Hours after Indianapolis Star columnist Gregg Doyle wrote that the New England Patriots should be removed from the Super Bowl for deflating footballs, someone deflated one of Doyle's car's tires:
Doyle doesn't provide much more information, other than to emphasize that someone used a knife to pop the tire. Drawing a link between his scathing column and the slashed tire makes sense, although I'm not sure how the culprit knew where to find Doyle's car.
I obviously don't think anyone should get their tire slashed for something they write, even if I vehemently disagree with the story. It sucks Doyle has to deal with this headache.
But it does give me an excuse to make a parallel to the deflated football controversy, so this incident isn't all bad.
I'll admit, this headline is a little unfair. One of the two playoff games I can think of where home fans inexplicably left early was, of course, Game 6 of the 2012 NBA Finals between San Antonio and Miami.
The other game happened today (Sunday) in the NFC championship with Green Bay at Seattle.
In both cases, the home teams looked doomed before making incredible comebacks.
Miami trailed by five with about 30 seconds left. I don't blame any Heat fan for feeling pessimistic. But while improbable, that was not an impossible deficit to erase. And wouldn't you risk potential heartbreak if there was a chance this happened?
Seattle fans were in a similar situation on Sunday. The Seahawks trailed 19-7 late in the game, and they were lucky to only be down two scores. I wouldn't like those chances, either. But like the Ray Allen shot, incredible plays can occur. Case in point:
This would be near impossible to prove, but I'm sure home fans left early from dozens, if not hundreds, of playoff games like these two. The only difference was their teams never came back to make them look like fools.
But the results don't excuse the process. Why leave a playoff game early when your team has a chance of winning?
(Note: I have never attended a professional playoff game in any sport. I attended an Elite 8 game in 2007, but that game was between two teams -- UCLA and Kansas -- I didn't have huge loyalties to. I was with my dad, a UCLA alum, so no, I didn't leave before the final buzzer.)
Avoiding traffic is one of the main points people bring up. Traffic sucks, I get it. If you're at a regular season game that looks like a loss for your team, I totally understand leaving 30 minutes early so you can avoid traffic, or at least be stuck in it 30 minutes earlier than you would have if you stayed until the end.
But these are playoff games. You paid hundreds-to-thousands of dollars to be there, and you know sporting events take four-five hours (often longer) when you factor in travel. If you needed to be somewhere shortly after the game ended, what's the point of shelling out a concession worker's monthly paycheck to go? Your house or a bar can't be that much worse of a viewing location.
Again, I get it if this is a regular season game. You stuck around until the last 1/20th of the game, and the last 1/20th probably won't change your feelings about the game or the money you spent to spectate. Even if your team came back, the majority of those comebacks won't be meaningful in the standings or ignite Twitter with their unbelievability.
That last sentence doesn't apply to a playoff game. The Seahawks either go to the Super Bowl or go home after Sunday. Those are the only two possibilities. If your team has a chance -- albeit a slim one -- to advance to the biggest game of the year (a game you almost certainly don't have tickets to), why not see if your team can pull of the amazing? Are you superstitious about your affect on your team's performance?
Other than traffic, superstition is one of the few reasons I can come up with for leaving early. Maybe you don't want to see the clock hit zero and see the opponent celebrate. That isn't unreasonable, but is the pain that much sharper when you see the end?
Whatever the reasons, it's hard to find any (in a general sense) that are excusable.
Last Monday, I watched the entire College Football Playoff national championship game at a bar. I'm an Oregon alum, so I was understandably solemn in the final minutes. But even after Ohio State went up 42-20 with under a minute left, I thought about Oregon's chances to pull off something historic. "Kickoff return for a TD, recover onside kick, quick TD, recover onside kick, quick TD, two-point conversion." Those were the actual thoughts running through my head. Ridiculous thoughts, but fans often think irrationally.
I'm also a terrible Oregon fan compared to many. It's not a stretch to say several fans, even casual ones, hold onto any slice of hope in dire circumstances. Teams have made improbable comebacks, and they will again.
Some are calling Sunday's NFC championship game one of the best playoff games in years. Seahawks fans who left early got to watch the incredible finish on TV, outside of a rumbling CenturyLink Field. Minutes earlier, they were contributing to the noise. Now, instead of basking in the euphoria that is attending one of the most exciting playoff games ever, they'll feel as much regret as they will joy. All because they wanted to beat traffic.
