I watched the game in the Princeton Sports Bar (in my day, it was a restaurant called The Annex where my advisor took me and drank Manhattans) with TigerHawk, and we were among the oldest people in the joint, at least chronologically, but certainly not in spirit. It was, of course, an exciting game, underdog Princeton, we of the back-door play, much-better-than-historical defensive rebounding, and with some size, against one of the most storied programs in college basketball history, Kentucky, coached by the anti-Carril, master recruiter and lightning rod for criticism (whether justified or not), John Calipari. The story line, for Princeton amongst even the other Ivies, always seems to be the same. They are Rocky to anyone else's Apollo Creed.
And great did the Tigers play, staying with the Wildcats the way Frazier stayed with Ali in each fight, although deep down in this hoops version of the Thrilla in Manila you knew that the hoops version of Ali, bloodied if not bowed, might still have some more magic than your team's version of Smokin' Joe. It came down to the last possession, the hoops' version of a last round, and that's when hoops Ali showed why he and not your slugger was the greatest. Less than 16 seconds to go, and the Wildcats ran an isolation play with their all-world point guard, who, amongst the Wildcats, perhaps had the most to prove this late in the game because he was ineffective for most of the afternoon. If Kentucky was Ali, then Brandon Knight was its potent left jab, and that left jab, usually devastating, had missed for most of the game.
But not this time. With two seconds to go a well-guard night drove hard to the right, the Tigers' forward and Ivy defensive player of the year (in a mismatch) counterpunching, staying with the highly touted Knight most of the way, with Knight perhaps getting a step late in the sequence. And then Knight kissed the ball high off the glass, where it fell into the basket with two seconds to go. Ball game.
Just like that, Kentucky flashed its thoroughbred bona fides, showcasing its ace in crunch time and reminding the Tigers that even if the difference between the Wildcats and the Tigers was half a step on this fun-filled afternoon, that's the difference between perennial powerhouses and perennial mid-major darlings. That half step and a big man with the unlikely name of Josh (most Joshes I know aren't built like barroom brawlers, and this Josh had the body of a noseguard with the feet of a ballet dancer and the hands of a wide receiver) were the differences on this unlikely afternoon.
The crowd at the sports bar oohed and aahed with every Kentucky move and applauded with every Princeton basket or defensive stop, at one time pausing to chant "defense" when the Tigers needed to thwart Kentucky late in the game. They even applauded out of respect to the Tigers after the game had ended.
All in all, a great day for the Tiger coaching staff and players. There might have been some debate about whether Harvard, whom Princeton beat Saturday in a playoff to make it to the NCAA tournament, was the better team or has more talent. But fair Harvard lost by 17 in the first round of the NIT to Oklahoma State, and this Princeton team took Kentucky to the wire. Harvard, with a total of 11 underclassmen, might have its day in the sun next year or the year after. But this season, Princeton was the better team, and they honored their victory with another "game for the ages" against Kentucky. And, while they'll lose Kareem Maddox and Dan Mavraides, they'll return an excellent nucleus that will battle Harvard and everyone else in the Ivies. That seems for certain, although the sneakers of those two will be difficult to fill.
As we were getting ready to leave the establishment, I said to my friend, "Great game, but I'm tired of moral victories." Yes, it's great to remember the '89 game where #16 seed Princeton almost upset #1 Georgetown, and this game will be talked about for a while. Thankfully, though, in the year of Pete Carril's retirement, the Tigers beat defending national champion UCLA in the first round, and several years later beat UNLV. Moral victories are all well and good, but, in the end, the real victories taste better.
Make no mistake, I'm thrilled the way Sydney Johnson has turned around the program, and I'm proud of the effort that Princeton gave today. Because, you see, each and every Princeton team that makes the NCAA tournament is far from a member of the "Happy to be There" club. No sir, they honor the teachings of the old master, Carril, whose motto was "Play to Win." And there's not doubt that the valiant Tigers gave the last full measure this afternoon in doing just that.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk!
I agree with President Obama -- Kansas will win the national championship. The Morris brothers -- Marcus and Markieff, native Philadelphians, will honor the late Wilt Chamberlain, another Philadelphia native, by bringing Kansas another national title (Wilt came very close, only to see his Jayhawks lose in Triple OT to North Carolina over a half century ago.
Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, indeed!
Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, indeed!
The Power of Pete Carril
Great article on former Princeton men's basketball coach Pete Carril in the online version of Time by one of his former players, Sean Gregory. A must read. (Credit where credit is due to the Princeton Basketball blog for linking to this gem).
It seems like very time the NCAA tournament rolls around, people still talk about 16th-seeded Princeton's 50-49 loss to #1 Georgetown and Princeton's 1996 upset of defending national champion UCLA in the first round.
It seems like very time the NCAA tournament rolls around, people still talk about 16th-seeded Princeton's 50-49 loss to #1 Georgetown and Princeton's 1996 upset of defending national champion UCLA in the first round.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The End of a Season
My rec league team started its season in mid-November. I remember the night I got my roster, wondering who could defend, who could put the ball in the basket, and whether the team that the league gave me would be any good or not. After the first practice, I could tell that we had a good group of kids, some athletes, some more knowledgeable about the game than others. They paid attention, they practiced hard, and that was all that I could have asked for.
Fast forward three and a half months, and the playoffs began. We were cast as the #4 seed (out of 20 teams), having finished the season at 8-2. We lost to the #1 seed by 6 (although the game wasn't that close) and the #3 seed by 1 (without our more experienced point guard). We beat everyone else by at least 10 points or more, scoring over 30 in each game. Our goals were two-fold --to run the break and get downcourt before the other team could set its defense, and then to run a disciplined offense out of a 1-4 stack. Put differently, we beat who we should have beaten.
We played a team in the first round that won a play-in game to get to the round of 16. We had beaten them soundly during the regular season, something like 40-21, and that was the one game where we could have scored 60 had our players not insisted upon trying to run the break spectacularly after each rebound. We threw the ball away a lot, and we beat a team whose coaches usually ran plays for their own kids, who only passed the ball to each other. Atop that, the two coaches were perhaps the most difficult coaches for the referees to handle.
I make it a habit of wishing the opposing coaches good luck before a game and introducing myself to the officials (no need to this time, as they had officiated at our three previous games). The opposing coaches were on the refs from the jump, arguing that our kids were double-teaming their ballhandler (the rule is that teams must play a man-to-man defense, that switching is permitted but double-teaming is not). The problem with their logic was that they had three players lined up on the foul line between the elbows, spaced about as close together as dominoes, with the result that it was almost impossible for a pass to that area not to be contested by multiple players. To make a long story short, we won 31-22, taking time at the end of the game to clear out on defense to enable a kid on the other team who hadn't scored all year to score a basket. Our kids played a good, crisp game, ran the offense well and defended great. It was a good first-round win. There were two memorable moments -- first, my son defended a friend who had scored 6 baskets in his last regular-season game and held him to one shot, and, second, at the beginning of the second quarter the lead ref ran by me, shook his head and, gesturing to the other bench, said that he wished the other coaches would leave already (in their last regular season game, those coaches got into an all-out shouting match with the two refs who officiated this game). So, we made it to the round of 8.
We then faced the #5 seed, featuring one of the two tallest kids in the league, a 6' sixth grader with some moves around the hoop. You have to understand that we played on back-to-back courts at the same time another playoff game was taking place, with the result that there were about 18 inches between my shoulder blades and that of a coach of a team in the other game, our kids on the bench had almost no room to sit and one of the out-of-bounds lines was two inches from a wall. The parents had to sit at either end underneath the basket, and the gym was crowded, hot and loud.
As I think I'd written before, the technical rule is that a team's best three players may not play in the first quarter, and the spoken if not written rule is that you play your best five in the second quarter and your worst five in the first quarter. One modification that some coaches make is to ensure that they have 1 or 2 kids who has a few clues about the game play in the first quarter, or else the first quarter could be dreadful and a team could be far behind before the better players get on the floor. Most coaches do a pretty good job with these rules. This game turned out to be a big of a rugby scrum -- we held their second-quarter unit to a single field goal for the entire game and won 21-12. (This team took us out of our offense entirely by denying our entry passes into the post, so we had to change things up a big on offense). We were up 8-2 after the first quarter thanks to the spirited play of a feisty point guard who they couldn't defend, were up 10-2 at the half but only 14-10 after three. Their third quarter unit hit some shots, and we went into the fourth quarter with our biggest player and second-leading scorer having four fouls. We scored a bucket, they scored one and then we scored the final five points to give us the game. It was a hard-fought battle, and that took us to the Final Four.
I was a bit nervous going into the quarterfinal game, because as we walked into the gym the #1 seed, which was undefeated, tall and athletic, lost to the #8 seed by a point, a team that we had pasted about a third of the way into the season, something like 31-17. I was afraid that my players were going to get overconfident, thinking that they dodged a bullet, but thankfully they played well enough to win. The only thing that concerned me was their shooting --they didn't show great habits in some of our shooting drills in practice, and I feared that as we went deeper into the playoffs, we would get fewer fast break opportunities (as the most athletic teams would advance) and, therefore, would have to finish more shots in traffic.
