk about some random topic (Sneakers! Chinese food! Pencil sharpeners!) for a full minute without pausing, umming, ahing, saying like, etc. Chuck Klosterman would be horrible at that game. Further, he starts a lot--a lot--of sentences that he never finishes. For example, I'm pretty sure this is a direct quote:
The record companies realized they could sell six-year-old kids records. Like Britney Spears, and Justin Timberlake...and, like, I mean, right? You know? So anyway...
Again, I'm not criticizing. I could have listened to him all night. But Barack Obama he is not. (More on that later.)
6. He is a very animated speaker. The image that's in my head right now is of him sort of tilting his left shoulder forward and down a little bit, with his hands extended, palms up. It's kind of like he's saying, Ta da!, but in a matter-of-fact kind of way. He would stand that way whenenver he was making a point about something that seemed really ludicrous to him. Like how strange it seemed to him that people always ask what Britney Spears/Val Kilmer/etc. are "really" like, as though his two hours with them would make him privy to that sort of circumspection. He made that point roughly 10 minutes before someone asked him what Britney Spears was really like.
7. Hillary Clinton was also speaking in Madison last night, and he wished that they could have somehow combined their events so they could have a debate. He conceded that she would probably win when it came to topics like government spending and national defense, but if the topic were Wilco B-sides, he was confident that he would "crush her."
8. He thinks that Hillary is probably the more qualified Democratic candidate right now, but he is going to vote for Obama. He's not sure why.
9. His knowledge of music is scary. In fact, it's so broad that I dreaded music questions because I knew I wouldn't be able to follow along. He mentioned so many bands that I had never heard of that I found myself getting excited when he talked about Guns 'n Roses because even though I have almost never actively listened to GNR, I know who they are.
9b. I had a professor in college named William Woolley, and I remember a number of times in class when he would talk about a book, and he would run his finger back and forth through the air as he tried to remember something from it. It was a mystery to me until a senior history major explained to me that he was recreating the pages in his head and going through them until he found what he was trying to remember. That always amazed me. Chuck Klosterman is like that when it comes to the Kurt Cobain suicide. A kid asked if he thought Cobain was murdered (he does not), and it was like CK wrote his masters thesis about it. Very impressive.
10. He has an in-depth knowledge of sports that some people might not be aware of. He did an awesome blog on last year's Final Four.
11. To use what he once called "the least incendiary of all modifiers," he seems genuinely "nice." He also seems genuinely genuine. Some celebrities give you the impression that if you approached them in a bar, they'd give a nod to some guy in the corner and you'd be out on the street in about three seconds. And maybe that's true of Klosterman (although he doesn't seem like he spends much time with guys who would be capable of throwing you out of a bar), but I don't think so. I think he'd buy you a Sierra Nevada and ask what you thought of the Jason Kidd trade. I think so, anyway.
Later gators.
Last night, you see, my long-lost friend Bryn and I met at her place in Madison and, after a quick dinner at Qdoba, went to see Chuck Klosterman speak at UW. And he was awesome. However, I can't remember hardly any of the reasons why he was awesome. What I do remember is a number of times when I thought, Man, I should totally include that on my blog tomorrow. I mean, this is the sort of event that really lends itself to a blog entry. But I'm having a very difficult time recalling any details. That won't surprise anyone who knows me well--that is, anyone who's had to grab my wallet for me as we walked out of a restaurant, anyone who's decided it would be funny to hide my keys when I left them in the computer lab (I'm looking at you, Beckford), anyone who shares a household income with me and has to constantly remind me to deposit my paycheck. In some ways, I have an excellent memory. In many, many more ways, I do not. I'll do my best, though. Here are 11 things I remember about last night's event:
1. CK is pretty tall. Like maybe 6'2 or 6'3.
2. If you've seen a picture of him, you know he has a floppy haircut. I don't understand guys who do that. He was constantly brushing it away from his face. Isn't that a hassle?
