Pages

Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Fine Line

Question: In what universe can a Harvard graduate with an economics degree and a budding second career in professional sports still have to preface his resume with the fact that he's Asian-American?

Answer: This one.

I stay up late at night, drinking scotch, worrying about the future of Jeremy Lin. Okay, I would probably stay up and drink scotch anyways but that's beside the point. I wished I smoked cigarettes then I wouldn't have to drink as much.

As simplistic and narrow-minded as you can get, Jeremy Lin is an Asian, playing a black man's game, in a white man's world. Isn't that right, nutcases?

I stand here on my little soap box and vaunt over how there are good people in American media and how proud I was to once associate myself with them.

And for a while they didn't let me down. Jeremy Lin was a great story because he came from nowhere in the NBA stratosphere. He was cut by TWO teams, two really shitty teams actually, got scooped up by the Knicks as bench fodder, found his way into the starting lineup due to injury, and started lighting it up.

The guy's been in the D-league three times. That's essentially basketball purgatory and he's been there thrice. Now he's the starting point guard in Madison Square Garden.

On top of all that, he seems like a completely good-natured man, humbled by his success, but still goes out there and has fun on the court every night. He'll celebrate a big shot, showboat a little bit, and chest-bump his teammates. You know, things that EVERY basketball player does.

I found myself in a weird situation. I was on eggshells waiting for this train to crash. You see, I've been here too long and I'm very cynical and still very disappointed most of the time. Scotch helps.

Jeremy Lin is three years younger than me and he is on a much bigger stage right now, for the first time in his life.

So I stay up late at night wondering if Jeremy Lin knows that the grass hides snakes. Then I thought harder and realized that it wouldn't be long for someone as high as him to notice the snakes.

I was right.

When I first saw the "Chink in the Armor" headline--I thought it was a really tasteless joke. Hell, that still might have been what it was, but it was still real.

For about five minutes, I still clung onto the thought of good in the world. "This can't be real." "There is absolutely no way that this would happen." "It's ESPN, the pinnacle of sports journalism integrity."

That's when it hit me. ESPN is a huge company and there's bound to be a few screws loose. There's editors, and watchdogs, and ombudsmen but if everybody shares the same view point it gets passed all the way through. I'm sure the Ku Klux Klan has a newsletter or something, right?

I jumped off my soap box, kicked it over, and walked off in disgust. I know better than to associate the acts of a few nutcases with the rest of American media, but it was still really depressing.

It was premeditated. Someone was waiting for this opportunity. Doesn't that depress you?

It depresses me. Still, the pendulum swings both ways. For every person that wants him to fail because of the color of his skin there's one that wants him to succeed because of it. And some people like their toast butter side up and some like it butter side down.

It's all the same.

I want Jeremy Lin to succeed because he shouldn't. He should have dropped out of the NBA and gone and taught economics at a university after the Golden State Warriors said, "No thanks, you're not talented enough for us." He shouldn't be sinking game-winning threes at buzzers or leading the Knicks on seven game win streaks.

I love that shit. That's the kind of stuff that I loved writing about and the stuff that made me love sports journalism in the first place.

American media isn't bad, there's just bad people in American media. They haven't stopped me and I certainly hope they don't stop Jeremy Lin. I'm not sure there would be enough scotch to drink on that day.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Super Blaaaaagggghhhh

This is a really fun weekend for me. Being a sports fan, the Super Bowl is about as good as it gets. I take solace in knowing that the two best teams around have made it to the big game.

END SCENE.

When I think of this weekend, I want to make up my own word. The best one I can come up with is shitacular. The exact opposite of spectacular has to be shitacular.

Boston versus New York?! Are you kidding me? Doesn't the general public get their fill of this during the baseball season (and to a lesser extent, lesser sports) that we can reserve the Big Game for, uh, I don't know...SOMEBODY ELSE.

New York against Boston is about as compelling as shooting myself in the foot with a nail gun. Initially my reaction is justified but then I'm just another guy with a nail in his foot.

First off, the Patriots have made it to another Super Bowl. If I awake Monday morning to Satan himself telling me that this has been my own personal Hell this whole time, I would not be surprised in the slightest. A life in which Tom Brady and Bill Belichick are the most successful quarterback-coach tandem is a life most tortured.

Another one?! Another Super Bowl? Go screw yourselves. Rooting for the Patriots is even worse than being Atheist. At least I stand for something.

Tom Brady reminds me of that douche bag from 'Tin Cup'. He hates children, old people, and dogs.

Second of all, the New York Giants don't even have the pride (money) to play in actual New York. They have to put a Band-Aid over Jersey and declare it Giants Stadium as if we are all oblivious to zoning laws.

Eli Manning is an enigma. He's had a bad case of Older Brother Syndrome his whole life and it's gone straight to his tiny head. Eli wins games--in the fourth quarter no less--but if I get to choose a franchise quarterback for my up and coming team, he's not in the top five. He just simply isn't. You don't take Eli before Rodgers, Brees, Brady, Rivers, or even Stafford.

However, with the exception of Brady, none of those quarterbacks are playing for their second title in five years. That's why Eli is the enigma. You always count him out, but yet there he is in the championship game.

It shouldn't be any surprise to anybody that reads this blog or knows me in person that I want nothing but pain and suffering for the New England Patriots. That's exactly what they've caused me the past decade, so it's only natural to wish upon them the same. As I begrudgingly hope the New York Giants win the Super Bowl, I have some concerns.

I hear you talking, Giants, about how you are in Brady's head and blah, blah, blah. Stop it! Are you kidding me? The Patriots are a machine. They have no emotion, no brain, and no psyche for you to get into. They take your best weapon and neutralize it. You aren't in Tom Brady's head, you are in your own heads.

Which brings me to 2007. The Patriots were supposed to cruise to their perfect season and crush the Giants in the Super Bowl. Well, it didn't happen. The Giants won and we all danced around like the munchkins after the Wicked Witch found herself on the giving end of a house. It was eerily similar to how the Patriots won in 2001 against the "Greatest Show on Turf" Rams.

Now? Everybody is walking around with swagger like they own the place. It's disturbing.

There's nothing I like more than confidence. With that said, just shut the hell up, Giants. Shut it. Don't talk, at all. Hey, I hope you do sack Tom Brady on every single drop back, but stop talking about it!

I'm telling you, Belichick goes home and stares at the wall and thinks of ways to hurt teams. He's not a Zen master, he's not brilliant, he's not a legend--he's an asshole in a hoodie, that's it.

So, regardless of the outcome, either New York or Boston will have another title. Whoop-de-doo. I'll try and contain my excitement.

I'm from New York--and I CAN'T STAND THEM! Not just the Giants, but the whole deal. And the Patriots? I almost just threw up.

Just like last year, go ahead and wake me up in April for the draft.