The semifinals presented an interesting issue for us, in that the team we had waxed a) was much improved and b) had its point guard available (he missed the earlier game against us). He's a tall, strong kid whom I had coached two of the three previous years, and what I had recalled was that he didn't pass the ball much. At any rate, the gym was packed, and I gathered the team. I told them that we had a great season, that basketball is a fun game when everyone plays together and doesn't try to do it himself, that they needed to honor their prior victories by going out there and giving me the best 16 minutes (as each kid plays a half) they possibly could. I told them that our gold shirts were symbolic, because gold shines, and each of them had it in him to shine on that night. Vintage Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights.
They went out and played a bad first half, turning the ball over, forcing shots, not switching on defense, and we were down 8-1 after the first quarter and 14-7 at the half. I had called a few timeouts to settle everyone, and the fact of the matter was that a) their size was huring us, b) our kids weren't switching to take on a ballhandler who blew by one of our defenders, and c) we weren't finishing our shots. I told them to stay calm and play their game, and I told the third quarter unit that if they could reduce the deficit to four the fourth quarter unit -- featuring our best players -- would win the game for them. I was pretty relaxed, but, truthfully, our shooting was also killing us. The ball just wouldn't go in.
And then something magical happened. Our third quarter unit -- featuring our younger players -- figuring out that they needed to switch before they heard my voice, and they defended voraciously. And our point guard -- the smallest kid on the team but perhaps the most athletic -- became a one-man wrecking crew. On defense he challenged the other team's point guard on several occasions, had three steals in the quarter and converted each for baskets. You could hear gasps in the gym, because before we knew it, we were up 19-18 with only the fourth quarter to play. It proved to be quite a battle, that quarter, with great defense, tough rebounding, a few missed shots inside, but our leading scorer hit a nifty runner with under a minute to go and we fended them off, winning 25-24. We were headed to the finals.
We were hoping to play the #3 seed, the team that had beaten us by a point early in the season, but that was not to be. The #2 seed, which hadn't played the #1, #3 or #4 (us) seeds during the season, beat the #3 seed by about 12 points. The #3 seed had several good shooters and, as icing on the cake, an outstanding fifth grade travel player who wasn't required to play in the second quarter and who could play in the first quarter because he wasn't one of his team's top three scorers.
Facing this great team, we had a few disadvantages. First, our leading scorer had a longstanding pre-existing commitment to a travel tournament for his best sport, so he was out. (Our first/third quarter point guard decided that he didn't like soccer any more, so he backed out of that tournament to play for us -- even after I told his parents that I understood commitments and fully expected him to play soccer). Then, our second-leading scorer and tallest player showed up at the championship game yesterday under the weather -- his mother told us that he had been battling a stomach bug the night before and that morning. Put simply, he looked pale, sweaty and doing his best to keep his head up.
Finally, our charms ran out. Our opponents -- with the fifth-grade travel player leading the way in the first quarter, got off to a 9-0 lead, and that was pretty much it from there. (I still wonder what if I had adjusted my lineups to break-up the 1/3, 2/4 lineups that I had gone with much of the year to adjust to his playing in the first quarter, but I'm not sure that it would have made that much of a difference). Our boys battled back valiantly, but we just couldn't put together a run. We didn't switch as well on defense as we had in the prior games (a tribute, also, to their speed), and we missed too many makeable shots, something that I had diagnosed from our shooting drills in practice, where the kids just weren't as crisp shooters as I had been used to). We executed at least 6 plays to perfection, only to have our players miss their shots. In the end, we lost by 16, our worst loss of the year.
It was, though, a great season. My goal was to get the team to the Final Four, and we did that. We reached the finals with a nice group of kids that got along well, supported one another and listened to their coaches. The kids played hard, they learned more about the game, and they improved their skills. The great thing was to see the best sixth graders play so hard and encourage everyone else -- their leadership had everyone else on the team wanting to keep up, and that factor almost alone made the team so much easier to coach.
Sure, we lost in the championship game, but sometimes the shots don't fall, and sometimes the other team is just better. There's nothing wrong with that, that's all a part of the game. What made me feel very satisfied, though, was the way the boys conducted themselves throughout the season, the way they played with poise and dignity, the way they battled on each possession, and the way they approached the game. After four months, it was time for the season to end, as it's time for the kids to move onto their other sports. But I'll remember these kids and their parents for a long time -- for their good spirits, their good habits, their enjoyment of the game, and their receptiveness to me and my fellow coaches. I coach for the ability to teach skills and transfer my love of the game to the kids, and I did just that. The teaching part is the most compelling -- there's not much you can do on game day except to yell "hands up", "switch" or call out the plays. But it's the interaction, talking to kids, helping build their confidence, challenging them to try to develop a new skill, that keeps a coach coming back year after year.
Again, we lost in the championship game, a pretty good accomplishment when you think about it. But, at this age group, we won, too, in so many ways other than the final score on the scoreboard. And that's what makes a worthwhile season.
Fast forward three and a half months, and the playoffs began. We were cast as the #4 seed (out of 20 teams), having finished the season at 8-2. We lost to the #1 seed by 6 (although the game wasn't that close) and the #3 seed by 1 (without our more experienced point guard). We beat everyone else by at least 10 points or more, scoring over 30 in each game. Our goals were two-fold --to run the break and get downcourt before the other team could set its defense, and then to run a disciplined offense out of a 1-4 stack. Put differently, we beat who we should have beaten.
We played a team in the first round that won a play-in game to get to the round of 16. We had beaten them soundly during the regular season, something like 40-21, and that was the one game where we could have scored 60 had our players not insisted upon trying to run the break spectacularly after each rebound. We threw the ball away a lot, and we beat a team whose coaches usually ran plays for their own kids, who only passed the ball to each other. Atop that, the two coaches were perhaps the most difficult coaches for the referees to handle.
I make it a habit of wishing the opposing coaches good luck before a game and introducing myself to the officials (no need to this time, as they had officiated at our three previous games). The opposing coaches were on the refs from the jump, arguing that our kids were double-teaming their ballhandler (the rule is that teams must play a man-to-man defense, that switching is permitted but double-teaming is not). The problem with their logic was that they had three players lined up on the foul line between the elbows, spaced about as close together as dominoes, with the result that it was almost impossible for a pass to that area not to be contested by multiple players. To make a long story short, we won 31-22, taking time at the end of the game to clear out on defense to enable a kid on the other team who hadn't scored all year to score a basket. Our kids played a good, crisp game, ran the offense well and defended great. It was a good first-round win. There were two memorable moments -- first, my son defended a friend who had scored 6 baskets in his last regular-season game and held him to one shot, and, second, at the beginning of the second quarter the lead ref ran by me, shook his head and, gesturing to the other bench, said that he wished the other coaches would leave already (in their last regular season game, those coaches got into an all-out shouting match with the two refs who officiated this game). So, we made it to the round of 8.
We then faced the #5 seed, featuring one of the two tallest kids in the league, a 6' sixth grader with some moves around the hoop. You have to understand that we played on back-to-back courts at the same time another playoff game was taking place, with the result that there were about 18 inches between my shoulder blades and that of a coach of a team in the other game, our kids on the bench had almost no room to sit and one of the out-of-bounds lines was two inches from a wall. The parents had to sit at either end underneath the basket, and the gym was crowded, hot and loud.
As I think I'd written before, the technical rule is that a team's best three players may not play in the first quarter, and the spoken if not written rule is that you play your best five in the second quarter and your worst five in the first quarter. One modification that some coaches make is to ensure that they have 1 or 2 kids who has a few clues about the game play in the first quarter, or else the first quarter could be dreadful and a team could be far behind before the better players get on the floor. Most coaches do a pretty good job with these rules. This game turned out to be a big of a rugby scrum -- we held their second-quarter unit to a single field goal for the entire game and won 21-12. (This team took us out of our offense entirely by denying our entry passes into the post, so we had to change things up a big on offense). We were up 8-2 after the first quarter thanks to the spirited play of a feisty point guard who they couldn't defend, were up 10-2 at the half but only 14-10 after three. Their third quarter unit hit some shots, and we went into the fourth quarter with our biggest player and second-leading scorer having four fouls. We scored a bucket, they scored one and then we scored the final five points to give us the game. It was a hard-fought battle, and that took us to the Final Four.
I was a bit nervous going into the quarterfinal game, because as we walked into the gym the #1 seed, which was undefeated, tall and athletic, lost to the #8 seed by a point, a team that we had pasted about a third of the way into the season, something like 31-17. I was afraid that my players were going to get overconfident, thinking that they dodged a bullet, but thankfully they played well enough to win. The only thing that concerned me was their shooting --they didn't show great habits in some of our shooting drills in practice, and I feared that as we went deeper into the playoffs, we would get fewer fast break opportunities (as the most athletic teams would advance) and, therefore, would have to finish more shots in traffic.
The semifinals presented an interesting issue for us, in that the team we had waxed a) was much improved and b) had its point guard available (he missed the earlier game against us). He's a tall, strong kid whom I had coached two of the three previous years, and what I had recalled was that he didn't pass the ball much. At any rate, the gym was packed, and I gathered the team. I told them that we had a great season, that basketball is a fun game when everyone plays together and doesn't try to do it himself, that they needed to honor their prior victories by going out there and giving me the best 16 minutes (as each kid plays a half) they possibly could. I told them that our gold shirts were symbolic, because gold shines, and each of them had it in him to shine on that night. Vintage Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights.