3. He was wearing a Doors (I think) t-shirt; a black, zip-up, hooded sweatshirt; and blue jeans. However, whenever he stepped behind the podium, I imagined that he was wearing red pants. It wasn't a conscious thought. I was just surprised whenever he stepped out and his pants weren't red.
4. His voice is very unique. I've listened to him reading Chuck Klosterman IV on CD, so I knew that, but it bears mentioning. I suppose that nasally is the best word to describe it, but that's a negative description, and his voice isn't really annoying. Actually, it's sort of engaging. But in a nasally way.
5. Sometimes, when I have time to kill in class, I have the kids play a public speaking game where they have to talk about some random topic (Sneakers! Chinese food! Pencil sharpeners!) for a full minute without pausing, umming, ahing, saying like, etc. Chuck Klosterman would be horrible at that game. Further, he starts a lot--a lot--of sentences that he never finishes. For example, I'm pretty sure this is a direct quote:
The record companies realized they could sell six-year-old kids records. Like Britney Spears, and Justin Timberlake...and, like, I mean, right? You know? So anyway...
Again, I'm not criticizing. I could have listened to him all night. But Barack Obama he is not. (More on that later.)
6. He is a very animated speaker. The image that's in my head right now is of him sort of tilting his left shoulder forward and down a little bit, with his hands extended, palms up. It's kind of like he's saying, Ta da!, but in a matter-of-fact kind of way. He would stand that way whenenver he was making a point about something that seemed really ludicrous to him. Like how strange it seemed to him that people always ask what Britney Spears/Val Kilmer/etc. are "really" like, as though his two hours with them would make him privy to that sort of circumspection. He made that point roughly 10 minutes before someone asked him what Britney Spears was really like.
7. Hillary Clinton was also speaking in Madison last night, and he wished that they could have somehow combined their events so they could have a debate. He conceded that she would probably win when it came to topics like government spending and national defense, but if the topic were Wilco B-sides, he was confident that he would "crush her."
8. He thinks that Hillary is probably the more qualified Democratic candidate right now, but he is going to vote for Obama. He's not sure why.
9. His knowledge of music is scary. In fact, it's so broad that I dreaded music questions because I knew I wouldn't be able to follow along. He mentioned so many bands that I had never heard of that I found myself getting excited when he talked about Guns 'n Roses because even though I have almost never actively listened to GNR, I know who they are.
9b. I had a professor in college named William Woolley, and I remember a number of times in class when he would talk about a book, and he would run his finger back and forth through the air as he tried to remember something from it. It was a mystery to me until a senior history major explained to me that he was recreating the pages in his head and going through them until he found what he was trying to remember. That always amazed me. Chuck Klosterman is like that when it comes to the Kurt Cobain suicide. A kid asked if he thought Cobain was murdered (he does not), and it was like CK wrote his masters thesis about it. Very impressive.
10. He has an in-depth knowledge of sports that some people might not be aware of. He did an awesome blog on last year's Final Four.
11. To use what he once called "the least incendiary of all modifiers," he seems genuinely "nice." He also seems genuinely genuine. Some celebrities give you the impression that if you approached them in a bar, they'd give a nod to some guy in the corner and you'd be out on the street in about three seconds. And maybe that's true of Klosterman (although he doesn't seem like he spends much time with guys who would be capable of throwing you out of a bar), but I don't think so. I think he'd buy you a Sierra Nevada and ask what you thought of the Jason Kidd trade. I think so, anyway.
Later gators.
Friday, February 15, 2008
$250 for the head of a pig?
Once, at a graduation party, I was sitting with my wife, our friend Gail August, and some of the graduating seniors. We were talking about people's favorite subjects in school, and Gail said, "I think with history, you either love it or you hate it. Jenna, how do you like history?" To which Jenna replied, "It's alright," thereby destroying Gail's original thesis. For some reason, this cracked me up.
