Check out the Daily Take

I've created a new blog to showcase my daily take on the sports world - http://zacksdailytake.blogspot.com

I'll still use this blog every once in a while when I really feel like writing on a topic, but for a daily look at the world, check out the new blog.

Zack

It's Not About the Bike...It's About Lance

This past Sunday, Lance Armstrong rolled down the Champs-Elysee, sipping on gin and juice (or at least a little champagne), and holding up 7 fingers to signify his 7 straight Tour de France wins. Lance was living strong. Another 2,000+ miles through the Alps were done; another Tour finished while wearing yellow. At the end of Lance’s last bike race ever, a few things are certain:

• Lance has officially beaten cancer. And not just beaten it – he’s taken it by the throat, slammed it to the ground, and given it a good ol’ fashioned tail whoopin’. Apparently, Lance is strong enough to be Sheryl’s man.
• The Tour de France is remarkable. More than 2000 miles of grueling misery, with climbs and turns that test the limits of human endurance – all of it juxtaposed against some of the most beautiful mountains and countryside human beings will see on this Earth.
• Anyone else amazed by the TV coverage that exists today for the Tour? The sheer science of it is mind-boggling. I heard a guy on ESPN radio talking about it the other day and it blew my mind. Think about most “normal” sporting events – they occur in stadiums, arenas, or race tracks. Cameras are pre-wired and pre-positioned for all the best angles, with the feeds going to a production truck and sent out to the world. Then you have the Tour. There’s some dude on the back of a motorcycle that’s going 35-50 mph, filming a pack of 100 cyclists in the peloton who are pedaling as fast as they can while separated by mere inches. There’s no pre-wiring at the Tour. In fact, how the picture gets from the back of the motorcycle to a production truck to our homes, LIVE, while at the top of some of the world’s largest mountains, is beyond me. Pretty cool stuff.
• What Lance Armstrong has done over the past 7 years is nothing short of ridiculous. He’s one of the greatest athletes of our time, one of the guys who, when I’m 75 years old and trying to explain what he did to my grandkids, I won’t be able to do him justice. I think Bill Simmons of ESPN.com Page 2 fame said it best when he said that he’s about 99% sure that when, in 2099, ESPN does their “50 Best Athletes of the past 100 years”, Lance will be in the top 15 (along with Tiger). Makes you appreciate what we’re seeing.

I’ve written before about the superlative epidemic that exists in the media nowadays. I guess I need to amend my thesis a bit. Our hyperbolic nature makes us crave extremes. With every sports draft we try and figure out who will be the next superstar. We long for another Michael Jordan – as if the first (and only) wasn’t enough. And the theory pervades in all areas of life – what’s the best car, the finest hotel, the next Big Thing. We are suckers for potential (Tech bubble anyone?), and we want to rank everything. The funny thing is, after a thing, or person, or company has run its course, our retrospective lenses are far more critical, unwilling to admit that what is so recent really could be that good. I guess it goes back to our “Good ol’ Days” gene – the one that makes us think that everything was somehow better long ago.

So even before Lance stepped off the podium in Paris, sportswriters and talking heads around the globe were chomping at the bit to find Armstrong’s rightful place on the list of “greatest athletes of all time.” The conventional argument is that Armstrong isn’t the greatest because a) he rides a bike b) he might not even be the best cyclist of all time (Eddie Mercx) and c) he couldn’t play any other sports well.

I can’t speak much for arguments a) and b), as my cycling knowledge extends only to the names of the great Tour de France champions of the past. But in thinking about argument c), especially Skip Bayless’ version, I have to disagree with the logic.

Bayless’ contention is that in order to be a great athlete on his list, you would have to have the ability to play all sports well (or, if not all sports, you get bonus points for being able to play wo or more sports well at a high level). It’s the idea that if you grew a bunch of people from early childhood and reared them to only play sports, teaching the various fundamentals to all games from an early age, the best overall at all sports would be the best athlete. Bayless thus says that Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders are better athletes than Michael Jordan because they were able to play football and baseball at the highest levels, while Jordan faded into baseball oblivion.

Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders were freaks. And if you tested their skill sets (speed, quickness, agility, strength), they may have tested out as better “athletes” on paper than Michael Jordan. But the point of athleticism is to apply your physical (and I would contend, mental) skills to a game or sport, in competition with others. And if we look at athlete like that, there is no question in anyone’s mind that Jordan is far and away a better athlete than Bo, Deion, and 99.9% of everyone that has ever lived.

Who’s smarter – the guy with the 140 IQ who writes the algorithm behind Google, or the one with a 145 IQ who sits in a basement and figures out ways to bomb government buildings. On paper, the terrorist is smarter. But it’s application that matters, and I think credit has to be given to individuals who realize what they’re good at, have amazing ablility, and go with it.

Lance Armstrong won seven straight Tour de France titles against the best cyclists from around the world. Even if you take out the doping allegations, the battle with cancer, and the pressure of being number 1, taking the title 7 straight times is unbelievable. To win the Tour, one must be able to sprint with the sprinters, climb with the climbers, and survive until the end. Lance can do all 3, and when it mattered, he was the best at all 3. No one else was even close.

Cycling purists will claim that Lance’s victories are tainted somehow by the fact that he trains the whole year for this one race, while other cyclists ride numerous smaller, more forgiving courses on the racing circuit. Does it matter? If Lance went out and won 30 more races against watered down fields, would he be any better than he is today? Does anyone care that the Patriots lost to the Dolphins last year? Or that UNC lost to Santa Clara? No. Because champions are those who are able to defy all others to win the biggest prize, the one that everyone wants. And Lance is the ultimate racing champion.

I’m not saying that Lance Armstrong is the best athlete of all time. In fact, I’m pretty sure he isn’t. What I’m saying is give the man his due. He deserves it.

As the World Turns...

So this is my 3rd attempt today to update the blog. On the first try, I started writing and got about a paragraph in before I realized that what I was writing was absolutely and unequivocally crap. So I deleted it, ran three laps around the office screaming "my blog is crap", poured hot coffee on my head, and ate a rank cucumber I found in the office fridge (well, maybe all of that isn't true).

So then came try number 2 - I managed to come up with 2 or 3 original thoughts, felt good about the overall piece, and clicked on the "Publish" button. I was greeted by the evil "This page cannot be displayed" page. The horror didn't hit me until a second later when I went back and realized that a) my blog hadn't updated and b) my work was lost.

At this point I decided a few things :

• I'll always save my work before publishing.
• Technology can be pretty frustrating sometimes. (But in the end, "I love technology/But not as much as you and me..."
• That I would embark on a personal mission to singlehandedly bring down the Google conglomerate (which happens to run this Blogger site). This vendetta lasted approximately 2.7 seconds before I realized that the idea was idiotic. Google is too good right now to mess with. As if it wasn't enough that the share price has gone from $85 to over $300 in less than a year, the Google Maps program is off the hook. For those of you who still use MapQuest...well, I feel for you. (If you haven't tried Google maps, click here to try)

But the fact that the blog messed up ends up being a perfect segue into what I really wanted to put out there for you. I've been thinking a lot lately about just how much the world has changed in the past 5 years. Does it really seem like a little over 5 years ago that we were all worried about Y2K and people were stocking up on bottled water and non-perishables while worrying worse than Humpty Dumpty? And if you try and think back to what the world was like 10, 15, 20 years ago - can you even remember. Try and remember, if you will, when:

• you thought you were the man for having a "car phone" or a "bag phone"
• you were amazed by how much better your Mariah Carey sounded on CD instead of cassette tape. (I hear there were these things called 8 tracks too...and records...hmm, I'll have to look into that)
• you used Prodigy. Or CompuServ. Or AOL for that matter.
• you waited until the a) evening news or b) morning paper to find out the latest news, stock quotes, sports scores, etc.
• you had a Rolodex
• when you wanted to do business with someone you picked up the phone and called or met somewhere and had a meal instead of sending countless emails back and forth. (Personally, I can't relate. Did "work" even happen before email?)
• you had a question and you immediately went to the bookshelf and opened an encyclopedia to find the answer
• you (or your kid) thought that Super Mario Brothers, R.B.I Baseball, or Contra was the greatest thing imaginable. (Ok, so maybe some things haven't changed)
• you had never heard of eBay, Google, Amazon, Cingular, Yahoo, or Dell.
• you actually cared about (enough to watch at least): Major League Baseball or the NBA.

