Brandon Hantz: The New Face of Irrationality

After an eventful first week, Survivor: South Pacific starts to (already) hit it's stride. Kudos to the show's producers for uncovering the hidden formula to success, i.e. land contestants that are increasingly crazier with each passing season.

Case in point: Tonight's episode begins with about two minutes of Semhar on Redemption Island going what appears to be quite literally insane. It doesn't help that she freestyles all this poetry at random, all the while sort of rolling around on her bed of bamboo and swatting at bugs. If the show wanted to show you how crazy people go on Redemption, they did a fairly decent job of it here. (This all serves to put Matt's run on RI last season in even more impressive context. How did he do that?)

Who else joins the ranks of the crazy? Well, where do we start? How about with Brandon "I'm a Married Man" Hantz? He feels close enough with Coach (!) to share his deep dark secret--that he's the nephew of Russell "Pure Evil" Hantz. Coach responds with the appropriate amount of alarm, but eventually realizes it's no big deal, and the whole affair seems to serve as a bonding moment for the two, complete with a closing prayer.

But what makes Brandon so particularly crazy is his unfounded paranoia regarding tribemate Mikayla. Completely unprovoked, Brandon has marked her for elimination. He is unyielding in his quest to send her to RI, and his rationale is, you could say, suspect. Basically he finds her attractive, is married, and has made up his mind that she's nothing but trouble. This despite absolutely no advance from Mikayla. In fact, when tribal blew up (thanks, Coach), and Brandon admitted he'd stirred the pot against Mikayla, she looked genuinely puzzled as to who this kid even was. It was like a "wait, what was your name, again?" type thing. Just bizarre.

On top of that, since everyone was pretty much decided on Christine after Upolu lost the immunity/reward challenge, when Brandon went on this Mikayla Must Go kick it sent the entire camp into the proverbial tizzy. This culminated in Coach absolutely loosing his stuff at Tribal, indirectly calling out Brandon and contradicting himself too many times to even think about firing up the DVR and recapping here. In the end, sanity somewhat reigned as Christine went to Redemption and no one cast a vote for Mikayla. Thank goodness.

Pretty quiet night from the Savaii tribe, with the exception of Ozzy finding the hidden idol up in a tree that was completely unclimbable by anyone in the tribe but Ozzy. So someone's going to have to get up pretty early in the morning if they're going to try and convince me that the show's not giving Ozzy a little help here.

Also, John Cochran is just a titch neurotic and he's breaking the cardinal rule of early round Survivor (borrowed from Ocean's 11, of course): You've got to make them like you, then forget you. Well, Cochran might be failing on both accounts. Let's hope for his sake that the next couple weeks allow him to sort of sink into the background. If he doesn't, he's next in line for an all inclusive stay at the looney bin on Redemption Island.

Redemption Island, Take 2

It's back--this the granddaddy of all (network) reality television. And not a week too soon, either. Survivor returns (yes, along with the unfortunate Redemption Island wrinkle), with a brand new group of castaways. Brand new, that is, except for the two returning "heroes" Coach (the self-proclaimed Dragon Slayer) and Ozzy (he of the indomitable immunity challenge record), who are playing for their third time each.

And the show wastes no time pitting the two "heroes" (sorry, I can't ever actually call them heroes without the quotes. It's just too ridiculous) against each other in a reward challenge which Ozzy predictably dominates. At this point, we're thinking "Oh, poor Coach" since his whole tribe is giving off an undeniable "Ah crud, we're stuck with Coach" vibe. To make matters worse, Savaii tribe thinks Ozzy is a complete rockstar, blowing off building a shelter in order to just swim and "kick it." This in turn causes Dawn to flip out and break down emotionally, marking her as early elimination bait.

But Dawn is saved by one of the single worst immunity challenge performances I've ever witnessed. Semhar adamantly volunteers to throw coconuts into a net, then when it comes time, sort of just underhands them straight up into the air while mumbling "sorry" and saying "I'm so tired." The net she's aiming for is about 8 feet in front of her. Spoiler alert: she gets sent to Redemption Island.

Besides the end result, some interesting story lines developed. First, Russell "Pure Evil" Hantz' nephew has made his way into the game. Contestant Brandon carries with him a big bulls-eye by virtue of his sinister uncle. He's so nervous about this connection to the biggest Survivor villain ever that he refuses to let anyone know about it. He even goes swimming with his shirt up over his neck and back where "Hantz" tattoos are visible.  Whatever. At this point I'm not sure what to make of this.

Second, Ozzy turns out to be all brawn and no brain. Apparently he's here to play strategically and not just own immunity challenges. Well, in that sense he's not off to the greatest start--basically he gets John the Harvard law student to question everything he's ever known about himself because he offers his (John's) name for elimination 'cause he (Ozzy) wants Semhar to stick around--he thinks she's pretty.  So he starts drumming up all these unfounded doubts about John's viability just so the girl he's in love with will stick around. To his credit he, along with the rest of the tribe, vote Semhar in the end. But why the trip down anxiety lane for John? Pointless.

Plus, Coach turns the tables in one of the biggest surprises so far. Working from a very natural place, he forms an alliance with four other Upolo tribe members and leads the team to an immunity challenge victory. And the organic nature of everything is what is so shocking. For as you know, Coach has historically been the least natural person on the planet. His social skills were, you could (should) say, lacking.

Well this time, he's stepping up his game. Can he keep it up? Time will tell. Until then, buckle the proverbial seat belt for yet another installment of the best reality TV show on planet earth.

"It could have been worse [guys]...ALOT worse."

For no reason in particular, Nat and I recorded Jurassic Park after it ran several times on AMC. And, with Natalie passed out by about the time they feed the raptors with that unfortunate cow about a half hour in, I watched every. single. minute of the 1993 Steven Spielberg classic.

I remember this being one of my familiy's "movies," the ones you and your siblings watch over and over and memorize entire sequences and quote all of the time. Eighteen years later, I was nostalgic to watch it, but also anxious to see how it held up in the face of such massive leaps in special effects technology.

Does it hold up? Well, afterwards I arrived at a sort of meaningless mixed verdict of it does and/but it also doesn't.

With the glaring exception of the brachiosaurus scenes (particularly when Grant, Tim, and Lex are in the tree feeding it, and the whole scene has this sort of "Never Ending Story" with giant puppets quality to it), the dinosaurs actually look remarkably realistic. Word was that the combination of the tropical storm hitting the park and Dennis Nedry's little puppet show actually made for a frustrating T-Rex scene for Spielberg and co.-- the rain kept making the robotic dino glitch. If you're looking for it you notice, but it's not so bad you reinstate your disbelief.

What seems more unbelievable, actually, is the dialogue between the characters. Movie scripts of this era seem to have this unabashed on-the-nose quality, almost like they were originally written (in some spots) to be middle school plays. It is very obvious when we're supposed to laugh, when we're supposed to be in awe, etc. (Other examples include "A Few Good Men" and the entire first 3 seasons of "Frasier." Yes, I have watched both of these examples, since you asked.)

In "Jurassic Park," examples of this obviousness abound. How about when Grant and Sadler see the dinosaurs for the first time, and Hammond takes the opportunity to say, "Dr. Grant...my dear Dr. Sadler, welcome. to Jurassic Park..." ?

Or, for example, when Hammond is griping about how upsetting the initial tour went (2 dinosaurs weren't even visible from the cars, 1 was sick, and a tropical storm cut it short), and Samuel L. Jackson looks at him gravely/knowingly and says "It could have been worse, John...ALOT worse." Is that enough foreshadowing for you? And really, it's an odd thing to say because unless Sammy L. knew beforehand that Dennis Nedry was going rogue for a rival research firm and in order to do so was planning on shutting down the power to the park, releasing the dinosaurs to wreak havoc on everybody, then (really) the tour was actually going as badly as could be (at that point) imagined.

If you were going for maximum dramatic effect, when would the hiding raptor in the power compound pop out at Dr. Sadler? Would it be while she's walking through the compound in the dark, or while she's flipping on the circuit breakers? Or would you have the raptor reveal itself/its intentions of eating Dr. Sadler the exact instant after she's switched on all the power and has just said to Hammond via walkie-talkie: "Mr. Hammond, I think we're back in business!" Apparently the scientists at JP genetically engineered the dinosaurs with an acute sense of timing.

In a way, though, the dialogue is endearing. Like it's the perfect companion to such an outlandish, larger than life plot. And at least the acting is first rate, with career performances from Sam Neil, Richard Attenborough, and Jeff Goldblum. Rewatchability remains through the roof.

With so many older movies looking dated, and Jurassic Park closing in on two decades, honestly it could look worse...ALOT worse.

Ode to the I/O Forehand

Sport is full of beautiful "things." Karl Malone's high screen for teammate John Stockton, and then his subsequent roll to the basket was a beautiful thing. The 5-4-3 double play (where the grounder is fielded by the third basemen before being wheeled to second, then slung to first) is a beautiful thing. And a touchdown pass up the seam on 3rd and 17 is a beautiful thing.