Anyway, I feel the same way about Valentine's Day. Like, you're either supposed to love it (mostly if you're a girl) or hate it (mostly if you're a guy). But if you asked me, I'd tell you, "It's alright." I don't love it like, say, Christmas or my birthday, but I certainly don't think I hate it. I'm mostly indifferent. And at least I've had some interesting ones. Like my first Valentine's Day with Sara when I borrowed her car and drove it into a telephone pole. (That's hyperbole, but whatever.) Most recently, Valentine's Day resulted in my first visit to Designs by Maida (inexplicably pronounced MAY-dee-uh), a new boutique on the square in Woodstock that sells nice stuff for your house, mostly.
I was in the market for a gift for my lovely wife, and since we just bought property on which to build a new house, I thought I'd get something with which to decorate said house. Seemed timely. So I decide to walk in and do a little browsing. Immediately, this woman (I'm going to call her Maida, even though her name was something like Kate) says, "Welcome to Designs by Maida! Can I help you find something?" Very friendly. And I told her I was just browsing for a Valentine's Day gift, so she backed off for about 15 seconds before reattaching herself to me and asking, once again, if there was something she could help me find. Well, during that 15 seconds, it had become clear that I was out of my league at this place. The first thing I looked at (not because I was going to buy it, but because I was intrigued) was a door knocker in the shape of a pig's head. It cost $250. I was not going to buy anything at Designs by Maida.
But I didn't want to be rude, so I said, "Sure, Maida. Imagine that you and your husband have just bought a new house, and he's looking to spend about $75 on a gift that you can use to help decorate that new house, and he walks into this store. What would you want him to buy?" Now, I feel like I did that well because 1) I think salespeople like it when you ask them stuff like that. Same with servers at restaurants; 2) I'm being friendly, so she might give me a break on something; and 3) I've made my budget clear. So Maida thinks for a minute, then she says, "Candle holders."
Yeah, okay. That could be cool. And it seems like I should be able to get a nice set for $75, so I say, "Okay. Show me your candle holders." She asks if my wife would prefer glass or wood. Definitely wood. We're not fancy people. So she leads me to a shelf with maybe a dozen different kinds of wood candle holders. "And all of our candles are on sale," she tells me. So the first candle holder I look at is the biggest one, which might have been a mistake on my part, but it was nice-looking, so I thought I'd check out the price. $210. Are you kidding me, Maida? For a freakin' candle holder? So I start wondering what the price range is here. I look at the smallest one on the shelf. $108. Did I not make myself clear? First of all, under no circumstances would I buy a damn candle holder for $108. And this is especially true when I told the salesperson that I didn't want to spend more than $75. Did she not hear me? Did she think I was kidding? What the hell?
Anyway, now I'm standing there looking at candle holders that I'm not going to buy, and Maida is staring at me, and I don't know what to do. So I tell her I'm going to keep looking around. I walk around and find lamps that cost $300; blankets that cost $450; a wine rack that cost $1,200. I remember hearing a George Carlin bit where he says that he wanted to open a restaurant where one meal cost $10,000, so they'd only have to have one customer a day to make money. I wonder if Maida didn't hear that same bit and take it seriously. Regardless, I walk around, worrying that I'll knock over a $5,000 teapot or something, until I finally make something up about how I have somewhere to be and I don't want to rush the decision, so I'll be back. I don't know if she bought it, but I don't care. $450 for a freakin' blanket. It didn't even look that warm.
So I got my beautiful bride some wall art from Target, a singing card, flowers, and a big Toblerone bar. And now I'm going to tell her that I love her on my blog.
I love you.
Later gators.
Anyway, I feel the same way about Valentine's Day. Like, you're either supposed to love it (mostly if you're a girl) or hate it (mostly if you're a guy). But if you asked me, I'd tell you, "It's alright." I don't love it like, say, Christmas or my birthday, but I certainly don't think I hate it. I'm mostly indifferent. And at least I've had some interesting ones. Like my first Valentine's Day with Sara when I borrowed her car and drove it into a telephone pole. (That's hyperbole, but whatever.) Most recently, Valentine's Day resulted in my first visit to Designs by Maida (inexplicably pronounced MAY-dee-uh), a new boutique on the square in Woodstock that sells nice stuff for your house, mostly.
