Die hard sports fans are assured only one thing in life: We will be angry. This anger comes in a variety forms and degrees. What I'd like to do here is quantify this visceral (and highly idiotic) emotion with the Sports Fan Anger Index. What exactly makes us mad? What makes us the most mad? Does it always involve Braylon Edwards?
First, some ground rules. This index calculates only the anger felt after a game. So, you might be a little bit more mad the Indians traded Victor Martinez than you are about the Cavs losing to the Magic in the regular season, and it might be possible to add such a figure to this index, but that's not what I'm trying to do here.
Also, this is an anger index. The abject misery that is watching the Cleveland Browns lose their 15th game in a season is depressing—numbingly depressing. But that's not anger. Sure, there might be some anger there, but it's not weighted as high in this index.
And I think that covers the preamble. So how does this Sports Fan Anger Index work? Well, I've assigned number values to a variety of factors that all contribute to the emotional context associated with a team. How much do you expect out of that team? How important was the game? How did the team lose? The answers to these questions determine whether we write a sarcastic text or throw a remote when the game ends. Explaining the nuances of something as irrational as sports fanaticism is taxing and complicated. This index easily identifies the situation and defines our reaction.
Expectations
10- Championship
8- Playoff contention
5- .500 or better
3- Rebuilding (the positive way to say "not good")
1- Barely a pulse
Note: Pretty straightforward here. Expectations are just that. A championship team should play as such, and when it doesn't, it is irritating. When we expect a team to play terrible and it does, it's hardly as upsetting.
Stakes
10- Championship
8- Playoff game
6- Regular season game w/ playoff implications
5- NFL regular season game
3- NBA game
2- MLB game
Level of other team
7- Nationals/Nets/Rams level of suck
5- .500 team
3- Above average team
1- Best team in the league
Important note here. Index numbers are to be calculated only following losses UNLESS the team's expectations and the level of the other team add up to 15 or more. For example, if the Cavs barely beat the Nets, that's not something to pop champagne about. Anger is allowable after wins in those cases. If playing well in a loss is a moral victory, then barely winning a game that should be a blowout is an immoral victory. The immoral victory does not get weighted in the stakes column above.
Add-ons
+3 Tyronn Lue Award— Tyronn Lue was (is? Unsure if he's still in the league) a bum of an NBA player. For whatever reason, when he played against the Cavs, he seemed to play out of his mind. He'd be dribble driving, hitting 3s, playing pesky D, making annoying faces. It was incredibly frustrating. In his honor, whenever a bum from another team catches fire and makes the difference in a game—playing well above his usual output—I give that guy the Tyronn Lue Award for the game. If that happens in the game, tack on three to your calculation.
+2 The Elway Rule— It's like the Tyronn Lue Award, but it's not inexplicable. When the same guy beats us constantly, it becomes extremely frustrating, but when it's one of the best guys in the league, what did we expect? It's still worthy of adding some points onto our anger.
+5 Rivalry—Fuck the Steelers.
+3 Hateable team— The Red Sox are not the Indians' rival, but I hate them. That has to count for something, right?
+5 The Braylon Edwards Rule— Losing because the highest paid guys on the team—the guys we rely on—did not come through is terribly aggravating. When Casey Blake grounds into a double play, it's annoying, but it's understandable. He's Casey Blake. He sucks. But when it's Travis Hafner? Get ready for an expletive tirade. (I know Hafner isn't awesome any more, but he's being paid like he's awesome, so he still counts.)
+1 to 4 Ramifications—Did a key guy go down? Was this the fifth game in a row where we played no defense? Did this help out the Tigers magic number? Does the SEC gain bragging rights? Is this a really long losing streak? Feel free to subjectively add a few points based on any number of disasters.
+1 to +3 Blunders—These points are reserved for blown calls or poor coaching decisions. Stuff that is out of your control ... because as we all know, the play on the field IS in our control.
By my calculations, the easiest game to swallow would be the Pirates or Nationals losing a well played, controversy free game to the very good yet not hateable Los Angeles Dodgers (4). And the worst? Well, a certain college football championship game from 2006 comes to mind (40). A higher score is possible, but anyone who has experienced it probably walked into traffic and is no longer able to tell the tale.
Note: I may be off in my reasoning or missed some factors or weighted stuff wrong—this is definitely an imperfect system that will be tweaked over time—but I think I'm pretty close. One problem that might muddy the system is the depression factor. I remember feeling extremely depressed when the Buckeyes lost to Florida, not angry. But that's my standard coping mechanism, so I don't think it's a reflection on this objective, highly sophisticated mathematical formula I've created here. Would like to hear some suggestions for additions or changes though.
Go Teams.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Questions of our Cavs reality
If you've never watched the show Lost before, well, you can't start now because it is confusing. Anyhow, last season there was a big decision, one that could alter the fates of the cast and possibly the rest of the world—or nothing could really happen at all. No one was sure. That season ended and no one knew how this season would start. Which reality would we be in? The answer is both. The show, at least this far, has parallel narratives. Two worlds, one in which they changed the future, and a second where they changed nothing. And thus far, we are watching how both of them play out.
I wish I had this ability with the Cavs for the rest of the season.
After heisting Jamison from Washington and sending Z out of a Cavs uniform for the first time since I taped new episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Danny Ferry has altered the course of Cleveland sports, for better or worse ... or maybe it's a push. Unfortunately, we can't see all of the realities play out. Here would be our options:
• Stand firm. We keep Z, keep the team intact, ride the 13-game win streak, maintain yet another dominant regular season and make a run at the first title in close to 50 years in Cleveland. Maybe we don't win it, but we have a better chance than last year where matchup problems that were obvious in the regular season ultimately sunk us in the post season. That was corrected in the offseason, or so it seems, so there really is no NEED to make a trade—at least for this year's goals. But beyond this year? Two old centers with expiring contracts and the same average to mediocre supporting class staring the Greatest Free Agent of All Time in the face as every NBA team with a max contract courts him.
Title possibility: 75%
Keep LeBron possibility: 65%
Possible level of regret: (1 out of 10): 7
• Trade Z, part 1. We trade Z for Antawn Jamison. Jamison takes a couple games, gets acclimated, plays solid and fits in. Z gets bought out by the Wizards, waits 30 days and comes back. Rotations get set and we roll into the playoffs like Sherman through Atlanta. In the off season, having a quality, near-All-Star teammate to pair with Mo Williams and Anderson Varejao, LeBron is slightly more intrigued to stay put in Cleveland.