Tennis, like all other sports, is full of such beautiful things, none more aesthetically striking than the inside-out forehand.

A forehand is considered inside-out whenever it's struck from a player's backhand half of the court (ad if the player is a righty) and travels across the court to the opposing player's ad side.  So basically (if you're having trouble wrapping your mind around it), the person hitting an I/O forehand SHOULD have hit a backhand, but "ran around" the shot to hit it with his forehand (since most players get more stick (a.k.a. oomph) on their forehand shot than their backhand), and angled it steeply back to the opposite side of the court.

In order to get away with this, you've got to really pull the trigger, because running around the shot means you've moved so far off the court that anything coming back will be (most likely) for a wide open winner.

Roger Federer hits the most eviscerating I/O forehand in the history of tennis. See for yourself. My favorite part of this video is the awe that soaks all of the color commentary. E.g. at the 1:50 mark Fed plays a point against Marat Safin and, after a sizeable rally Safin makes the irreversible mistake of clipping the net, giving Roger a short ball to run around. The whole world knows what's coming--and so the commentator says (with 100% confidence, and more to himself than anyone at home, really) "see ya." It's phenomenal. Immediately afterwards is an apt tweety bird comparison.

Or how about at 2:59? When Federer (obviously zoning) runs around James Blake's SERVE (!) and murders it inside-out? It catches the commentator seriously off guard: "Oh look out!"

Videos like these are a lot of fun, especially watching the younger Fed in his prime, playing with a style that left the rest of the tennis world in absolute can't-find-the-words-shock. 

Is This Post Relevant to You?

Summer is not the best time for television. How do I know this? Well, Natalie and I have started watching, following, and anxiously anticipating every new episode of Master Chef. We cling to it like a shipwrecked sailor on a piece of drift wood. And actually (and this could be the lack of other programming/any other sport but baseball speaking) it's not half bad. I'd recap each episode if I was any good at maintaining a blog. But that's not what this post is about.

We still don't have a TV, and watch this, the most prestigious of all reality TV amateur cooking shows, on the internet. I'm sure many of you watch shows on sites like Hulu, Fancast, etc. And maybe you've also noticed the same thing that is starting to quite literally drive me half-way crazy during each of the advertisements you're forced to watch during the show.

It's in the upper right hand corner of the screen: A quick question and some buttons. "Is this ad relevant to you?" then "Yes" or "No."

What's even more striking about my dilemma regarding this question is how it started out in completely the opposite way. Let me explain.

You see, I first viewed the sponser placing this question as their ultimate blunder, resulting in their own demoralizing defeat. No! This ad is not relevant to me, thank you. I shall tell you as much and I will never have to put up with your attempts to get me to purchase your product. (Commercials have always been the whole drag associated with watching TV, am I right? I mean, that's why we all did the collective Macarena when Tivo was invented, yes?)

I still haven't been able to click that "No" button. Not once. I may never. It's driving me crazy. For example, an ad for a new Nissan sedan appears. I begin watching. Is this ad relevant to me? Well, in some ways I guess. I'm an adult with a drivers license. I depend on our car to get me to work everyday, to provide for our family.  I certainly don't think I'll be driving our Hyundai Elantra for eternity. In several ways this ad is very relevant to me.

Or how about anti-aging cream? My first thought is no, not relevant. But don't I deal with the same internal struggles associated with getting older? Can I not relate, in any way, to the desire to retain youthfulness and distract myself from the fact that life (partly) is a process of constant decay?

Relevance relevance and so on. 

And now, finding myself unable to view any ad as irrelevant, I begin questioning my entire (false?) perception of advertising in general. How can I be delighted to skip past things that are so seemingly relevant to me and my participation in the human experience? And simply saying, for instance, that since I don't want to buy a car at this very moment, this ad is not relevant comes across as very shortsighted.  Oh sure, I could say "skip past this M&Ms commerical, I'm not hungry for candy right now," but does that mean I might never be in the mood for sweets generally/M&Ms specifically? Of course not. As a human being with discretionary income, which sometimes is spent on food, not infrequently of the junk variety, Mars Candy informing me of their new pretzel M&Ms is particularly relevant, let's say. And if I back out of watching M&Ms ads am I somehow diminishing those employees of Mars Candy, who's livelihood and ability (in some part) to engage in the sort of consumer-based human experiences I'm finding are relevant, depends on whether or not I go out, convinced by their ads, to purchase their candy? What a freaking mess.

It's gotten to the point where I've come to the conclusion (through a logic chain so dense and questionable that I don't dare repeat it here) that advertisers have concocted the perfect question--one that has single handedly captured my still very begrudging attention to their attempts to get my money. I'm certainly not happy about it. But at this point I'm cornered. 

You win this round advertising.

2011 is the New 2006

It's almost midnight now, and in the words of David Foster Wallace, I'm trying to form a sort of "sensuous collage" of this NBA Finals experience. I'm not sure I'm able to process every aspect of it now, but I do know a few things. 

For instance, I know that this is more complex than just my favorite team making it to the Championship series, and then beating team x for their first NBA title. The attendant story lines are too numerous and complex.

I know that with Dirk now 32 years old, and playing uncommonly good basketball, this was perhaps his last chance at wiping away the 2006 Finals and finally being an NBA Champion.

I know that the Heat had more talent than the Mavericks, and that Dallas would have had to play ice cold basketball to win each of the four games required to clinch the series. (And actually, the real description of what the Mavs needed to do each game would be something closer to "hot ice." That's what they needed--to heat up the ice cubes. And they did.)

I know that Miami represents an evil empire of sorts. Less because of LeBron's decision, or their preseason pep rally, and more because they were evolving into an absolute juggernaut. Think New York Yankees of the mid to late 90s and early 2000s. It's difficult to imagine any team stopping them from winning three or four titles in the next five or six years. If Dallas couldn't succeed while the big 3 were still learning to play together their first season, it would have painted a bleak picture for all teams not from Miami.

I know that Dirk Nowitzki is my favorite basketball player ever. He played hurt, he played sick, he pushed through patches where his shot wasn't quite on, he rose above childish taunting from Wade and James, and absolutely owned the fourth quarter all series long. 

I know that I lost sleep in 2006. It was so devastating that I changed the way I rooted for my favorite sports teams. From that point on, I went into each postseason expecting teams to lose as a defense mechanism; winning in the playoffs only meant more opportunities to lose in the future, only with the circumstances even more heart wrenching. After being up 2-0 in '06, I was determined not to be fooled again.

I know that now, my outlook is much more optimistic. It's not always going to turn out badly. Sometimes, it turns out to be magical.

In a way, the Mavericks couldn't have asked for a better way for it all to play out--meeting the Heat again, Dwyane Wade again. Dropping the first game, stealing the second in historic fashion. Then, down 2 games to 1, they reel off three insta-classic victories to bury a more talented Heat team than their 2006 predecessor and vanquish the bad memories in the process.

Incredible. Unbelievable. And man, do I. Love. Sports.

Since You're Going to Do It Anyway, You Might As Well Know the Facts

I'm not sure what the obsession is with tennis fans and ranking the greatest of all time (oft times shortened to the unfortunate acronym "GOAT"), but in the wake of Roger Federer's loss to Rafael Nadal in the French Open Final on Sunday, there's no escaping the argument.  It's everywhere.  And the tide is shifting pro-Nadal. This is incomprehensible to me. (And in the first place, I think the debate itself is silly, designed to drum up conversation points and get people reading about tennis. To begin with, just try defining "greatest" exactly).

At this point, it's boiled down to two people: Federer 'cause he's been so dominant for so long, and Nadal since he always beats Federer. 

Now, you may be tempted to form your own opinions on this and engage in the debate. This is not advised. But if you're going to do it, here's what you need to know to make an informed decision. If my own bias spills through, forgive me.

--Rafael Nadal is 17-8 against Federer all time.

--Of these 25 matches 14 have been on clay. This is a lot of matches, and Nadal is 12-2 against Fed.

--On all other surfaces, Fed leads 6-5.

--They've met in six grand slam finals: 4 French Opens, 3 Wimbledons, and an Australian Open. Nadal has won all of these matches except for 2 Wimbledons (2007 & 2008)

--Rafa has won 10 grand slam singles titles total.

--Roger has won 16.

--Nadal has had one great year (2008) where he won two grand slam singles titles, (Plus the gold medal, but come on.), and one out of this world year (2010) where he won three.

--Roger has won three of the four grand slams in the same year on three separate occasions.

--Federer made 23 (twenty-three!) consecutive Grand Slam semifinals. That's six years worth of major semifinals. He's also made 28 consecutive GS quarters. Both are records, the former a record by a mile.

--Nadal's semi/quarter streaks are not findable with a Google search.