I was in the market for a gift for my lovely wife, and since we just bought property on which to build a new house, I thought I'd get something with which to decorate said house. Seemed timely. So I decide to walk in and do a little browsing. Immediately, this woman (I'm going to call her Maida, even though her name was something like Kate) says, "Welcome to Designs by Maida! Can I help you find something?" Very friendly. And I told her I was just browsing for a Valentine's Day gift, so she backed off for about 15 seconds before reattaching herself to me and asking, once again, if there was something she could help me find. Well, during that 15 seconds, it had become clear that I was out of my league at this place. The first thing I looked at (not because I was going to buy it, but because I was intrigued) was a door knocker in the shape of a pig's head. It cost $250. I was not going to buy anything at Designs by Maida.
But I didn't want to be rude, so I said, "Sure, Maida. Imagine that you and your husband have just bought a new house, and he's looking to spend about $75 on a gift that you can use to help decorate that new house, and he walks into this store. What would you want him to buy?" Now, I feel like I did that well because 1) I think salespeople like it when you ask them stuff like that. Same with servers at restaurants; 2) I'm being friendly, so she might give me a break on something; and 3) I've made my budget clear. So Maida thinks for a minute, then she says, "Candle holders."
Yeah, okay. That could be cool. And it seems like I should be able to get a nice set for $75, so I say, "Okay. Show me your candle holders." She asks if my wife would prefer glass or wood. Definitely wood. We're not fancy people. So she leads me to a shelf with maybe a dozen different kinds of wood candle holders. "And all of our candles are on sale," she tells me. So the first candle holder I look at is the biggest one, which might have been a mistake on my part, but it was nice-looking, so I thought I'd check out the price. $210. Are you kidding me, Maida? For a freakin' candle holder? So I start wondering what the price range is here. I look at the smallest one on the shelf. $108. Did I not make myself clear? First of all, under no circumstances would I buy a damn candle holder for $108. And this is especially true when I told the salesperson that I didn't want to spend more than $75. Did she not hear me? Did she think I was kidding? What the hell?
Anyway, now I'm standing there looking at candle holders that I'm not going to buy, and Maida is staring at me, and I don't know what to do. So I tell her I'm going to keep looking around. I walk around and find lamps that cost $300; blankets that cost $450; a wine rack that cost $1,200. I remember hearing a George Carlin bit where he says that he wanted to open a restaurant where one meal cost $10,000, so they'd only have to have one customer a day to make money. I wonder if Maida didn't hear that same bit and take it seriously. Regardless, I walk around, worrying that I'll knock over a $5,000 teapot or something, until I finally make something up about how I have somewhere to be and I don't want to rush the decision, so I'll be back. I don't know if she bought it, but I don't care. $450 for a freakin' blanket. It didn't even look that warm.
So I got my beautiful bride some wall art from Target, a singing card, flowers, and a big Toblerone bar. And now I'm going to tell her that I love her on my blog.
I love you.
Later gators.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
the case of larry legend v. mike
So, a number of my basketball players (who also happen to be students of Nicole Beckford's) are under the misconception that Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all-time. So they're writing persuasive essays for Nicole's class, and one of them told me he was going to write about why Jordan was better than the great Larry Bird. So I said, Okay, I'll write one too. Here it is.
Many Greek philosophers, among them Leucippus and Democritus, believed that the Earth was flat. Galileo Galilei, the great Tuscan physicist and astronomer, was convinced that the Sun revolved around the Earth. And my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Gregory, once told us that the oceans were blue because they reflected the blue sky. (Evidently, pure water is simply a blue chemical.) There are many misconceptions about the planet Earth. But the biggest misconception on the planet Earth is that Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all-time. I will stipulate that Jordan is the second-greatest basketball player of all-time, but if he wanted the top spot, he should have had better nicknames, he should have been a better college player, and he should not have tainted his legacy late in his career. Then maybe he could compete with the great Larry Bird.
