Losing a Step... and then some.

I am saved.

And, I owe it all to this guy. No, not Shane Battier. He doesn't care about me. But, the author of that article, Michael Lewis, apparently does.

He must have known that after a quarter of a century playing semi-competitive basketball, that I was seriously considering putting my last pair of high top shoes on a shelf in the furnace room. Forever. I could no longer do the things that came so naturally for so long.

I told myself that it was a good run. I learned a lot about the game... and about myself through the years. I don't feel old. I don't really look old. So, why was the world of basketball rushing by me like Rashad McCants on his way to the Sacramento Airport?

For a couple of years, I found an excuse for everything. But, deep down... I knew. I had seen what happened to guys like Gary Payton and Kenny Anderson. NBA players who seemed to go from young to old overnight. I refuse to become that guy.

I told myself that it only happens to guys with actual athletic ability. My game was always played below the net. I'd be fine.

I lied.

My friends and teammates lied to me, too. They'd pat their chest after one of my errant passes as if to say, "I should have known you were going to throw the ball 12 feet behind me at ankle level."

Their pep talks lacked any sense of the present. "Dude, you know you can get hot at any time. You're due. Remember when you hit those 7 threes in a row."

Yeah, I remember. It was before that guy had his first kid. He has four more kids now. Time flies when you're a sucky basketball player.

The final straw: When their overenthusiastic cheers after I hit a three were befitting the efforts of a special ed kid playing in garbage time.

I was no longer just lying to myself. I was embarrassing myself.

It was time. So, I asked the gal pal to bring the boys to their first ever basketball game. I talked myself into some dopey melodrama about the symbolic gesture. Their first game would be their father's last. (Yes, I DO need a life outside of basketball and movies on the Oxygen network.)

All it did was make me press even more. Subsequently, think even more. And, unfortunately, suck even more.

It made me realize how far I really have fallen. I couldn't remember the last nice assist I had while on the move. (Sorry, but being a top-notch inbounds passer isn't enough.)

I can remember the first time an opposing player said, "Let him shoot." I was indignant. "How dare you... don't you know who I am?" The second time it happened, I was confused. The third time... I think I cried.

But, then Michael Lewis saved me.

Basketball isn't only about scoring. Or, beating come chump off the dribble. Or, dazzling wraparound passes. It's also about the subtle push in the small of the back as your opponent drives by you and attempts a layup. The hidden wonders of friendly banter with the officials. Moving screens. And, the extra pass that nobody else seems to notice.

Alas, the crossover to the rack comes out as often as Tim Hardaway at a George Michael concert. The awe-inspiring pass is as rare as a Yinka Dare assist. But, that doesn't mean I am completely useless. I can still do little annoying things that help my team win sometimes... while annoying the hell out of the other team.

There will still be fleeting moments. (It's not like I'm the suckiest of the sucky basketball players for chrissakes.) But, instead of once a game, or week, or month... my moments will come once a year. I might as well take up golf.

But at least I now have hope, thanks to Mr. Lewis. All I have to do is make my teammates and opposing teams read the article so they stop treating me like a chump on the court.

Continuing to lie to myself will help, too.

He's Coming. And, You Can't Stop Him.

I know some people dig him because he's arguably the best player in the NBA. And, some dig him because they are provincial homers. And, others dig him because he's not Kobe Bryant.

I get it. LEBRON JAMES is really good. He's great. He may be the best ever... maybe. Eventually.

But, that's the problem. You're only fueling the beast. I HATED Michael Jordan. I couldn't escape the guy. I'd turn on NBC... "Hey, it's the Bulls." On the rare occasion it wasn't the Bulls... "Hey, it's Jordan being interviewed at halftime."

I'd flip to a non-sports related television show... "Hey, there's a Jordan commercial." I'd flip to another station... "Hey, there's another Jordan commercial. Was that the Footloose guy?" Lame. I'd go visit a friend's house. "Hey, nice 24 Jordan posters in your room, dude."

I'd go to basketball camps. "Hey, why is everyone wearing the same numbered jersey?" I'd go to the gym to get away. Hey, why does that guy wear that rubber knee thing with the top folded over to reveal the other color. And, why does that guy keep sticking out his tongue?"

I'd go to Foot Locker for new shoes. "Hey, where are Bird's Converse Weapons? Well... do you have any Magic Weapons? No... only Jordan's huh? OK. Give me those lame Avias over there on the bottom shelf I guess".

So, being frustrated... and wearing lame shoes, I would go to the movies. "Hey, 3 out of the 4 movie screens are showing 'Space Jam'. The other one is showing 'Roger Rabbit'." Woe.

So, I'd go home. And, cry myself to sleep. My mom would notice. She'd ask me if a Gatorade would make me feel better. I think she'd even sing that stupid song... Only Craid Ehlo hated that commercial more than me. More woe.