I think that's a good start. Now, since you asked, here's what I take away from the above stats. (Full disclosure: Roger Federer is completely responsible for making me interested in tennis in the first place. He's my favorite player of all time, and watching him play is, I think, as near to watching Michaelangelo's David come to life and hurl a rock at Goliath as we may see in all of sport.) First, Rafael Nadal plays a particular brand of tennis that matches up extremely well against Roger. On top of that, he's really good, and is mentally very tough, and in each of their 25 encounters played very well on big points, including/especially all of Roger's break point opportunities. Also, 14 of their matches were on clay, and this is Rafa's favorite surface, and it highly favors his game. Plus, Nadal is five years younger than Roger and is in the fortunate position of "padding his stats" against the Swiss while they meet up in the descent of Fed's career.

Second, Roger Federer is the most consistently dominant player in the history of tennis. He's also won the most grand slams of any player ever. If somehow you've defined "greatest ever" to mean winning the most slams, or performed the most consistently for the longest time, then fine. He's the greatest. From 2004 to 2007, he could beat everyone badly on any surface except clay. On clay, he could beat everyone badly except one person, Nadal. Conversely, during the same three year stretch Nadal couldn't come close enough to consistently face Roger on any other surface that would have favored Roger and swelled his rivalry win total.

Fed's three year stretch of dominance is unlike anything the sport has seen. And actually, Nadal seems to be in the GOAT discussion less because of his own accomplishments in general, and more because of his favorable match-up with the most consistently dominant player to ever play. Without Roger's brilliant, sustained play Nadal would probably just be in the "good as Agassi/Borg" discussion. (Each of Borg/Agassi/Nadal's accomplish are very comparable.)

I guess my bottom line is this: Let's say (borrowing a very useful scenario from ESPN's Bill Simmons) that Aliens challenge Earth to a tennis match, losing planet's subjugation on the line. (I know, it's very Space Jam). My first question would be what surface is the match on. If it's clay, I'd pick Rafa from 2010. If it's any other surface, I'd choose Roger from 2006 and then laugh all the way to whatever intergalactic bank was brokering the planetary bet.

Ra-Ra-Roger

Al-right! Everybody feeling good yet? Roger Federer puts an end to Novak Djokovic's scintillating run and takes everyone on a stroll down memory lane in the process--this was the magical Swiss Maestro of old, in a Herculean performance that was just enough to derail the most dominating start to a tennis season ever.

What a match! Thanks to NBCsports.com I was able to catch it on replay after spending most of the afternoon scooping the court-cast on ESPN. So how, exactly, did Roger do it?

Well, it seems to have been a combination of what Roger did, and also what he didn't. What he did not do: Roger did not try and plant himself on the baseline and hit through Djokovic. It can't be done. Not by anyone playing today. Roger Federer from 2006 could do it. But in 2011, no one has the firepower to trade bombs with the Djoker.

Rather, what Roger did do was mix up his pace and spins, move Djoker around, and patiently wait for opportunities to strike. He also (and this is big) minimized his unforced errors just enough to come through. Lately, Roger's "demise" (and I would put that in double quotes if a) it didn't look so weird and b) I thought anyone would understand what I was going for) has been characterized by his ugly play. His movement seems there, but the errors were getting uglier and more frequent by the tournament. Not this time. It was vintage Fed. And Djokovic tried repeatedly to pick on his backhand, to no avail. Lastly, he finished the match in four sets--key since the longer the match went the more you had to favor the younger and better rested Serb (Djokovic didn't play a QF match because Fabio F0gnini's withdrew with an injury).

Some thoughts on the hysteria surrounding the match:

It was a lot of fun to come home and see Twitter blasted with live match tweeting. Tennis fandom can sometimes be a lonely road, and when it takes center stage like this (and rightfully so with the level these two were playing at) it's a rare communal experience.

As someone who very nearly worships Roger Federer, it was particularly satisfying to see him in his element again. Here he was, if only for four hours, back to the magician that ruled the tennis world for so long. The movement was crisp, the forehand was eviscerating, and the backhand was dependable. His serve (which can be added to the list of things Fed did right today) was absolutely clinical and punishing--18 aces and who knows how many easy set-ups on top of that.

What was even more fulfilling was the way Fed carried himself during the match. I often theorize that Roger is so good he lacks mental toughness in tight matches. The list of evidence is long, and not worth getting into here, but this theory hinges on his superior talent being in some ways detrimental. This is because for most of his career he could just outclass everyone--in real knock down, drag out fights he tended to shrink, almost incredulous that his super powers weren't allowing him to just cruise on by.

But today? Fed provided us a rare mixture of his customary athletic poetry and street fighter instinct. Yelling during big points, loud "come-ons!" with every successful set point. It was a new Fed. One who didn't back down from a fight, but rather found his inner alpha dog and came out swinging. Djokovic has been compared, correctly, by a very good friend of mine, to the liquid-morphing, police-uniform-wearing terminator from T2: Judgment Day. He had been obliterating everyone in his path all year, on his way to winning everything. And Fed looked him in the eye before taking him apart.

He is the greatest tennis player to ever play. And it's fitting that he's the one to bring Djokovic's streak to a halt. It seems like only Roger, playing in this way, could have done it. I'm not sure anyone else has the skill set to beat someone playing as ruthlessly as Djokovic has been playing this season.

But most of all, for me, it was one more Federer moment. It has been painful to watch my favorite player start to descend the mountain top he owned for so long. The truth of it is, Djokovic is still the best player in the world. Probably the favorite for Wimbledon, and may only lose a couple more times this year. And sadly, I don't think Roger can win on Sunday either. Nadal has the blueprint for beating Roger, and their earlier meetings this year (they were bad) still demonstrate that. And I won't be shocked when he goes back to exiting from lesser tournaments in early rounds.

But, for one glorious moment, with the world watching, he ruled the court again with swagger. I saw him vaporize an ace down the T to win the match after dropping two match points. And I got to see him walk authoritatively to the net after that mammoth serve, smiling and wagging a knowing finger with the utmost perfect blend of confidence, satisfaction, and enjoyment.

So thanks Roger. And best of luck on Sunday.

Step One, Don't Say Anything

Since our TV in Provo was basically a glorified piece of garbage, Natalie and I left it behind when we moved to Houston. And in our short time in the 77021, we've done a lot and seen much. But buying said TV's replacement, we have not done.

This is why, for the first two games of the NBA finals, I've been huddled around our laptop listening to the live feed of ESPN radio's broadcast (Mike Tirico actually does a first rate job with the play-by-play). I have no words for what I heard last night. I have since seen the highlights. Still, no words.

That's why I'm not going to say anything about game 2, or any subsequent game, for the rest of the series. I was contemplating writing an extended piece about how Dirk is not Obi-Wan Kenobi following what I figured would be the Mavs' game 2 loss. I was planning on sharing all of the relevant comparisons that Ben Wagner and I had listed for this year's Finals, including Ben's latest comparing of Dirk to John Connor and LeBron to the Terminator. Let those analogies hence be outsourced to Ben, if the world is to ever hear them. For I will say nothing about this series until it is over. It means too much and my thoughts are too unprocessed.

Until that time, good night Mavericks fans. And good luck.

Doomsday; But if Doomsday Happened Twice and the Second Time Was Even More Sickening

Oh Man. Man oh man oh man. Sometimes I spend nights contemplating why I even follow sports. Actually, the more appropriate question is, "why do I have favorite teams?" Why would I go and become attached to certain team and certain players? Wouldn't it be easier to just be a Chuck Klosterman-esque sports agnostic?

It most definitely would be easier. But alas, against my better judgment, I have favorite teams. The Dallas Mavericks are one of them.

Some back story: The Anderson family move to the DFW Metroplex coincided with young, hotshot billionaire Mark Cuban's purchase of the Mavericks, as well as the arrival of Dirk Nowitzki and Steve Nash. Before long, the Mavericks were relevant again, and I was on board the revivalist train.

Fast forward to 2006. In one of the best four-week spans in my life, the Mavericks (my Mavericks) shake off big brother San Antonio (one of the most thrilling Playoff series ever, remember) and then thump the Suns to make the finals for the first time. With Dallas leading Miami 2 games to none, and enjoying a comfortable lead in game 3, Dwyane Wade suddenly--and with the help of the officiating crew--took control of the game, and landed an improbable come from behind victory for Miami. The Heat proceeded to blow out the Mavs in game 4, then eeked out two nail-biters in games 5 and 6 to win the NBA Championship.

I will not even attempt to conceal my bias regarding this series. Any of my friends who've been unfortunate enough to bring this topic up around me can/will attest (sorry, in advance, for rehashing it here). I firmly believe (conspiracy theory alert!) that the NBA wanted Miami to win that series, and ordered the refs to promote that outcome as much as possible. My reasons for thinking this are many. Here are just five: 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. (And go ahead and add this illustrative video as reason number 6 while we're at it).

My rationale behind the NBA's motives revolve mainly around the Shaq-Kobe controversy, and Kobe's indiscretions in Eagle, Colorado. If you really want to hear the whole theory, let me know. I've got it on autopilot.