In his career with the Chicago Bulls, Michael Jordan averaged 30.1 points per game; admittedly, Larry Bird’s 24.3 points per game don’t measure up. However, Bird’s game was not defined by scoring. The Boston Celtics of the 1980’s were defined by selflessness, and no player on that team was more selfless than Larry Legend. Bird could have scored more points than Jordan if that had been his goal; after all, his shooting percentages from the free throw line and the three-point line were both better than Jordan’s respective marks. (Their overall field goal percentages were equal.) But Jordan shot 3.5 more times per game than Bird while Bird dished out a full assist per game more than Jordan. (This is to say nothing of the fact that Bird averaged nearly four more rebounds per game.)
In addition to his impressive scoring record, Jordan won six NBA Championships; Bird won three. Before making a judgment, consider the coaches and teammates of Jordan’s who went on to play in one or more championship series without him later in their careers: Phil Jackson, Horace Grant, Jack Haley, Ron Harper, Steve Kerr, Toni Kukoc, Will Perdue, Dennis Rodman, and John Salley. Bird’s list? Danny Ainge. In short, Jordan’s teammates succeeded without him; Bird’s did not. The sheer length of these lists suggests that Jordan was not nearly as critical to his teams’ achievements as Bird was to his.
Finally, what of Jordan’s myriad awards? He was NBA Rookie of the Year (although the same could be said of Bird). He was the MVP five times (to Bird’s three). He was the MVP of the NBA Finals six times (to Bird’s two). Don’t these accolades prove that Jordan was the better player? In a word, no. In the voting for any award, each player is essentially competing against the other players in the league, and the players against whom Jordan competed in his prime were drastically inferior to those against whom Bird competed in his. (It’s a small wonder that Jordan, despite averaging over 30 points per game in the 80’s, didn’t start winning Championships until Bird retired.) Jordan played in an era when high school players were entering the draft in unprecedented numbers, and while these players would eventually become today’s All-Stars (Kevin Garnett, Kobe Bryant, Tracy McGrady, etc.), the 18-year-old versions that Jordan “competed” with were not nearly as talented as the Magic Johnsons, the Isiah Thomases, and the Julius Ervings that Bird dominated during his Hall of Fame career.
As George Herman Ruth, Joe Jackson, and Rod Smart can all attest, a colorful nickname is crucial to an athlete’s legacy. And the Babe, Shoeless Joe, and He Hate Me would likely also agree that Jordan can’t hold a candle to Bird in this category. Bird’s nicknames include Larry Legend, Basketball Jesus, The Hick from French Lick, The Mustard Kid, and Kodak. (Olympic coach Bill Fitch christened Bird with that last one because Bird seemed to create an instant mental image of every play that occurred on the floor.) By contrast, Jordan’s nicknames (according to www.basketball-reference.com) include Air, Mike, MJ, and Superman. After eliminating Superman because it’s unoriginal and no one actually called him that, the list stands at his initials, his first name, and “Air,” about which ESPN’s Page 2 admits, “[Jordan] outplayed his own…nickname.” Basketball Jesus versus Mike? Please.
To compare the college careers of Bird and Jordan would not be worthwhile as Bird’s numbers are significantly better. The Hick from French Lick averaged 30.3 points, 13.3 rebounds, and 4.6 assists per game during his three-year career. (“Mike” averaged 17.7, 5.0, and 1.8 during his three-year stint at North Carolina.) What’s more noteworthy is the remarkable risk that Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics took on Bird in the 1978 draft. At the time, league rules dictated that a player could be drafted while he was still in college, but could not play in the NBA until he had been out of high school for three years. With future All-Stars like Magic Johnson and Reggie Theus still available, the Celtics used the sixth pick that year on Bird. The following spring, Bird carried his Indiana State Sycamores to a memorable NCAA Championship game against Johnson and Michigan State. Two years later, the Boston Celtics were NBA Champions. Their leading scorer and rebounder that season? Basketball Jesus.