Title possibility: 95%
Keep LeBron possiblity: 80%
Possible level of regret: 0
• Trade Z, part 2. We trade Z for Antawn Jamison. Jamison takes a couple games, gets acclimated, plays solid and fits in. Z either stays with the Wizards or signs with another team, causing the saddest sight since that oil spill in Saved By The Bell left all of those ducks covered in oil. Rotations get set and we roll into the playoffs. Z, in another uniform, possibly watches the team he gave his heart and soul to for 13 years win a title without him. In the off season, having a quality, near-All-Star teammate to pair with Mo Williams and Anderson Varejao, LeBron is slightly more intrigued to stay put in Cleveland.
Title possibility: 90%
Keep LeBron possiblity: 80%
Possible level of regret: 10
Would all of these scenarios net a title? Do none of them? Which scenarios keep LeBron? Where is John Locke when you need him?
In our singular reality, we know scenario No.1 is out, and we're all rooting for No.2, but No.3 is definitely in play. If scenario 3 happens, I'm going to constantly wonder how scenario 1 would have played out. If we don't win the title, I'm going to wonder if we messed with chemistry too much or inflicted "The Curse of Z" on the team and lost for karmic reasons. I will feel like we should have stood pat.
But I'll feel a little bit of relief too.
Why? Because I don't want to live through a reality where a Cleveland team finally triumphs and takes home a title with the blood of our most loyal soldier on our hands. I don't want to wash the dirt of that trade off in the champagne celebration. I want the championship to feel earned, not coldly acquired. I don't want the joyless, robotic happiness of a Yankees title celebration.
I want the guys that deserve to be there to be there, and really, the only guy that deserves to be there is Z. I know LeBron deserves it the most in one respect because he's responsible for our title hopes, but LeBron doesn't know what it's like to play on shit teams in front of 10 people or face the possibility of retiring early because of injuries. LeBron hasn't spent his entire career loving this city. In fact, we're in constant fear that he doesn't love us. Hell, half the reason Z was traded is because LeBron might leave us this summer.
We had to pry Cleveland out of Z's cold lurpy hands. That's the difference. That's why Z deserves it more than anyone.
But I might want something that's impossible. If pro sports has shown me anything since my birth, it's that evil wins. The Yankees buy players, and they win. The Steelers break a guy's knee in half with a dirty play, and they win. Belicheck spies on teams and he wins. Barry Bonds becomes the homerun champ. Maybe the only way to break our generational losing streak is to trade in our soul and our integrity.
And if that is indeed the price, I'm not sure I'm going to feel it was worth it. I might think it was worth it. (Ah, who am I kidding I'll be drunk for 3 months. I'll feel it was worth it.) And if I do, I'm not sure I should. Layoffs and outsourcing are always worth it to CEOs when they keep the business profitable, but that doesn't necessarily make it right. These are the questions I don't want to answer. I want to win a title and I want to win it as a Cleveland team, not a Boston team.
... But then again, I do want that title monkey off the back of the city. I'm tired of Cleveland just being a city of losers, leading lists of miserable cities and causing laughter among sports pundits. Maybe the greatest sacrifice Z could make for the city he has adopted as his own is to be traded to build this team and let it win a title.
All I know is I read Faust. Deals with the devil don't work how you plan. They might work on paper, but they don't fill the ultimate void in your life. Fortunately, we have an out Faust didn't have. It's scenario 2. The buyout, 30-day loophole. It doesn't guarantee a title much more than any other scenario, but it guarantees us our soul. And I think that's what matters to me the most.
I think.
Just like Lost, there are too many questions and too many possibilities. How will it play out? How will we feel? Is there a perfect plan? We'll definitely get a conclusion, but I'm not sure we'll get an answer.
Go Cavs.
I wish I had this ability with the Cavs for the rest of the season.
After heisting Jamison from Washington and sending Z out of a Cavs uniform for the first time since I taped new episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Danny Ferry has altered the course of Cleveland sports, for better or worse ... or maybe it's a push. Unfortunately, we can't see all of the realities play out. Here would be our options:
• Stand firm. We keep Z, keep the team intact, ride the 13-game win streak, maintain yet another dominant regular season and make a run at the first title in close to 50 years in Cleveland. Maybe we don't win it, but we have a better chance than last year where matchup problems that were obvious in the regular season ultimately sunk us in the post season. That was corrected in the offseason, or so it seems, so there really is no NEED to make a trade—at least for this year's goals. But beyond this year? Two old centers with expiring contracts and the same average to mediocre supporting class staring the Greatest Free Agent of All Time in the face as every NBA team with a max contract courts him.
Title possibility: 75%
Keep LeBron possibility: 65%
Possible level of regret: (1 out of 10): 7
• Trade Z, part 1. We trade Z for Antawn Jamison. Jamison takes a couple games, gets acclimated, plays solid and fits in. Z gets bought out by the Wizards, waits 30 days and comes back. Rotations get set and we roll into the playoffs like Sherman through Atlanta. In the off season, having a quality, near-All-Star teammate to pair with Mo Williams and Anderson Varejao, LeBron is slightly more intrigued to stay put in Cleveland.
Title possibility: 95%
Keep LeBron possiblity: 80%
Possible level of regret: 0
• Trade Z, part 2. We trade Z for Antawn Jamison. Jamison takes a couple games, gets acclimated, plays solid and fits in. Z either stays with the Wizards or signs with another team, causing the saddest sight since that oil spill in Saved By The Bell left all of those ducks covered in oil. Rotations get set and we roll into the playoffs. Z, in another uniform, possibly watches the team he gave his heart and soul to for 13 years win a title without him. In the off season, having a quality, near-All-Star teammate to pair with Mo Williams and Anderson Varejao, LeBron is slightly more intrigued to stay put in Cleveland.
Title possibility: 90%
Keep LeBron possiblity: 80%
Possible level of regret: 10
Would all of these scenarios net a title? Do none of them? Which scenarios keep LeBron? Where is John Locke when you need him?