What I'm saying is that the world is changing, and changing fast. I have absolutely no idea where it's going next, but trying to think about it is fun, exciting, scary, mind-boggling, intense - all at the same time. I was going to go into more detail, but Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban beat me to the punch with a blog entry of his own. In his eyes, people who long for "the good ol' days" simply don't remember what those days were like. It's an interesting take.

If you feel like clicking on the link to see Cuban's take, I highly recommend it - it's good. Let me also say that 99% of the time I think that Mark Cuban is a cocky-pompous-showboating-looking for the spotlight punk who happened to be in the right place at the right time to ride the technology bubble all the way to billions of dollars. (In actuality, Cuban is probably a really smart dude, I just can't stand the way he acts sometimes). Anyway, this is one of that 1% when I think he's got some good points...so enjoy.

Zack

End of the Week Links

It’s the end of the week, so I thought it would be appropriate to share a few links – stories, articles, and facts that I’ve found interesting in the past week. Some you’ve probably seen, some your probably haven’t. Enjoy.

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As I post the first link, I am reminded of one year ago, when I was living in an apartment full of recent college grads with no jobs, little hope on the horizon, and an insatiable appetite for Halo. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't know about www.despair.com back then.

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I’ve never been to Mount Rushmore, so I can’t attest for their majesty personally, but for some reason I saw this article and was blown away by it. I mean, there are freaking President’s faces carved into a huge mountain. And that’s not even the best part. Dudes are rapelling down George Washington’s nose and power-washing lichens off of it. Awesome.

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I don’t know what’s more interesting about this article: That Freddy Adu makes $550,000 a year before endorsements or that I actually get paid more than a good number of real-life professional athletes in America’s top soccer league. NON-PROFITS! (On a side note, if you read the article, there are actually a good number of guys in MLS who are making really good money…not overvalued NBA money, but pediatrician/ lawyer/ accountant money…which isn’t bad for kicking around a ball.)

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If you feel like 2005 has been dragging along, there’s a reason why. The International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service in Paris has decided to add a “leap second” to 2005 to make up for the gradual slowing of the Earth’s rotation. Seriously. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

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I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Raymond Felton = My Favorite Player. EVER. (And Sean May isn’t bad either.) Click here to link to the boys Meet the Press comments.

Bye Bye Bulldog

I was running a few months ago in Greensboro, a few weeks before my wedding. As I trudged up a hill on Friendly Avenue I saw a faint figure in the distance, a fellow jogger out for a Saturday morning run. As we neared each other, it was clear that this figure in the distance was not just another faceless passerby. It turned out to be Coach Griffin - my old PE teacher from Western Guilford High School. We stopped our runs just long enough to exchange hellos and give the old 10 second life updates. He congratulated me on my impending marriage, and before long the headphones were back on and the chance encounter was over.

As we went our separate ways, the mile and half back home saw my mind filled with memories of high school. I'm a sucker for reminiscing, and I tried to remember how things used to be. "Coach Griffin looks good," I thought. Thinner and fitter than he used to. He'd always been a big man. Not fat - just big. I guess it comes with the territory.

On the exterior, he played the part of man's man to a T. Griffin was a teacher by day and assumed the role of athletic director at school. But even those who didn't know him that well could tell that Coach Griffin lived for 4:00 and football practice. I never played organized football, and I can't even imagine how he did it. But it seemed that every year I was in high school, Coach Griffin took a group of kids, many of whom had little else to look forward to, and made them believe.