They went out and played a bad first half, turning the ball over, forcing shots, not switching on defense, and we were down 8-1 after the first quarter and 14-7 at the half. I had called a few timeouts to settle everyone, and the fact of the matter was that a) their size was huring us, b) our kids weren't switching to take on a ballhandler who blew by one of our defenders, and c) we weren't finishing our shots. I told them to stay calm and play their game, and I told the third quarter unit that if they could reduce the deficit to four the fourth quarter unit -- featuring our best players -- would win the game for them. I was pretty relaxed, but, truthfully, our shooting was also killing us. The ball just wouldn't go in.
And then something magical happened. Our third quarter unit -- featuring our younger players -- figuring out that they needed to switch before they heard my voice, and they defended voraciously. And our point guard -- the smallest kid on the team but perhaps the most athletic -- became a one-man wrecking crew. On defense he challenged the other team's point guard on several occasions, had three steals in the quarter and converted each for baskets. You could hear gasps in the gym, because before we knew it, we were up 19-18 with only the fourth quarter to play. It proved to be quite a battle, that quarter, with great defense, tough rebounding, a few missed shots inside, but our leading scorer hit a nifty runner with under a minute to go and we fended them off, winning 25-24. We were headed to the finals.
We were hoping to play the #3 seed, the team that had beaten us by a point early in the season, but that was not to be. The #2 seed, which hadn't played the #1, #3 or #4 (us) seeds during the season, beat the #3 seed by about 12 points. The #3 seed had several good shooters and, as icing on the cake, an outstanding fifth grade travel player who wasn't required to play in the second quarter and who could play in the first quarter because he wasn't one of his team's top three scorers.
Facing this great team, we had a few disadvantages. First, our leading scorer had a longstanding pre-existing commitment to a travel tournament for his best sport, so he was out. (Our first/third quarter point guard decided that he didn't like soccer any more, so he backed out of that tournament to play for us -- even after I told his parents that I understood commitments and fully expected him to play soccer). Then, our second-leading scorer and tallest player showed up at the championship game yesterday under the weather -- his mother told us that he had been battling a stomach bug the night before and that morning. Put simply, he looked pale, sweaty and doing his best to keep his head up.
Finally, our charms ran out. Our opponents -- with the fifth-grade travel player leading the way in the first quarter, got off to a 9-0 lead, and that was pretty much it from there. (I still wonder what if I had adjusted my lineups to break-up the 1/3, 2/4 lineups that I had gone with much of the year to adjust to his playing in the first quarter, but I'm not sure that it would have made that much of a difference). Our boys battled back valiantly, but we just couldn't put together a run. We didn't switch as well on defense as we had in the prior games (a tribute, also, to their speed), and we missed too many makeable shots, something that I had diagnosed from our shooting drills in practice, where the kids just weren't as crisp shooters as I had been used to). We executed at least 6 plays to perfection, only to have our players miss their shots. In the end, we lost by 16, our worst loss of the year.
It was, though, a great season. My goal was to get the team to the Final Four, and we did that. We reached the finals with a nice group of kids that got along well, supported one another and listened to their coaches. The kids played hard, they learned more about the game, and they improved their skills. The great thing was to see the best sixth graders play so hard and encourage everyone else -- their leadership had everyone else on the team wanting to keep up, and that factor almost alone made the team so much easier to coach.
Sure, we lost in the championship game, but sometimes the shots don't fall, and sometimes the other team is just better. There's nothing wrong with that, that's all a part of the game. What made me feel very satisfied, though, was the way the boys conducted themselves throughout the season, the way they played with poise and dignity, the way they battled on each possession, and the way they approached the game. After four months, it was time for the season to end, as it's time for the kids to move onto their other sports. But I'll remember these kids and their parents for a long time -- for their good spirits, their good habits, their enjoyment of the game, and their receptiveness to me and my fellow coaches. I coach for the ability to teach skills and transfer my love of the game to the kids, and I did just that. The teaching part is the most compelling -- there's not much you can do on game day except to yell "hands up", "switch" or call out the plays. But it's the interaction, talking to kids, helping build their confidence, challenging them to try to develop a new skill, that keeps a coach coming back year after year.
Again, we lost in the championship game, a pretty good accomplishment when you think about it. But, at this age group, we won, too, in so many ways other than the final score on the scoreboard. And that's what makes a worthwhile season.
Tigers Win! Tigers Win! Tigers Win!
Princeton 63 Harvard 62, on a last-second buzzer beat by junior guard Douglas Davis. Click here for a link to the Princeton Basketball website, which has all sorts of wonderful coverage, from video clips, photos, links to the eleven hundred articles on how the brainy schools can hoop it up and how the team that didn't prevail (because according to the Boston Globe's Bob Ryan, nobody lost) deserves an at-large bid, presumably over a team from a bigger-time hoops conference that just might have a representative on the selection committee. A great, gritty, exciting game that Princeton won, because, well, they held Harvard to under 70 points (a significant benchmark, because the Crimson were undefeated in the many games where they went over 70).
This last-second shot took me back to 1996, where the Tigers had a playoff with a Penn team that had defeated it without too much trouble twice during the regular season, including a victory less than a week before the playoff game. Well, Princeton beat Penn, went on to the NCAA tournament, and defeated defending champion UCLA on an exquisitely executed back-door play with less than a minute to go. That's the year that Coach Pete Carril retired.
It's not, of course, that we expect Coach Sydney Johnson to retire, but I do admire his game plan for this game. The Crimson beat the Tigers by a dozen up in Cambridge a week ago, enough to tarnish the confidence of even a 24-6 team that was league co-champions coming into this game. Princeton entered as the team with the veteran cast and the more vaunted tradition, Harvard the younger, arguably more talented upstart laden with freshmen and sophomores and the national-type of hype once reserved exclusively for Penn and Princeton. (It's not that Princeton and Penn don't get their love from the national writers, it's just that over the past couple of years they've been eclipsed, first by many outstanding Cornell teams and more recently by Harvard, its coach Tommy Amaker, and his ability to recruit). Coach Johnson's adjustments deserve mention because the Tigers figured out a strategy to control the tempo better and to eke out the victory.
It was a great game from start to finish, and both teams are to be commended for their outstanding seasons and effort yesterday. It was a championship game in every sense.
This last-second shot took me back to 1996, where the Tigers had a playoff with a Penn team that had defeated it without too much trouble twice during the regular season, including a victory less than a week before the playoff game. Well, Princeton beat Penn, went on to the NCAA tournament, and defeated defending champion UCLA on an exquisitely executed back-door play with less than a minute to go. That's the year that Coach Pete Carril retired.
It's not, of course, that we expect Coach Sydney Johnson to retire, but I do admire his game plan for this game. The Crimson beat the Tigers by a dozen up in Cambridge a week ago, enough to tarnish the confidence of even a 24-6 team that was league co-champions coming into this game. Princeton entered as the team with the veteran cast and the more vaunted tradition, Harvard the younger, arguably more talented upstart laden with freshmen and sophomores and the national-type of hype once reserved exclusively for Penn and Princeton. (It's not that Princeton and Penn don't get their love from the national writers, it's just that over the past couple of years they've been eclipsed, first by many outstanding Cornell teams and more recently by Harvard, its coach Tommy Amaker, and his ability to recruit). Coach Johnson's adjustments deserve mention because the Tigers figured out a strategy to control the tempo better and to eke out the victory.
It was a great game from start to finish, and both teams are to be commended for their outstanding seasons and effort yesterday. It was a championship game in every sense.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Where They Are Now: Bobby Morse
The one-time Penn great (one of the best shooters I ever saw) is a lecturer in Italian at St. Mary's College in South Bend, Indiana (click on this link and then scroll down; he looks a bit different from when he played at the Palestra). Back then, when Penn was ranked in the top 10, featured a backcourt of Steve Bilsky and Dave Wohl, and front court players like Morse, Corky Calhoun, Phil Hankinson and Craig Littlepage, the Big 5 in Philadelphia reigned supreme. Great basketball, great doubleheaders at the Palestra, gripping games televised locally on UHF TV, Channel 17. It was about as good as it got, and Bobby Morse, who then went on to a distinguished career in Italy, was one of the major reasons why.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
More Inspiration: The Managers of Villanova's Basketball Teams
Great story on the front page of today's Philadelphia Inquirer about managers on both the men's and women's basketball teams who are afflicted with cerebral palsy. The coaches, programs, players and schools -- and especially the young men themselves -- are just terrific.
In a time when most of the headlines deal with negativity, violence, excess, cruelty and what have you, it's heartening to know that there are people who make a positive difference every day.
In a time when most of the headlines deal with negativity, violence, excess, cruelty and what have you, it's heartening to know that there are people who make a positive difference every day.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
An Ode to An Athlete Dying Young
Click here for the tribute to Khristin Kyllo, a Princeton softball player who recently passed away from natural causes. Her teammate, Lizzie Pierce, wrote this terrific tribute.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Reports from the Concussion Front: Ice Hockey
Tough guys then aren't so tough now.