.............
In our singular reality, we know scenario No.1 is out, and we're all rooting for No.2, but No.3 is definitely in play. If scenario 3 happens, I'm going to constantly wonder how scenario 1 would have played out. If we don't win the title, I'm going to wonder if we messed with chemistry too much or inflicted "The Curse of Z" on the team and lost for karmic reasons. I will feel like we should have stood pat.
But I'll feel a little bit of relief too.
Why? Because I don't want to live through a reality where a Cleveland team finally triumphs and takes home a title with the blood of our most loyal soldier on our hands. I don't want to wash the dirt of that trade off in the champagne celebration. I want the championship to feel earned, not coldly acquired. I don't want the joyless, robotic happiness of a Yankees title celebration.
I want the guys that deserve to be there to be there, and really, the only guy that deserves to be there is Z. I know LeBron deserves it the most in one respect because he's responsible for our title hopes, but LeBron doesn't know what it's like to play on shit teams in front of 10 people or face the possibility of retiring early because of injuries. LeBron hasn't spent his entire career loving this city. In fact, we're in constant fear that he doesn't love us. Hell, half the reason Z was traded is because LeBron might leave us this summer.
We had to pry Cleveland out of Z's cold lurpy hands. That's the difference. That's why Z deserves it more than anyone.
But I might want something that's impossible. If pro sports has shown me anything since my birth, it's that evil wins. The Yankees buy players, and they win. The Steelers break a guy's knee in half with a dirty play, and they win. Belicheck spies on teams and he wins. Barry Bonds becomes the homerun champ. Maybe the only way to break our generational losing streak is to trade in our soul and our integrity.
And if that is indeed the price, I'm not sure I'm going to feel it was worth it. I might think it was worth it. (Ah, who am I kidding I'll be drunk for 3 months. I'll feel it was worth it.) And if I do, I'm not sure I should. Layoffs and outsourcing are always worth it to CEOs when they keep the business profitable, but that doesn't necessarily make it right. These are the questions I don't want to answer. I want to win a title and I want to win it as a Cleveland team, not a Boston team.
... But then again, I do want that title monkey off the back of the city. I'm tired of Cleveland just being a city of losers, leading lists of miserable cities and causing laughter among sports pundits. Maybe the greatest sacrifice Z could make for the city he has adopted as his own is to be traded to build this team and let it win a title.
All I know is I read Faust. Deals with the devil don't work how you plan. They might work on paper, but they don't fill the ultimate void in your life. Fortunately, we have an out Faust didn't have. It's scenario 2. The buyout, 30-day loophole. It doesn't guarantee a title much more than any other scenario, but it guarantees us our soul. And I think that's what matters to me the most.
I think.
Just like Lost, there are too many questions and too many possibilities. How will it play out? How will we feel? Is there a perfect plan? We'll definitely get a conclusion, but I'm not sure we'll get an answer.
Go Cavs.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Perspectives breed outlooks: Why the Indians still excite me in 2010
I always feel confident about the Cleveland Indians.
Before each new sports season, I always have a ridiculous optimism—Browns, Cavs, Indians—whatever. But with the Indians it is a little different. Regardless of how poor the prior season may have been or whom we may have traded, I maintain a genuine excitement and anticipation.
The reason stems from middle school. I became a cognizant, diehard sports fan in the mid-90s. From my fourth grade year until I was a junior in high school, the Indians were a contender. During that same span of time, the Cleveland Browns moved and the Cavs should have moved. The spotlight was on the Tribe, and the team delivered.
When you take a snapshot since my fourth grade year, which is when you can start counting stuff like "I've been a fan of [fill in thing] for this many years," the Indians have finished .500 or better 11 times out of a possible 16 years. The way I see it, for my sports fan lifetime, the Indians have been relevant nearly 70 percent of the time. The Browns, on the other hand, are batting .125 and the Cavs have only had seven years I would call relevant. Even though the Cavs are clearly the best organization now, during the important junior high to high school years, they were borderline unwatchable. The Indians, as a result, are just closer to my core—more a part of who I am. I am more apt to make excuses for them and more likely to see potential. It's like having a brother that keeps breaking the law. I believe it when he says he's going to change, and I give him more chances to prove it.
Thus, coming off a minor drug possession charge in '08 and some jail time on '09, the Tribe is telling me it's on the road to recovery, and in 2010, we'll have some growing pains, but I'll see they are getting better. And I believe them, so much so that I think they have the potential for 80 wins this year. I do. For real.
By comparison, most older generations of Indians fans suffered through pitiful baseball. It was like that late-'90s stretch from the Cavs times 100. In the four decades before '94, The Indians finished .500 or better 10 times. None of those seasons included any sort of post-season play. The people that lived through any portion of those years, not to mention all of the failures of our other two bumbling teams, are your more prototypical Cleveland fans. The Indians hold no special place whatsoever. They traded another all-star? Typical. What a bunch of losers. They'll never win a title this way. Currently, these people hate the Indians and in no way believe they are going to be good this year (or any year, really).
And maybe those people are right. But I'm not sure either of us are right. I think we're both slaves to our perspectives. In my mind, the Indians are always a couple prospects away from reaching the post season, as evidenced by that continually happening during my tenure as a fan. And of course, that's always an allure baseball has over other sports—farm teams and prospects.
Say what you want about the Dolans and Shapiro, but they deliver on the prospect promise. Obviously the good years aren't as constant as they were under Dick Jacobs and John Hart, but this regime's results back up my belief that if I wait for the development of some top shelf prospects, they will come up to Cleveland and play exciting baseball. A championship? Maybe not, but that can't be the expectation in baseball, and that especially can't be an expectation with a Cleveland team. But the Indians consistently have given me contending or relevant teams.
This promise does not exist for the other teams. Even the Cavs, the superior team at the moment, hang by the LeBron thread. Pull that thread out this summer and the entire thing unravels, leaving us with Lamond Murray and Wesley Person again. The Cavs got lucky with LeBron, and it altered that team's potential, but if he leaves, that team returns from whence it came. In baseball, you have to work with tiers of players for years and years. There is no magic pill that makes it all better. And, from my tiny snapshot of Indians history, the team has always done this, unlike teams like the Royals or Pirates or Reds. This just sets the Indians apart.