The best stories I read this week:
The Man Behind The Swag: Nick Young, by Lee Jenkins, Sports Illustrated.
I knew this would be a good piece because Lee Jenkins, but I wasn't totally expecting the depth of character Jenkins illustrates in Young. A must-read.
"Young wears an open-mouthed grin whether opining about high fashion or reflecting on unspeakable tragedy. He is a bright light in a dark corner, a role he assumed and perfected long before he reached the Lakers. All he had to do was flash that smile and shoot that ball, and he could lift everybody’s spirits, sometimes even his own. “My dad tells me I smile to keep from crying,” Young says. “I don’t know about that. But I do think you sometimes smile to hide.""
To Fall in Love With Anyone, Do This, by Mandy Len Catron, The New York Times.
If you have a crush on someone who doesn't like you back, just force him/her to stare into your eyes for four straight minutes, reports the Times. ... Don't be like this me, click the link and upgrade to a much more thought-provoking, insightful line of thinking.
"So it was with the eye, which is not a window to anything but a rather clump of very useful cells. The sentiment associated with the eye fell away and I was struck by its astounding biological reality: the spherical nature of the eyeball, the visible musculature of the iris and the smooth wet glass of the cornea. It was strange and exquisite."
Technology Has Made Life Different, but Not Necessarily More Stressful, by Claire Cain Miller, The New York Times (The Upshot).
A good piece that recalls a larger point I often argue about with other people (usually older, mostly my mom): technology is changing our lifestyles, not necessarily worsening them.
"Just as the telephone made it easier to maintain in-person relationships but neither replaced nor ruined them, this recent research suggests that digital technology can become a tool to augment the relationships humans already have."
How Headlines Change the Way We Think, by Maria Konnikova, The New Yorker.
I read this last month, but due to the lack of great stories I read this week (sorry) and the excellence of this one, it's worth sharing.
"The headline, it turns out, had done more than simply reframe the article. In the case of the factual articles, a misleading headline hurt a reader’s ability to recall the article’s details. That is, the parts that were in line with the headline, such as a declining burglary rate, were easier to remember than the opposing, non-headlined trend. Inferences, however, remained sound: the misdirection was blatant enough that readers were aware of it and proceeded to correct their impressions accordingly.
The Innocent Man, Part Two, by Pamela Colloff, Texas Monthly.
I shared Part One last week, and I predicted I'd love Part Two as much. Call me Nostradamus.
"Having worn only loose-fitting prison whites for as long as he could remember, he stared at them as he was unshackled: a white button-down shirt, khakis, boxers, and a pair of socks. Unaccustomed to buttons, he fumbled them as he dressed himself. As he slid on the khakis, which felt impossibly soft, he began to cry."
I didn't notice this until Tuesday -- probably because I was in a sad, drunken haze the night before -- but after Ohio State romped Oregon in the College Football Playoff national championship game, its players and coaches dawned championship T-shirts with the words "Undisputed Champs" splayed prominently on the front.
This being the first year of the CFP, not many would dispute those two words. Ohio State responded after an embarrassing loss to Virginia Tech by winning out. Sure, an double overtime win over Penn State didn't look great, but the Buckeyes counteracted that blemish by demolishing a good Wisconsin team and controlling their battles versus top-10 teams Michigan State, Alabama and Oregon. The latter two wins, of course, came in the CFP.
Ohio State's resume is obviously strong. But are they truly undisputed champs?
This is a hard argument for anyone to make. The fact that I'm an Oregon alum who was rooting for the Ducks Monday night doesn't give my opinion much credence. But believe me, I'd say this even if Oregon won.
Any reasonable person can agree that the playoff is better than the BCS. This has been beaten to death, but it can't be said enough: Alabama and Florida State would have played for the national title under the BCS system. That would have been unfair, as the results have shown. But even if you discount that, the playoff system has been wildly more fun than BCS national championship game. The games might not always be as entertaining as they were this year, but most people would prefer three games over one.
The playoff creates more fairness and fun than the BCS. That's indisputable. But it doesn't create undisputed champs.
I'm not saying Ohio State's path to becoming national champs was fluky. The Alabama game was its closest win by a mile after its win over a solid Minnesota team on Nov. 11, and the Buckeyes dominated the Tide after falling early. They looked like the better team in that game as much as they did against Oregon.