Obviously, I am a Dallas fan; so you're thinking "of course you believe this crackpot theory. It would justify your favorite team losing." And of course I can't dispute. But my point is this: As a Dallas fan, seeing the league take away the title from my favorite team was a terrible experience. One that Jazz fans have gone through at least once back in 1998. (I lived in the Chicago area for both three-peats, and while I was thrilled for MJ as an eleven year old, let's be honest with ourselves. There was no way the league was going to let Michael Jordan lose in '98). And only when it's your team on the wrong end of the referee gift giving do you truly understand how absurd it is. Look, if it was the refs jobbing the 76ers and giving a series to the Warriors, I don't think I would notice or even care. But it was my Mavericks, who had the better team, who should have won the NBA championship, but didn't, through no fault of their own.

And now, it's all set up again. Doomsday revisited. Same teams and everything. Only instead of the Mavs vs. Dwyane Wade, it's now the Mavs vs. Dwyane Wade and a LeBron James in full "eff you" mode. Plus the stakes are a little higher. Let me explain.

The Mavericks may be a surprise finalist this year to some, but maybe they shouldn't be. The West was unusually wide open this year, which is taking some time to get used to. My formative years were spent watching the heavyweight slug fests in the Western Conference between LA, Sacramento, San Antonio, Phoenix, Dallas, et. al. But between the Lakers' implosion (pick and choose whichever relevant explanation you would like, there are many), the Thunder being just a hair too unseasoned, and Dirk going Super Saiyan, the Mavericks were the obvious choice in a field desperate for a contender.

Any other season, and I would be thrilled with our chances. But the Heat look mean, and LeBron is unleashing holy hell on anyone who dared proffer that he was, as they say, "not clutch." And on top of the already formidable stress of my favorite team being in the finals, they (the Mavs) actually represent the last line of defense against the evil empire. Consider: The Heat embody everything we hate about pick up basketball. They're the best two, maybe three guys that team up and run the gym for two hours, winning every game and refusing to split up, thinking they're awesome the entire time.

"The Decision" was decried as a cop-out for LeBron, running to Wade's arms since he couldn't win on his own. Everybody swore up and down that three guys couldn't win a title by themselves, at least not right away. We may be kind of cooled off about it now, but this past summer, we were all pretty heated. Now the nightmare scenario--LeBron being rewarded for backing out of Cleveland and forming a super team--is just one seven game series away. And I think they're going to win. My guess is they overwhelm Dallas defense and run them into the ground. Tyson Chandler plays great interior D, but LeBron and Wade pose too many threats from all over the court for Dallas to counter.

Why did it have to happen this way? Why did LeBron have to go to Miami of all places? Why did they have to go to the finals in their first year? Why did Boston side step out of their way in the Eastern semis--a series Boston had a great chance of winning? Why couldn't Chicago's D keep beating up Miami inside like they did in game 1? And most of all why does Dallas (my Mavericks!) have to be humanity's last hope at avoiding LeBron celebrating his decision in South Beach?

So, if everything goes the way I suspect it will, I'll not only have to deal with the gut-punch feeling of another championship round loss for one of my favorite teams, but also the added knowledge that they couldn't stop LeBron from getting the first of those eight titles he promised all those bandwagon fans at Miami's "Welcome the Three Kings" pep rally.

Ugh. Isn't being a sports fan just great?

I'm Back, I'm Back; I'm Cool, I'm Cool

Well, "yes" to the first part of that title, and a strong "maybe" to the second (as long as you're asking my mom).

Thanks to the friendly technician from AT&T (our apartment has a contract with them--don't ask), Natalie and I are back online after an extended absence. The hiatus was due mostly to our move to Houston, which is very warm, and extremely muggy. I didn't even realize how long it'd been until I checked my last post--April 28! Good grief.

I am happy to report, though, that I'm officially back on my grizzly like a bear skin rug. Here's a quick list of upcoming posts:

-The Mavs' (kind of, but not really in retrospect) surprising run to the NBA finals.
-Their inevitable, will-most-definitely-be-heartbreaking-demise at the hands of the Miami Heat.
-Novak Djokovic's unbelievable streak/the French Open, both of which are ongoing
-The NFL lockout
-David Foster Wallace
-Survivor wrap-ups
-The baseball season thus far
-My idea of filing a class action lawsuit against American Idol for false advertisement (this one might actually have some legs)
-An observation about elevator buttons
-An ill-advised trip some friends and I took to Fuddruckers
-Anything else I can think of between now and then

Wish me luck.

The (Hopefully) Last of the Predictable Episodes

Oh, kay. This is why Survivor can sometimes drive me crazy (racist?). While marching to tribal council, Steve makes a very reasonable appeal to Natalie and Ashley. Basically, it goes like this: Rob is the strongest player in the game. Ralph and I are voting for him. As soon as we're gone, he's going to turn on you guys, and you're all going to be played. Vote with Ralphmeister and I, flip the game around, and head into the last ten days from a position of strength, instead of heading for the homestretch as Rob's puppets.

And do the girls even consider it? Of course not. 'CAUSE HARDLY ANYONE PLAYS THE GAME! No one takes any initiative. Which is why, I think, last season was pretty intriguing--Sash and Brenda going strong, til Holly made her move and flipped the tribe on Brenda. Then Jane going bonkers and calling out everyone. For heavens sakes, even Dan (Dan!) was scheming there for awhile, and during the entire episode you had characters like Marty making plays and shaking things up. Lots of initiative.

This season? Forget about it. Rob's calling the shots, and no one has any perspective. In the end, only one person wins--but for some reason Natalie and Ashley are under the impression that six people will win, and no one will have to do anything to save themselves once all the ex-Zap's are gone.

So the question remains: Who'll make a move? Given what we've seen so far, it seems like no one. Maybe Grant might, but he's actually in position to do really well if he just stays quiet. Same with Phillip. So Andrea, Ashley, Natalie, this one's on you. Is there going to be any intrigue this season? Let's all hope so.

Who You Callin' Crazy?

Last week's Survivor, though full of heated discussion, lacked any real drama. Sure, Phillip went bananas and accused Steve of being a racist. But Rob's lean, mean, Zapatera eliminating machine is still in top form.

In fact, there's nothing much to recap here--Rob wins a puzzle challenge (shocking, isn't it?), and another former Zap--Julie--was sent to Redemption Island (mind blown yet?). I just have to say one thing before not saying it drives me insane: Steve is not a racist!

What bugged me so much about that tribal council, as Jeff was trying to sort through the touchy situation, was that it was being recounted all wrong! Phillip told Jeff that Steve called him crazy after he suggested they combine rice rations. That's not how it happened! Watch the episode over again. Here's what actually happened:

Phillip (bothered by how much rice there is to go around the depleted former Zapatera tribe) suggests they combine rice. Steve says no, a totally justifiable move on multiple accounts that we won't bother getting into here. At no point, however does Steve call Phillip crazy. Not yet at least. Because what happens next is Phillip tells Steve that he had better be prepared to take his rice bucket with him everywhere he went for the rest of his time in the game, or else Phillip was going to steal it from him, and guard the rice, and Steve would have to come begging to Phillip, the rice master, for a portion of rice, and unless Steve planned on taking the rice with him everywhere, this was an absolute certainty. Then Steve called Phillip crazy.

And by the way, that is a fairly crazy thing for him (Phillip) to say. So yes, Steve was okay in calling Phillip--the samurai code wielding, feather wearing, pink bikini brief sporting, lion/gorilla tattoo owning, crispy rice wanting former federal agent (?)--kind of crazy. And no, race had nothing to do with it. So there.

Steve, you and Ralph are in a pickle. But don't worry. No one thinks you're racist. Not anyone in their right mind, anyway.

Walk Softly, Carry a Big(ger) Stick

The situation looks bleak indeed for Roger Federer fans. The Swiss has yet to notch a victory against a top ten opponent this year, and last's weeks flame out against Jurgen Melzer in Monte Carlo was particularly alarming. It wasn't his footwork that seemed off, or his quickness--he was ghosting around the court as effortlessly as ever. The glaring, can't-stand-to-watch quality of Fed's tennis these days is his unforced errors to winners ratio. Not only are his unforced errors high, but they're ugly. Like Smeagol ugly. Like routine backhands landing somewhere in general admission ugly.

He can still conceive the impossible angles, and get in position to hit them, but the execution is lacking (again, even on the routine stuff). So what do you do? Well, it's almost unfathomable that someone like Roger would swallow his pride long enough to even consider it, but one solution would be to use a larger racket. At 90 sq inches, Fed's Wilson Six.One Tour BLX is the smallest racket of anyone on tour. In the past, Rog's swing was so crisp, the motion so fluid that he didn't need the extra size to generate pace. And his hand-eye coordination was so otherwordly that he could keep the errors contained enough to win (a LOT) of matches.

Imagine what, say, an extra 10 sq inches (giving him 100 sq inches in total--the same size as Rafael Nadal's Babolat Aero Pro Drive) would do for his consistency. Heck, it might even add a little oomph to help hit past the Novak Djokovic's of the world. Either way, something's got to give. If he wants a real shot at winning majors, an adjustment of this kind is necessary. Pete Sampras was too stubborn to make the adjustment, and missed out on some late-career titles and any shot at the French Open. Let's hope Federer doesn't make the same mistake.