I tell you this because despite last year's gigantic turd of a season, and despite the unproven commodities on the roster, I am excited for the Tribe. I even bet a co-worker that they would win 78 games. Seventy-eight games isn't great, but it would be great considering the current stage of the developmental process. However, most folks say they'll finish with about 60-some wins. And really, I'm not even convinced I'm right. But my reasoning rests on that aforementioned optimistic Tribe perspective. LaPorta, Brantley, Choo, Sizemore, Santana.... I can just rattle off names of guys that excite me for various reasons. They are names that support the yearly promise the Tribe provides me—the seedlings of contention. We traded Lee, Martinez and CC the last couple of years? Well, we'll just develop other Lees, CCs and Martinezes. The Indians have developed my faith over the years much like they did Sizemore or Jake Westbrook.
It's not a justifiable reason for belief, but until the Indians start to consistently field losing teams, and until the prospects I read about and anticipate quit delivering—like used to be commonplace during the '60s, '70s and '80s—I will maintain the same outlook. Trading off the prospects after seven years isn't going to bring me to Negative Town like a majority of other Cleveland fans; however, if we quit having guys worth trading, I'll start looking for available real estate there.
But that's a potential reality for another time. Right now? I say 78 wins—a positive 78 wins that lead to better seasons down the road. Yup, from my perspective, we're in good shape.
Go Tribe.
Before each new sports season, I always have a ridiculous optimism—Browns, Cavs, Indians—whatever. But with the Indians it is a little different. Regardless of how poor the prior season may have been or whom we may have traded, I maintain a genuine excitement and anticipation.
The reason stems from middle school. I became a cognizant, diehard sports fan in the mid-90s. From my fourth grade year until I was a junior in high school, the Indians were a contender. During that same span of time, the Cleveland Browns moved and the Cavs should have moved. The spotlight was on the Tribe, and the team delivered.
When you take a snapshot since my fourth grade year, which is when you can start counting stuff like "I've been a fan of [fill in thing] for this many years," the Indians have finished .500 or better 11 times out of a possible 16 years. The way I see it, for my sports fan lifetime, the Indians have been relevant nearly 70 percent of the time. The Browns, on the other hand, are batting .125 and the Cavs have only had seven years I would call relevant. Even though the Cavs are clearly the best organization now, during the important junior high to high school years, they were borderline unwatchable. The Indians, as a result, are just closer to my core—more a part of who I am. I am more apt to make excuses for them and more likely to see potential. It's like having a brother that keeps breaking the law. I believe it when he says he's going to change, and I give him more chances to prove it.
Thus, coming off a minor drug possession charge in '08 and some jail time on '09, the Tribe is telling me it's on the road to recovery, and in 2010, we'll have some growing pains, but I'll see they are getting better. And I believe them, so much so that I think they have the potential for 80 wins this year. I do. For real.
By comparison, most older generations of Indians fans suffered through pitiful baseball. It was like that late-'90s stretch from the Cavs times 100. In the four decades before '94, The Indians finished .500 or better 10 times. None of those seasons included any sort of post-season play. The people that lived through any portion of those years, not to mention all of the failures of our other two bumbling teams, are your more prototypical Cleveland fans. The Indians hold no special place whatsoever. They traded another all-star? Typical. What a bunch of losers. They'll never win a title this way. Currently, these people hate the Indians and in no way believe they are going to be good this year (or any year, really).
And maybe those people are right. But I'm not sure either of us are right. I think we're both slaves to our perspectives. In my mind, the Indians are always a couple prospects away from reaching the post season, as evidenced by that continually happening during my tenure as a fan. And of course, that's always an allure baseball has over other sports—farm teams and prospects.
Say what you want about the Dolans and Shapiro, but they deliver on the prospect promise. Obviously the good years aren't as constant as they were under Dick Jacobs and John Hart, but this regime's results back up my belief that if I wait for the development of some top shelf prospects, they will come up to Cleveland and play exciting baseball. A championship? Maybe not, but that can't be the expectation in baseball, and that especially can't be an expectation with a Cleveland team. But the Indians consistently have given me contending or relevant teams.
This promise does not exist for the other teams. Even the Cavs, the superior team at the moment, hang by the LeBron thread. Pull that thread out this summer and the entire thing unravels, leaving us with Lamond Murray and Wesley Person again. The Cavs got lucky with LeBron, and it altered that team's potential, but if he leaves, that team returns from whence it came. In baseball, you have to work with tiers of players for years and years. There is no magic pill that makes it all better. And, from my tiny snapshot of Indians history, the team has always done this, unlike teams like the Royals or Pirates or Reds. This just sets the Indians apart.
I tell you this because despite last year's gigantic turd of a season, and despite the unproven commodities on the roster, I am excited for the Tribe. I even bet a co-worker that they would win 78 games. Seventy-eight games isn't great, but it would be great considering the current stage of the developmental process. However, most folks say they'll finish with about 60-some wins. And really, I'm not even convinced I'm right. But my reasoning rests on that aforementioned optimistic Tribe perspective. LaPorta, Brantley, Choo, Sizemore, Santana.... I can just rattle off names of guys that excite me for various reasons. They are names that support the yearly promise the Tribe provides me—the seedlings of contention. We traded Lee, Martinez and CC the last couple of years? Well, we'll just develop other Lees, CCs and Martinezes. The Indians have developed my faith over the years much like they did Sizemore or Jake Westbrook.
It's not a justifiable reason for belief, but until the Indians start to consistently field losing teams, and until the prospects I read about and anticipate quit delivering—like used to be commonplace during the '60s, '70s and '80s—I will maintain the same outlook. Trading off the prospects after seven years isn't going to bring me to Negative Town like a majority of other Cleveland fans; however, if we quit having guys worth trading, I'll start looking for available real estate there.
But that's a potential reality for another time. Right now? I say 78 wins—a positive 78 wins that lead to better seasons down the road. Yup, from my perspective, we're in good shape.
Go Tribe.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Et tu, Ferry?
Woke up today to strong rumors suggesting that Amare Stoudemire will come to the Cavs in exchange for JJ Hickson and Zydrunas Ilgauskas.
