Simmer Down, Bryce

It's time for Bryce Harper to take a step back.

Okay, so he was on the cover of Sports Illustrated when he was 16. Okay, so he played in the All Star Game after playing just two months in the majors. And okay, so he’s slugged more home runs as a teenager than Mickey Mantle, along the way walloping balls like this one that shun any notion of reality or feasibility. But that doesn’t make him bigger than the game. It doesn’t elevate him above the standard of integrity that other ballplayers recognize. (Okay, not you Vicente Padilla.) He’s just a National; baseball is a national pastime.

When Bryce Harper becomes a national pastime – and I don’t know how a person goes about doing that – he can slam his helmet all he wants. He can wine and bitch and moan about calls that didn’t go his way until the cows round third and come on home. Hell, he can even wear gold cleats at the All Star Game and lose as many fly balls in the night sky as he desires. But for now, in this, his not-quite-a-national-pastime being, he needs to expunge all the charades and antics and self-promotions from his game and just play baseball.

After all, he’s not paid to slam helmets, smash bats and punish water coolers like they just told some caustic Yo-Mama joke. (The joke didn’t even make him that mad, but he had to beat the cooler into a pulp to assert his own superiority, to show everyone that he’s Bryce Harper and he takes shit from no one!) In fact, he’s probably paid negative for all these temper tantrums (See: Fined), although it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he we’re slapped on the wrist and told “Now, now, Bryce, don’t make us take away your aluminum bat during batting practice.”

And isn’t that the worst of it? The way he is coddled and spoiled, the way he disgraces the game and is commended for his fighting spirit, for his intensity, for his compete level. Do you know who has a fighting spirit and an intensity and a compete level higher than anyone else’s? Derek Jeter. And do you know who isn’t seen throwing batting helmets and bludgeoning bat racks? Derek Jeter. He doesn’t need to convince us of his hunger to win or prove to us his investment in the game with sideshows of explosive – and destructive – anger. We can see it in the way he plays, not in the way he acts.

Bryce Harper acts all the time. He exaggerates and dramatizes situations like a bad actor in a Shakespeare play. We all see through it. The baseball diamond is a stage for majestic homeruns and dazzling defense – for honest displays of greatness. Its show is not scripted or rehearsed. It’s real. But when Harper steams down the first base line, is called out on a not-so-questionable play, and reacts by hurling his helmet to the ground as he passes the umpire, just to show how much he cares, the stage loses its value. The show becomes hollow.

Listen, Harper can play. He is dynamic in the outfield and he can rake like it’s a Sunday afternoon in New England. There’s no denying that. But his performance is littered with pretense - so much of what he does is a guise. And it’s all so transparent, which more than anything is an indication of his youth. Take last night, when in the top of the 9^thinning, with the Nationals ahead 8-4, Harper rapped into a 3-6-3 double play, and then ripped his helmet off and chucked it at the ground, disgusted with the call. Even if the game were close, this kind of childishness would be unwarranted, though it may have been genuine. But when winning by 4, it’s incomprehensible. It doesn’t even make sense. It’s fake. For if all he cares about is helping his team win – as he says he does and as any decent ballplayer should – then grounding into a double play in the top of 9^th inning in a game that has already been won can not seriously make him that upset. He wanted us to believe it did, but we’re smarter than that. We know affecting from competing, acting from playing.

Harper has major league talent. He has proven that with his prodigious power and silky left-handed stroke. In this department, he is beyond his years. His performance certainly belies his age. But his attitude reveals it. He’s still the kid who is keeled over, huffing and puffing after 1 sprint to show Coach how hard he ran. He’s still the kid who is slide-tackling when a simple toe-poke would suffice, to show Coach how hard he’s playing. He’s still the kid who is conjuring up tears after a loss to show everyone how much he cares.

He’s still the kid who is all about himself, who has gotten a taste of the spotlight and now wants the entire stage. We shouldn’t give it to him. He’s been given enough things in his life already.       

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The "Me" Generation Has Transformed into the "Team" Generation

Calvin Johnson is a part of a new generation of wideouts that focus more on the team.

The wide receiver position is one of the most electrifying, talented, vertical testing, acrobatic positions in sports. It may be the most exciting position in all of athletics, except for maybe a high-flying small forward in basketball. But the uniqueness of the position combined with the immense athleticism required, often leads to vicious, self-centered attitudes that are the exact opposite of what's right in the league.

Over the years, wide receivers have been known to tear teams apart, shred quarterback's confidence and drive offensive coordinators to drown themselves in Jim Beam. I guess it comes with the way the position works. It is not a self-reliant position, as it is completely dependent on the competence of the team's quarterback. A wide receiver can outwork, burn, destroy a defensive back all he wants but if the QB doesn't have the wherewithal to find him then the play goes to waste. That's where the poor attitude comes in. Wideouts have to let the quarterback know they're open. They have to work twice as hard as other positions just to have an opportunity and even when they do get open it's no sure thing. Wide receivers must demand the ball? Right?

Our generation (18-24 year olds) had the pleasure (and misfortunate) of watching Randy Moss, Terrell Owens and Chad Johnson abuse the stat sheets and craft masterful highlight reels. On talent alone, all of these guys are surefire hall-of-famers. If we're talking numbers, Owens and Moss are locks for the hall, while Johnson is probably a fringe guy. Yet despite all the jaw-dropping stats and mind-boggling plays we've seen from these guys we also witnessed them terrify quarterbacks, embarrass offensive coordinators and tear locker rooms to pieces. Their talents were easily recognizable, yet their were disguised by this mask of arrogance, selfishness and downright ignorance. If a quarterback didn't throw to them when they were open, it was a disaster. If they looked them off, the QB would get berated like a private in the Marines. Owens, Moss and Johnson were always going to get theirs, no matter if the team was winning or not. It was all about them, it was always about them. It was an ugly "me" generation that engulfed the position and gave it a terrible name.

As those three continued to burn bridges and turn chicken salad into chicken s**t around 2009, three receivers emerged as the next crop of elite wideouts. But these guys were different. These guys were equally talented, but they kept their mouths shut, played team ball and let their game do their trash talking. Of course I'm talking about Andre Johnson, Calvin Johnson and Larry Fitzgerald, the league's newest elite wideout trio. While Owens, Moss, and Johnson were burning up in flames, these guys were wowing everyone on the field, impressing coaches and teammates in the locker rooms and avoiding the back pages.

Andre Johnson makes noise with his hands, not his mouth

Take this for example, two years ago when Cortland Finnegan enticed Andre Johnson enough for a fight to break out, Johnson did react and did make a adrenalie-fueled mistake.Yet, when it came time to confront the press you could see that he was embarrassed about his actions and truly felt like he did his team a disservice. He's a low-key guy, he knows what he did is wrong and felt terrible about it. I could just see if this was Owens or Moss or Johnson they would say it was Finnegan's fault and that they didn't do anything wrong. There's an air of responsibility with these new kings, while the previous generation felt like the world was always wronging them.

These guys now dominate the position just like the three before them did. But instead they do it in an inspiring way, in a way kid's can look up to. It's not about "me" it's about the "team." It's about winning. It's about working hard and let your big-play nature set the example. I'm jealous of the generation of kid's now a days who get to watch these guys make spectacular plays without hearing about how they undressed one of their teammates in the locker room or how they got arrested for beating their wife. My generation's wideout talent was tainted by big egos and irresponsibility, I'm just glad I get to see the wide receiver position take its good-natured glory back.

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The Wildest High School Mixtape You'll Ever See

This video is one of those that you turn on with the hopes of it being all you wanted and then it exceeds your expectations tenfold. Aquille Carr isn't a new phenomena, we posted about him last year, but he has only gotten exponentially better. If you don't know about Carr out of Patterson High School in Baltimore, he's only 5'7" but somehow still plays above and around the rim like he was 6'2". His size and vertical screams Nate Robinson, while his finishing ability mirrors A.I., along with a passing prowess similar to CP3's all topped off with Russell Westbrook's intensity. Simply put, this kid is a freak.