Read this piece from the New York Times about former enforcer Marty McSorley, who, among other things, had Wayne Gretzy's back in the glory days in Edmonton.
One of the most compelling points in the article is that the cognitive problems many of these players have results from not fighting, but the average hitting that goes on in the NHL.
Glory in your twenties and thirties, sure, but would you trade that for serious problems after your career?
Read this piece from the New York Times about former enforcer Marty McSorley, who, among other things, had Wayne Gretzy's back in the glory days in Edmonton.
One of the most compelling points in the article is that the cognitive problems many of these players have results from not fighting, but the average hitting that goes on in the NHL.
Glory in your twenties and thirties, sure, but would you trade that for serious problems after your career?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Now Only If Iran Was Any Good at Most Sports. . .
The Iranians are threatening to boycott the London Olympics in 2012 because they view the logo as racist.
Apparently, those in control of Iran's official view believe that the jagged way the logo says "2012" actually says "Zion," the biblical term for Jerusalem and, of course, represents Israel, for whose destruction Iran has called.
Now, if Iran wanted to come up with a reason why an oppressive regime that's out of touch with its population of about 60 million hardly can field a team that matters in most sports, there could have been a better way. But, while this is not a political blog, it seems apparent that the Iranians also want to disrupt the 2012 Olympics in a big way.
But is this all they've got? Is this the best that they can do? This is the best thinking from a nation that large?
Huh?
Apparently, those in control of Iran's official view believe that the jagged way the logo says "2012" actually says "Zion," the biblical term for Jerusalem and, of course, represents Israel, for whose destruction Iran has called.
Now, if Iran wanted to come up with a reason why an oppressive regime that's out of touch with its population of about 60 million hardly can field a team that matters in most sports, there could have been a better way. But, while this is not a political blog, it seems apparent that the Iranians also want to disrupt the 2012 Olympics in a big way.
But is this all they've got? Is this the best that they can do? This is the best thinking from a nation that large?
Huh?
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Whither (Wither) the Mets?
This, today, from the New York Times.
The ownership's finances seemingly are in a mess.
Ticket sales are way down. The team reduced the price of the average ticket by 14% and let go a bunch of employees in the ticket office.
The team lost a few relievers in the off-season and didn't sign any new star attractions.
Johan Santana, their ace, is out until mid-summer.
The team's debt ratings have been downgrade.
This is all very sad to see. Just three, four years ago, the Mets were the team to beat in the National League.
All signs point to the Wilpon's having to sell the team or have a friend give them a lifeline until their negotiations with the Madoff trustee conclude with a settlement. Neither seems to be a great option at the moment.
It's all very hard to fathom in Gotham.
The ownership's finances seemingly are in a mess.
Ticket sales are way down. The team reduced the price of the average ticket by 14% and let go a bunch of employees in the ticket office.
The team lost a few relievers in the off-season and didn't sign any new star attractions.
Johan Santana, their ace, is out until mid-summer.
The team's debt ratings have been downgrade.
This is all very sad to see. Just three, four years ago, the Mets were the team to beat in the National League.
All signs point to the Wilpon's having to sell the team or have a friend give them a lifeline until their negotiations with the Madoff trustee conclude with a settlement. Neither seems to be a great option at the moment.
It's all very hard to fathom in Gotham.
Coming Full Circle -- A Tale of Basketball Arrival
When I was a kid in Philadelphia, I rooted very hard for all Big 5 teams, but particularly my parents' alma maters, Penn and Temple. Temple had good teams (although their best had arrived a decade or so earlier), and Penn had great teams, top-10 teams, with players named Bilsky, Wohl, Calhoun, Morse, Littlepage, Hankinson. I didn't know much about Princeton, except occasionally hearing my father say that they had this crafty coach who was very good. That's all I knew, and, in the early-to-mid-1970's, that was about enough, because the Quakers dominated the Ivies at the time.
I also thought that Penn was where I'd end up, because it seemed like a good place, my parents both had degrees from there, it was close to home, it had the magical Palestra, it had a good business school, and what more could anyone ask?
Except that for some reason I ended up at Princeton, with, believe it or not, the blessing of my Penn alum parents. Naturally, my Penn friends thought that my parents' support was heresy, but parents being who they are they love their kids for their decisions. And, quite frankly, it was they who encouraged me to leave the reservation, so to speak, and migrate about 45 miles to the north. To this day, it's not along the lines of Nixon's recognition of China, but for me it was a pretty long journey, an entry into a new world.
Part of it, of course, involved switching basketball allegiances at an interesting time -- Penn's ascendancy to the Final Four and then Princeton's resurgence. The antichrist, Pete Carril, became the major apostle, and I learned a lot about the game from watching his teams, listening to him and reading what he said. I also learned the magic of the back door play.
Carril would later write that his father used to say "the strong take from the weak, but the smart take from the strong." It's a great quote, and it provided the foundation for his coaching philosophy (Sun Tzu also might have offered similar wisdom). Carril wouldn't go at a higher rated opponents' strengths -- that was folly. But he would figure out a way to have his clubs play tough defense, take the opponents out of their game, and, to quote baseball Hall of Fame outfielder Wee Willie Keeler, he'd "hit 'em where they ain't." And no more where they "ain't", so to speak, was in defending the back door play.
Carril put a cherry atop a sterling career after he decided to retire in 1996. The Tigers played Penn in a playoff game at Lehigh, an unlikely event given that the Quakers had beaten the Tigers twice during the regular season. The Tigers didn't look particular good in either game, but as friends and I were leaving the Palestra, we thought that Carril might have had to go against Penn's strong 3-guard offense by playing freshman forward Gabe Lewullis on Penn's senior guard Donald Moxley, who scored something like 17 points in the season finale against the Tigers. Well, Carril did just that (showing that we had learned from him), and Moxley went 0-12 in the playoff, Lewullis scored in double digits, and the Tigers upended the Quakers to win the Ivy title. After the game, an elated Carril wrote on the locker room's blackboard, "I'm so happy. I'm retiring."
And then he and the Tigers became a big story. Even bigger, because the Tigers' first-round opponent was defending national champion UCLA, starring Toby Bailey and captained by Ed O'Bannon. The Tigers were in Indianapolis, and they kept the Bruins close. With under a minute to play, center Steve Goodrich threaded a perfect pass to Lewullis, who lost O'Bannon on a great v-cut, ran through the back door and scored on a layup. The Tigers upset UCLA, and they were the talk of the college basketball world (two days later, an Eric Dampier-led Mississippi State squad thumped the Tigers and sent them packing, with Carril quoted afterwards as saying, "we didn't honor our victory over UCLA."). Truth be told, the strong played smart against the smaller, less athletic Tigers, and Carril retired, his legend very much intact as the wizard of doing more with less.
Fast forward to this past weekend, where my 5th and 6th grade basketball team had its first-round playoff game against a team we beat earlier in the season by 41-20 (we could have scored more if our guards hadn't thrown the ball away a bunch attempting fast breaks). Our opponents had won a play-in game on Thursday night, and they were primed for us. My fellow coach and I were a bit nervous, given that we didn't have a practice the week before and because our team tends to come out of the gate like a house on fire, missing makeable shots because they're so eager. We went into the post-season as the #4 seed (out of 20 teams).
Before the game, I talked with the players, and I said this. "Hey, we had a great season. We finished the regular season 8-2, and we lost to the #1 seed by 6 and the #3 seed by 1, so we're up there with everyone. Let's remember to honor our season by playing a great game today. So, let's defend, call out picks and switch, let's rebound hard, and let's take makeable shots and not try to do things by ourselves. If we play together and have fun, we can win this thing."
And we did play well together, leading 18-8 at the half, 28-14 after 3 and winning 33-24 in a game that wasn't as close as the score would have indicated. It was a good solid game, but one play brought it all home for me.
It took place in the third quarter, where our lightning quick if sometimes out of control point guard threw a bounce pass to a post player at the right elbow. My son made a great cut on the player guarding him (one of his best friends) and was wide open at a 45-degree angle to the basket. The post player turned and threaded a beautiful bounce pass, which my son caught mid-stride. He then put the ball up off the glass, which it kissed softly before going through the hoop. It was a great play, just as we had practiced it for the past several weeks, and my son brought it home for me what a beautiful game the game of basketball is.
Now, we weren't playing against a bigger team or a stronger team, but we were playing against a feisty team that tended to overplay on defense. And, there we were, taking advantage of where they were not, and we executed on the famous Princeton "back door" play. I smiled with no small measure of satisfaction that we've been able to finish this play, and, of course, I took some extra enjoyment that my son was part of the play's great execution.
It's great to see the kids pay rapt attention, especially when they sense that our plays can help us score more points than if a guard were to try to do it all himself. And, no, we're by no means perfect. Some kids try to do too much, a few forget the plays, and a few throw chest passes when the play demands a bounce pass. We try to fast break (Red Auerbach would appreciate us on occasion), out of a theory that if we get there first with more boys we'll have a better chance to score than when the other team has set its defense. But in the end, it's this play that has the referees nodding their heads and parents at both ends wondering how kids this age can perfect two straight passes for a basket.