With all of the rhetoric stripped away, this argument is about legacy. Were this a play, Bird would clearly have had the upper hand during the first act (their respective college careers). Some may have given Jordan the edge in the second act (although most of those arguments seem to have been put to bed). The third act, then, is the deciding factor. Bird spent the five years after his retirement as a special assistant in the Celtics’ front office before taking over as head coach of the Indiana Pacers. He led the Pacers to three Eastern Conference Championship games and one NBA Finals series. In 1998, he was named the NBA’s Coach of the Year. He currently serves as the Pacers’ President of Basketball Operations. Jordan’s third act looks like this: early retirement; a short, disappointing minor league baseball career; gambling controversy; an injury-plagued comeback with the Washington Wizards; and a position as Director of Basketball Operations for the Wizards to which he is, by all accounts, only marginally committed. He has also been divorced from the same woman twice, the second time following a messy accusation of infidelity on Jordan’s part. To repeat, this argument is about legacy. In this play, Bird is our hero.
This line of reasoning is in no way a criticism of Michael Jordan. Thousands of players have played in the NBA since it was created in 1946. Jordan was better than the Chamberlains and the Russells; the Thomases and the Johnsons; the Jameses and the Duncans. But even Leucippus would agree that a close examination of their legacies proves that there was one man who stood above even MJ, and that man was The Mustard Kid: Larry Bird.
Many Greek philosophers, among them Leucippus and Democritus, believed that the Earth was flat. Galileo Galilei, the great Tuscan physicist and astronomer, was convinced that the Sun revolved around the Earth. And my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Gregory, once told us that the oceans were blue because they reflected the blue sky. (Evidently, pure water is simply a blue chemical.) There are many misconceptions about the planet Earth. But the biggest misconception on the planet Earth is that Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all-time. I will stipulate that Jordan is the second-greatest basketball player of all-time, but if he wanted the top spot, he should have had better nicknames, he should have been a better college player, and he should not have tainted his legacy late in his career. Then maybe he could compete with the great Larry Bird.
In his career with the Chicago Bulls, Michael Jordan averaged 30.1 points per game; admittedly, Larry Bird’s 24.3 points per game don’t measure up. However, Bird’s game was not defined by scoring. The Boston Celtics of the 1980’s were defined by selflessness, and no player on that team was more selfless than Larry Legend. Bird could have scored more points than Jordan if that had been his goal; after all, his shooting percentages from the free throw line and the three-point line were both better than Jordan’s respective marks. (Their overall field goal percentages were equal.) But Jordan shot 3.5 more times per game than Bird while Bird dished out a full assist per game more than Jordan. (This is to say nothing of the fact that Bird averaged nearly four more rebounds per game.)
In addition to his impressive scoring record, Jordan won six NBA Championships; Bird won three. Before making a judgment, consider the coaches and teammates of Jordan’s who went on to play in one or more championship series without him later in their careers: Phil Jackson, Horace Grant, Jack Haley, Ron Harper, Steve Kerr, Toni Kukoc, Will Perdue, Dennis Rodman, and John Salley. Bird’s list? Danny Ainge. In short, Jordan’s teammates succeeded without him; Bird’s did not. The sheer length of these lists suggests that Jordan was not nearly as critical to his teams’ achievements as Bird was to his.
Finally, what of Jordan’s myriad awards? He was NBA Rookie of the Year (although the same could be said of Bird). He was the MVP five times (to Bird’s three). He was the MVP of the NBA Finals six times (to Bird’s two). Don’t these accolades prove that Jordan was the better player? In a word, no. In the voting for any award, each player is essentially competing against the other players in the league, and the players against whom Jordan competed in his prime were drastically inferior to those against whom Bird competed in his. (It’s a small wonder that Jordan, despite averaging over 30 points per game in the 80’s, didn’t start winning Championships until Bird retired.) Jordan played in an era when high school players were entering the draft in unprecedented numbers, and while these players would eventually become today’s All-Stars (Kevin Garnett, Kobe Bryant, Tracy McGrady, etc.), the 18-year-old versions that Jordan “competed” with were not nearly as talented as the Magic Johnsons, the Isiah Thomases, and the Julius Ervings that Bird dominated during his Hall of Fame career.