Have in mind that this kid has already been arrested for domestic assault on his baby's momma, so the off-the-court issues will also be a turn-off to colleges as well as his uniquely small size. Either way, some school is going to take a chance on this freakish talent and see what he can do on the D1 level. So far he is committed to Seton Hall, but with these legal issues who knows if it will change.

Anyways, enjoy. 

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Just Some Korn-On-The-Kolb

The Raiders' Tommy Kelly called Kolb "Scared," so why is he still on the Cardinals roster?

Last year the Arizona Cardinals presented the Philadelphia Eagles with a trade that would signal a serious intent to fill the empty shoes that Kurt Warner had left behind in 2009. 2010 had been a disaster with Derek Anderson at the helm, a failed experiment to say the least. The team went an abysmal 5-11 in a putrid NFC West that saw its division won by a 7-9 team. Let me reiterate, for anyone who forgot or misread what I said, A 7-9 team (Seattle) won the NFC East. So with things taking a turn for the worst the Cardinals got desperate, in this case, a little too desperate.

In July of 2011 Arizona sent Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie, whom they had drafted with their 1st pick in the 2008 draft, along with a 2012 second round pick to the Eagles in exchange for backup Kevin Kolb. Philly really had no use for Kolb because of the emergence of Mike Vick, who was just kicking his game into the highest gear. Plus, Andy Reid’s staff had been well known for ultra-preparing backups in case of emergency situations, so whatever third-string QB they had would be fine with the confidence of the system. Backups in the past like A.J. Feely, Koy Detmer, and Kolb had the green light if they entered the game. There, case in point, is a major reason why the Cardinals got duped in their pursuit of Kolb. Instead of getting the talented, 300-yard passing Kolb, they got a hearty serving of Korn-on-the-Kolb.

Corny, yes I know, but it’s pretty fitting. With what assets the Cardinals gift-wrapped to Philly there needed to be some real compensation right? Not exactly. Kolb started the season off with a bang throwing for 309 yards and two TDs in the team’s first game against the Panthers, a 28-21 win. But from there on Kolb was as mediocre as they come finishing his injury-plagued nine-game season with a little less than 2,000 yards, 9 TDs, 8 INTs and absurd 7 fumbles. Looks like Korn-on-the-Kolb to me (God, that’s corny, but kinda makes you laugh in that, ‘That wasn’t funny at all, which makes it kind of funny” way.) Ok, ok, it was his first season in Arizona, he needs to get acclimated to the playbook, he was ravaged by injuries, blah, blah, blah. However, take these ridiculous numbers into account Kolb received a $10 million dollar signing bonus when he inked his contract last year. The contract itself? 6 years/$63.5 million. 6 YEARS/$63.5 MILLON? FOR KEVIN KOLB? IN THIS ECONOMY? Stunning, shocking, flabbergasting, (insert large word here that I can’t even think of because I’m so astounded.) In 2013 alone, he’s a $14.9 million cap hit. We’re talking about Kevin Kolb people, we’re not even talking about Joe Flacco or Jay Cutler. We’re not even talking about Aaron Brooks (Yeah, I went that far.)

That takes me to my next point, has anyone watched this guy in preseason this year? No, probably none of you have because none of you care about the Cardinals. I certainly haven’t actually watched Kevin Kolb play this preseason, but I have seen his ridiculously ugly plays on Sportscenter, that’s for sure. Raiders defensive end Tommy Kelly had this to say after Oakland’s preseason game vs. Arizona in which Kolb went 3-of-6 and was sacked three times:

"That boy's scared."

"He is skittish," Kelly said of Kolb. "He is scared back there. Anytime anybody gets close to him, he starts looking at the refs. As a defensive lineman you love a quarterback like that. He ain't even trying to look at the routes no more. He is paying attention to us and you ain't going to get nothing done like that

Are you kidding me? A guy getting paid roughly more than $10 million dollars can’t stand back there and look competent, let alone actually be competent? Not looking at his routes?  Paying attention to the lineman? Where does in the quarterback handbook does it say to do these things? Please tell me, Kevin Kolb. But seriously, when defensive lineman are telling you, you look scared in a preseason game, that better signal a red-flag to the coaching staff and the organization that you better get this guy some man juice or just bite the cap bullet and flat-out cut him.

Let’s face it, Kevin Kolb is a career backup and a product of the solid preparation system the Eagles have in place. I can safely say after seeing his painstakingly mediocre season combined with his fear of dropping back in the pocket and his inability to actually look at his wide receivers, that this guy is not NFL-starter material. He’s also locked in losing a quarterback battle with a guy named John Skelton, whose name looks far too much like Skeleton to be someone I can take seriously. That guy also played his ball at Fordham. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know they had football there.

Lucky for the Cardinals, this is the NFL and in the NFL they cut guys faster and more ruthlessly than Mel Gibson in any of his action movies. I have no idea what sort of guaranteed money they gave this chump, but if it coincides at all with the “savvy” move to acquire him then I bet you it’s a lot. Either way the Cardinals, need to cut their losses, move on with Skeleton and forget the one and a half years the team waded through a swamp with Kolb at the helm.

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There's a Circus in MetLife Stadium and It Needs To Be Shutdown

Yeah Mark, you should just keep on runnin', runnin' out of New York.

Four offseasons ago the New York Jets made a bold move, hiring a loud-mouthed, hard-nosed, "no b.s." defensive guru as their head coach. They then drafted a talented, raw USC quarterback who looked like the second coming of Joe Namath, both on and off the field. With a focus on the defensive side of the ball, they brought in guys like Bart Scott, Jim Leonhard and Lito Sheppard. What they were building, was the makings of an old school powerhouse nicknamed "Ground & Pound." New changes abound, the Jets produced two trash-talking, high performance, hard-hitting seasons reaching the AFC Championship Game twice in a row all riding a monster defense and Rex Ryan's loud but, contained and effective words. But then things went south, fast.

Here we are in 2012 with a vastly different Jets squad. While they're still loud-mouthed, they've gone soft, are engulfed in b.s., and have a steadily aging defense. Mark Sanchez's wonder years have worn off badly, sort of like Joe Namath. "Ground & Pound" has disappeared and now they're stuck spinning their tires in a deep mud that might require a major tow truck.

That tow truck? A complete overhaul. The New York Jets need to completely revitalize this team, and that comes with major change. Sanchez, needs to go. Rex Ryan, see ya. Santonio Holmes, why is he even still here? Shonn Greene, experiment failed. Tim Tebow, don't even get me started. This team went from serious contender into a scintillating circus in just two years. All the glitz and glam of the first two campaigns under Rex Ryan have dissipated as the team has underwent recovering drug addict status. The Jets have become Lindsey Lohan, a quick stop at the top and a hard fall to the bottom.

ESPN hasn't helped the Jets either. The 24/7 Sal Paolantonio coverage has only helped drip the heroin back in this recovering drug addict's arm. Tim Tebow signing? Worst thing that ever could have happened. This team needed to stay far out of the limelight. They need to go to rehab, get fresh, figure out how to get back to "Ground & Pound." But the Barnum and Bailey show continues and actually becomes even more ridiculous. Tebow's the first backup in the history of sports to have a camera on him at all times and it is nothing but a distraction. Yes, it is Mark Sanchez's huddle as he says, but when you've got ESPN around consistently nagging and pulling at Sanchez's fragile psyche with all this Tebow crap it's a problem. That fragile psyche will shatter once Sanchez's first two interception drives turn the green-clad crowd into a frenzied "TE-BOW" chant and then the Jets organization can take the blame for bringing the circus on themselves.

The one thing that can save them is their defense, but that has increasingly become a victim of old age. They ranked 5th in the league last year, down from their even better 3rd ranking in 2010. Not like that is a major decrease, it's simply a downward trend (1st in 2009).  Oh and back to the age thing, Bart Scott is 32, Sione Pouha is 33, Bryan Thomas is 33, Calvin Pace is 31, Yeremiah Bell is 34, simply put, that linebacking core isn't getting any younger. And that "Ground & Pound?" It fell from 3rd to 13 from 2010 to 2011. Shonn Greene has gotten fat and doesn't run with the sort of menacing "I want to hurt you" style that he did back at Iowa. The team is a broken down version of itself two years ago.