Regulators, Mount Up

Well, get ready for the "Mariano Crime Syndicate" to stop, drop, shut 'em down and open up shop. If they haven't been already. David's nickname for the ex-Omatepe (pronounced Om-topp-ay by Phillip) is priceless and fitting--they run quite the operation. The machine is working so perfectly, in fact, that Survivor is lucky they have Redemption Island, or else they'd be faced with the most predictable show in recent memory. (Side note: I have no idea why the show isn't doing more to mix it up a little bit, and give the former Zaps a bit of an advantage: Placing another hidden idol, a reward challenge that splits up the tribes for a few hours, etc. But at least they have Redemption Island, and they also could be counting on the fireworks getting big once it's nothing but the Syndicate left, which they probably will be.)

The former Omatepe's are clinical in their efficiency. During a potentially scary (for Rob) double elimination episode, the MCS didn't even break a sweat. And they've closed off any inroads for the Zaps by utilizing a (admittedly brilliant) buddy system. No one speaks to the other tribe by themselves.

It's during this episode that the MCS's unity crosses a line into what could easily be classified as uncomfortable. Rob is on his game, yes. But it's also very much creepy. Wondering what instances I'm referring to? Well, there were four. I'll list them:

1) Rob, describing Phillip, says that he's a "loyal soldier" and that "he'll be rewarded for his behavior."

2) Ralph, desperate to mix things up, tries talking to Natalie and Ashley, and promises to vote for Ashley if a) she's in the final three and b) he's on the jury. Natalie tattles to Rob, who then tells the camera Ashley will be "punished for her insubordination."

3) The former Zaps caught a ton of fish, and offered some to the Syndicate. Rob doesn't want his troops forming any sort of relationship with the other tribe, and orders them not to have any. (This despite 22+ days of subsisting on basically rice).

4) When weighing his options for tribal council, Rob deliberates over sending Steve home, and mentions that he's capable every once and awhile of a "mercy killing."

Raise your hand if you have the chills.

Still, this presents the Zapatera's with one of their only hopes in the game. Actually they have three. First, the immunity challenges. Second is playing mind games with Phillip (more on this later). And third is highlighting Rob's unsettling control over his alliance. And this third option just might work. Julie uses language like "Rob's cult" at tribal council, and points out their blind obedience. We saw Grant bristle a little bit when the camera asked him if he was nervous about crossing Rob's leadership by eating the fish. (And while he maintained that he does what he wants, and doesn't answer to anyone, you just get the feeling that he wasn't even convincing himself. I'm telling you, Rob is the Godfather.) If Julie, David, et. al can continue to make Rob's underlings aware of their subjugation (and on top of that, cause them to be bugged by it), then they just might have a chance.

Now back to Phillip. (Oh, Phillip. When are you gonna find whatever it is you're looking for?) Lest we forget, Phillip is the architect behind the most absurd tribal council of the season (maybe ever--in week one). Anyone who thinks that they can predict Phillip's behavior probably needs to brush up on that Samurai Code that he keeps ranting about. All we're talking about is one teeny, tiny idea to be planted in Phillip's head, from any source, and we're dealing with mayhem. (And by the way, while we're [kind of] on the topic, would there ever be an easier target on this planet for Leo DiCaprio and his team to Incept than Phillip? I'm not even sure they'd need to put him under one dream, let alone three. The man considers falling feathers (from the sky, where birds fly around) to be signs from higher powers, for crying out loud. Literally, whatever thought they wanted to plant, it's theirs).

Anyway, this last episode bears witness to the genius of the previous week's tribal council. With no threat from a flip-flopping Matt, the MCS is free to beat up on Zapatera like Kramer did with those eleven year old kids in his karate class.

Comment below with any thoughts or if you think I've missed anything. And stay tuned for this next episodes big (racially charged?) clash in camp.

Audio Rewind: "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not"

Maybe it's because Natalie and I can never remember to put new music in our car, but I've been listening to the Arctic Monkeys' first album nonstop. Which to anyone who knew me five years ago, this is no surprise.

What is at the root of my fascination with this band? Well, it's complicated. To begin with, Whatever People Say I Am debuted to out of this world reviews. Follow the link for a very terse summary. And try and make it through the second paragraph of this NYT feature without your jaw hitting the floor. As much as I'd like to say my preferences are a product of my own abstract thought, reading stuff like this as an 18 year biased me. At least, it got me to take the Sheffield rockers for a test drive.

If you've never listened to the band before, start with this album--it'll give you a general flavor and help you understand the band's thesis. They are (at the time of recording) young twenty somethings, dabbling in a sort of reflexivity where the music they perform at night clubs is, in fact, about adventures associated with hanging out at night clubs. But the AM's give nightlife in Yorkshire an educated voice that no other similarly minded music has been able to even remotely come close to duplicating [see Ke$ha, "Tik Toc" for a less inspiring example].

In fact, six years later, lyricist/singer Alex Turner's versatility in articulating the plight of the weekend warrior is the source of the album's staying power. It is impossible to listen (really listen) to the album and not marvel at Turner's subtle irony, his packed-with-meaning one liners, and the ease with which he operates as the reticent know-it-all. In "Still Take You Home" Turner makes abundantly clear two things: One, he can't stand the snobby girl who's cornered the market on everyone's attention. And two, he hates that he is craving to be noticed by her as well. And Turner is peerless in his description, framing the context with what appears to be just the right amount of complexity for a situation which, on its face, seems routine and very un-complex.

Sometimes, it's hard to keep up with him. Turner moves so effortlessly between conversations with the taxi driver and his friends (who are riding in the taxi) on "Red Lights..." that at first listen, the song seems nonsensical before it's cleverness is revealed. (Another example of this would-be-rambling-if- anyone-else-tried-to-write-it is on "From the Ritz to the Rubble." Somehow, someway, Turner takes the experience of being denied entrance to a club and turns it into poetry. Don't ask me how.) And moments like that abound on the album, each song with a gem or two to uncover.

And no, it is not 2006 anymore. But Whatever People Say I Am's extraordinary shelf life comes from it's ability to frame the experience of young adulthood in a way that is universal. Devoid of synth, or Auto-Tune, or anything else that will so horribly date music of today, the Arctic Monkeys rely on a truer formula--blending high energy rock music with genius for the masses.

When the Going Gets Tough, The Jury Decides to Punt

How, in the world, can this happen? Apparently, in America, people can go to trial, and if the jury can't decide whether someone is guilty or not, they just forget the whole thing ever happened. Excuse me?! What did I miss?

Although Barry Bonds was found guilty for obstruction of justice, (get this) the jury didn't agree on whether he was guilty about all the lying he did under oath, and offered no verdict. No verdict? What do you mean there's no verdict? You can't decide if he's innocent or not? So we're just going to do nothing about it? Forgive me if I come across a little Lewis Blackian here, but um, jury, let's FIGURE IT OUT.

Is this even allowed? Since when? Ever the opportunists, Bonds lawyers tried to get the lone guilty verdict thrown out while they were at it. Why not? Apparently anything goes in this courtroom. Boy, how come this scenario never made it into a John Grisham novel?

I'm telling you, Lt. Danny Kaffee would never let this stand.

Now there's a very real possibility I'm being dense here. Maybe this sort of thing happens all the time. And perhaps John Grisham did write about it (I'm not exactly his biggest fan). But in 24 years, I've never heard of such an occurrence. If anyone has, or is a big John Grisham fan, let me know--the outrage will cease.

The prosecution has to decide if it's worth it to pursue the case over again, and the one guilty verdict will likely turn into some form of house arrest. So it looks like Bonds made it out of this as unscathed as possible. Let this be a lesson to you kids, if you're going to do illegal things and lie about them, make sure you're rich.

A Quick Thought on Survivor Before Tonight's Episode

This idea came to me after reading my sister Melanie's comment on last week's episode. Her point was (cue the lightening strike) that Matt's religious convictions were working against him--he was too trusting, and it made him unable to read social cues, both of which are big obstacles to Survivor success. I think, sadly, she may be right.

Perhaps Matt thought Rob would really respect his honesty, or view it as an act of loyalty when he came clean with his master plan. (A plan which, a fried of mine regretfully pointed out--and I absolutely agree with him--would have been one of the most epic hostile take-overs in the show's history. Just too bad.) We all know how Rob actually responded.

The whole situation reminded me of a Saturday Night Live skit from 1995 called "Clara Turley's Bible Challenge." I cannot find the video anywhere, but let me see if I can sum it up for you in a way that makes clear the connection between it and Matt's blunder:

The scene is a Bible quiz show, with cash prizes given for each correct answer. The panel of contestants includes a Bible scholar, a nun, and Stan Hooper--a former transient turned biblical genius who is riding a 47 game winning streak (and is played by Norm MacDonald). Stan is introduced while he's smoking and eating a hamburger, and he wears a leather jacket.