Coach Griffin's teams didn't always win. In fact, for the last couple of years of my high school experience they were downright awful. But Charlie never changed. No matter how good his teams were, you knew that on autumn Friday nights you'd see Charlie wearing a gray Western sweatshirt, about 10 yards onto the field, pleading his case with the officials until his face was redder than a beet. Boy, could he yell, and I'm sure it was no fun to be on the other side of one of his rants.

But as sure as we all were that Coach Griffin would be giving it his all on Friday nights, we were far more certain that he'd be there on Monday with a smiling face, twinkle firmly placed in eye, and, most likely, mischievous scheme in mind. For beneath the hard exterior there was a teddy bear of a man. Everyone felt comfortable talking to him, and you were certain that for some of his players, Coach Griffin was more of a father figure than they'd ever had.

Griff had an affinity for practical jokes, and gym classes filled with guillible teens provided him an endless supply of fresh meat. Once he convinced a classmate of mine that the school would likely be destroyed over the weekend by a catastrophe of epic proportions. The conditions, he explained, were just right for two separate hurricanes - one from the north, and one from the south - and they were expected to meet in Guilford County. This "durricane" would no doubt mean doom for us all. Sadly, more than a few of my peers left gym class afraid for their lives.

More than anything, Griffin was the Everyman at Western Guilford. His class (PE) was a melting pot of abilities, personalities and stories, and Griff took time to know most of them. You came to expect Charlie at the high school - his booming voice, trademark silliness, and gentle personality. He's one of the reasons I loved going to high school at Western Guilford.

Last Thursday night, Tracy and I received a phone call just before 10 o'clock, and we could tell that there was bad news awaiting us. And then it came, like a punch to the stomach - Coach Griffin was dead. He had been out running that afternoon, and his massive heart gave way.

In the blink of an eye, Griff was gone.

Four Heels in the Lottery 

The NBA Draft - Total Domination

The NBA gets a bad rap these days, and rightfully so at times, as it seems that the league is full of a bunch of overpaid high school kids who don't "really know how to play the game." This conventional wisdom is only partly true; there are many, many players in the League who are WAY overvalued. But I guess that's what we buy into when we have a free market economy. People will pay to go to games, networks will pay to broadcast them, jerseys are still bought, etc (however, the ratings are way down compared to year's past.) And there may be some truth in the idea that the game isn't being played "right". It's played differently. So maybe the way it used to be played is "right". Regardless, the NBA still boasts incredible athletes who can do things athletically that normal human beings cannot possibly fathom. And they get paid handsomely for it. So up until last night, I was one of the few remaining NBA fans I know.

I now know a lot more.

With the 5th and 13th picks in the 1st round, the Charlotte Bobcats picked up two local boys, Raymond Felton and Sean May. Chalk it up to savvy marketing, a lack of who they "really wanted", or just plain luck - but however you want to spin it, the Bobcats were the winners of the 1st round last night. At least for right now. They became THE story of the night. By picking two guys from the same team (and not just any old team...the NCAA champs!), from a hometown school, the Bobcats became newsworthy for about the 3rd time in their existence (with the formation of their team and picking Okafor #1 last year as the other two times). They made the UNC alums in Charlotte, NC, and SC instantly interested in the Bobcats. They made ACC fans in the area aware of what's going on. Word has it, they're planning on beginning advertising TODAY with Sean and Raymond together. The tagline? GET CLOSER...to the National Champs. You have to love it.

As for the rest of the evening, the only story that may have been bigger than the Bobcats picking Felton and May was the fact that the lottery was a Tar Heel party. Marvin #2 to Atlanta, the Bobcat boys, and McCants #14 to Minnesota. Roy was on camera more than Jay Bilas and there was a lot of love between the boys and their families as their respective names got called. It was good to see THE FAMILY together, and you have to think that somewhere in the UNC basketball office there's a tape of last night's festivities to pop in when the big recruits come in town. There's nothing like, "hey, come to Carolina and in a few years you'll be part of a family, an NBA lottery pick, and an instant millionaire."