I have to keep going back to the drug addict reference, but it's like they're just becoming so addicted to the trash talking and drama that it's no longer enjoyable, it's just absolutely necessary. I can't wait for them to release the Tebow-cat in Week 1 and it be a complete dud, come on, you know you're thinking that too. But honestly, this team has disaster written all over it, and maybe it will be the best that they do go 3-13. Hopefully for Jets fans it'll trigger major moves, changing not only this team's roster but its attitude. The arrogance and malcontent is so deeply woven in the fabric of this squad that I'm not sure it's a candidate to be re-born. Rex Ryan would have to be a damn miracle worker if he's going to turn this loose ship around. I just don't see his loud-mouth demeanor as an approrpriate solution.

It's absolutely impossible for the Jets to look in their backyard and mimic what the Giants are doing, because the G-Men's success is so overwhelming that it's hard to match it even when you appear in back-to-back AFC Championships. But that's exactly where they need to look. Yet, instead of trying to imitate one of the NFL's best organizations, they'd rather just make headlines. Any press is good press right? Ha.

The Jets need change, and not like some hollow word that politicians throw around. I'm talking about a complete review of the team, a total address of the team issues and dramatic alterations. For one, get rid of the media lightning rod that is Tim Tebow, then maybe let "It's over, he's not good" Mark Sanchez go too. Greg McElroy should go as well for talking all that smack about Sanchez. Guess it's time for Mark Simms to take over...

Enjoy your circus Jets fans, but it's time for serious change.

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Light is Green for Jeter

Jeter's still going hard, even at age 38

Like he always does, Derek Jeter strolled to the plate for his first at-bat of the game, called time with a perfunctory wave of the wrist, lazily wagged his bat, and looked up at pitcher Francisco Liriano. He fell still for a moment, like a cat ready to pounce, and awaited Liriano’s delivery. Like he often does, he leapt at the first offering, disinterested in working the count and “waiting for your pitch.” He’d already found it. Like he rarely does, he jolted the up-and-in fastball high and deep into left field and watched it clear the fence as he rounded first base. Then he slowed into a more professional trot, though without a hint of hubris, dutifully pounded fists with third-base coach Rob Thompson, before quietly high-fiving the rest of his teammates in the dugout. He washed it all down with a routine swig of water, and took his place on the top step of the dugout to watch the rest of the inning. Like he always does.

It was his 8^th hit in his previous ten at-bats, and his 168^th of the season, six more than he had last year. It was his second home run in as many games, and his 12^th of the season, six more than he had last year. In case you forgot, it’s not even September yet. That’s the kind of year it has been for the perennial shortstop of the New York Yankees.

He is leading the Majors in hits. He is second in multi-hit games (51). Only four players across baseball have been on base more times than he has (202). He has raked to the tune of a .324 average, this a year after he dropped below .300 – which would be like Canada randomly dropping below the U.S. - and two years after he stumbled to an unthinkable .270. As he continues to grow older, he only looks younger.

At 38, Jeter should be finished. He should be sinking, and sinking fast, like his buddy over at third base, who was recently felled by a changeup and duly sent to the D.L. like an old droopy Basset Hound being taken to the vet. He should be waving at fastballs, flailing at curveballs, and throwing his hands up in exasperation after each nasty pitch that smacks the catcher’s glove. He should be embarking on his farewell tour, ticking off his “lasts” and drowning himself drunkenly in the Bleacher Creatures’ cries. We should all be at port, saying our final goodbyes and paying our final respects, loyally waving until he drifts off into the horizon, Minka Kelly under his arm reassuring him of his decision.

But Derek Jeter, the captain of the greatest franchise in the history of sports, doesn’t subscribe to “shoulds.” He doesn’t pay interest to averages and prognostications, doesn’t buy into “truths” of the game just because others have rendered them true. He doesn’t care that he is the oldest starting shortstop in the MLB, a position built for young bodies and springy legs. He doesn’t care that he is the oldest leadoff hitter in the MLB, a spot reserved for dynamic base-runners and patient batsman. And he most certainly doesn’t care, that despite his age and allegedly decreasing range, he has played in more games than any other A.L. shortstop this season. He doesn’t care about all this because he doesn’t need an alibi, he isn’t looking for excuses. Deterioration with age can be a self-fulfilling prophecy if a player accepts it as a rule. Well, s**t, I’m 38, I shouldn’t be hitting like I used to anyways. And when this thought enters a player’s mind, it doesn’t leave. It grows and festers as he searches for an explanation as to why he suddenly can’t catch up to that high heater, can’t reach that grounder in the hole, can’t beat that throw to home plate. Age is a sensible reason. Jeter, on the other hand, figures If I train twice as hard, I’ll hit like I used to. What’s more, he doesn’t choose this philosophy over another, doesn’t weigh it against decelerating, breaking or stopping. For him it’s the only option there is.

But hard work and a firm resolve aren’t going to yield 168 hits and produce a career year. Not alone, at least. His insistence is then complemented by immense natural talent, and the hits rain down like fireworks on the 4^th of July. What Jeter does at the plate, what he continues to do at the plate, is truly remarkable. His penchant for going the other way reveals a feat of bat control unparalleled in the annals of precision. Bill James, the father of advanced baseball metrics (yeah, the Moneyball guy), explained it best when he said, “I don’t think very many people understand how unique he is, as a hitter. At-bat after at-bat, he is able to hit the ball to right field NOT by swinging late, but by just clipping the inside of the baseball, hitting the ball off-center so that it flares off his bat to right field. Other people do it once in a while by accident, but I’ve never seen anybody other than Jeter do it constantly.” Try connecting with a 95 mph fastball; try, even, to graze it. Then try hitting it in an exact spot every time. It’s an impossible-sounding challenge, and one Jeter has been answering for 17 years.   

Over that span, he has had seven 200-hit seasons, eleven .300+ seasons, and been to enough All-Star games to write a memoir about. (Yes, Jeter at the ASG is like a headmaster at the All-School meeting, but still). He stuffed his bumble-gum card with the kind of inflated offensive numbers you would expect from a corner outfielder, or a first baseman. And now with that decorated success in his wake, and seemingly none ahead of him, Jeter is having arguably his best season ever. Though his power is dimmer than it once was, he is on pace for 221 hits, two more than his current career best. In fact, Jeter’s performance this year has been so impressive, so mind-boggling for someone his age, he was even recently mentioned in association with performance enhancers. That’s right, the statesman of baseball, the face of fair play, the most honest guy since Honest Abe, is being speculated about because he is that good…Because he is transcending the truths of sport – because he isn’t even listening to them.

At some point, he will have to acknowledge them. But that time seems a long way away. Right now, Jeter is leading the Yankee charge into October, leapfrogging hits legends along the way. At 38, of course, he has reached a crossroads in his career. A stoplight lingers above this intersection, and threatens to fall red like it has on so many players before him. But with Jeter approaching, it has flashed green and gestured the Captain onward.   

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Could Russell Westbrook Be the Next Allen Iverson?

Russell Westbrook's intensity and abilities conjure up memories of Allen Iverson.

Allen Iverson was the epitome of controversy during his 15-year career. But A.I. was also one of the most captivating figures of the generation, igniting a style of "hip-hop" basketball that a lot of people scorned, and a whole lot of others embraced. There one was one aspect of Iverson no one could deny; the guy could play ball. His style of play was electrifying, stunning, exciting and yet often misunderstood. After thumbing through Bill Simmons Iverson section in his "Book Of Basketball" (Which is by the way, the best sports book I've ever read), I felt as if there were far too many connections between Westbrook's style of play and Iverson's to not at least touch on. Here are some of the quotes from the book that should at least turn the lightbulb on in your head even if you don't completely agree:

Every post-Y2K ticket to an Iverson game guaranteed a professional, first-class performance (no different from reservations at a particularly good restaurant or hotel) and for whatever reason, he was always more breathtaking in person. He's listed at six feet but couldn't be taller than five-foot-ten, so every time he attacked the basket it was like watching an undersized running back ram into the line of scrimmage for five yards a pop (think Emmitt Smith).