But what happens if Alabama chose to run the ball more in that game? What happens if Oregon isn't missing so many key players? What happens if there were eight or 16 teams in the playoff?
Ah, the playoff expansion argument. Many rightfully point out that four teams isn't the fairest system. TCU and Baylor both had great arguments to be one of the four teams. I think TCU was one of the best four teams in the country, maybe the best. We'll never know. Even Boise State might have pulled off an upset or two if the field was expanded to eight or more.
But as much as I think an expanded playoff field would be fairer -- in addition to being exponentially more fun -- it wouldn't truly determine the undisputed champs, at least not always. The best example is, of course, the NFL playoffs. Last year, the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl. I'm certainly not going to argue they weren't the NFL's best team. However, the nearly didn't reach the Super Bowl. The San Francisco 49ers were a tipped Colin Kaepernick pass away from winning the NFC championship game (full disclosure: I'm a 49ers fans). The year before, the 10-6 wild dard Baltimore Ravens won it all. Both New York Giants' Super Bowl-winning teams these past eight years were low seeds.
The NCAA tournament is a decent comparison, as well, and the winner resembles 2014 UConn just as often, if not more, than 2012 Kentucky.
One-game playoff rounds often result in inferior teams scoring upsets. Hell, even the NBA playoffs, in which one of the best teams consistently exits as champions, involves a ton of good fortune. Playoffs do not guarantee the best team will come out on top. They engender randomness.
This does not mean the playoff system in college football should be eliminated. Even in an impractical world where every Division I team played each other in one season, we still wouldn't know who the best team was. Football can't have 162-, 82-game or even 30-game seasons (and to be an even bigger dork, 162-game MLB seasons often aren't enough to determine the best teams; case in point: the 2012 Orioles).
I realize how absurd this all sounds. Does this mindset take away the fun of sports? A little bit, sure. But I still consume and love sports despite viewing them this way. We don't need to heap gobs of meaning onto sports to enjoy them. My favorite baseball team, the San Francisco Giants, has one three World Series in five years. Have I enjoyed them a little less because I know they weren't the best teams each of those years? A little, but it's still fun as hell to watch your team, or any team, defeat the odds and win a championship. Madison Bumgarner shutting down every breathing batter would be nirvana no matter how "meaningful" the games.
Are the Buckeyes undisputed champs? No, because we can't prove "undisputed" in this limited sample known as college football. But they're still champs. No one can dispute that.
CFP national championship story links:
This is by no means a complete list, but these are the best stories about the championship game I read on Tuesday.
1) Let's Look At All The Shitheads Who Thought A Playoff Was A Bad Idea, by Drew Magary, Deadspin.
This story was one of the reasons I wrote the 800-plus words above.
"In 10 years, this will be bigger than the NFL playoffs. They will find a way to expand this to
eight games, put a quadrupleheader of quarterfinal games on for New Year's Day, foster office pools, and 50 million people will tune in for every matchup. It's gonna be awesome. Players will still be paid in fishsticks, but still: Awesome."
2) Duck Hunt: Watching Ohio State Win the First College Football Playoff National Championship, by Bryan Curtis, Grantland.
Curtis is one of my favorite writers, and he delivers another good story here.
"Ohio State 42, Oregon 20 was bound to be deeply weird. The Buckeyes team that wasn’t even favored in its own conference championship game somehow just beat the two best teams in the country back-to-back. The man under center lost his coaches’ spring competitions for playing time and their various tests of moral character. An Ohio State fan stood outside the stadium before the game, drawing from a Miller Lite can and considering the strange season that had unfolded. 'I was just hopin’ to get to the Outback Bowl,' the guy said. '9-3, right?'"
3) 13 notes on Ohio State's Playoff Championship win in JerryWorld, by Spencer Hall, SB Nation.
No championship game recap list of links is complete without Spencer Hall.
"I also know that Ohio State hired the man who burnt their house down in 2006, the one who sort of started the downward spiral of the program into obsolescence in the first place, to rebuild them back into a national power. He did that, but college football remains the weirdest for being one of those sports where you say, Oh, that arsonist? Let's invite him in and hire him to redecorate our house.
P.S. It works!"
4) The night it all ended: Oregon Ducks' resiliency runs out in title game loss to Ohio State (game story), by Andrew Greif, The Oregonian.
