The Sports Guy Book Tour - Sunny San Diego

Like millions of other white guys in their late 20s, I'm a huge fan of Bill Simmons, The Sports Guy. I read all of his articles the day they're published, I listen to all of his podcasts the day they're aired, and until recently, heard all of his tweets the moment they were tweeted. I love everything about his writing. The humor, the honesty, the intelligence, everything. So when I heard that his booktour was coming through San Diego, I cancelled my plans for the discotech and headed over to Borders in Mission Valley. Here are a few highlights from the event:

Overall, the scene was pretty chill. There were hundreds of people there, but only in San Diego would those people be laid back and respectful to each other.

Yes, that is a signed Jamarcus Russell helmet that some guy in line gave to The Sports Guy. The look on the face of someone receiving a signed Jamarcus Russell helmet is unlike anything I've ever seen. The closest comparison would be the look on someone's face two seconds into a colonoscopy. Violated. Uncertain. Uncomfortable.

This is my big moment. My one-on-one cameo with my favorite sports writer. "One, two, three..." and he's not even looking at the camera.

The Evolution of a Sports Fan

*Warning: In this post, I sound like I'm trying too hard to write like a sports writer. It might get a little annoying. Just warning you.

It's a strange thing what happens to a man during his twenties. When he begins the decade, he is young, spirited, and stupid. As he grows into his mid-twenties, some of that stupidity is replaced with intelligence, owing mostly to the attendance of college or steady employment. The youth and the sprit, on the other hand, don't begin to fade until his late twenties. It is then that a portion of that youth and spirit are replaced with a greater sense of purpose and responsibility. Some of the intelligence is replaced with a few sprouting seeds of wisdom, too. In a lighter sense, the twenties are ten years long because that's how long it takes a man to stop acting like a teenager. Think of it as nature's highly flawed male rehabilitation program. So as I inch closer (17 months) to the end of my 20s, and as the end of the decade approaches, I can't help but reflect on my evolution as a sports fan in the last ten years. My recollection was helped in part by ESPN's Page 2, whose satirical stance is often superimposed with a more reflective, Seahawks-eye-view on sports. Their recent feature on the 25 Greatest Games of the Decade made me think about what has happened to sports as I once knew it. Admittedly, my thoughts on this subject have been reinforced by Matt Taibbi's brash piece last month in my favorite magazine, Men's Journal.

In my early twenties I soaked up episodes of SportsCenter as if it were a Soap Opera. I was amazed at the creativity of the Anchors, the inside look from the Reporters, and the dynamic interface from the Booth. And now when I watch the same show, it looks less like something centered on sports and more like an infomercial. Every segment is sponsored by some leech of a corporation, surviving off the testosterone and masculinity of ESPN's viewers. To put it simply, I'm over SportsCenter, and apparently SportsCenter is over me. I'm no longer part of it's 18-24-year-old-male target audience. In some sense, ESPN has already tagged me and bagged me, and now my stuffed head rests above its mantle.

As I leafed through Page 2's piece, the game that struck me as the apex of pure and commercialized sport was the 2005 Fiesta Bowl between Boise State and Oklahoma. You remember, right? The early lead. The blown lead. The comeback. Overtime. The Statue of Liberty. The proposal. In fact, Page 2's picture of this game was not of Jared Zabransky hiding the pigskin behind his hip, or Coach Chris Peterson being doused with smurf-blue Gatorade, but of Ian Johnson proposing to his smurf-turfed cheerleader/girlfriend. It was pure sports bliss, until Meyers, if you remember, actually cued up the runningback to perform the proposal. At the end of their interview, Meyers said to Johnson "I know you're gonna propose to your girlfriend..." at which point, the runningback took the metaphorical handoff from his new quarterback and delivered the engagement ring into the endzone, as it were. The moment was still magic, but it lost some luster along the way. It wasn't natural anymore. It was made-up. Not necessarily the end of sports as a purely athletic venture, but the beginning of the end.

Since that moment, I've become jaded as a sports fan. Kind of like that scene in the Davinci code when Tom Hanks and his mademoiselle found out what really goes on in those Templar meetings. I can't watch it without thinking that only a small percentage of the three hour telecast will be spent on the game itself. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, televised sports has for years echoed corporate sentiments just as loud as athletic ones. An elated Joe Montana never spontaneously told the camera that he was "going to Disneyland" after winning multiple Super Bowls in the 1980s. Some two-bit production assistant wearing Mouse Ears told him to. What depresses me is that televised sports will never be the same purely athletic endeavor that it was of my youth. Nowadays I'd prefer camping or mountain biking to watching mainstream sports on TV. Even an episode of Jersey Shore seems more authentic when you compare it with your average contrived NFL pre-game show.

So, am I just becoming a curmudgeon, or is there some truth to what I have to say? I obviously can't answer that question for myself. Maybe I should ask Adidas pitchman Kevin Garnett.