How is it that Hooper is so good at this game, since your first impression is that this man has never picked up a Bible in his lifetime? The answer comes on the first question, an obscure reference to the exact number of years the Israelites were in Egypt. Incredibly, Clara Turley (the host) then provides the answer--430. She asks the contestants one by one: "Did you know that?" The scholar did not know the answer, and is given no money. Same with the nun. But Stan? Stan immediately rings his bell, and, with a bite of hamburger in his mouth proclaims, "yeah, I knew that!" He is given twenty dollars.

In some ways, this is the situation Matt is in. Just like Clara Turley and the other contestants, he is unmindful of the fact that players in the game are self-interested and opportunistic. I'm confident that when Matt told Rob about how he was going to join up with the Zapatera's and take him (Rob) down, Rob smiled the same way Stan Hooper did while ringing his little bell.

Only instead of twenty dollar bills, Survivor hands out a great big check for a million bucks.

Federer Cruises

This week marks the beginning of the clay court season, and Fed is off to a fairly decent start. If anyone was wondering whether or not there'd be scar tissue from the thumping he got in Miami, (I myself am guilty, as charged), Roger gave them his answer. You can check out the very abbreviated highlights in the link above.

It was, as they say, a clinic. And Kohlschreiber, with his strong clay court presence, was considered a rough draw for the Swiss so early in the tournament. Well, no problems there. Keep you posted.

Matt--Born to Be a Redemption Man

Big congrats to Boston Rob, officially the world's most heartless human being. And while we're handing out awards, I'm sure there's one for Matt--but what is it? Naive? Obnoxious? Misguided? In-your-face religious? Some freak combination of all of the above?
Where to even begin...

Well, the much hyped "merge episode" lived up to its billing and more. In case you missed it, Matt beats Sarita in that crazy, stand on two eighth-of-an-inch platforms for as long as you can challenge on Redemption Island, and Jeff Invites him back into the game. Whoo! It's the end of Redemption Island! All can go back to normal, and the game can be played as it was originally intended. But no, actually. Jeff announces that Redemption Island LIVES! And anyone voted out will be sent back to await their fate.

Two thoughts on the episode thus far: One, how coincidental is it that Matt cuts his foot, and worries to the camera, "Boy I hope it's not one of those...endurance...challenges..." only to discover that (by what appears to be mere happenstance) it is, in fact, one of those...endurance...challenges? Do you think it was just pure bad luck, or did one of the show's cagey producers make the switch to the "stand in the box" challenge for dramatic effect? Two, how weird/sad is that moment, looking back with hindsight, when Probst teases Matt about coming back to Redemption Island, and he (Matt) laughs and jokes with the tribe not to do it, that he needs a little break from solitary confinement? I say very weird/sad. And for someone dead set on not going back to Redemption, Matt certainly did not play like it.

So we have a merged tribe, and all the typical outcomes unfold--it's still basically two tribes, and old Omatepe tribe hogs the tarp, and no one is making any connections with the other guys, and there's an underlying us vs. them vibe throughout. (Also, Rob comes up with the most bogus tribe name--Murlonio--stealing it from his wife's stuffed animal collection. He tells the tribe it's Spanish for "of the sea, united" and they buy it hook, line, and sinker ["oh, that's beautiful!"]. My goodness, Rob is on another planet right now).

But Matt is the key player. And the outnumbered Zapatera tribe knows it. So Mike starts campaigning hard--like "I promise to take you to the top three" hard. And Matt goes back to his buddy Andrea and lets her know about it, and how he wants to leverage it into a Boston Rob blindside two tribal councils from that very moment. Also, Mike, in a shameless recruitment tactic, borrows Matt's pink bible and reads passages aloud over the fire, telling Matt how "cool" he thinks they (the passages) are. Please.

Oh, kay. Now enter the second worst play in Survivor history. (Here I am duty bound to acknowledge J.T., who gave Russell a hiddon idol while they were still on separate tribes, which was the number one worst play in Survivor history. And it always will be. Always.) What was Matt thinking? Does anyone have an idea? If so comment below. As of right now, I can't wrap my head around the logic.

He goes off with Rob, and while gazing out into the surf, Matt comes clean with the whole thing; tells him about the potential alliance with the Zapatera ex patriots and his/their plan to blindside Rob. Andrea joins them and Matt tells her that he's told Rob. Which, by the way, is a party foul on Matt since that was Andrea's only shot at getting in the game--she's low (wo)man on the totem pole otherwise. So, big thanks to Matt from Andrea.

What, in the world, could have possessed Matt to share this information with the best player in the game? (Maybe in the history of the game?) Does he not understand exactly what Rob will do with this information? Realizing that Matt is unstable, unpredictable, and a threat to ex-Omatepe's number advantage, Rob makes the call and puts Matt on the chopping block. What was even more unbelievable was how quickly Rob got his tribe mates on board.

And there we have it. Matt's brief reprise from Redemption is over and he's back, needing to win who knows how many challenges to get back in the game. And this is just my opinion, but he has no one to blame but himself, as sad as it is to say it.

Comment below with any thoughts, predictions, or possible explanations for Matt's behavior. I'd love to discuss them in detail, and wonder what everyone thinks is going to happen next week/in the future. Also, how about Phillip and his feather? It's just too much.

Until next week.

Some Initial Thoughts on the NBA Playoffs

In my mind, (which means the following is open for debate) the NBA has distanced itself far beyond college basketball in terms of excitement and relevance. [See Championship Game, Butler vs. Connecticut.] March Madness is fun. But it has little to do with the quality of basketball, and more to do with the fact that Americans like prognosticating, and gambling, and combining the two over the course of three weeks.

The much more compelling tournament is the NBA playoffs, which start in eleven days. We all may despise LeBron James for the puppet show he and his cohorts pulled this summer, but admittedly we owe him for it. The competitive fury it instilled in the rest of the league has yielded the most entertaining NBA season in memory. (Indeed this sort of rage billows in rookie Blake Griffin [playing for a non-contender], evoking a withering stare-down any time someone accidentally brushes him as they pass by--Blake, let's tone it down a little, huh?)

The above indicates a postseason that should be off the charts in all categories. Far from an exhaustive preview, I just have a few preliminary musings on the current situation.

First, no one in the West is playing on the Lakers' level. Really, it's not close. Except that I wouldn't count any team with Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook out of any playoff series for the next ten years. But San Antonio is on the verge of collapse, Dallas looks unable to get things going, and the Nuggets are lacking the talent to put away an elite team four times in seven games. I don't think it's a stretch to say the Lakers are in good position to make their fourth straight Finals appearance.

What's more interesting, is the race in the extremely top-heavy Eastern Conference. Chicago, Miami, Boston, Orlando. At this point, put names in a hat and draw--no way of knowing who wins a best of seven between any of these four teams. We'll have to just sit back and watch the slugfests. But what happens if Miami gets through to the Finals and meets Los Angeles?

It just so happens that LA looks like the favorite to win it all, just so long as the team they meet for the championship isn't Miami.

Consider Miami's weakness--strong point guard play. A slashing, distributing point guard gives the Heat fits since they don't have size to stop him inside the paint, and the subsequent collapse inside opens up shooters for wide open looks from 18+ feet. Jameer Nelson, Derrick Rose, Rajon Rondo, and Tony Parker have each dissected the Heat D with this blueprint.

The Lakers posses an impressive array of offensive weapons, not the least of which being the best player in the game today. But a quick, get-to-the-hoop point guard, they do not have. They devotedly play Phil Jackson's triangle offense, wherein the traditional point guard doesn't really exist. The Heat's season sweep of the Lakers may be offered as evidence of this match-up problem. Will the Lakers adjust, letting the nimble Shannon Brown drive and distribute? Not likely. I doubt Phil Jackson will counter 11 Championships worth of experience. And if that's the case, everyone's nightmare scenario might be closer than we all (most of all Preston Johnson) want to admit.

But don't worry just yet--of the above mentioned point guards that Miami can't deal with, three of the four play in the Eastern Conference. You may now exhale.

Tennis' New Marquee Matchup

Just call Novak Djokovic butter, 'cause he is on a roll! The Djoker continues his hard court dominance by winning the most important, non-major tournament of the year, besting Rafael Nadal 4-6 6-3 7-6 (4) in Miami on Sunday. You can see the low-def highlights here.

In startling contrast to Nadal's thumping of Roger Federer on Friday, this match made it clear: Djokovic-Nadal is the hottest ticket in tennis today. How could it not be? Both players are striking the ball so hard, and playing such remarkable defense, it's anyone's guess how either can win any points at all.

Of course, the answer is superb shotmaking--every other winner, it seems, worthy of making you stand up out of our seat. Both play with outrageous amounts of shot-controlling topspin, but neither are by any means constrained to the baseline. The result is a largely mistake free, dynamic all court match-up that is chalk full of jaw-droppers.