I'm the guy who wanted a trade at last year's deadline. I'm the guy who wanted a trade for the first few months of this season. I'm the guy who continues to say this team is LeBron and a bunch of scrubs (admittedly, a bit of an overstatement) and would be unstoppable with a legit second-banana All Star to pair with LeBron.
Stoudemire is an All Star. So why am I so bummed out?
Well, it's partly because I no longer feel this team needs to make a trade. We don't have the matchup issues that inevitably ended our season last year. I don't think our league best record is the fool's gold it was last year.
And it's partly because I'm just not a big fan of Stoudemire. From everything I've heard, he's kind of a pouter and a headcase. He needs the ball, valuing his role more than victories. He didn't mesh with Shaq last year. He is an atrocity on defense. He owes a lot of his career success to Steve Nash, and I'm not convinced his potential positives will outweigh his negatives—especially considering how much of our success comes from our elite team chemistry.
But mostly I'm bummed because we'd be trading Z.
The thing is, trading Z makes perfect sense. He's a big expiring contract with a diminished role on the team who could net a starter from another team looking to dump salary. He's like Wally Szczerbiak was last year, you know, when we didn't make a trade to improve the team and inevitably lost in the post season. So what's the difference?
Z is the Cavs! Yes, I said it. LeBron is our savior, but Z is family. We're not sure if LeBron is going to stay with us; Z came from halfway around the world and adopted our city as his own depressed, cold home away from depressed, cold home. He wanted nothing more to stay with the Cavs, even though the team was more unwatchable than an episode of Teen Mom. We Cleveland fans like to think we deserve a title, but we just sit on our couches and watch guys play. Z has been here for 14 years—much of which has been filled with foot injuries and bad teams. If anyone deserves a chance to win a title because of dedication and perseverance, it is Z, not us.
If we trade Z, we're spitting on one of our own. If the move wins us a championship (a large assumption), it's tainted. We're the fans that despise Jim Thome and Carlos Boozer for taking more money and leaving us behind, right? Well then shouldn't we extend our hearts and show loyalty to the proud few who choose to stay here? Can we really root for or enjoy a team that sent a loyal guy packing when it didn't really need to?
Allegedly, Z will be bought out by the Suns and then we will sign him back after 30 days, which would essentially give us Stoudemire straight up for Hickson, which is a pretty good heist, despite everything I've said about Stoudemire. Can't fault that move if it happens (you know, unless it wrecks our chemistry).
But I don't trust it. I watch Big Brother, and when an alliance tells someone, "Hey, we're going to just put you up on the block as a pawn. We're not voting you out. No seriously, we're not. I swear to God, you are just there as a patsy. We're voting out the other person." That person goes out every time.
Not that beggars can be choosers, but that's not how I want to win a title. I don't want the pursuit of the ultimate goal to compromise our integrity as Cleveland fans. I mean, I've seen the people that sell their soul to win Big Brother. They are douchebags. Sure, they are douchebags with half a million dollars, but they are douchebags nonetheless. Just keep that in mind when you watch Z walk out that door.
I'm the guy who wanted a trade at last year's deadline. I'm the guy who wanted a trade for the first few months of this season. I'm the guy who continues to say this team is LeBron and a bunch of scrubs (admittedly, a bit of an overstatement) and would be unstoppable with a legit second-banana All Star to pair with LeBron.
Stoudemire is an All Star. So why am I so bummed out?
Well, it's partly because I no longer feel this team needs to make a trade. We don't have the matchup issues that inevitably ended our season last year. I don't think our league best record is the fool's gold it was last year.
And it's partly because I'm just not a big fan of Stoudemire. From everything I've heard, he's kind of a pouter and a headcase. He needs the ball, valuing his role more than victories. He didn't mesh with Shaq last year. He is an atrocity on defense. He owes a lot of his career success to Steve Nash, and I'm not convinced his potential positives will outweigh his negatives—especially considering how much of our success comes from our elite team chemistry.
But mostly I'm bummed because we'd be trading Z.
The thing is, trading Z makes perfect sense. He's a big expiring contract with a diminished role on the team who could net a starter from another team looking to dump salary. He's like Wally Szczerbiak was last year, you know, when we didn't make a trade to improve the team and inevitably lost in the post season. So what's the difference?
Z is the Cavs! Yes, I said it. LeBron is our savior, but Z is family. We're not sure if LeBron is going to stay with us; Z came from halfway around the world and adopted our city as his own depressed, cold home away from depressed, cold home. He wanted nothing more to stay with the Cavs, even though the team was more unwatchable than an episode of Teen Mom. We Cleveland fans like to think we deserve a title, but we just sit on our couches and watch guys play. Z has been here for 14 years—much of which has been filled with foot injuries and bad teams. If anyone deserves a chance to win a title because of dedication and perseverance, it is Z, not us.
If we trade Z, we're spitting on one of our own. If the move wins us a championship (a large assumption), it's tainted. We're the fans that despise Jim Thome and Carlos Boozer for taking more money and leaving us behind, right? Well then shouldn't we extend our hearts and show loyalty to the proud few who choose to stay here? Can we really root for or enjoy a team that sent a loyal guy packing when it didn't really need to?
Allegedly, Z will be bought out by the Suns and then we will sign him back after 30 days, which would essentially give us Stoudemire straight up for Hickson, which is a pretty good heist, despite everything I've said about Stoudemire. Can't fault that move if it happens (you know, unless it wrecks our chemistry).
But I don't trust it. I watch Big Brother, and when an alliance tells someone, "Hey, we're going to just put you up on the block as a pawn. We're not voting you out. No seriously, we're not. I swear to God, you are just there as a patsy. We're voting out the other person." That person goes out every time.
Not that beggars can be choosers, but that's not how I want to win a title. I don't want the pursuit of the ultimate goal to compromise our integrity as Cleveland fans. I mean, I've seen the people that sell their soul to win Big Brother. They are douchebags. Sure, they are douchebags with half a million dollars, but they are douchebags nonetheless. Just keep that in mind when you watch Z walk out that door.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Weathermen are useless
I just want to put this out there: the job of the weatherman is obsolete.
Follow me on this. When you want to see if it's going to snow, what do you do? You go to weather.com and check the radar. Or you go to the weather channel and wait for the Local on the 8s radar. Or you turn on your local news and wait to see the radar. Or you turn on a local channel and hope an obtrusive small section of map is on there in order to—say it with me now—check the radar.