Ok, Westbrook is definitely taller than Iverson was (he's listed at 6'3" though I think he's more like 6'1") and though I've never seen Russ in person, I have no doubt in my mind that he is that much more scintillating. If watching him on TV is insane, then sitting in the stands must be jaw-dropping. But the real comparison is the way they attack the basket. Russell, like Iverson, gets to the rim like it owes him $20 200 bucks. At times it's abusive (something reserved more for Westbrook's game) and at other times it's a thing of beauty; the two getting around a seven-footer just because they had a quicker first step. Both have the versatility to attack the rim with finesse or power, something that makes stopping them a daunting task. 

He took implausible angles on his drives (angles that couldn't be seen as they unfolded, even if you'd been watching him for ten years) and drained an obscene number of layups and floaters in traffic.

There are times when Westbrook goes up for a layup, gets contested by multiple defenders, and has the ultimate dexterity and balance to finish, sometimes in a seemingly easy nature. Both him and Iverson passed the "Oh my god, how did he do that test" about a thousand times, and Westbrook is only entering his fifth year so we have no idea what type of ceiling Russ has.

He had a knack for going 9-for-24 but somehow making the two biggest shots of the game. And he played with an eff-you intensity that only KG and Kobe matched (although MJ remains the king of this category).

Does that 9-for-24 part ring any bells with Westbrook? Hell yeah it does. While Russ hasn't shown a consistency in the clutch, he has had plenty of hideous shooting performances that have turned out for wins for his team. Westbrook, unlike, Iverson has a teammate that is an even more prolific scorer than he is and most of the time it's the right move for Russ to defer to KD. Iverson never had a KD, never had really anyone on his level, but you could imagine what would have happened if he did. Of course, we'll get to this section in more detail later. Oh and that intenstiy that Simmons talks about? Yeah, Westbrook seems to play with the whole world on his shoulders, dunking on people and still letting them know about in their nightmares later that night.

[ The anti-Iverson contingent] weren't interested in figuring out how an alleged coach-killer who allegedly monopolized the ball, allegedly hated to practice and allegedly couldn't sublimate his game to make his teammates better doubled as one of the most revered players by his peers.

Some of this quote is a little bit more Iverson-biased, but monopolizing the ball and the inability to make his teammates better while somehow serving as one of the most "revered" players by other NBA players resonates with Westbrook. I don't exactly know what his reputation is with other players, but I know that Durant has publicly backed Russ plenty of times even after the most brutal shooting and turnover nights from the point guard. We have to assume that there is some respect there for Westbrook who plays his heart out every night, even if his stat lines can sometimes make you puke. There are a lot of NBA analysts and fans out there who say Westbrook is the biggest roadblock in KD's rise to dominance, and I think there underplaying the fact that this guy is only 23 and has time to mature. He's the point guard, he's supposed to have the ball for extended periods of time, and sometimes, especially with his talent, he needs to take it to the rack or shoot the ball. There's this phenomena in the world of basketball called "rhythm" and players discover their rhythms differently. That's the way Russ finds it.

And yeah, his field goal percentage wasn't that good and he took too many shots. Whatever. Fifty years from now, I hope people realize that Iverson had better balance than everyone else, that he was faster and more coordinated than everyone else, that he took a superhuman pounding and kept getting up, that he was one of the all-time athletic superfreaks.

This quote might scream "Derrick Rose" to a lot of people, but the way we saw Westbrook explode in the playoffs, in the biggest moments, makes me believe that he is the fastest player in the game. And if you don't agree so be it, the margins between Rose and Westbrook's abilities to get to the rack are so minute it hurts. But there is something about Westbrook's abundant fire that separates him from Rose. Iverson was explosive and he let you know about it too. While Rose is an ultimate competitor, a part of me likes Westbrook's outpouring of emotion on every play; sometimes being loud is a good thing. That's the way Iverson did it, loud and in-charge. Somehow commanding the paint despite the fact he barely reached six feet. Russ might be a inch or three taller than A.I. but his dominance of the paint reminds me all too much of Iverson.

At his peak, Iverson played with a compelling, hostile, bloodthirsty energy that nobody else had. He was relentless in every sense of the word, a warrior, an alpha dog, a tornado. He was so quick and coordinated that it genuinely defies description.

"A tornado." Isn't that an eerily fitting description of both Iverson and Westbrook (well maybe a little bit more for A.I.) Like a tornado, the two are awe-inspiring, mind-blowing and seriously destructive. Sometimes their destruction happens to the opponents, and sometimes it happens with their own teammates. Iverson, at times, even brought that destruction in the locker room, press conference and in every day life, which added to his unique legacy. Westbrook has been able to keep that tornado a controlled one, well at least on the hardwood. And yes most of Russ' plays generally defy description as did a majority of A.I's.

The comparisons are certainly there, even if you think they're far fetched. But two major differences lie between the two.

Westbrook has teammates, seriously talented teammates, including a teammate that will probably have a better basketball legacy than A.I. did and Westbrook will. Iverson never had a smidgeon of a teammate. His best two companions? Theo Ratliff who burnt out faster than Shaun Alexander, and an aging Dikembe Mutombo who got old too fast. Philly's front office did absolutely nothing to try and help Iverson, except for misjudging talent and misappropriate monster contracts like it's going out of style. Westbrook has the backing of one of the best front offices in basketball. It hasn't even been five years for Russ, but it already seems as if his supporting cast will be forever superior to Iverson's. So it's hard to imagine what A.I. could have done had he played with the depth of talent Westbrook does. Maybe his legacy would've been a more positive one, that centered more around his team accomplishments more than his off-the-court difficulties. Maybe there never would have been the issues outside of basketball. Maybe Iverson would have been a positive story of change and turnaround in a man's life.

Going off of those "what-ifs" is the other difference between the two. Iverson was a media scapegoat for the struggling NBA, that many thought was chalk full infested with thugs and gangsters who were more concerned with getting paid and rocking ice than playing team basketball. It was the "me" generation of the NBA, and Iverson was the headliner. Westbrook, on the other hand, is loved by the media. He and Durant team up to not only make a great duo on the court, but also off the court with their colorful style of dress and usually upbeat press conferences. Westbrook and A.I. could not be more polar opposites off the court.

While these comparisons might have some value at this point, I have to realize that Westbrook is only 23 years old and has plenty of times to change, mold and sculpt his game and mindset both on and off the court. Everyone like Allen Iverson for a while, until they decided his game was selfish and his attitude was negative. The same could easily happen for Westbrook, especially if the media continues to tag him as the reason the Thunder will never beat the Heat. Who knows? The future is bright for the 23-year-old, but it also could become increasingly dark.

One things for sure, watching Westbrook attack the rim with all types of intensity conjures up memories of Iverson doing the same. Just check Westbrook's 43 in Game 4 of last year's Finals and Iverson's amazing 48-point Game 1 performance against the Lakers in the 2001 Finals, they're all so similar, except for the outcomes.

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Thunder Make Right Move By Extending Ibaka

The Thunder have reportedly extended Ibaka's contract, signaling bad news for James Harden.

Reports out of ESPN and elsewhere have Serge Ibaka and the Thunder agreeing on a 4-year/40 something million dollar contract that signals the future direction for Oklahoma City at looks like a bargain price. It also signals a potential departure for James Harden, the fourth and final member of their "core four" (that corny nickname that the Nets came up for their weak best four).

Unfortunately for the Thunder this day had to come at some point. At some juncture they would have to make a decision that might upset one of their four stars. Durant is a scorer unlike any scorer we've ever seen and Westbrook's athleticism is mind-blowing (literally mind-blowing), so obviously those two were going absolutely nowhere. But Harden and Ibaka's futures rested on the extremely technical NBA salary cap and who the Thunder front office valued more. Barring some miracle cap situation, or Harden taking a pay-cut to stay with his boys and win multiple championships, Harden is gone after next year.