Those who've read Greif won't be surprised to see him kill another game story.
"Stocked with a roster brimming with talent and a reservoir of resiliency, the Ducks possessed a MacGyver-like knack for digging themselves out of holes and emerging with hope — or at least a first down."
5) Oregon runs out of magic as injury-riddled season comes to a close in National Championship loss, by Tyson Alger, The Oregonian.
Really good work by Alger on one of the biggest what-ifs of the postseason.
"Receivers buzzed with corners on their backs. Marcus Mariota, the best player to ever put on a Ducks uniform, rolled right. Charles Nelson caught his eye along the sideline. He had a step on his defender and Mariota launched a prayer. Nelson out-leapt his defender, then watched as the ball sailed above his 5-foot-9 frame.
Maybe, at 6-foot-2, Carrington could have made a play. Maybe it was impossible for anyone to reach. But the moment the ball landed in the sidelines, people wondered."
6) National Championship: Ohio State completes the chase, defeats Oregon 42-20, by Joseph Hoyt, Oregon Daily Emerald.
Hoyt is a friend and former colleague, but I'm not linking this story for either of those reasons. This truly is a great postgame story.
"'Hey Vonn,' (Tyvis) Powell yelled. 'Come take a picture with me and the trophy.'
Bell stopped, turned to Powell and then kept walking.
'There’s no time,' Bell said, continuing his trek to the bus. 'I’ll take a photo with the trophy when we win.'”
7) Photos: Ohio State Buckeyes stampede Oregon Ducks 42-20 at College Football Playoff Championship, by Taylor Wilder and Ryan Kang, Oregon Daily Emerald.
My former colleagues will go far in the photojournalism world (assuming they stick with it) because they're already producing professional work like this... as college juniors.
A couple of things from this well-done Tim Rohan profile of Mark Helfrich stood out to me.
1) The photo was taken by Ryan Kang, my former colleague at the University of Oregon's student newspaper, the Daily Emerald. Sad to see Kang struggling so much...
2) This quote:
"'He always did a good job of not making you feel dumb,' said Rudy Carpenter, one of his quarterbacks at Arizona State."
I covered Oregon football last year for the Emerald. On one of my first media days, a fellow reporter told me (paraphrased), "Helfrich gives substance-less answers as much as Chip Kelly did, only Helfrich makes you feel better when he answers." I didn't cover Kelly, but I can vouch for the Helfrich part. I'd attend media sessions after practices every day, and when Helfrich spoke, I felt like he was giving great answers that would make my post-practice recap shine. Then, I would transcribe his interviews and 99 percent of his answers were in coach-speak. Frustrating for reporters but brilliant for a coach trying to carve a positive image of his program.
But I never got the sense that Helfrich was playing the media. He was simply following his job description: deflect, deflect and deflect some more. And he seemed to respect the media, despite dreading talking to us (which coach doesn't?). Kelly seems to enjoy embarrassing reporters; Helfrich seems to do the opposite. He didn't make you feel dumb.
Tonight will be a big test for Helfrich against a great coach in Urban Meyer. A loss will heap additional doubts on Helfrich's already burdened shoulders. A win will make people say, "Huh, Chip is regarded as a better coach but Helfrich actually won a title." It's a flawed argument, but at least it will confirm what we've seen for a while: Helfrich is a good coach.
... that's not the President of Hearst Digital.
On August 8, 2014, the managing editor for the Idaho Falls Post Register sat me down and recited the "spiel," aka -- the introduction to working at the newspaper. It was my first day as a sports reporter for the Register, so the managing editor, Rob, who hired me, walked me through all the employment logistics -- time cards, bill sheets, potential benefits, etc. But he also laid out his hopes and expectations for Register reporters, a fraternity for which I was now initiated.
At the end of his spiel, Rob told me about a writer by the name of Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway, Rob said, would party until 4 in the morning, wake up at 8 a.m., write until the evening, rinse, repeat. Rob wasn't encouraging me to become a functioning alcoholic, of course. He was illustrating the importance of writing. Constantly writing. Even a self-destructive force such as Hemingway could master the craft (sure, Hemingway also benefitted from his once-in-a-generation talent).