Coach Carril said many things in his day, from "play to win" to "basketball reveals character" to "there's a great correlation between high SAT's and slow feet." But what he stressed -- time and time again -- was unselfishness and precision. More often than not, his teams did what he taught, with terrific results. I don't know how far this team will go in our playoffs -- there are a couple of teams with more size, strength and speed, but I do know this -- with the back door play and kids willing to play hard, anything is possible.
Because at the end of the day, the smart do take from the strong.
I also thought that Penn was where I'd end up, because it seemed like a good place, my parents both had degrees from there, it was close to home, it had the magical Palestra, it had a good business school, and what more could anyone ask?
Except that for some reason I ended up at Princeton, with, believe it or not, the blessing of my Penn alum parents. Naturally, my Penn friends thought that my parents' support was heresy, but parents being who they are they love their kids for their decisions. And, quite frankly, it was they who encouraged me to leave the reservation, so to speak, and migrate about 45 miles to the north. To this day, it's not along the lines of Nixon's recognition of China, but for me it was a pretty long journey, an entry into a new world.
Part of it, of course, involved switching basketball allegiances at an interesting time -- Penn's ascendancy to the Final Four and then Princeton's resurgence. The antichrist, Pete Carril, became the major apostle, and I learned a lot about the game from watching his teams, listening to him and reading what he said. I also learned the magic of the back door play.
Carril would later write that his father used to say "the strong take from the weak, but the smart take from the strong." It's a great quote, and it provided the foundation for his coaching philosophy (Sun Tzu also might have offered similar wisdom). Carril wouldn't go at a higher rated opponents' strengths -- that was folly. But he would figure out a way to have his clubs play tough defense, take the opponents out of their game, and, to quote baseball Hall of Fame outfielder Wee Willie Keeler, he'd "hit 'em where they ain't." And no more where they "ain't", so to speak, was in defending the back door play.
Carril put a cherry atop a sterling career after he decided to retire in 1996. The Tigers played Penn in a playoff game at Lehigh, an unlikely event given that the Quakers had beaten the Tigers twice during the regular season. The Tigers didn't look particular good in either game, but as friends and I were leaving the Palestra, we thought that Carril might have had to go against Penn's strong 3-guard offense by playing freshman forward Gabe Lewullis on Penn's senior guard Donald Moxley, who scored something like 17 points in the season finale against the Tigers. Well, Carril did just that (showing that we had learned from him), and Moxley went 0-12 in the playoff, Lewullis scored in double digits, and the Tigers upended the Quakers to win the Ivy title. After the game, an elated Carril wrote on the locker room's blackboard, "I'm so happy. I'm retiring."
And then he and the Tigers became a big story. Even bigger, because the Tigers' first-round opponent was defending national champion UCLA, starring Toby Bailey and captained by Ed O'Bannon. The Tigers were in Indianapolis, and they kept the Bruins close. With under a minute to play, center Steve Goodrich threaded a perfect pass to Lewullis, who lost O'Bannon on a great v-cut, ran through the back door and scored on a layup. The Tigers upset UCLA, and they were the talk of the college basketball world (two days later, an Eric Dampier-led Mississippi State squad thumped the Tigers and sent them packing, with Carril quoted afterwards as saying, "we didn't honor our victory over UCLA."). Truth be told, the strong played smart against the smaller, less athletic Tigers, and Carril retired, his legend very much intact as the wizard of doing more with less.
Fast forward to this past weekend, where my 5th and 6th grade basketball team had its first-round playoff game against a team we beat earlier in the season by 41-20 (we could have scored more if our guards hadn't thrown the ball away a bunch attempting fast breaks). Our opponents had won a play-in game on Thursday night, and they were primed for us. My fellow coach and I were a bit nervous, given that we didn't have a practice the week before and because our team tends to come out of the gate like a house on fire, missing makeable shots because they're so eager. We went into the post-season as the #4 seed (out of 20 teams).
Before the game, I talked with the players, and I said this. "Hey, we had a great season. We finished the regular season 8-2, and we lost to the #1 seed by 6 and the #3 seed by 1, so we're up there with everyone. Let's remember to honor our season by playing a great game today. So, let's defend, call out picks and switch, let's rebound hard, and let's take makeable shots and not try to do things by ourselves. If we play together and have fun, we can win this thing."
And we did play well together, leading 18-8 at the half, 28-14 after 3 and winning 33-24 in a game that wasn't as close as the score would have indicated. It was a good solid game, but one play brought it all home for me.
It took place in the third quarter, where our lightning quick if sometimes out of control point guard threw a bounce pass to a post player at the right elbow. My son made a great cut on the player guarding him (one of his best friends) and was wide open at a 45-degree angle to the basket. The post player turned and threaded a beautiful bounce pass, which my son caught mid-stride. He then put the ball up off the glass, which it kissed softly before going through the hoop. It was a great play, just as we had practiced it for the past several weeks, and my son brought it home for me what a beautiful game the game of basketball is.
Now, we weren't playing against a bigger team or a stronger team, but we were playing against a feisty team that tended to overplay on defense. And, there we were, taking advantage of where they were not, and we executed on the famous Princeton "back door" play. I smiled with no small measure of satisfaction that we've been able to finish this play, and, of course, I took some extra enjoyment that my son was part of the play's great execution.
It's great to see the kids pay rapt attention, especially when they sense that our plays can help us score more points than if a guard were to try to do it all himself. And, no, we're by no means perfect. Some kids try to do too much, a few forget the plays, and a few throw chest passes when the play demands a bounce pass. We try to fast break (Red Auerbach would appreciate us on occasion), out of a theory that if we get there first with more boys we'll have a better chance to score than when the other team has set its defense. But in the end, it's this play that has the referees nodding their heads and parents at both ends wondering how kids this age can perfect two straight passes for a basket.
Coach Carril said many things in his day, from "play to win" to "basketball reveals character" to "there's a great correlation between high SAT's and slow feet." But what he stressed -- time and time again -- was unselfishness and precision. More often than not, his teams did what he taught, with terrific results. I don't know how far this team will go in our playoffs -- there are a couple of teams with more size, strength and speed, but I do know this -- with the back door play and kids willing to play hard, anything is possible.
Because at the end of the day, the smart do take from the strong.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
And Now It's Time for Cal Tech's Baseball Team. . .
Cal Tech beat Occidental by a point last night in men's basketball, marking the first time the school has won a conference basketball same since 1985. It's now their baseball team's time -- as the Cal Tech baseball team has lost 412 straight conference games dating back to 1988.
That's a lot of games during a long time span.
That said, I'd surmise that the SAT scores and GPAs of the average Cal Tech player would be enough to bring up -- significantly -- the averages at the DI schools that are perennial contenders for the NCAA championship (including Duke). Those kids at Cal Tech can't expect to have everything -- some of their brains are bigger than basketballs -- but at least they could get a win in their conference.
And I'm sure at least two of the players could figure out that -- all things being equal -- the odds of losing conference games indefinitely were smaller than the odds of winning a single game.
And then they went out and did it.
Congratulations to the Cal Tech men's basketball team, and may your good fortune spread to the baseball team.
That's a lot of games during a long time span.
That said, I'd surmise that the SAT scores and GPAs of the average Cal Tech player would be enough to bring up -- significantly -- the averages at the DI schools that are perennial contenders for the NCAA championship (including Duke). Those kids at Cal Tech can't expect to have everything -- some of their brains are bigger than basketballs -- but at least they could get a win in their conference.
And I'm sure at least two of the players could figure out that -- all things being equal -- the odds of losing conference games indefinitely were smaller than the odds of winning a single game.
And then they went out and did it.
Congratulations to the Cal Tech men's basketball team, and may your good fortune spread to the baseball team.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Mets Have Reassuring Words for Luis Castillo
This from the New York Times today.
It reminds me of a scene from the movie Donnie Brasco. Sonny Black's crew is sitting around their social club talking about opportunities to earn. It might even be the scene where Lefty (played by Al Pacino) is sitting at a table trying to smash open a parking meter with a hammer. In any event, the guys are talking about what they have going, and the best opportunity was one associate who said that he had boosted two dozen tickets to a Rufus & Chaka Khan concert to scalp.
No Lufthansa heist. No big con. Just those tickets.
Reassuring words for Luis Castillo?
To quote the producer (played by Dustin Hoffman) in Wag the Dog, what this calls for is a diversion, a "pageant." In that movie, it was a military action. In this movie, after all the bad news about the Wilpons and Bernie Madoff, plus the injury to Johan Santana and the seemingly neverending saga of Carlos Beltran's knee, the Mets need a big splash. Running a story about reassuring Luis Castillo somehow doesn't qualify, and I have nothing against either the Mets or Castillo. In fact, as a Phillies fan, I think that the Philllies and the entire league will play better baseball when they know that the Mets are hot on their trail -- the rivalry brings out the best in everyone. So, I take no joy in the Mets' problems, even though sometimes I've had to listen to grief from ungracious and overzealous Mets' fans (and, sure, there are the ungracious, overzealous and uncouth among Phillies' fans too). And I don't for a moment think that the Red Sox' and Phillies' off-season signings all would have happened had the Mets been financially healthier than they are. Somehow, I could have seen Carl Crawford running around Citi Field making life miserable for the entire National League.