I can't say I'm an expert on the NBA salary cap, especially not on the Thunder's financial situation, but I can say that four great-to-potential-HOF players probably cannot co-exist fiscally on any given NBA team. This isn't the MLB. There can't be a New York Yankees. So in that case teams have to work with the all-too-common two or three star system. Getting away from the financial aspect of this situation and returning to the basketball one, the Thunder made the proper decision.

Serge Ibaka is an interesting player. He's 6-foot-10 but has a scary wingspan that makes him a swat machine. We've seen guys like that before, but what separates Ibaka from the rest is his supreme athleticism, quick feet and phenomenal defensive IQ. It was a tossup between him and Tyson Chandler for the Defensive Player of The Year last year, and only the Knicks fan side of my brain can confidently say Chandler was more worthy recipient. Ibaka has transcendent big-man defensive skills, kind of like how LeBron has transcendent skills to guard every position. Here's the catch though, we have no idea what the 22-year-old's offensive ceiling is. He's already worth that cash on defensive prowess alone, but add the fact that his potential on the offensive end is a mystery box and you've got something interesting here. He could remain a nine points a game player, or he could find his niche either in the mid-range game or down in the post, expanding his offensive role and making himself more dynamic of a player. The guy is 22 years old, if he had went to college he'd probably be a rookie. But now he has three years under his belt and is growing with every season. Not to be cliche, but the possibilites are endless.

Now if you juxtapose him with Harden, you have the total other side of the coin. Offense is the name of Harden's game and when he is on, he's in the kind of zone that could burn down the building. Defensively, there isn't much there though. I wouldn't call him a liability on that end, but I also wouldn't call him Andre Iguodala. There's where the difference lies. The Thunder already have two excessively capable scorers in Russ and KD, do they really need a third one? Well yes, of course you always want another scorer who can set a building ablaze, but is he worth more than Ibaka's defensive versatility? Not a chance. Oh and that horrendous Finals last year where Harden averaged only 12.4 points a game on an abysmal shooting percentage? Not going to help either. To make matters worse, the only Thunder win of the series he scored 5 points. 5 points. That is beyond a classic case of "not showing up" it's like not showing up and lying about and then covering up the lie with five more lies. Dissappeared. Vanished. Invsible. Yet, the Thunder still won that game. Yes, it is only one game. But it was one big effin' game. Microcosms are in fact sometimes useful (contrary to popular belief) and this is a perfect one here. It pains me to say this because I really like James Harden but I think he is a bit overrated.

In a league where teams shell out bad contracts like middle schoolers shell out awkwardness, avoiding a major deal for Harden will be a healthy thing for OKC. I could very well see him ending up in a place like Dallas or Atlanta (a team desperate for a star with all their excess cap after they missed out on Dwight or CP3) with a bad contract that he never can shoulder. The shining light for Harden is that he is only 22. But honestly right now I see him as a dime-a-dozen 2-guard. Sort of like the poor man's Joe Johnson, who is the poor man's Kobe. However, all my sneak dissing on Harden shouldn't be taken so harshly. Just because he probably won't live up to some absurd, asinine max contract doesn't mean he won't be a good player. 22 points a game is a great stat. Yet when that's the only true stat you bring to the table? You're not worth max money. Hey, he's sixth man for a reason. Right?

You never know though in this ridiculous league, Harden could take the high road, snatch a "championship-first" discount and have himself one hell of a career in Oklahoma City. Or he can go get an undeserved max contract elsewhere and never fully live up to the hype. What'll it be? Money or Memories?

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Clint Dempsey Holding Out

Clint Dempsey is holding out on Fulham until they move him. I like it.

 The Guardian-Fulham have fined the forward Clint Dempsey for refusing to play for the club, and the manager, Martin Jol, is furious with Liverpool over their pursuit of the American.

Jol revealed on Friday that Dempsey would not be in the squad for Saturday's Premier League opener against Norwich City. Dempsey, who scored 23 goals for his club last season, has taken the stance as he seeks to secure a move to Liverpool.

Jol said that he was far from happy with the conduct of Liverpool, who he believes unsettled the player earlier this summer.

"That was very disappointing," the Fulham manager said. "There was never an offer. Clint himself told everyone he was going to Liverpool before he came back so we really thought there was quite a firm interest in him.

"Even [Brendan Rodgers] told everyone he was interested in Clint Dempsey, but our people never had an offer on the table, so it's almost embarrassing. If you have shown interest in a player, especially in England, you have to follow it up with an offer. They didn't."

Dempsey, 29, has made it clear he wants to move, and has been training separately from his team-mates this summer, but Jol insisted the American will not be sold cheaply.

"Maybe Liverpool will come back," Jol said. "I can assure you that our chairman is strong enough. At first we didn't want to get rid of him, later on we had to change our position. But our view is that we won't let Clint Dempsey go on the cheap, that's for sure.

Well it might be a different kind of football, but American Clint Dempsey is doing exactly what plenty of NFL football players do almost every season; he's holding out.

 

It's a risky move for the 29-year-old, no doubt, but I get it and I actually like it. Usually when NFL players hold out, they just look selfish and the team almost always looks right (except in the case of the Jaguars just being brutally cheap). But in this case it's different. Dempsey is in uncharted waters for American soccer players. He is not only the best player America has to offer but he is slowly becoming an elite player in the world's best league. There is no precedent for American players dealing with major clubs like Liverpool and Roma and I think Dempsey is getting iron-fisted.

Fulham think they're hot s**t because they found a diamond in a rough by taking a chance on Dempsey, but those days are over. Dempsey has beyond exceeded expectations and now has elevated his game to a level that makes his services more valuable than Fulham can afford. He was fourth in premiership goals last year. Who was ahead of him? Sergio Aguero, Wayne Rooney, and Robin Van Persie who play for Manchester City and Manchester United respectively. Is Dempsey's roster spot at Fulham appropriate? Looking at those stats, not anymore. Fulham needs to realize that he won't budge on this hold out and they should grant him his wish, send him to Liverpool or send him to AS Roma, but send him on his merry way and take the money you'll get for him. The small investment of $4 million back in '06 will at least double with a new transfer and you've got to take this money before he leaves. Since you most likely won't get a player back in the deal, accept the money and make a move for a new player. Don't be the Orlando Magic. Don't let this get out of hand, no matter how hollow Dempsey and America's soccer trophy case is.No moves and no Dempsey will equate to a disaster season for Fulham and then he'll walk next year, leaving the team without any reparations. A move of $7 or $8 million will at least give you a chance to replace him.

Dempsey, on the other hand, needs to stand strong. Not only is he representing himself and his family in this situation, he's representing all future American stars in Europe. He is fighting for the respect of the American soccer player, something no one has successfully been able to do. Folding to the European giant cannot happen because it will once again slight the American soccer player moving forward. In the same breadth, it would be absolutely awesome for Dempsey to blaze a path to Liverpool, which one of the original guards of European soccer. Just because he's American doesn't mean he needs to negotiate, fold or play like one.

So while Clint traverses the murky waters of European soccer, he acts like the rest of us arrogant Americans. But in this case, it's far from a bad thing. 

Oh and just in case you forgot, remember this? Saved your asses. 

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The Melkman Gets Melked

Melky duped us for two years. But no one's fooled now.

Melky Cabrera was having the season of his life. He was batting .346, drove in 60 RBIs. He was an All-Star, and even better an All-Star MVP. He was building off an impressive a career year in lowly Kansas City last season when he batted .305 and drove in 87 runs. But sometimes, good things are just too good to be true.

The whole world came crashing down on Cabrera in the same day that Felix Hernandez threw the 23rd perfect game in the history of baseball, somewhat of a microcosm of what today's game is all about. Melky is one of a handful of players who have been tagged by Major League Baseball for steroid use and will have to serve that 50-game suspension that could be career ruining. And all while the hitters continue to be locked up by the steroid police, baseball's pitchers continue to throw perfect games and no-hitters like they're going out of style. King Felix's perfect game was third of its kind just this season and sixth no-hitter in 2012.