Rob's story stuck with me, and I've been writing my fingers off since that day. But I recently read some of my previous work, and I couldn't get past the holes in my stories, even the best ones. I also read this story, written by Tommy Craggs, former Deadspin editor-in-chief who is in charge of all editorial operations at Gawker. I've known for a while that Craggs is a good writer (Grantland nearly snatched him), but Craggs wrote the piece linked above in college. I'm older than he was then, and that college column was better-written than thing I've done. I often feel self-conscious about my writing ability, but this amped my insecurities to 11.
Why am I telling you all this? It's the reason I'm writing this post. I've been spurred to write more. Not that I need to write more, necessarily, but it can't hurt. That's why I'm ending my 16-month Robbing Homers hiatus and vowing to update it frequently. I don't know how often I'll by posting, since my job is priority number one, and I'm sure I'll encounter days where I'd rather read, watch a TV show/movie or hang out with friends. Unless I build an audience (lol), this blog is purely meant for me to keep the writing juices flowing.
That written, I do have a plan for this blog, and it diverges from the original goal. This is not going to be a baseball-only blog anymore. In fact, the title will probably change once I think of something else decent. I'll still write about baseball, but I'm going to focus on all sports, or at least the big four (baseball, basketball, football and soccer -- sorry, hockey). And this is going to be more like Outside the Lines than Pardon the Interruption. In other words, the topics discussed on this site will generally veer toward off the field issue (i.e. human interest stories, business, violence and media). Don't get me wrong, I love breaking down on-field happenings and I'll be doing that in this space. But I care more about the off-field issues. What can I say? I'm a reporter.
All of my posts will include links, as well. Some will serve as citations, others will simply be links to stories I enjoyed. On Sundays, I'll provide links to my favorite stories of the week (see below). The volume of links will vary.
I don't expect this blog to turn me into Hemingway, or even an obscure scribe for an average newspaper. But I love to write and I express my thoughts most effectively in this medium. That can't be overstated. I'm doing this for fun more than anything else. Becoming a better writer and building an audience (LOL) would be gravy.
Best stories I read this week*:
1) Suspensions to Oregon players bring NCAA marijuana policy into question, by Pete Thamel, Sports Illustrated.
Full disclosure: I'm an Oregon alum and I'm rooting for the Ducks tomorrow. But my thoughts would be the same if players from Ohio State were suspended for smoking weed. Thamel provides a well-reported column on an issue that shouldn't be.
"The intention of this column isn’t to offer a pass to Carrington or Forde; both made immature mistakes that could cost their team the national title.
...
Still, no one is sure how much marijuana each smoked to flag the test. As marijuana becomes more integrated in society, it’s probably wise for the NCAA to, well, roll with it."
2) The Blame for the Charlie Hebdo Murders, by George Packer, The New Yorker.
An excellent reflection on Wednesday's tragedy in Paris.
"Others want to lay the blame entirely on the theological content of Islam, as if other religions are more inherently peaceful—a notion belied by history as well as scripture."
3) The Intercept’s ‘Serial’ Trolling Is Just Mind-Boggling, by Martin Austermuhle, Medium.
I'm a big "Serial" fan. I've listened to every episode, read several articles discussing it and pondered its quality. Some have done a little more than ponder, as Austermuhle explains.
"Being adversarial is an important trait for a journalist. ... But Vargas-Cooper and Silverstein seem to take being adversarial as its own virtue — truth and evidence don’t really matter, as long as what you’re saying cuts against the grain."
4) Hearing Is Believing, by James Atlas, The New York Times.
Speaking of podcasts, Atlas dives into the growth of the form.
"Listening to a podcast is like watching a movie, listening to music and reading a book all at once."
5) The Case for Reparations, by Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Atlantic.
This is Coates at his best. Thought-provoking, strong and beautiful writing.
"'The reason black people are so far behind now is not because of now,' Clyde Ross told me. 'It’s because of then.'"
6) The Innocent Man, Part One, by Pamela Colloff, Texas Monthly.
I had been excited to read this two year-old true crime story for months, and it didn't disappoint. I have not finished Part Two, but I have no doubt it is as excellent as Part One.
"When he broke down as Anderson held up a succession of grisly crime-scene photos, his reaction was seen not as an outpouring of grief but as the remorse of a guilty man."
*In Sunday posts, I will mostly link to stories published during the previous week, but I will always include at least one story published previously. Those will usually be old stories I finally got around to. Other times, if I don't read an old story that week, I'll link to a favorite of mine. Also, I'm setting a false precedent this week by providing only one sports link.