So, the next move is up to the Mets and their front office. The Yankees have Jeter, Sabathia, Posada, Rivera and A-Rod to grab headlines and draw attention. Sadly, the Mets have very little.
For now.
But that will change.
It always does in baseball.
It reminds me of a scene from the movie Donnie Brasco. Sonny Black's crew is sitting around their social club talking about opportunities to earn. It might even be the scene where Lefty (played by Al Pacino) is sitting at a table trying to smash open a parking meter with a hammer. In any event, the guys are talking about what they have going, and the best opportunity was one associate who said that he had boosted two dozen tickets to a Rufus & Chaka Khan concert to scalp.
No Lufthansa heist. No big con. Just those tickets.
Reassuring words for Luis Castillo?
To quote the producer (played by Dustin Hoffman) in Wag the Dog, what this calls for is a diversion, a "pageant." In that movie, it was a military action. In this movie, after all the bad news about the Wilpons and Bernie Madoff, plus the injury to Johan Santana and the seemingly neverending saga of Carlos Beltran's knee, the Mets need a big splash. Running a story about reassuring Luis Castillo somehow doesn't qualify, and I have nothing against either the Mets or Castillo. In fact, as a Phillies fan, I think that the Philllies and the entire league will play better baseball when they know that the Mets are hot on their trail -- the rivalry brings out the best in everyone. So, I take no joy in the Mets' problems, even though sometimes I've had to listen to grief from ungracious and overzealous Mets' fans (and, sure, there are the ungracious, overzealous and uncouth among Phillies' fans too). And I don't for a moment think that the Red Sox' and Phillies' off-season signings all would have happened had the Mets been financially healthier than they are. Somehow, I could have seen Carl Crawford running around Citi Field making life miserable for the entire National League.
So, the next move is up to the Mets and their front office. The Yankees have Jeter, Sabathia, Posada, Rivera and A-Rod to grab headlines and draw attention. Sadly, the Mets have very little.
For now.
But that will change.
It always does in baseball.
The Yankees Have Partial Season Ticket Plans Available
I saw an ad in yesterday's New York Times (which I don't always read). I live almost halfway between Philadelphia and New York (okay, so closer to Philadelphia), and once told a college classmate that I didn't read that paper normally (I do read three other dailies). She asked me, somewhat disdainfully, "What are you, a Republican?" I chuckled (as opposed to full-out laughed) in response (never being one to reveal my political thinking to anyone outside a group of friends in the neighborhood), and said, "No, I'm a Pennsylvanian." (As it didn't seem to occur to someone in Connecticut or Westchester County that someone might read something other than the Times). Again, I have digressed. . .
So, I saw the ad that indicated that partial-season ticket plans are available. And that made me wonder why? Is it because the #4 and #5 starters will be drawn from among Ivan Novoa, Sergio Mitre, Bartolo Colon and a similar aging wonder? Is it because the Red Sox have done a better job both growing from within and in signing free agents this past off-season? Is it because a) the team didn't get Cliff Lee and b) Andy Pettitte retired? Or is it because, well, some of the tickets are just too plain expensive?
Now, in fairness, there are some great 15-game plan alternatives -- 15 Friday night games, 15 Saturday night games and 15 Sunday night games. And, I'd admit that I was tempted, although I am a diehard Phillies fan and both the financial and travel commitments would seem to be too much. There were tickets available somewhere up in the heavens for $2100 for a pair of tickets to 15 games (doing the math, it's about $70 a ticket for upstairs, which is a possibility that doesn't exist in Philadelphia). That's steep, but what intrigued me more were downstairs tickets at $8250 for a pair for 15 games (do that math, and you get over $250 per ticket). And it made me wonder who could come up with that kind of dough. After all, the hypothetical "average" investment banker doesn't think he's average and probably would up for nothing less than a full-season ticket plan, because even if those tickets would cost $40,000 or more per season, well, that's about as much as one of those people make in two days, which means, "Who'd miss that money, even if the Yankees don't make the playoffs?" And, yet, there are tickets available.
New York is great at spotting bull and bear markets, even if sometimes woefully late (such as the crash of 2008, which got everyone mad at each other, many people broke). Does the fact that there are partial season ticket plans available mean that Wall Street is predicting a banner year in Boston at the expense of the Bronx?
That could well be the case. But now, if you do have an extra $8250 around and don't want to spend it on a vacation, mortgage payments, food, clothing or medicine, the Yankees do have a deal for you.
So, I saw the ad that indicated that partial-season ticket plans are available. And that made me wonder why? Is it because the #4 and #5 starters will be drawn from among Ivan Novoa, Sergio Mitre, Bartolo Colon and a similar aging wonder? Is it because the Red Sox have done a better job both growing from within and in signing free agents this past off-season? Is it because a) the team didn't get Cliff Lee and b) Andy Pettitte retired? Or is it because, well, some of the tickets are just too plain expensive?
Now, in fairness, there are some great 15-game plan alternatives -- 15 Friday night games, 15 Saturday night games and 15 Sunday night games. And, I'd admit that I was tempted, although I am a diehard Phillies fan and both the financial and travel commitments would seem to be too much. There were tickets available somewhere up in the heavens for $2100 for a pair of tickets to 15 games (doing the math, it's about $70 a ticket for upstairs, which is a possibility that doesn't exist in Philadelphia). That's steep, but what intrigued me more were downstairs tickets at $8250 for a pair for 15 games (do that math, and you get over $250 per ticket). And it made me wonder who could come up with that kind of dough. After all, the hypothetical "average" investment banker doesn't think he's average and probably would up for nothing less than a full-season ticket plan, because even if those tickets would cost $40,000 or more per season, well, that's about as much as one of those people make in two days, which means, "Who'd miss that money, even if the Yankees don't make the playoffs?" And, yet, there are tickets available.
New York is great at spotting bull and bear markets, even if sometimes woefully late (such as the crash of 2008, which got everyone mad at each other, many people broke). Does the fact that there are partial season ticket plans available mean that Wall Street is predicting a banner year in Boston at the expense of the Bronx?
That could well be the case. But now, if you do have an extra $8250 around and don't want to spend it on a vacation, mortgage payments, food, clothing or medicine, the Yankees do have a deal for you.
A Squash Dynasty
When I was in college, they called them "the preppy sports." The "they" were my friends who came from middle-class backgrounds and played the "traditional" sports of football, basketball and baseball. They came from towns and public schools that didn't offer squash, lacrosse or golf, and, as for golf, tennis and swimming, well, they appeared to be vestiges for those who had the money to spend on private lessons and on private clubs. The implication was that it was much easier to excel at those sports because the masses didn't play them (okay, there are public-school bastions for lacrosse on Long Island, near Syracuse, and in some parts of the Baltimore area, but the "they" would have insisted that lacrosse, among and amidst the others, was still a "preppy" sport).
I don't follow all of these developments all that closely today, except to say that there are certain sports that are hyper-competitive in suburbia because of the parents' inclination to spend time and money on them and perhaps because of a Darwinism that says, "play soccer, because while the mass of people playing it might be growing, the best athletes still are playing football and basketball, and, if you don't believe it, compare the U.S. World Cup teams with those in the NFL and NBA, and in terms of excellence, well, the former don't compare with the latter." I suppose that's a long-winded way of saying that there are sports where the money and efforts of those with homes with ample backyards spend their time because, well, junior and juniorette might be able to draw the attention of some college whereas if they hooped they wouldn't measure up. That's harsh, I suppose, but when you write about things you shouldn't pull your punches too much.
And as for squash. . .
On the one hand, it's a fast-paced, great game that's fun to play and not for those who aren't in shape. On the other hand, traditionally in the U.S. it's been only for the well-heeled, as you needed to go to a school that has courts (read: expensive private and boarding schools) or have parents who belong to a club that has them (read: parents who either inherited money or earned it and are willing to pay for the private schools and clubs and lessons). In stark contrast, in other parts of the world (read: the former British empire), squash is more accessible to the masses.
Which led to this bit of Darwinism at the collegiate level. You'd naturally think that Harvard, Yale and Princeton would dominate because, well, they are elite schools who attract kids from the elite boarding and private schools who can pay the freight and a few of whom actually can play squash with authority. That logic makes sense because, well, you just wouldn't figure to see squash in the SEC. Could you imagine Auburn alums taking glee over beating Georgia 9-0 in a squash match? Remember the paradigm -- SEC and squash in the northeastern part of the U.S. mean Securities and Exchange Commission and a racquet sport; SEC and squash in the southeastern part of the U.S. mean Southeastern Conference and something you eat with your evening meal. (For Google afficionados, SEC comes up with the Northeast's interpretation about 6 times before you get to the athletic conference; Google squash, and you get the sport #1 and the vegetable #2).