But forget how fitting today was for baseball, but think of the nightmares it conjures up. Here's a guy in Melky Cabrera who had a hard time cracking the .280 mark let alone compiling a .346 average in mid-August. The same guy Yankees fans just couldn't stand to watch because he didn't fit with their bash brother attitude; he hit only 36 homers in four years while donning pinstripes. If I told you two years ago that Melky Cabrera was going to the All-Star MVP in 2012, you'd tell me to get lost and probably get checked out. He wasn't a hitter, we knew that, but he was a great outfielder, making him somewhat of a commodity, keyword: somewhat. Then he was sent to Atlanta where he batted an abysmal .255 and struggled to find any rhythm.  Yet a contract with the cellar-dwelling Kansas City Royals somehow changed his career or did it?

Hindsight is 20-20. It's easy to see the correlation between the steroid use and his career numbers. Melky was at a crossroads five years into it and he had to make a decision. His high-quality fielding stock wasn't that attractive anymore and he decided to make a choice, a wrong choice obviously. Cabrera has fooled no one now. It just makes too much sense. No player magically finds his swing in the middle of his career without the help of performance enhancing drugs. This is baseball folks, a sport that was once engulfed in steroids and excessive testosterone, a league that almost completely lost the trust of its fans once it released the Mitchell Report that exposed devastating information for the league's integrity. No one even blinked an eye when they heard his was suspended for steroids. "Oh yeah, that makes sense. No way did Melky explode onto the scene without a little help." But most importantly Melky masqueraded a mediocre bat with the grand daddy of all baseball no-no's, embarrassing fans, teammates and organizations alike. But the San Francisco Giants have gotten the biggest load of the punishment, without even doing anything wrong.

The Giants are a pitching-first squad, bats are simply impossible to come by for them. They had found that guy and yet now there left searching for a replacement for a gaping hole. There is no trade deadline acquisition walking through that door, no waiver-wire guy is going to replace a .346 average and a great fielder all rolled into one. It's mid-August and it could be over for the Giants. My lord have we seen this story a thousand times before, but it's been a while since we've seen a steroids suspension almost completely derail a World Series contender.

It's a sad sight for baseball. I thought they had weeded it out. I thought that the only guys using steroids were minor leaguers just breaking through, fringe guys who just wanted to add .010 points to their average simply to stay on a major league roster. But no. The problem still remains. Our favorite players continue to try to stay above the rest of the league and embarrass us fans when they get caught. In some cases, as for the Giants, these guys can ruin a season.

I honestly don't have anything more intelligent to say about this situation. It. Just. Sucks. 

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The Red Sox Blues

This scene has been all too familiar for Red Sox Nation.

Last night in Baltimore, the lifeless Red Sox lost again. Their ace, Josh Beckett, got shelled (again), their bats failed to get the big hit (again), all the while the team displaying the distant kind of character you’d expect from a 4^th place team in August (again). It’s all becoming very routine.

Once a team feared for its fortitude, the Red Sox now possess a brittle mettle, one that bends and breaks and submits half-heartedly to the pressures around it. When the tides of a game turn against them, they accept its irrevocability, and drift tiredly out to sea. Their mettle is not steely.

Two weeks ago, the trade deadline came and went. As in all professional sports, the trade deadline is judgment day in the MLB, a final checkpoint that separates the contenders from the pretenders. The Red Sox at that time, two games above .500, just a sniff out of the Wild Card lead, and riding a 4 game winning streak, had labeled themselves contenders. With the playoffs inching closer and the American League tightening up, they were coming into their own. 

Then, as if they weren’t so sure of their own ability, as if they had intruded on a gathering they weren’t invited to, the Red Sox duly lost 4 in a row, which quickly inflamed into 7 of 9. Since entering the grueling final stage of this 162 game season, since rising from their saddle with a suddenly buoyant spirit, the Red Sox are 4-9. Their inspired rebirth fizzled and their collective shouts of “let’s go for it” faded out like faraway thunder that never quite arrives.    

We expect them to make a push. We have seen them do it before, like Lance Armstrong in the Alps, and so we knowingly await that implacable breakthrough, the words “I told you so” cocked and loaded between our teeth. But with each tame defeat, the apathy spreading and growing like a disease, the likelihood of a great revival lessens. The positivity of our prescience wanes into uncertainty, and what we were once so sure of, what we took for fact, for simple and uncelebrated routine, now seems doubtful. The Red Sox might miss the playoffs.  

Of course, we shouldn’t be so surprised. The Red Sox, though their $173,186,617 payroll would indicate otherwise, are a .500-level team. They have a terrific offense which is neutralized by mediocre pitching. They are among the league’s best in runs scored, hits, team average and team slugging and they are among the league’s worst in runs allowed and team ERA. Of the 117 starts made so far by Red Sox pitchers this season, just 55 have been “quality starts” (and a quality start, mind you, is 6 innings pitched-3 earned runs, which computes into an ERA of 4.50 and isn’t that quality at all.) The Red Sox are receiving this kind of quality on a less than every other game basis. That is no recipe for a turnaround.

In the past, when the Sox have played like the Sox, their stars have played like their stars. Even last year, between a slow start and a historically horrific finish, Boston set the pace across the league for much of the season, fueled by the bats of Adrian Gonzalez, Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz, steadied by the arms of Beckett and John Lester. Sure, John Lackey and Carl Crawford didn’t perform the way they were paid to – and at 12-12 with an ERA of 6.12, Lackey didn’t perform the way anyone is paid to – but otherwise the stars shined on. Until the Perfect Storm struck in September, bringing with it fried chicken and beer, the Red Sox felt like the Red Sox. They had a stuffed batting order, a reliable-enough rotation, and a world-beaters type of attitude that agreed with their natural luster. They were a recognizable bunch, from the bench to the bullpen, boasting enough All-Stars to fill the night sky. When you came to play the Red Sox, you knew who you were playing.

Now you don’t. Their starting lineup changes by the game, speckled with inexperience and mediocrity, their weaknesses patched with more weaknesses. They feel like a low-calorie version of their former selves, some flavor still present but most of it diluted by injury replacements and minor league call-ups. Remember Youkilis-Scutaro-Pedroia-Gonzalez? That fearsome infield has deteriorated into Valencia-Aviles-Punto-Gonzalez. And though they boast an impressive trio of Cody Ross, Ellsbury and Crawford in the outfield, Ross has been the best hitter out of the three. In fact Ross, who hasn’t hit above .270 once in a full season, might be the best hitter on this Boston team right now, which is first an indication of the team’s futility at the plate before a testament to Cody. Likewise, Felix Doubront, who wasn’t even projected to be in the pitching rotation, has been the team’s most reliable starter. Again, in a staff including Lester, Becket, Buchholz and Daisuke Matsuzaka, this is not a positive reflection on the club.

Where have the Red Sox gone? Who are these imposters in Fenway? The team everyone used to know so well is dropping Ryan Lavarnway behind the plate. They’re sending Danny Valencia to third base. Tonight they’ll give the ball to Aaron Cook.

Ryan Lavarnway? Aaron Cook? These guys don’t play for the Red Sox.

But right now, anyone can play for the Red Sox. They’re injured and underperforming, and seemingly still recovering from last season’s scarring collapse. They’re caught in its haze still, the stench of defeatism reeking from the Fenway walls. Even in their impregnable sanctuary between Yawkey Way and Lansdowne Street, in the safe haven that renders them Gods, the Red Sox have fallen limp. They are 29-34 in Fenway this season, on pace to finish 37-44. They haven’t had a losing record there since 1997.

Still, we wait for the Red Sox to find their groove. We wait for them to finish the season at a .700 pace, winning 32 of their last 45. But we are fooled by their jerseys, deceived by their name. We are suckers for their eminence. These aren’t the Red Sox, even if they wear that name across their chests. These are just average ballplayers, playing for an illustrious franchise. They win some and lose some.

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Why, Oh Why Would You Shut Strasburg Down?

Stephen Strausburg must pitch in the playoffs.