As bristly as I may have been at the thought of Djokovic being a world beater, his added class in taking center stage has made him exponentially more likable. He's full of grace, compliments to his beaten opponents, and is humble in his attitude toward winning and getting better. So, I'm out of reasons to not be excited. If this is a new era in men's tennis, I feel like, considering the quality of Sunday's final, it's something I could definitely get used to.

Phillip Wants the Crispy

It turns out finding the time to watch, summarize, and analyze six episodes of Survivor is extremely challenging. While trying to compile a season summary, I decided to punt for a little bit on the past episodes, and put up a summary of last week's installment. Without further ado...

Man, oh man is Grant clutch! He's maybe the most athletic contestant the show has ever recruited, and again this week he puts Omatepe on his back to reward/immunity. More on that in a bit. First, let's cover the fallout of last week's tribal council.

In Zapatera's camp, Dave is quickly becoming the guy at the office whose very mannerisms drive his coworkers crazy. You have probably met this guy before. Bless his heart, but this guy has done something(s) to make everybody cringe each time he opens his mouth. Sometimes you cannot pinpoint what he has done to be viewed this way. In David's case, the root of his annoying-ness is quite pinpointable: The little switcheroo he spectacularly failed at last episode. At least he wasn't vocal and combative while arguing his point...

At Redemption Island, Matt stays alive yet again by beating Stephanie at an oversized game of memory. Say what you will about his religious convictions that he so freely makes everyone aware of, but the kid is a fighter, and maybe the only player in the game that has a prayer of beating Grant in an individual immunity challenge.

Also, the Redemption Island challenges have quietly given way to one of my favorite Survivor trends in a while--the vanquished contestant selling out like an inmate being offered early parole by the warden. Ironically, the information is just as valueless as it appears in most prison movies/TV shows. Stephanie tells Rob "they're gunning for you!" (obvious in the extreme) and that Sarita is in charge of the tribe (she most definitely is not).

Back in Omatepe camp, one of the most preposterous arguments in Survivor history unfolds. Former Federal Agent (?) Phillip is starting to feel like the David of his tribe, and the girls' hero worship of Rob (admittedly, it is a bit unsettling) has put him over the top.

Rob is off doing something. The tribe is cooking rice. Natalie mentions to the tribe not to eat any of the crispy, brown rice at the bottom of the pot (from here on out referred to inexplicably as "the crispy" by arguing tribe members) as it is Rob's favorite. Phillip, not really wanting the crispy, but rather wanting to strike a blow to Rob's authority (as he perceives it) steps up and says that he would like a spoonful. The girls rush to Rob's rescue--the crispy (I literally laugh each time I type it) is for Rob only. Phillip is incensed, and rants to the tribe, the camera, and really himself about how he deserves more respect--allegedly in the form of burnt rice. This is the point where my wife and I just sort of held each other, not knowing what to think of the spectacle that has just unfolded. Are we sad for Phillip? Yes. Are we weirded out by the tribe's unquestioned loyalty to Boston Rob? You bet. It is very creepy. But mostly we are blown away by the position Rob finds himself in--my goodness is he, as they say, sitting pretty.

This is, without question, Rob's season to lose. Combined with the advantage in numbers Omatepe gets after this week's immunity challenge, I spend my waking hours contemplating just what he would have to do to get voted out. The enormity of such actions is just too stupefying to actually discuss here.

But here is one realistic scenario: Consider how Grant owned the immunity challenge for the second week in a row. When the merge happens (next week CBS tells us), immunity is individual, and Grant becomes a threat to make a run--a serious, Colby-esque in the Australian Outback run. If the merged tribe whittles down far enough, Grant, the immunity master, might be convinced to go to the final three with someone other than Rob, an obvious favorite for the million dollars. (Of course there are tons of problems with this theory, the most blatant of which involves Rob's hidden idol which a) no one knows about and b) he has zero foreseeable need to play since Omatepe has numbers. It would take a Redemption Island player flipping to give this scenario any chance of coming to fruition).

So we'll see what this week brings. Matt can finally get back in the game with one more win, and supposedly Rob is sweating the merge. Given his rare form this season, I'll believe it when I see it.

U-G-L-Y, Fed Most Certainly Has No Alibi

Do me a favor. The next time Roger Federer plays Rafael Nadal, just have me watch that documentary about the people that kill dolphins--it may actually leave me feeling more upbeat than the fifteen minutes after match point.

Boy, was that ugly. I mean, ug-ly. Nadal moved himself forward in both the Sony Ericsson Open and his head to head count with the formerly brilliant Swiss. The 6-3 6-2 scoreline might actually give a more generous account of what was the actual truth of the match.

It is a difficult thing to watch your favorite player go through a decline so visible. Like watching someone deconstruct Michelangelo's David with a slow moving wrecking ball. And right now we are in the beginning stages of this decomposition--the first few, laborious swings of the oversized marble. On the graces of his otherworldly talent, he is still able to beat almost anyone in the world at tennis. But against another all-time great, his weaknesses are glaringly exposed.

To wit: Roger Federer possesses the greatest stroke, perhaps, in tennis history. His fluid, classic but still modern forehand is truly something to behold. It is particularly fearsome when his opponent offers him a slow, high bouncing ball to his backhand, which he runs around and thrashes with a flattened out, whip-like stroke. The force of the swing lifts him off the ground momentarily, and the ball becomes a laser guided missile, painting the opposite corner of the court before skipping off, irretrievable.

But last night, not even the greatest forehand ever was enough to make Nadal uncomfortable. What was startling about the match was the ease with which Rafa was able to return Fed's biggest bombs. Clearly, the Swiss has lost the ability to hit through other elite players. And the panic was evident on every point as soon was his serve was broken in the third game of the first set.

From an analysis standpoint, the match can be summed up pretty succinctly--there were two big story lines. First, Roger was hoping to play aggressive, just like he did in London (the last time these two met, a match that Roger won), stepping inside the baseline and opening up the court. But Rafa couldn't be moved--there just wasn't enough on Fed's groundstrokes to even really put Nadal on the defensive. Once he realized this Roger went into panic mode, and started ill-advisedly rushing the net. Nadal passed him ease, and the panic only increased. Roger, feeling like he had to more urgent in creating opportunities, actually created more unforced errors (38 in total--one that landed about fifteen rows deep).

Second, Roger was trying to employ the same wide serve that had been so devastating in previous matches with Rafa. Only this time, Rafa adjusted. Standing out by the doubles alley, Nadal easily retrieved Fed's wide serves, seized the offensive and broke his rival four times in the match. Why did Roger not make him pay with more serves down the middle? I have no idea.

What was worse, Roger's inability to adjust left him scrambling all night, with no clear strategy. The result was multiple points in which (and it was so weird to see) Roger Federer was out of position and hitting shots off balance. Truly, very surreal.

So I think this is the end. Not of Roger, nor his chances to win any given match--he still has too much talent. But it's the end of the great clashes we've come to love and expect between these two titans of the game. It's up to the Djokovic's, Del Potro's, and Berdych's of the world to give Rafa chase for his number one ranking.

Next generation, the call has been sounded.

Ding! Round 23

And here...we...go. The 23rd installment of tennis' best rivalry takes place tomorrow afternoon in Miami. Both Nadal and Federer played startlingly different quarterfinal matches today, but with identical outcomes. Roger got by after just 3 games when Gilles Simon retired with a neck injury. Rafa had to sweat out a 6-2 3-6 6-3 slugfest with world number seven Tomas Berdych.

A bit odd that we're talking about a tournament semi-final here, but that's what happens when Novak Djokovic plays out of his mind and replaces Fed as number two in the world.

As far as tomorrow goes, Federer couldn't ask for more favorable circumstances. He had the early quarter and barely played. Rafa played at night and went the distance. It's an outdoor hard court, and he's got an edge from winning their last meeting in command fashion 6-3 3-6 6-1 in London last November.

On a personal note...oh man, oh man I hope Roger wins. I have a hard time watching these matches, mostly because Roger is my favorite player and no one scares the stank out of me like Rafael Nadal. On top of that, my favorite teams are on an unprecedented championship losing streak, starting with the Longhorns last year in the national title game. Then came Indy's loss to New Orleans, followed by the Rangers getting pwned by San Francisco in the World Series. (I'm not even going to mention the travesty/sham/mockery that were the '06 NBA finals. Too painful.)

That I'm comparing this match to those previous heart breakers frames the scope of this rivalry: a semi-final, yes. But it still carries the weight of a major final when these two are involved. Let's talk about what's on the line tomorrow.

For Rafa: Validation for his number one ranking. Not that he really needs it after the year he had, but losses to the likes of Nikolay Davydenko and David Ferrer earlier this year, combined with the drubbing Djokovic gave him in Indian Wells two weeks ago leave him itching to show the world that he's no one to be trifled with on the biggest stages. A win over Roger reasserts his dominance in the rivalry (he leads 14 to 8) and gives him a chance to avenge that unseemly loss to the Djoker.