Notice a pattern? I couldn't tell you what makes a cloud, or what causes wind or really anything about why weather works—but I know if there is a green blob coming toward my county, that's not good. If it's red, that's even worse. Bottom line, you don't need to be a "meteorologist" to figure out if it's going to snow nowadays because of all these highly touted Doppler radar systems.
Once weathermen decided to give us a peak behind the curtain, to show us their green and red blobs, their whole scam ended. And yet, there they are still, standing there with their clicker, pointing at stuff, making bad jokes and interrupting our shows to talk about high winds. (Don't you just want to punch Mark Johnson in the face when that happens? Or how about Channel 5's weather alert with its high-pitched beeping noise. Seriously? A beeping noise to announce the presence of your little on-screen weather radar? Who does that help? Blind people who can't even see the update?)
Do we really need them to tell us that stuff? In this age of budget cutting and staff reductions, you're telling me a news room can't tell Jeff Tanchak, "Hey buddy, I think we're just going to throw the Doppler up there and let everyone look at it for a few seconds and call it a day. No, seriously, don't feel the need to come back in. We're good."
The weatherman should go the way of the milkman and the autoworker. I don't want to take jobs away, I'm just pleading for consistency. When a job is made unnecessary because of inefficiency or new technology or just because society moved on, that job always goes away or at least loses its prominence. And yet, there's Mark Johnson and his stupid haircut interrupting my favorite show when I can plainly see the red blob and its proximity to my city without him.
Get out of here.
Go Cavs.
Follow me on this. When you want to see if it's going to snow, what do you do? You go to weather.com and check the radar. Or you go to the weather channel and wait for the Local on the 8s radar. Or you turn on your local news and wait to see the radar. Or you turn on a local channel and hope an obtrusive small section of map is on there in order to—say it with me now—check the radar.
Notice a pattern? I couldn't tell you what makes a cloud, or what causes wind or really anything about why weather works—but I know if there is a green blob coming toward my county, that's not good. If it's red, that's even worse. Bottom line, you don't need to be a "meteorologist" to figure out if it's going to snow nowadays because of all these highly touted Doppler radar systems.
Once weathermen decided to give us a peak behind the curtain, to show us their green and red blobs, their whole scam ended. And yet, there they are still, standing there with their clicker, pointing at stuff, making bad jokes and interrupting our shows to talk about high winds. (Don't you just want to punch Mark Johnson in the face when that happens? Or how about Channel 5's weather alert with its high-pitched beeping noise. Seriously? A beeping noise to announce the presence of your little on-screen weather radar? Who does that help? Blind people who can't even see the update?)
Do we really need them to tell us that stuff? In this age of budget cutting and staff reductions, you're telling me a news room can't tell Jeff Tanchak, "Hey buddy, I think we're just going to throw the Doppler up there and let everyone look at it for a few seconds and call it a day. No, seriously, don't feel the need to come back in. We're good."
The weatherman should go the way of the milkman and the autoworker. I don't want to take jobs away, I'm just pleading for consistency. When a job is made unnecessary because of inefficiency or new technology or just because society moved on, that job always goes away or at least loses its prominence. And yet, there's Mark Johnson and his stupid haircut interrupting my favorite show when I can plainly see the red blob and its proximity to my city without him.
Get out of here.
Go Cavs.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Browns quarterback assessment, part 2
In part one of the Browns QB assessment, I compared Quinn to a variety of other NFL starters at comparable stages in their careers. What we discovered is that Quinn was a little less than his counterparts, nearly equaling the statistical atrocity that is JaMarcus Russell. In part 2, we're going to try and be a little bit more fair to Quinn. Instead of stacking his numbers against other QBs in the league, guys who should be the basis for comparison, we'll stack his numbers up against all the other starting QBs the Browns have had since 1999—the dregs of the dregs/ his peers. If Quinn's numbers drift to the bottom of this pile of castoffs, hasbeens and neverwases, then that says something. No excuses for being at the bottom of this shit sandwich.
I am comparing the first full year each of these jabronis had as a starting QB for the Browns. Bold numbers are for the best in each category and red is for the worst (minimum 8 games, sorry Spergon and Luke ... I've highlighted them in pink just for fun.)
.......................G.....comp%.....yds.....TDs....INTs.....QB rating
Couch, T......... 15.....55...........2,447....15........13...........73
Wynn, S.......... 7......40............167........0.........1...........41
Holcomb, K. ...10.... 63 .........1,797.....10.......12.............74
Garcia, J......... 11.....57............1,731 ....10........9...........76
Mcown, L.. ..... 5.....49............608.......4..........7...........52
Dilfer, T. .........11....59.8.........2,321.....11.......12...........77
Frye, C. .......... 13....64...........2,454......10.......17.........72
Anderson, D... 16....56............3,787.....29......19........82.5
Quinn, B ........10.....53...........1,339......8........7..........67
OK, so if we're excluding the extra-special cases of Wynn and McCown, whom we never really considered starting options at the time, Quinn's numbers are the worst. Granted, not by much over some of the guys—and he took a little bit better care of the ball—but still, that's not good. I mean, we HATED pretty much every guy on this list during various stages of their careers here.
Just out of curiosity, let's see the combined stats of McCown and Wynn. Maybe if we combine them, we'll create a QB that's worse than Quinn, numbers-wise at least.
McWynn, S.L. ....12...45.........775.........4..........8..........47
There we go. Does that make anyone feel better about Quinn at QB next year? Umm, no? OK, well, I've got one last basis for comparison—wins and losses. Sure, Quinn's numbers are the worst, for the most part, but did his intangibles lead to team success? Maybe the numbers aren't telling the whole story.
'99 Couch = 2-13
'03 Holcomb = 2-6
'04 Garcia = 2-8
'05 Dilfer = 4-7
'06 Frye = 3-9
'07 Anderson = 9-6
'09 Quinn = 2-7
Welp, that didn't help. Jesus. Anyone else want to stab pencils in their eyes? What a thoroughly depressing post this is.
So, Quinn didn't stack up well against his contemporaries, AND he didn't stack up against other Browns QBs. He drifted to the bottom of a list prominently involving Trent Dilfer. Seriously, other than the flash-in-the-pan season from Anderson, that is the maybe the worst list of QB seasons ever, and Quinn couldn't even move to the middle of the pack.