As George Herman Ruth, Joe Jackson, and Rod Smart can all attest, a colorful nickname is crucial to an athlete’s legacy. And the Babe, Shoeless Joe, and He Hate Me would likely also agree that Jordan can’t hold a candle to Bird in this category. Bird’s nicknames include Larry Legend, Basketball Jesus, The Hick from French Lick, The Mustard Kid, and Kodak. (Olympic coach Bill Fitch christened Bird with that last one because Bird seemed to create an instant mental image of every play that occurred on the floor.) By contrast, Jordan’s nicknames (according to www.basketball-reference.com) include Air, Mike, MJ, and Superman. After eliminating Superman because it’s unoriginal and no one actually called him that, the list stands at his initials, his first name, and “Air,” about which ESPN’s Page 2 admits, “[Jordan] outplayed his own…nickname.” Basketball Jesus versus Mike? Please.
To compare the college careers of Bird and Jordan would not be worthwhile as Bird’s numbers are significantly better. The Hick from French Lick averaged 30.3 points, 13.3 rebounds, and 4.6 assists per game during his three-year career. (“Mike” averaged 17.7, 5.0, and 1.8 during his three-year stint at North Carolina.) What’s more noteworthy is the remarkable risk that Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics took on Bird in the 1978 draft. At the time, league rules dictated that a player could be drafted while he was still in college, but could not play in the NBA until he had been out of high school for three years. With future All-Stars like Magic Johnson and Reggie Theus still available, the Celtics used the sixth pick that year on Bird. The following spring, Bird carried his Indiana State Sycamores to a memorable NCAA Championship game against Johnson and Michigan State. Two years later, the Boston Celtics were NBA Champions. Their leading scorer and rebounder that season? Basketball Jesus.
With all of the rhetoric stripped away, this argument is about legacy. Were this a play, Bird would clearly have had the upper hand during the first act (their respective college careers). Some may have given Jordan the edge in the second act (although most of those arguments seem to have been put to bed). The third act, then, is the deciding factor. Bird spent the five years after his retirement as a special assistant in the Celtics’ front office before taking over as head coach of the Indiana Pacers. He led the Pacers to three Eastern Conference Championship games and one NBA Finals series. In 1998, he was named the NBA’s Coach of the Year. He currently serves as the Pacers’ President of Basketball Operations. Jordan’s third act looks like this: early retirement; a short, disappointing minor league baseball career; gambling controversy; an injury-plagued comeback with the Washington Wizards; and a position as Director of Basketball Operations for the Wizards to which he is, by all accounts, only marginally committed. He has also been divorced from the same woman twice, the second time following a messy accusation of infidelity on Jordan’s part. To repeat, this argument is about legacy. In this play, Bird is our hero.
This line of reasoning is in no way a criticism of Michael Jordan. Thousands of players have played in the NBA since it was created in 1946. Jordan was better than the Chamberlains and the Russells; the Thomases and the Johnsons; the Jameses and the Duncans. But even Leucippus would agree that a close examination of their legacies proves that there was one man who stood above even MJ, and that man was The Mustard Kid: Larry Bird.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
the endorsement: the endorsement
So I used to get a number of magazines, but now I get one: Esquire. It's fun to read it and imagine that I'm as cool as they seem to assume I am by virtue of my readership. For example, they had a short article in the most recent issue about watches with a certain kind of strap, and I was looking at the prices and was surprised to find that they were fairly reasonable--mostly around $50. Then I looked closer and realized that it was the straps that cost $50. The watches were in the $3,000 neighborhood. And that happens pretty often when I read this magazine.
But they do occasionally have interesting stuff in there that I can use, and oftentimes it comes in the form of a recurring section called "The Endorsement." Basically, someone from the magazine endorses some music/book/concept/etc. Recent examples include: Tim McGraw, the jockstrap, Spam and egg on toast, RadarGolf, the hug, Mister Mustard, staying indoors, and Crayola crayons.