Thanks for nothing Mom. No wonder I left home so early...
___________________

But, I digress. That is NOTHING compared to what's in store for us over the next 15 years. I'm telling you. The backlash will be great. And, a lot of you will remember some old surly blogger "back in the day" warning you of James overload. And, you'll giggle. And, then cry.

To quote a movie that came out around the time Jordan entered the league: "You still don't get it, do you? He'll find [you]! That's what he does! It's ALL he does! You can't stop him! He'll wait for you! He'll reach down [your] throat and tear [your] fu#$ing heart out!"

OK. Maybe he won't tear your heart out (unless you live in Cleveland). But, the marketing/media onslaught will steal the soul from the greatest game I've ever played or watched.

Hello Good Folks of Sacramento...

I'll be back later to formally introduce myself... as well as the enigmatic mercurial malcontent that will soon be stealing your soul.

Stay tuned...

Wanna be a professional big city sportswriter?

The newspaper business in this country is in a freefall because of the slash and burn business practices in most newsrooms.

Apparently, some big-city newspapers have even resorted to hiring second-rate bloggers or message board posters.

Check this out (SOURCE): the last paragraph on the first page...

"The comments attached to many online sports stories, especially those regarding the Vikings, often devolve into the kind of petty, misspelled banter you might find on the wall of an elementary school bathroom stall. Many of the comments attached to this article rationally asked why a state swimming in red ink would spent $700 million to build a football stadium."

Note to Mr. Souhan from the Star Tribune: if you're going to rip ANYBODY for misspellings, please make certain that you and your copy editor double check your work. (At least in the very next sentence for chrissakes!)

Super Duper Super Bowl Musings...

Some thoughts as I watched the "big game":

1. It seems like it would be much more difficult to be the sign language interpreter when people like Jennifer Hudson sing the national anthem. With every note drawn out for 10 - 15 seconds... does the interpreter hold the sign... or make the sign extra slow? Seriously. The question nagged at me for the entire first half.

2. is there really a need for 5 - 10 suits sitting around and discussing the game for five hours? What's next... every NFL team has a failed head coach or executive represent them on the pregame show?

3. My gambling buddy called me at halftime. The line for the 1st half was Steelers (-3.5). All Arizona had to do was not throw a 100-yard Int TD. Ooops. He painted a great picture for me... "Imagine 400,000 annoying Turtle lookalikes bitching and moaning and carrying on." I know exactly the type he was describing. Some of those guys are reading this now. By the way, that TD also put the 1st half OVER. Vegas must have been going nuts during the replay.

4. Bruce Springsteen's junk got much too close to my face. That crotch slide into the camera was funny stuff. I think he really hurt himself.

5. It took me at least FIVE minutes to convince the gal pal that the pudgy guitarist in the halftime show was also this guy.

6. The gal pal HATES the Steelers. She realized that only after seeing this guy and this guy and especially this guy.

7. Granted, Kurt Warner's wife looks better than this. now. But, she still bugs me.

8. Steelers kicker, Jeff Reed, is trying way too hard to be noticed. Note to Reed, you're a frickin placekicker for chrissakes. No amount of dye jobs or crazy hair is gonna make people care about you anymore. In case you missed it. Here was Reed's fresh new look for the big game.

9. Larry Fitzgerald is a TERRIFIC receiver. And, his humility on the field is very refreshing. Too bad his dad is a MASSIVE FRAUD. Here's the "journalist's" "newspaper".

10. Here's a closer look at the Pittsburgh Steelers kickoff returners. "Hey guys, let's really push hard on this return... and maybe we'll get out to the 24 instead of the 23 yard line this time."

11. We could see this on every single play. It's a matter of when they want to call it. And, the babying of QBs is beyond ridiculous. Just put the QBs in any one of these and be done with it for chrissakes.

12. The Steelers are a winning franchise. (whether cats like me like it or not.) It's instilled throughout all levels of that franchise. Arizona is a loser franchise. We saw it tonight. The Cardinals are still the Los Angeles Clippers of the NFL in my mind.

13. Santonio Holmes had a great game. And, made a great catch. This is next.

14. Without DVR, I would have wasted 88 hours and 34 minutes waiting for challenged calls being reviewed. Yet, in the grandest game of them all... at the most critical time... they don't challenge it. Why not? The game was already dragged out to 4.5 hours. What's another five minutes to ensure the call was accurate? If nothing else, imagine the suspense and amount of rage and pent up emotion that would be building if you were sitting next to this guy.

15. Not impressed with the commercials this season. Frivolity doesn't play well during harsh economic times, and this year's crop were safe and safer. Sans, the insufferable CareerBuilder ad where they kept repeating everything. I was so upset by the end that I punched the gal pal. Unfortunately, she punched me back even harder.

16. Heckuva game for drama and great plays... in between stupid penalties and shoddy defense down the stretch.