Back from the digression, if you thought Harvard, Yale and Princeton, you'd be wrong. They are all good at squash, but none are the best. In fact, the best collegiate squash program -- by far -- is at Division III Trinity in Hartford, Connecticut. Trinity has won over 230 straight matches because its head coach prevailed upon the school's president to realize that in order to dominate, the school needed to recruit internationally. Translated, it means, as the linked article suggests, that either U.S. squash isn't very good or that it pales in comparison to squash around the world. And the reason is quite simple -- the competition. Kids around the world play against a bigger pool of other kids, and some of the most athletic kids in those countries focus on squash. In contrast, the average combination guard in a big city probably hasn't heard of the game, let alone considered it. But, imagine, if Chris Paul or Allen Iverson were to play squash -- given their athleticism and competitive nature, it would be easy to envision that they'd beat even the most skilled international players.
So, what Trinity did was quite simple -- go to the places with the best players and diversity your student body to boot. And they dominate, so much so that they're deemed the evil empire in collegiate squash, not that you'd ever really figure on attaching the word "evil" to a sport like squash, which creates visions of the men singing four-part harmony at the Heritage Club in "Trading Places." (Famous dialogue: "Looking good, Louis." "Feeling good. . . Todd.").
When you think of a dynasty in sports, you think of the Yankees from the '20's through the early 60's, you think Green Bay Packers, Pittsburgh Steelers, and, obviously, the Boston Celtics. You think about various collegiate football programs, John Wooden's UCLA basketball teams, Geno Auriemma's recent run at UConn for women's basketball, and I'm sure many others that are too obscure for even me. What you probably don't think about is squash.
Read the linked article and see if you identify with an elite academic institution that gets dissed when compared to its Ivy and Little 3 peers -- and uses that dissing as a motivator, especially in the world of intercollegiate squash.
For what it's worth.
I don't follow all of these developments all that closely today, except to say that there are certain sports that are hyper-competitive in suburbia because of the parents' inclination to spend time and money on them and perhaps because of a Darwinism that says, "play soccer, because while the mass of people playing it might be growing, the best athletes still are playing football and basketball, and, if you don't believe it, compare the U.S. World Cup teams with those in the NFL and NBA, and in terms of excellence, well, the former don't compare with the latter." I suppose that's a long-winded way of saying that there are sports where the money and efforts of those with homes with ample backyards spend their time because, well, junior and juniorette might be able to draw the attention of some college whereas if they hooped they wouldn't measure up. That's harsh, I suppose, but when you write about things you shouldn't pull your punches too much.
And as for squash. . .
On the one hand, it's a fast-paced, great game that's fun to play and not for those who aren't in shape. On the other hand, traditionally in the U.S. it's been only for the well-heeled, as you needed to go to a school that has courts (read: expensive private and boarding schools) or have parents who belong to a club that has them (read: parents who either inherited money or earned it and are willing to pay for the private schools and clubs and lessons). In stark contrast, in other parts of the world (read: the former British empire), squash is more accessible to the masses.
Which led to this bit of Darwinism at the collegiate level. You'd naturally think that Harvard, Yale and Princeton would dominate because, well, they are elite schools who attract kids from the elite boarding and private schools who can pay the freight and a few of whom actually can play squash with authority. That logic makes sense because, well, you just wouldn't figure to see squash in the SEC. Could you imagine Auburn alums taking glee over beating Georgia 9-0 in a squash match? Remember the paradigm -- SEC and squash in the northeastern part of the U.S. mean Securities and Exchange Commission and a racquet sport; SEC and squash in the southeastern part of the U.S. mean Southeastern Conference and something you eat with your evening meal. (For Google afficionados, SEC comes up with the Northeast's interpretation about 6 times before you get to the athletic conference; Google squash, and you get the sport #1 and the vegetable #2).
Back from the digression, if you thought Harvard, Yale and Princeton, you'd be wrong. They are all good at squash, but none are the best. In fact, the best collegiate squash program -- by far -- is at Division III Trinity in Hartford, Connecticut. Trinity has won over 230 straight matches because its head coach prevailed upon the school's president to realize that in order to dominate, the school needed to recruit internationally. Translated, it means, as the linked article suggests, that either U.S. squash isn't very good or that it pales in comparison to squash around the world. And the reason is quite simple -- the competition. Kids around the world play against a bigger pool of other kids, and some of the most athletic kids in those countries focus on squash. In contrast, the average combination guard in a big city probably hasn't heard of the game, let alone considered it. But, imagine, if Chris Paul or Allen Iverson were to play squash -- given their athleticism and competitive nature, it would be easy to envision that they'd beat even the most skilled international players.
So, what Trinity did was quite simple -- go to the places with the best players and diversity your student body to boot. And they dominate, so much so that they're deemed the evil empire in collegiate squash, not that you'd ever really figure on attaching the word "evil" to a sport like squash, which creates visions of the men singing four-part harmony at the Heritage Club in "Trading Places." (Famous dialogue: "Looking good, Louis." "Feeling good. . . Todd.").
When you think of a dynasty in sports, you think of the Yankees from the '20's through the early 60's, you think Green Bay Packers, Pittsburgh Steelers, and, obviously, the Boston Celtics. You think about various collegiate football programs, John Wooden's UCLA basketball teams, Geno Auriemma's recent run at UConn for women's basketball, and I'm sure many others that are too obscure for even me. What you probably don't think about is squash.
Read the linked article and see if you identify with an elite academic institution that gets dissed when compared to its Ivy and Little 3 peers -- and uses that dissing as a motivator, especially in the world of intercollegiate squash.
For what it's worth.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Is Andy Reid the Worst Head Coach in Philadelphia Professional Sports?
Okay, the headline is a bit harsh, because you'd still want the fourth of the Phillies "four aces" in your rotation, and pretty high up there, too.
But if you peel back the onion, think about this:
1. Charlie Manuel has had the Phillies in two straight World Series and won one.
2. Peter Laviollette took the Flyers to the Stanley Cup Finals last year and has them with the best record in hockey the last time I checked (and, if not, pretty darned close).
3. Doug Collins is the NBA's version of the Miracle Worker, coaching his team with patience and determination and has them in the playoffs were they to be held today and close to .500 where no one expected anything close and the future now looks suprisingly bright.
4. Andy Reid is the winningest coach in Eagles' history, but his teams seemingly have one type of Achilles' heel or another that they just cannot solve. They are like Sisyphus, pushing the big rock up the hill only never to get to the top. Reid is, no doubt, one of the ten best coaches in the NFL and arguably even in the top 3. But the big question is whether the combination of Reid's being the GM and head coach works, as it seldom has in the NFL. Heck, most people didn't like the DVD/VCR combination or th "spork"that certain restaurants put out because they don't want to give you a fork and a spoon. Put differently, Reid is good, but could it be that the others are just doing a better job (and none of them makes the decisions in the front office).
Food for thought for Philadelphia sports fans.
Let the comments rain in.
But if you peel back the onion, think about this:
1. Charlie Manuel has had the Phillies in two straight World Series and won one.
2. Peter Laviollette took the Flyers to the Stanley Cup Finals last year and has them with the best record in hockey the last time I checked (and, if not, pretty darned close).
3. Doug Collins is the NBA's version of the Miracle Worker, coaching his team with patience and determination and has them in the playoffs were they to be held today and close to .500 where no one expected anything close and the future now looks suprisingly bright.
4. Andy Reid is the winningest coach in Eagles' history, but his teams seemingly have one type of Achilles' heel or another that they just cannot solve. They are like Sisyphus, pushing the big rock up the hill only never to get to the top. Reid is, no doubt, one of the ten best coaches in the NFL and arguably even in the top 3. But the big question is whether the combination of Reid's being the GM and head coach works, as it seldom has in the NFL. Heck, most people didn't like the DVD/VCR combination or th "spork"that certain restaurants put out because they don't want to give you a fork and a spoon. Put differently, Reid is good, but could it be that the others are just doing a better job (and none of them makes the decisions in the front office).
Food for thought for Philadelphia sports fans.
Let the comments rain in.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Could this Be the Year for Princeton Men's B-Ball Team to Return to the NCAA Tournament?
Tiger fans are rubbing their good-luck charms on this one. The Tigers trounded Columbia on the road on Saturday night, only to edge out Cornell on Saturday night on Kareem Maddox's jumper with ten seconds to go. They are 7-0 in the Ivies, but they have 5 of their last 7 on the road, including potentially tough contests at Harvard, Yale and archrival Pennsylvania.
It has been a long drought for Princeton, and the road won't be an easy one. Penn has some talent and always gets up for Princeton. Yale has some good athletes on the perimeter and played a great game in Jadwin Gym a few weeks ago (I thought that Yale's James Jones outcoached Sydney Johnson). Harvard has 11 freshmen and sophomores and a ton of talent, both inside (Keith Wright, among others) and outside (deadeye shooter Laurent Rivard, among others). They have had some trouble closing out opponents (and "some" means relatively minor, in that they have one league loss -- at Princeton), but they are very good.
That's the thing about the Ivies -- there is no conference tournament, so every night is like a playoff game. While last night's Villanova-Pitt contest had great intensity, both teams will make the NCAA Tournament based upon their records -- regardless of how they fare in their conference tournament (and assuming that neither falls flat on its face in the next 2-3 weeks). But that's not the luck of the Ivies -- come in second and you're done for the season in all likelihood. Think there's not pressure on a weekend game after a long bus ride in Hanover, New Hampshire against a second-division Dartmouth squad? Think again. The Big Green will be lying in the weeds waiting to ambush your top-of-the-league squad and send you reeling. They've done it before and they'll do it again, because for them games against the league's front runners are their version of the Big Dance. And the last time I checked, they do sell glass slippers in northern New England.