I know the sob stories about not having much to work with and all the regime changes and blah blah blah, hell, I even believe them to some extent, but let's get real. It doesn't seem like we're witnessing the growth of a young Joe Montana here.
So Chris, why don't we go with Anderson then? I mean, he did have that one good year right? Maybe he's the guy.
Good question. Let me analyze that as in-depth as I can...
Fuck no.
So where does this leave us? If Quinn's numbers shout "Bum!" and we DO NOT want to go back to the DA experiment, does that mean we should *gulp* draft another QB and try again? Or do we trust in the powers of Holmgren, draft some more WR talent, let Quinn gel with the current guys and the gameplan and give him one last shot to prove himself?
We'll leave that part of the discussion for part 3.
I am comparing the first full year each of these jabronis had as a starting QB for the Browns. Bold numbers are for the best in each category and red is for the worst (minimum 8 games, sorry Spergon and Luke ... I've highlighted them in pink just for fun.)
.......................G.....comp%.....yds.....TDs....INTs.....QB rating
Couch, T......... 15.....55...........2,447....15........13...........73
Wynn, S.......... 7......40............167........0.........1...........41
Holcomb, K. ...10.... 63 .........1,797.....10.......12.............74
Garcia, J......... 11.....57............1,731 ....10........9...........76
Mcown, L.. ..... 5.....49............608.......4..........7...........52
Dilfer, T. .........11....59.8.........2,321.....11.......12...........77
Frye, C. .......... 13....64...........2,454......10.......17.........72
Anderson, D... 16....56............3,787.....29......19........82.5
Quinn, B ........10.....53...........1,339......8........7..........67
OK, so if we're excluding the extra-special cases of Wynn and McCown, whom we never really considered starting options at the time, Quinn's numbers are the worst. Granted, not by much over some of the guys—and he took a little bit better care of the ball—but still, that's not good. I mean, we HATED pretty much every guy on this list during various stages of their careers here.
Just out of curiosity, let's see the combined stats of McCown and Wynn. Maybe if we combine them, we'll create a QB that's worse than Quinn, numbers-wise at least.
McWynn, S.L. ....12...45.........775.........4..........8..........47
There we go. Does that make anyone feel better about Quinn at QB next year? Umm, no? OK, well, I've got one last basis for comparison—wins and losses. Sure, Quinn's numbers are the worst, for the most part, but did his intangibles lead to team success? Maybe the numbers aren't telling the whole story.
'99 Couch = 2-13
'03 Holcomb = 2-6
'04 Garcia = 2-8
'05 Dilfer = 4-7
'06 Frye = 3-9
'07 Anderson = 9-6
'09 Quinn = 2-7
Welp, that didn't help. Jesus. Anyone else want to stab pencils in their eyes? What a thoroughly depressing post this is.
So, Quinn didn't stack up well against his contemporaries, AND he didn't stack up against other Browns QBs. He drifted to the bottom of a list prominently involving Trent Dilfer. Seriously, other than the flash-in-the-pan season from Anderson, that is the maybe the worst list of QB seasons ever, and Quinn couldn't even move to the middle of the pack.
I know the sob stories about not having much to work with and all the regime changes and blah blah blah, hell, I even believe them to some extent, but let's get real. It doesn't seem like we're witnessing the growth of a young Joe Montana here.
So Chris, why don't we go with Anderson then? I mean, he did have that one good year right? Maybe he's the guy.
Good question. Let me analyze that as in-depth as I can...
Fuck no.
So where does this leave us? If Quinn's numbers shout "Bum!" and we DO NOT want to go back to the DA experiment, does that mean we should *gulp* draft another QB and try again? Or do we trust in the powers of Holmgren, draft some more WR talent, let Quinn gel with the current guys and the gameplan and give him one last shot to prove himself?
We'll leave that part of the discussion for part 3.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
A reminder to enjoy the LeBron era
During the Grammy pre-game show on Sunday, Lady Gaga indirectly had a profound impact on my Cleveland fan outlook. As you may know, Lady Gaga is a performer known for her over-the-top shows and outrageous outfits. When asked what we could expect from her on music's biggest night, she simply said:
"Don't expect, just enjoy."
During the LeBron era, the Cavs have raised expectations for success. In Cleveland, that says something. It's genetically impossible for us to expect to win. Ninety-nine percent of the time we don't just expect to lose, we know we're going to lose. It's like a game of Clue. We know someone is dead, that's not the issue, we just need to figure out how it happened this time.
But the only reason we're not pessimists 100 percent of the time is because of LeBron. The homegrown savior. The best athlete in the world. The Chosen One. His greatness makes it possible for our miserable city to believe a championship is within reason— a hope that's been here for seven fantastic years.
That's a good thing right? Well, kind of. Like I said, that hope leads to expectations. We have given LeBron that one percent ... so now he has to win it. He has to do it because if he doesn't, sports in this city will never recover. I truly believe that. Seriously, we don't win a title with the best basketball player in the world, and I'm supposed to believe we're going to win a title some other time? Get out of here. So there's that fear. And to top it off, it's very possible that all of this excitement ends after this season. The summer of 2010 has been marked on our calendars since the summer of 2007—the last time we were in this position. LeBron might leave.
Combine all of that and what do you have? A tendency to drift out of the moment. The Cavs won another game in January? That's nice. Wake me up in June. To paraphrase Johnny Moxon, this is one season for the rest of our lives. Last year proved our record doesn't matter. We'll make the playoffs and THEN the games matter. Basketball mortality is a distinct possibility next year. This season, it is championship or fuck off.
And while that's how we should feel for the context of our long-suffering situation, Lady Gaga has a point. We can't let those expectations cloud what's happening in front of us. I know it's a duh statement, but as I've perhaps overstated several times now, we're watching the best basketball player in the world every night. We're watching maybe the best Cleveland athlete of all time other than Jim Brown. It's happening right now in front of us. Should we feel let down if it doesn't end in a title? Should we only halfheartedly follow the regular season, missing games here or there because ... well, it's not playoff time yet?