What do you think of when you hear the "Washington Nationals?" There are a couple thought processes that you could have. You could think, laughing stock. The Ronnie Belliards, the Elijah Dukes', the Expos stint in Puerto Rico, the Expos period, Olympic Stadium, all those failed experiments. But you could also think, phenom draft picks like Stephen Strasburg and that other guy who I'd rather not name (Bryce Harper). But one thing is for sure, the Nationals have never made the playoffs, never came even close, didn't even know that there was an exit out of the National League cellar. Well, that was the case, until this year.

The Nationals are good. No, no, the Nationals are phenomenal. First team to 70 wins, loaded with young talent, least runs allowed in the league, best record in baseball, 27 games over .500, are just some titles they assume here in mid-August. It's pretty much mind-blowing to see this cellar dweller not only escape from the basement but explode all the way up to the very pinnacle of baseball. This Nationals team is a force to be reckoned with, a team with serious potential to do real-life, actual damage in the playoffs. They have more big arms in their rotation than the USSR. They have young talented bats. They field well. They're just flat-out good.

And then there is Stephenn Strasburg, the phenom college pitcher, who is still a phenom and is soaked in Cy Young worthiness. And then there is this innings limit. This absolutely fictitious, annoying, premature, conservative, weak innings limit. And then there's the disappointing fact that it has been associated with such a stud as Strasburg.

I mean I do...and...I don't get it.

Yes, he is coming off Tommy John surgery, which is a serious surgery. But he's also coming off Tommy John surgery which has had a history of making pitchers arms more formidable, stronger, and more powerful. Guys like John Smoltz, Chris Carpenter, and David Wells have all had the procedure and all returned to form soon after. The surgery is so common place and so effective that I'm just not sure I see a major increase in risk from pre-Tommy John to post-Tommy John. But I get it, he's your rotation's biggest draw. He's probably your best pitcher (which is impressive in itself). He's all this good stuff, so you don't want his career to end because you ran him like a greyhound dog. But then there's the other side of the coin.

You're the Washington Nationals, who used to be the Montreal Expos. Your history book is about as filled up as Kwame Brown's trophy case. This is the first season that you're even relevant, let alone the best team in baseball. There is a very, very good chance you could waltz into the World Series, running over a relatively unexciting NL. Your pitching staff is legitimately four arms deep and your bullpen is equally solid. All the pieces are there for a magical World Series run and your going to shut down your finest part? It's like having a ferrari, but putting it on eco mode by disabling a cylinder or two. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't fit.

Here's another scenario if the Nationals are so gung-ho on keeping his innings limit at 180. End his season now. Shut him down now with like five or six starts left. The playoffs are practically a lock barring some Mets/Red Sox-like collapse, which doesn't look like the case thanks to the overwhelmingly good starting five they have. While you have him resting, you let him throw side sessions. Something like 75 or 80 pitches, like a simulated short start every five days. Then when the playoffs come you put him in. Stephen Strasburg needs to be in the MLB playoffs, that's not a suggestion it's a demand. His stuff is so electric that it just reeks of October greatness. You don't even have to squeeze him into a three-man rotation because you have the likes of Gio Gonzalez and Jordan Zimmerman, both quality pitchers as well. There's just something about Strasburg that could ignite this squad in the playoffs, and it's probably caused by his ACL-shredding curveball.

Travesty will be the accurate word when the Nationals do indeed shut this guy down, probably signaling that management is accepting of a first round exit. This team smells like a championship team because of their rotation and it would be a damn shame if they cut off one of its arms. I hate the Nats, they've been a thorn in the Mets sides for years when the Mets were actually good, but damn do I like Strasburg and you're damn right I want to see him toe the rubber in October.

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Lakers Season Scenarios With Dwight Howard

Dwight to the Lakers should make this a really intriguing season.

This offseason has been somewhat of a deja vu for me. Another NBA player that I really enjoyed watching and truly respected stole an offseason and turned it into a circus. The "Dwightmare," as NBA analysts cleverly named it, was a disaster for the Magic, Dwight Howard's reputation (the new LeBron?) and the Nets (thank god). But, it is over. We all can breathe a sigh of relief and actually look forward to the Lakers returning to the dominance they experienced in 2008 and 2009, well potentially at least. Here are a few scenarios that could lead the Lakers to their 17th championship or maybe in another direction, a not so good one.

A. It's All About Dwight, No, No, It's All About Kobe
As we've discovered last year, Dwight Howard's thought process doesn't match his glowing smile. The guy is a confused, self-absored individual which really isn't different from other NBA guys, but most of them aren't confused. Apparently, Dwight said that the Magic screwed him, but actually it's just because he's an idiot and can't decide on what he's going to have for breakfast let alone a major career choice.

With all that being said, his overwhelming personality could clash with Kobe's. Yes, Kobe is on his way out at 33 years old, but he isn't going to just let Dwight come in and make it "his" team. This has always been Kobe's team, well at least since the Shaq days. If these two enormous egos can't coexist in the locker room, then there is no way they're going to coexist on the court. There is far too much arrogance to go around with these two, but if they can put aside their glaring self-absorption then they should be just fine. But that "if" is about as big an "if" as there is in sports, not just the NBA. Kobe has said he will give the legendary Laker reins over to Dwight when the time is right, but we'll never know when and if that will ever happen.
Likelihood: 40% 
Result: First/Second Round Exit

B. Pau and Dwight Just Ain't Right
There is no discussion here, this is THE best PF/C combo in the league. I dare someone try to debate me on that one. That doesn't mean automatic success, though. Dwight Howard doesn't just command the post, he swallows it whole both offensively and defensively. And while on the defensive end, that's a great thing, that on the offensive end is not always a pretty sight. Pau also likes to play in the post though he works his finesse game because he has no physical game. He can step back and hit the mid-range, but not effectively enough to just plant him in that spot and let him hit do his thing.

We've seen a problem with the front-court duo of Carmelo and Amar'e in New York, so this wouldn't be a new phenomena. But, you have to realize they have Steve Nash facilitating the ball, who could probably make two third graders look good out there. I also think that Dwight's physicality as opposed to Gasol's finesse will be a solid versatile combo. But Dwight is so unbelieveably awkward on offense at times that this duo could fall flat on their face.
Likelihood: 20%
Result: Western Conference Championship Loss

C. Well-Oiled Machine
There is a possibility the lineup of Howard, Gasol, Artest, Kobe and Nash could be one of the best team's we've ever seen. If all the parts work seamlessly both on and off the court, this team could repeat as champions without a doubt. There really is no one on the Heat that can guard Dwight but himself, though his own indecision is a pretty damn good defender.

Really what needs to happen for this team to reach its full potential is for everyone to let Steve Nash run the show. He literally doesn't need to shoot once in order for this team to be an absolute beast. Nash could average on the upside of 15 assists with the likes of Kobe and Gasol and Dwight's vertical. Defensively they should be great if Artest can stay sane and Dwight can just eat driving guards for dinner, which he will. This team could be scary if things go right, but knowing Dwight and Kobe, there's always a chance for serious disaster. I have a good feeling about this team though and I think this is a very possible scenario.
Likelihood: 65%
Result: NBA Champions

D. Kobe and Nash's Age Catch Up With Them
Both of these guys have lost a step, that's not debatable. Yet, we all know they are still elite players in the league despite their ages, Nash at 38 and Kobe at 33 and still can play at a high level for an entire season.
 
 But we all know how easily Kobe's knee could give out or Nash can just fall victim to his late 30s. Though, I'd say there's a better chance Kobe gets hurt than the Canadian because Nash is just so seriously in shape. I don't want to think about these guys getting hurt because this team is going to be too intriguing to not have them to watch. But, with age comes more risk and neither of these guys are getting any younger. Let's just hope this doesn't happen.
Likelihood: 25%
Result: Disaster

E. No One Respects Mike Brown
This one is a lot more realistic than you think. Kobe was already seen last year telling Mike Brown his plays suck and other things along that line, so why wouldn't that continue? I get it on Kobe's end. I really do. He was under the tutelage of Phil Jackson, arguably the greatest and smartest coach in the history basketball, pro sports, whatever. Now he's getting coached by some guy less than 10 years older than him who has a track record of riding LeBron's coattails to a couple good seasons and one fat sweep in the NBA Finals? Yeah, not the easiest transition. I'd rather have Kobe coaching my team than Mike Brown I can tell you that.