There is a lot of basketball left to be played. Sure, you'd rather be Princeton at 7-0 to Harvard's 7-1, but a lot can happen over the course of the next three weekends. Put on your seat belts and helmets, Tiger fans, there's a lot of good basketball left to be played.
It has been a long drought for Princeton, and the road won't be an easy one. Penn has some talent and always gets up for Princeton. Yale has some good athletes on the perimeter and played a great game in Jadwin Gym a few weeks ago (I thought that Yale's James Jones outcoached Sydney Johnson). Harvard has 11 freshmen and sophomores and a ton of talent, both inside (Keith Wright, among others) and outside (deadeye shooter Laurent Rivard, among others). They have had some trouble closing out opponents (and "some" means relatively minor, in that they have one league loss -- at Princeton), but they are very good.
That's the thing about the Ivies -- there is no conference tournament, so every night is like a playoff game. While last night's Villanova-Pitt contest had great intensity, both teams will make the NCAA Tournament based upon their records -- regardless of how they fare in their conference tournament (and assuming that neither falls flat on its face in the next 2-3 weeks). But that's not the luck of the Ivies -- come in second and you're done for the season in all likelihood. Think there's not pressure on a weekend game after a long bus ride in Hanover, New Hampshire against a second-division Dartmouth squad? Think again. The Big Green will be lying in the weeds waiting to ambush your top-of-the-league squad and send you reeling. They've done it before and they'll do it again, because for them games against the league's front runners are their version of the Big Dance. And the last time I checked, they do sell glass slippers in northern New England.
There is a lot of basketball left to be played. Sure, you'd rather be Princeton at 7-0 to Harvard's 7-1, but a lot can happen over the course of the next three weekends. Put on your seat belts and helmets, Tiger fans, there's a lot of good basketball left to be played.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
I'll Bet That You Can't Put Your Princeton Degree to Work For You Like This
Ross Ohlendorf pitches for the worst team in baseball.
Ross Ohlendorf is a starting pitcher for that team.
Ross Ohlendorf went 1-11 for that team in 2010.
Ross Ohlendorf went to Princeton (and by all accounts is a very bright guy).
Ross Ohlendorf is a member of the most successful union in the history of organized labor.
Ross Ohlendorf got roughly a 461% raise for his efforts. He made $439,000 in 2010 and will make $2.025 million in 2011.
This bit of baseball news could prompt a lot of comments, such as:
1. Gee, what if he won 2 games?
2. Gee, what if he had a winning record above .500?
3. Gee, what if he won 15 games?
4. Omigod.
5. Well, the players' union must have put the leftover steroids to good use -- they injected them into salaries of pitchers who will be more remembered for their academics than their records.
6. Wow, this makes Andy Reid's hiring of his offensive line coach as his defensive coordinator sound rational.
7. If it were the Philadelphia Daily News, they'd repeat the headline they used for #6 and say, "WTF?"
8. No wonder why the Pirates are doomed.
9. The baseball stat people might figure out a way to contend that this is a bargain because, well, had you put this guy on the Phillies, he might be the righthanded version of Cole Hamels. (Somehow, I think that's a reach, but perhaps that's what his agent tried to argue).
10. Civilization as we know it is doomed.
11. That's why parents will do almost anything to have their kids go to a place like Princeton -- "it's all about the bucks, kid."
12. He probably has some Princeton classmates who make more money at Google or on Wall Street than he does.
And perhaps many more.
But that's baseball for you. It's great work if you can get it.
Ross Ohlendorf is a starting pitcher for that team.
Ross Ohlendorf went 1-11 for that team in 2010.
Ross Ohlendorf went to Princeton (and by all accounts is a very bright guy).
Ross Ohlendorf is a member of the most successful union in the history of organized labor.
Ross Ohlendorf got roughly a 461% raise for his efforts. He made $439,000 in 2010 and will make $2.025 million in 2011.
This bit of baseball news could prompt a lot of comments, such as:
1. Gee, what if he won 2 games?
2. Gee, what if he had a winning record above .500?
3. Gee, what if he won 15 games?
4. Omigod.
5. Well, the players' union must have put the leftover steroids to good use -- they injected them into salaries of pitchers who will be more remembered for their academics than their records.
6. Wow, this makes Andy Reid's hiring of his offensive line coach as his defensive coordinator sound rational.
7. If it were the Philadelphia Daily News, they'd repeat the headline they used for #6 and say, "WTF?"
8. No wonder why the Pirates are doomed.
9. The baseball stat people might figure out a way to contend that this is a bargain because, well, had you put this guy on the Phillies, he might be the righthanded version of Cole Hamels. (Somehow, I think that's a reach, but perhaps that's what his agent tried to argue).
10. Civilization as we know it is doomed.
11. That's why parents will do almost anything to have their kids go to a place like Princeton -- "it's all about the bucks, kid."
12. He probably has some Princeton classmates who make more money at Google or on Wall Street than he does.
And perhaps many more.
But that's baseball for you. It's great work if you can get it.
Monday, February 07, 2011
More on the Mets
Will the Mets have to be sold? Here's an update on the situation from ESPN.com.
Here's the sitch: basically, you have a trustee who has some bucks who's pursuing with great vigor those who were at the front end of the Ponzi scheme to beat all Ponzi schemes. This is a guy with nothing to lose, willing to invest say a cool million to fund the litigation to bring in a million. Okay, so perhaps the litigation will cost two million, but the guy will fight tooth and nail, ask for a jury trial in a city known for wacky jury verdicts (what city isn't?), and he'll try to recover funds for the poor widows of Palm Beach whose husbands trusted Bernie because, well, how could they not have invested with Bernie when every one else was doing it? Get the latest Benz, the latest wife, the latest Gucci and, invest with the guy who guaranteed the returns.
But when everything goes bad, you get a receiver, a trustee, and sometimes these guys are bottom fishers, the guys who don't get the corporate bankruptcies but get the individual ones, where they get a flat fee, do routine and good work, but get no glamor and make their money on volume. That, though, is not this, where you've attracted the big-time lawyers who shop at the best stores wearing the suits with the sleeves with the functioning buttons, the shirts made of Sea Island Cotton (or the cotton of choice at the moment), the Hermes ties, the Lobb custom-made shoes, or, alternatively, the guys who buy off-the-rack from Jos. A. Bank who's dads were fighters for the good and dissed by the guys like Madoff, who always seemed to know better and have the angle. No matter how you slice it, they're sharp guys, they have good theories, they can hire good lawyers, and, most importantly, they have nothing to lose. Which makes them the Chaminade to the Wilpons' Virginia, the Princeton to the Wilpons' whomever, draw your analogy. They'll go the distance, they'll draw blood, and, well, they could win a split decision.
Today's article in The Wall Street Journal was somewhat instructive. The lawyer for the trustee was quoted as saying that they'd settle for nothing short of a billion (the last time I checked, most people don't have that type of coin lying around). Then the article went on to say that the trustee is hoping to settle for about $300 million (the last time I checked, most people don't have that type of coin lying around, either). Which seems to suggest that the Wilpons probably have liquidity problems, which means, then, that their beloved Mets could be on the block. That's bad news for the Wilpons, but perhaps great news for Met fans if the Wilpons a) decide to sell and b) sell to the right type of rich guy who will try to nuke the Phillies, at least baseball-wise and take the Mets out of their current version of baseball hell.
Except, of course, for a few details. First, a claim is a claim is a claim. The trustee has to prove what he alleges, and the Wilpons can afford high-priced legal talent of their own. Also, the last time I checked, people who have their entire empire to defend make a formidable opponent, perhaps even more so than their attackers, who, in this case, are transient and will move on to another cause when they find the right client, the right bucks and the right publicity. The Wilpons won't go down without a fight. Second, the Wilpons, determined to hold on, will be the last to part with their trophy. Which means, of course, that this could be a prolonged and nasty fight. Needless to say, unless the Wilpons see their situation as dire and want the Mets to move on more quickly than they otherwise might were they to fight until they and not the trustee were to emerge from the steel cage, the Mets' situation could be in limbo for a few years.
Good news if you live 90 miles to the south, bad news if you want to see a winner in Citi Field soon.
So, look for this drama to be compelling if not as spectacular as the Elliot Spitzer chronicles or Andrew Cuomo's one-man attempt to be the Democrat to humble the traditional constituencies of his party. And it won't eclipse, at least not yet, the public mourning over the Yankees' lack of pitching or the Jets' inability to stop the Steelers' running game. Still, it's another chapter in a tragedy, and this Phillies' fan will be the first to admit that the N.L. East (and N.L.) is at its best when the Phillies and Mets have each other to chase (and the Mets' owners would have been better off had they put their money in Chase).
Stay tuned for the next chapter. If you're a Mets' fan, you should hope that you'll switch from a Dickensian theme to one of sorcerers, magicians and, well, just plain hope.
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