This time next year, we might be watching Mo Williams lead this same team to 25 wins. Greatness could come and go, hardly saying goodbye, and that will be it. If LeBron leaves this summer, you might as well flash forward to your 80s where you'll be telling your grandkids about the only time Cleveland fans really believed they were going to win a title. Your snotty grandkids will laugh and say, "Cleveland used to have pro-sports teams?" And you'll fight back tears and the desire to smack them in the mouth, and you'll say:
"Yes, we had three major sports teams, and for decades they were unlucky and miserable. And whenever things got good, they turned bad quickly. There were so many near victories and out-right miseries that we developed a complex about it, so much so that it became our entire identity. It swallowed us whole. And right before it all became too much and we all lost our minds and all of our teams left, we had LeBron. He was the best player in the game of basketball. My god, to see him run a team was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. His passes crisp and masterful. His drives to the basket unstoppable. His charisma off the charts. And he was an Ohio guy to boot. We had a connection to the guy that went beyond sports. He was ours, and he was the best. That meant something to us. ..."
And then hopefully you'll trail on and on about all of the memories and highlights LeBron gave us for however long he was here. If there's a title or two to throw in, you'll definitely mention those, but hopefully you'll remember that time he dunked over Tim Duncan to start the year they went to the Finals for the first time in team history; or when he went shot for shot with Dwayne Wade to end a half in a January game in the '09-'10 season; or that time near the end of the '05-'06 season against the Nets when he stole the ball, went like a freight train to the hoop, and literally with three guys trying to foul him to the ground, he jumped and got a shot off and made it—a hoop that led to a big late season win. You'll say, "I've never seen anything like it" countless times. You may even let those tears loose at some point.
And if there aren't any titles to speak of, and you're about to die without ever having seen a Cleveland championship, you'll be bitter. Damn straight you'll be bitter. That's probably why your grandkids hate you so much. But we can't let that possible future dampen our enthusiasm in this moment. We have the rest of our lives to hold onto that bitterness, and we have the rest of our lives to follow other mediocre teams into near misses and tragic failures. But we may only have half a season left with the greatest athlete we've ever seen. Yes, he might leave. But for now, he's ours, and that means something.
Don't expect, just enjoy.
"Don't expect, just enjoy."
...........
During the LeBron era, the Cavs have raised expectations for success. In Cleveland, that says something. It's genetically impossible for us to expect to win. Ninety-nine percent of the time we don't just expect to lose, we know we're going to lose. It's like a game of Clue. We know someone is dead, that's not the issue, we just need to figure out how it happened this time.
But the only reason we're not pessimists 100 percent of the time is because of LeBron. The homegrown savior. The best athlete in the world. The Chosen One. His greatness makes it possible for our miserable city to believe a championship is within reason— a hope that's been here for seven fantastic years.
That's a good thing right? Well, kind of. Like I said, that hope leads to expectations. We have given LeBron that one percent ... so now he has to win it. He has to do it because if he doesn't, sports in this city will never recover. I truly believe that. Seriously, we don't win a title with the best basketball player in the world, and I'm supposed to believe we're going to win a title some other time? Get out of here. So there's that fear. And to top it off, it's very possible that all of this excitement ends after this season. The summer of 2010 has been marked on our calendars since the summer of 2007—the last time we were in this position. LeBron might leave.
Combine all of that and what do you have? A tendency to drift out of the moment. The Cavs won another game in January? That's nice. Wake me up in June. To paraphrase Johnny Moxon, this is one season for the rest of our lives. Last year proved our record doesn't matter. We'll make the playoffs and THEN the games matter. Basketball mortality is a distinct possibility next year. This season, it is championship or fuck off.
And while that's how we should feel for the context of our long-suffering situation, Lady Gaga has a point. We can't let those expectations cloud what's happening in front of us. I know it's a duh statement, but as I've perhaps overstated several times now, we're watching the best basketball player in the world every night. We're watching maybe the best Cleveland athlete of all time other than Jim Brown. It's happening right now in front of us. Should we feel let down if it doesn't end in a title? Should we only halfheartedly follow the regular season, missing games here or there because ... well, it's not playoff time yet?
This time next year, we might be watching Mo Williams lead this same team to 25 wins. Greatness could come and go, hardly saying goodbye, and that will be it. If LeBron leaves this summer, you might as well flash forward to your 80s where you'll be telling your grandkids about the only time Cleveland fans really believed they were going to win a title. Your snotty grandkids will laugh and say, "Cleveland used to have pro-sports teams?" And you'll fight back tears and the desire to smack them in the mouth, and you'll say:
"Yes, we had three major sports teams, and for decades they were unlucky and miserable. And whenever things got good, they turned bad quickly. There were so many near victories and out-right miseries that we developed a complex about it, so much so that it became our entire identity. It swallowed us whole. And right before it all became too much and we all lost our minds and all of our teams left, we had LeBron. He was the best player in the game of basketball. My god, to see him run a team was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. His passes crisp and masterful. His drives to the basket unstoppable. His charisma off the charts. And he was an Ohio guy to boot. We had a connection to the guy that went beyond sports. He was ours, and he was the best. That meant something to us. ..."
And then hopefully you'll trail on and on about all of the memories and highlights LeBron gave us for however long he was here. If there's a title or two to throw in, you'll definitely mention those, but hopefully you'll remember that time he dunked over Tim Duncan to start the year they went to the Finals for the first time in team history; or when he went shot for shot with Dwayne Wade to end a half in a January game in the '09-'10 season; or that time near the end of the '05-'06 season against the Nets when he stole the ball, went like a freight train to the hoop, and literally with three guys trying to foul him to the ground, he jumped and got a shot off and made it—a hoop that led to a big late season win. You'll say, "I've never seen anything like it" countless times. You may even let those tears loose at some point.
And if there aren't any titles to speak of, and you're about to die without ever having seen a Cleveland championship, you'll be bitter. Damn straight you'll be bitter. That's probably why your grandkids hate you so much. But we can't let that possible future dampen our enthusiasm in this moment. We have the rest of our lives to hold onto that bitterness, and we have the rest of our lives to follow other mediocre teams into near misses and tragic failures. But we may only have half a season left with the greatest athlete we've ever seen. Yes, he might leave. But for now, he's ours, and that means something.
Don't expect, just enjoy.
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