BYU will be playing in the Vegas Bowl for I believe the 10th year in a row. It was cool at first, then it got weird, now it's just getting annoying. Nothing against the Vegas Bowl, I just think BYU needs to be careful. They may find themselves in front of a Senate Judiciary Committee conducting hearings on whether BYU has monopolized the Vegas Bowl market. I'm just saying, underachieving every season and going to the same bowl game year after year is a little "classless."

On another note:
How do these ladies not see the creepiness behind this whole teen-vampire obsession?

Thanksgiving 09

This is a fun NY Times breakdown of regional google searches for recipes near thanksgiving.

Corn casserole must be big in the South, yams must be a west coast thing, and apple crisps are eaten where it's cold.

Does this mean there are areas where they don't have to google recipes for popular dishes? Or are there inexperienced cookers trying to prepare expected sides? Either way, you'll scroll through all 50.

Road Trip: Oregon Vs. Arizona - ESPN Video

I finally found something worthy of posting. This video is hillarious.

The NBA ... Where "Who To Choose" Happens

I’ve always been an NBA free agent. My home town, Las Vegas, is home to two teams; gamblers and point spreads. I never settled on teams close to Las Vegas, either. The Clippers are the Clippers and the Lakers of the nineties weren't the TMZ ‘ballers of the oughts. In my day, the Lakers meant Ceballos, Divac, and A.C. Green. I've also lived near Phoenix, but the Suns owner values revenues over winning - important if I'm looking to receive dividends but not when I want to root for a team.

The great thing about improved sports access, internet and satellite, is that geography no longer matters. Nearly every major paper publishes articles online, including notes and features from beat writers who travel with the team. In addition to “print” coverage, all games are available on television (even the Clippers) to a national audience through a subscription-based service. Best of all, these games are called by local announcers who know player tendencies, substitution patterns and back stories far better than the national guys.

Two years ago I started reading the beat guys for the Celtics. Last year, I read Oregon Live. This year, the NBA offered a revised online subscription where you get the feed to seven teams for a reduced price. A perfect opportunity to really follow a team, right? I first had to choose a favorite. The preliminary list included: Portland, Philadelphia, New York, and Washington.

Portland
Good: My boy Jarryd Bayless plays for the Blazers (sometimes). They also have a really young team with good players. Bad: The good players remind me of Tim Duncan – good but bland. I want to follow story lines and characters. These guys just aren’t compelling.

76ers
Good: Philadelphia has Andre Igoudala, a freak athlete and former Wildcat, an irrational fan base, and beautiful uniforms. Bad: The Phillies winning the past few years have changed the local scene a bit, and the Eagles matter more.

New York
Good: D’Antoni insists on a wide-open style, they drafted Jordan Hill, and 2010 may bring a royal present. Bad: It’s not 2010.

Washington
Good: Agent Zero is finally healthy after spending two years on the injured list, Caron Butler lost ten pounds "Undoing the Dew", and coach Flip Saunders is good for 1,000 body ticks per game. The team was also terrible last year, so the bandwagon isn’t full. Bad: East Coast. How often would I be able to watch them play live? Honestly, I didn’t expect to watch many games live until Christmas anyway. So the Washington Wizards it is. I’ve bookmarked a few sites to keep up with the Wiz.

The team I picked to follow would be placed in the seven, natch. Who else should I pick? I set some ground rules:

There is little incentive to pick a team that is on t.v. all the time, since online broadcasts are blacked out when nationally televised.

I wanted to pick at least one team from each of the divisions to maximize my breadth of exposure.

Each team needed either one player that is worth a look when he is on his “A” game, or a group of players which play really well together.

I wanted to give preference to teams in the Western Conference since I’d likely miss any game before 7:00. I was lenient on this since games are archived online – more on that later.

The teams have to have young guys who were progressing or unpredictable crazy guys (see Ricky Davis).

Here’s my process:
The beauty of the online seven-team special is that I didn’t have to pay for the unwatchable teams. The first to be scratched were: New York, New Jersey, Milwaukee, Detroit, Indiana, Charlotte, Minnesota, Sacramento, Memphis, and Golden State (although their crazy guy level is league best)

The blackout rule eliminated Cleveland, the Lakers and the Clippers. I would likely have included the Cavs and Lakers otherwise; I made an exception for the Celtics since their home announcers are great.

Teams that were good, but didn’t interest me included: Toronto, Chicago, Atlanta, Miami, Orlando, Utah, Phoenix, and Houston.

Teams that I was interested in seeing were: Boston, Philadelphia, Denver, Portland, Oklahoma City, Dallas, San Antonio, and my new favorite team Washington.

Since that was eight, I weighed the advantages of both Philly and Denver. In the end, the Birdman was the difference. (He also flies in the Mountain Time Zone).

Having settled on my seven, my next challenge is to find a way to watch them. The major drawback in the online coverage is that the archive games show the score. Boo.