So as an homage to "The Endorsement," I'm going to put together a list of my own endorsements. Everything on this list comes with my steadfast recommendation. As often as possible, I'll include pertinent web links. Here we go.
1. The Juno soundtrack.
2. Dunkin' Donuts apple fritters.
3. Rachel Ray's carbonara.
4. Ghost Repeater, by Jeffrey Foucault.
5. "The Pineapple Incident" episode of How I Met Your Mother.
6. Boardgames.
7. The Saxton.
8. Indiana University men's basketball warm-ups.
9. Busted Tees. (Specifically, "You have died of dysentery.")
10. My mother's meatloaf.
11. Chipotle.
12. Going out for lunch.
13. Red Stripe.
14. The Diamond and 1 Press.
15. Tootsie's Orchid Lounge on Broadway in Nashville, TN.
16. The word "pejorative."
17. Jewel's Three-Cheese Semolina bread.
18. A Mountain Dew in the morning.
19. The first chapter of Staggerford, by John Hassler.
20. Using scissors to cut up little kids' food.
21. Field trips.
22. Rocky Rococo's.
23. The Food Network.
24. Dr. Drew Pinksy.
25. Cinammon Toast Crunch.
26. People who shave their heads when a friend is going through chemo.
27. Kickball.
28. Chewing gum.
29. Optical illusions.
30. Gambling for the sake of gambling.
31. The Reese's Peanut Butter Pie at the Ft. Myers Alehouse.
32. Beards.
33. String cheese.
34. Mitch Hedberg.
35. Tyson Dinosaur Fun Nuggets with Tastefully Simple Pomegranate Chipotle Sauce.
Feel free to add more by way of comments. And if you're not familiar with this stuff, by all means, check it out.
Later gators.
But they do occasionally have interesting stuff in there that I can use, and oftentimes it comes in the form of a recurring section called "The Endorsement." Basically, someone from the magazine endorses some music/book/concept/etc. Recent examples include: Tim McGraw, the jockstrap, Spam and egg on toast, RadarGolf, the hug, Mister Mustard, staying indoors, and Crayola crayons.
So as an homage to "The Endorsement," I'm going to put together a list of my own endorsements. Everything on this list comes with my steadfast recommendation. As often as possible, I'll include pertinent web links. Here we go.
1. The Juno soundtrack.
2. Dunkin' Donuts apple fritters.
3. Rachel Ray's carbonara.
4. Ghost Repeater, by Jeffrey Foucault.
5. "The Pineapple Incident" episode of How I Met Your Mother.
6. Boardgames.
7. The Saxton.
8. Indiana University men's basketball warm-ups.
9. Busted Tees. (Specifically, "You have died of dysentery.")
10. My mother's meatloaf.
11. Chipotle.
12. Going out for lunch.
13. Red Stripe.
14. The Diamond and 1 Press.
15. Tootsie's Orchid Lounge on Broadway in Nashville, TN.
16. The word "pejorative."
17. Jewel's Three-Cheese Semolina bread.
18. A Mountain Dew in the morning.
19. The first chapter of Staggerford, by John Hassler.
20. Using scissors to cut up little kids' food.
21. Field trips.
22. Rocky Rococo's.
23. The Food Network.
24. Dr. Drew Pinksy.
25. Cinammon Toast Crunch.
26. People who shave their heads when a friend is going through chemo.
27. Kickball.
28. Chewing gum.
29. Optical illusions.
30. Gambling for the sake of gambling.
31. The Reese's Peanut Butter Pie at the Ft. Myers Alehouse.
32. Beards.
33. String cheese.
34. Mitch Hedberg.
35. Tyson Dinosaur Fun Nuggets with Tastefully Simple Pomegranate Chipotle Sauce.
Feel free to add more by way of comments. And if you're not familiar with this stuff, by all means, check it out.
Later gators.
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