Oh and then there's Dwight Howard who can be so immature at times that he's been seen ignoring a great coach like Stan Van Gundy because he was too interested in the jumbotron when his team's down 40. Why would he listen to Mike Brown when he didn't listen to Stan Van Gundy. This is probably the most dramatic of all the scenarios I put out, but would anyone be surprised? Absolutely not.
Likelihood: 30%
Result: First Round Exit

F. Ron Artest Loses His Mind
It could be argued that Ron Artest has already lost his mind, but at least he is still functional. Defensively, Artest is still a solid guy and would be an important piece to a championship. So if he's off playing with bees or trying to save the world and not focusing on basketball than the Lakers could have a problem.

Plus it would be hilarious if we saw Artest really lose his s**t. I'm not talking about elbowing James Harden in the head and then telling the world that Harden ran into his elbow. I'm talking about a full on, "found him in the Redwoods with some hippies" situation or something like that. I'm talking about full on out of his mind, almost vegetable status. That's what we all want to see.
Likelihood: 1%
Result: Who Actually Knows?   

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Is the U.S. All-In?

Judgement day comes for Jurgen Klinsmann and the U.S. Wednesday in Mexico. 

Today marks the 1-year anniversary of Jürgen Klinsmann’s first game as National Team head coach. On this date last year, the U.S. salvaged a 1-1 draw against Mexico in Klinsmann’s debut, in a relatively uneventful affair in front of a relatively subdued Philadelphia crowd.

The game showed glimpses of Klinsmann’s proactive, attacking style, but the most noticeable change in pace from the Bradley era was seen in the personnel department. His starting lineup featured six players with 12 caps or fewer, and his substitutions were awarded to fresh faces Brek Shea, Robbie Rogers, and Juan Agudelo. (He also used Ricardo Clark in the 84^th minute, but after Clark’s giveaway in the knockout round of the 2010 World Cup, which immediately resulted in a goal for Ghana, I vowed to never speak of him again. Unless in parentheses, which makes it forgivable.) Since then, Klinsmann has continued his experimentation within the American corps, searching for the right players at the right positions. Some, such as Jose Torres, Fabian Johnson, and Hercules Gomez, have been revelations under Klinsmann, while others, such as Edgar Castillo, Benny Feilhaber, and Oguchi Onyewu, have struggled to deliver the same dependability. It’s what happens under a new regime – what should happen: auditions are recalled, first impressions are remade, and tryouts start all over again. Change inevitably comes, though hopefully not just for the sake of change.

Klinsmann’s changes have not made the immediate impact some hoped they would. The National Team has continued to be only decent, amassing a 7-5-3 record under their new manager (.467 winning %), which actually regresses from the 43-25-12 (.537 winning %) mark that Bradley set during his 4-year, 8-month term as head coach. But Klinsmann’s reign is still young, his style still maturing, and if there was ever a new hire extended more time and patience than Klinsmann, I haven’t met him yet. Point is, U.S. soccer has unwavering – if not obstinate – faith in Klinsmann’s vision and is sticking by their guy for the long haul. After all, he wants to totally revamp the entire soccer system in America down to the U-10 level, so it would be unfair to expect radical improvement within one year.

But that doesn’t mean expectations have been lowered. Perhaps they have been modified and moderated, but we still want to win. We understand a rebranding of this scope is gradual and incremental, and slow to take effect, but that doesn’t justify losses in lifeless efforts. And what’s frustrating about the Klinsmann era to date is the erratic, inconsistent play the team has put forth. On a seismic monitor, their pulse would register as a magnitude-10 earthquake. Sometimes they’re brilliant, as in 1-0 and 5-1 wins over Italy and Scotland respectively, and other times they’re terribly pedestrian, as in the 4-1 shellacking against Brazil and scoreless draw against Canada. Canada!! Where we’d prefer to see a steadier pattern of improvement – one that suggests this team will be immeasurably better in Brazil 2014 – we instead see one giant step forward followed by one giant step back. If that’s the pace we continue to set, I fear how we’ll fair two summers from now.

This coming Wednesday, Klinsmann’s squad gets a chance to prove its as-yet-unseen progress. In their toughest matchup to date in the Klinsmann era – yes, tougher than Italy on the road, and yes, tougher than Brazil – the U.S. will invade Mexico City and take to the pitch in the not-so-friendly confines of Estadio Azteca. It is a monumental test for the Americans, and not simply because of Mexico’s current pedigree. The real challenge lies not in defending dos Santos and Chicharito and Guardado – three stars that el Tri has already announced will be in the lineup – but in playing in the most inhospitable of environments.

Estadio Azteca rests in the smog-ridden Cuidad de Mexico, at an unbearably high altitude were breaths are short, convulsive, and desperate .The fans are malicious in nature, and bloodthirsty when the Americans arrive. Police in riot gear populate the stadium like cotton candy venders at a Barnum and Baily Circus. There is nothing in our sporting landscape that rivals a U.S. – Mexico tilt in Estadio Azteca. Nothing. Yankees – Red Sox seems like a game of patty-cake in comparison.

Consider this: Azteca was built in 1968. Since then, Mexico has suffered defeat there once. The Americans were not the scripters of that defeat. In fact, in the 7 games we have played at Azteca, we own a record of 0-6-1. We have scored a paltry total of 3 goals. The woe goes deeper than that. In the 24 games we have played on Mexican soil – the first being in 1937 – we are 0-23-1. That game in Italy was a walk in the park compared to what the U.S. is up against on Wednesday.

Mexico will be bringing their A-team. Regardless of club commitments or travelling complications, you can bet their top guns will be there. Klinsmann and the U.S. on the other hand have made no such commitment, despite August 15^th being a FIFA-sanctioned international friendly date. There is already speculation that Klinsmann, in an attempt to build good rapport with European club managers, might pluck only a few of his stars from overseas. This would be a disastrous decision for two reasons.

First of all, Klinsmann has yet to identify a go-to lineup in big games. And while Bradley certainly did his fair share of tinkering as well, frequently experimenting with different players in different situations, the men he counted on when it mattered the most were always the same. This security, this locked lineup, is crucial to the long-term success of a team. Its akin to having an ace at the top of a pitching rotation, a guy the manager can give the ball to anytime he needs a big win. And while its 11 guys on a soccer field, it needs to be the same 11 guys, or at least close to the same, when the stakes are highest. Familiarity breeds chemistry, and if you doubt that, take a look at what Spain has done in the last 4 years. Their starting 11, their A-team, has been essentially immutable since their run of dominance began in Euro 2008. After playing together for so long, they have become a well-oiled machine, each cog aware of its responsibilities, the unit operating smoothly and interdependently. It’s now almost robotic: same guys, same philosophy, same results. Wednesday’s upcoming game against Mexico presents Klinsmann with the opportunity to call on his A-Team, his Avengers, his Fantastic Four (plus seven): the guys he trusts. The happiness of a club-team manager should be at the bottom of his priority list.

Secondly, Klinsmann needs to prove that he is all-in. That the U.S. is all-in. It’s excusable to play without Dempsey against Panama or without Donovan against Barbados, but not so against Mexico. The rivalry means too much to stumble into Estadio Azteca with a cast of reserves and unproven starters. Not only would such a side get humiliated, but it would send the message that the U.S. isn’t totally committed to the cause. Mexico is bringing in their best because they are salivating over victory, drooling at the thought of toppling the Americans once more on their home turf. They are treating Wednesday’s friendly as a national crisis, as a homeland invasion, and they are unloading the heavy artillery to stomp out the threat. Words can’t express how much they want to win. Klinsmann needs to display this same kind of desperation, this same kind of mad passion, to prove the Americans take this pretty seriously too. Because until we invest ourselves in soccer the way Mexico has, our 15-33-12 all time record against our neighbors to the south is going to grow only more lopsided, only more embarrassing.

The U.S. lineup will be announced on Sunday. And we’ll find out, before the game even begins, whom Klinsmann has faith in and how much this all means to him. The team he assembles is as significant as Wednesday’s result.        

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