Some other random thoughts from the evening:

• Was Andrew Bogut gellin' like Magellan? Or was that 100% pure Down Under grease he was rockin'?
• The analysts were showcasing their stereotypical extremist journalism, with every player either being a great or atrocious pick. Our entire news media has turned into one big hyperbole contest, with everyone fighting to have the most compelling opinion. The problem in this is multifold, with the biggest problem being that there's a lot of broadcasters/journalists that aren't good at it. They try and force opinions and end up looking like fools. In an effort to be contrarian, they muddle their logic and resort to mindless blather.
  

Then there's Stephen A. Smith. He's good at it. You don't have to like him (in fact, you probably either love him or hate him). But he is what he is, and that's an extremeist broadcaster who paints everything with hyperbole. Last night, I loved him. First off, I thought Tirico was going to have to hand him a paper bag to prevent hyperventilation when the Raptors chose Charlie Villaneuva with the 7th pick. Then, after the Clippers picked at 12, he went into a primal rage about how some of these teams needed to focus on picking proven players, and began screaming into the camera that "there are NATIONAL CHAMPIONS sitting over there to my left..." Picks 13 and 14 were May and McCants. End of Story.

• Orlando's #11 pick, Spaniard Fran Vazquez, seems destined to join Nikoloz Tskitishvil in the Foreign Flop of Fame. Call me crazy, but I see no Pau Gasol in Vazquez. The highlights they showed last night show Vazquez pulling my dad's patented bulldozer move in the lane in some European league. Something tells me he won't be able to do that against Amare Stoudemire (or even the Jason Collins for that matter). Combine this with the fact that he needs to add about 30 pounds and can't speak English, and is basically the same size as Dwight Howard, who's already playing for Orlando...and I say he's pretty much a guaranteed bust. For those of you who are have no idea who Nikoloz Tskitishvil is - my point exactly.
  
• Anyone else catch Andrew Bynum's mom after her 17 year old son was picked #10 by the Lakers? Mrs. Bynum decided to skip the customary bear hug and kisses and went straight for the "my son just became a millionaire and I'm getting a new house" celebration. Seriously. I don't think Bynum shook hands with David Stern before Mrs. Bynum had already called in and quit her job.
  
• Moment of the night - Rashad McCants hears his name and proceeds to give approximately 3,748 hugs to his mom, sister, dad, Roy Williams, random white dudes, the ushers, etc. When he finally gets on stage David Stern is zoning out worse than Peter Gibbons and McCants, huge grin on his face, taps him on the shoulder so they can take the pictures. Classic Rashad.
  
• Does Roy have to wear that same sport coat and tie for every big event. It's the same tie he wore on the national championship night. The man is sponsored by Alexander Julian. Can we get him some new threads?
• Looks like the Clippers are really committed to losing. Seeing how Duke players seem to flounder in the NBA, the Clips took Daniel Ewing with their 2nd round pick. L.A's other team now has Brand, Maggette, Avery, and Livingston on the roster. To be honest, Brand and Maggette have had good NBA careers and are starting to dispel some of the historical evidence about Duke players in the NBA. Still, there haven't been too many Dukies that have been winners on the next level. Maybe it's because K doesn't consider himself a basketball coach.

dynasty. 

The Inaugural Post

Wow. It's an epic day. I've entered the world of Blogging.

I entered the message board world while a young pup, honing my skills on the BigSoccer boards, trading barbs with LuvDaBears while watching in amazement the wonder that was, and is, Sandon Mibut.

Then came the real world. Or the quasi-real world. During the fall / winter 2004 I was able to further develop my passions for the posting world...and my disdain for the incredible amount of rubbish that gets posted on those sites.

And now it's the new frontier: The Manser Blog. Where will it go? What will it be? I have no idea. I don' t even really know what a blog is supposed to be. So it will be a pure ride, free from any preconceived notions of what it should or shouldn't be. Pure, unadulterated Manser opinions, links, and hopefully, entertainment.

Learn it. Live it. Love it.