For Roger: He also wants another crack at Djokovic--the man who's responsible for each of his three losses this season. In addition, each win he notches in this rivalry helps bridge the sizeable gap in his head to head record with Nadal. 9 and 14 looks infinitely better than 8 and 14, especially with the clay court season looming and an increased likelihood he'll run into Rafa given that they're now on the same side of tournament brackets. Trust me, no one in the world wants any piece of Rafael Nadal on the dirt.

The last time these two met in Miami, it was 2005, and Masters 1000 event finals were best of five contests. Nadal lead two sets and a break before Roger got it together, won the third set tie break, and cruised through the fourth and fifth sets 6-3 6-1. Check back after the match for some analysis, where we'll get into the nitty gritty of how play went and talk some actual tennis. Until then, keep your fingers crossed for Roger.

Roger Federer's Revealing T-Shirt

Interesting tweet from Jon Wertheim, Sports Illustrated's tennis guy. Federer was on the practice courts earlier today, preparing for his quarterfinal match against Gilles Simon--the same Gilles Simon that took Fed the distance in a five set heart-stopper at the Australian Open. Apparently he was wearing a t-shirt that reads "out train the game."

His choice of attire is compelling because out training the game is never really something Federer has had to do before. Oh, he's worked hard his entire career, to be sure. But from 2004 to 2007 he was on another planet, located in a different solar system. His t-shirts should have read "out wizard the game." Now, with the combination of advanced age, and other players responding to the gauntlet he spent three years throwing down, Fed must adopt a different motto.

In the past, the sheer, ungodly pace of Federer's forehand could be counted on to bail him out of most jams; now he's finding that he can't hit through opponents like he used to. In particular, Novak Djokovic seems to be exploiting this point to large measures of success. With his absurd defense, Djokovic can force Roger to hit the equivalent of three or four winners in order to win a point outright--an important distinction not accounted for in the post-match statistics.

Federer's style--flat, fast groundstrokes and aggressive all court play--is one of high risk and high reward. And in some ways, prolonging each point as much as possible is a key to success against the Swiss Maestro. If you force him to go for broke multiple times per point, you have shifted the odds of him making an error greatly in your favor.

This must be emotionally draining on Federer as much as it is physically. Imagine hitting a museum worthy inside-out forehand, only to have it returned down the line with interest. These situations lend themselves to a sort of "what do I have to do to beat this guy?" attitude that is without question an adjustment for Federer on hard courts.

So, it's a good motto for him. One he'll have to make a part of him if he's going to win another major anytime soon. As an admitted Fedophile, here's hoping.

A Quick Shout-Out to J-Ho

I'm busily working on Survivor recaps and analysis, but I thought I'd mention John Hollinger's article that went up on ESPN.com today, entitled "Truth About the Derrick Rose Story." (I'd link to it, but it's part of the insider feature on ESPN that they insist you pay for). Kind of cool to see a professional writer support your own thesis.

Hollinger's argument is that Dwight Howard is more irreplaceable than any other player in the league. But Derrick Rose makes a better story, so that's who'll be voted MVP. I expressed identical sentiments. And Hollinger cites numerous examples of voters (the media!) doing similar things in the past (Nash, which I talked about, Allen Iverson and almost Jason Kidd). Also, he plays the statistical game, as is his wont, to demonstrate that Rose fails to distinguish himself beyond his peers.

Interesting read. If you have ESPN Insider, it'd be worth your time.

Let the Battle Begin, Starting Six Weeks Ago

Season 22 of survivor has been underway for the last month and a half, and no matter how many times they load this show up, I fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Why is it so captivating? We may never know.

If you've never watched the show, this season's appeal might be lost on you without the proper back story. Here's what you need to know: Rob "Boston Rob" Mariano and Russell "Pure Evil" Hantz are the two most famous players in Survivor history, have played multiple times, and are strategic powerhouses. They played together for the first time two seasons ago, during "Heroes vs. Villains" where Russell famously flipped the Villains tribe against Rob, voted him out, and sparked the heated "Who's the best Survivor player ever?" debate.

"Redemption Island" is genius insofar as it provides a battleground to help answer this question. The first episode opened as most first episodes do, two teams being helicoptered in to meet with Jeff Probst on the beach before setting off for camp. But wait! A second helicopter descends dropping off Rob and Russell, complete with glowing introductions from Rob's man crush, Probst. They're each assigned to a tribe, and the rematch is on.

On top of that, the game's format is changed with the introduction of Redemption Island, a halfway house between tribal council and home. Instead of going straight home after being voted out, players make a pit stop at Redemption Island. (I know, the cheese on Survivor knows no limit. It feels like a title that should only be pronounced by Gob Bluth). Here players wait for the next person to be voted out and then face off in a challenge to stay alive in the game. At first, the show made it sound like they'd be cage-fighting shirtless, or at least doing some sort of American Gladiator-esque feat of strength like platform jousting. Alas, the challenges are just knot tying competitions and domino building. What a shame.

I'm planning on recapping each episode for the rest of the season, starting with retroactive diaries for the first six episodes. So watch for those if you haven't been following the season and then check back each week for episode analysis.

These Aren't the MVP Candidates You're Looking For

The NBA MVP race is all but wrapped up. But should it be? Rhombus Magazine editor Steve Pierce recently tweeted a link to a this comparison of likely MVP Derrick Rose with Oklahoma City point guard Russell Westbrook. Their stats are scary similar. So why is it that Rose is far and away the MVP leader, while other contenders aren't getting much love (i.e. Westbrook, Dwight Howard, LeBron James, etc.)?

Well, it's an interesting question that can't be answered definitely. But could part of the answer, at least, be that sportwriters (who vote on the award) want Derrick Rose to be the MVP? You have to admit, it makes a heck of a story. The Bulls are in first place, he's revamped his outside shot and become a threat from anywhere on the court, and he can finish better than anyone in the game right now. This provides an almost inexhaustible highlight reel of circus shots in traffic. On top of that, during the whole free agency debacle that left egg on ESPN's face (two words: "The" and "Decision."), Derrick Rose felt spurned when neither Dwyane Wade nor LeBron returned his phone calls. So his renaissance is a desire to beat the guys that so callously dissed him. Great narrative.

So what's going on here? It kind of seems like that scene from the original Star Wars, where Obi-Wan gets past the storm troopers with his Jedi powers, persuading them that C-3P0 and R2-D2 weren't, in fact, the droids they were looking for. Which of course they were.

And in the search for the league's most valuable player, fans searching for other viable candidates are being told "these aren't the MVP candidates you're looking for."

Now the catch: Derrick Rose is a fine choice for MVP--one that wouldn't give rise to any complaints from me. But the question is not whether he deserves it. Rather, are our opinions being influenced by the very people who vote on the award--the media? An example:

Steve Nash was the league MVP in 2004-2005. His stat line: 15.5 PPG; 11.5 APG; 3.3 RPG; .502 FG %; 1.0 Steals; 3.3 TOs.

This year: 15.5 PPG; 11.4 APG; 3.6 RPG; .497 FG %; .6 Steals; 3.6 TOs.

So why isn't Nash in the discussion this year, when he's performing at an identical level? Well the Suns are going to miss the playoffs and aren't a premiere team in the league. And in 2005, the narrative was better--he'd turned the Suns around, they were a contender, he was someone other than Shaq or Tim Duncan, and he was a point guard who wasn't the prototypical NBA player. Writers ate this up with a spoon and asked for seconds. (Literally. He was voted MVP the following year as well).

Of course, Steve Nash is a fantastic basketball player and a deserving choice. But he's a deserving choice every year. And he's fortunate that his success made a great story for a couple years or it's likely he wouldn't have been considered.

Now a thought experiment. Suppose someone kidnaps you, and locks you in that weird fish tank thing The Others put Jack in for the first half of LOST Season 3. And they force you to watch every single game of the NBA season. (This is coincidentally Ben Wagner's dream job, if there's anyone out there who does this. Send him an email.) During this forced viewing, you are not allowed to read any media of any kind. No commentary will be audible during the broadcasts. Would Derrick Rose be your MVP choice? Perhaps.

But would it be such a landslide? Something to think about.

The Tower of Tandil Returns...

On the off chance you follow the ATP World Tour, you've probably heard this good news: Juan Martin Del Potro is BACK! His wrist injury came at the worst possible time--almost immediately after winning the 2009 U.S. Open and sidelined him for the entire 2010 season. But if you watched any of the Sony Ericsson Open Sunday, you saw him vaporizing forehands against world no. 4 Robin Soderling in a 6-3 6-2 clinic.

This is really good news, especially at a time when Novak Djokovic looks poised to bounce around the stranglehold Federer/Nadal have on the men's game. In an article for Rhombus Magazine I outlined how Federer's dynamic style has reshaped men's tennis. This sort of multi-faceted game is just what Del Potro has to offer--and he's 6' 6'' to boot. Really, quite unfair. Check out the highlights here. How, in the WORLD, does he hit that winner at 1:15? Soderling has the entire court, hits a screamer to the corner, and DelPo runs it down and murders it. Jaw-dropping.

This season just got markedly more interesting.