Know Your Is(a)iah Thomases

Upon hearing the name Isaiah Thomas, most people think of the famous Detroit Pistons’ point guard, whose name was actually spelled ‘Isiah’. But devout Husky fans might think first of the freshman many expect to return UW men’s basketball to its previous level of excellence. And old-timers might think only of the publisher and American Revolutionary. To minimize your confusion, Dear Reader, we provide you with the following guide. Now you, too, can know your Is(a)iah Thomases.

Thomas is described as "strikingly handsome" by his biographer, Clifford K. Shipton.

Isaiah Thomas, 1749 - 1831
Training: Apprenticed at the age of seven to the printer Zechariah Fowle, who was “unstable and irritable,” according to the biography, Isaiah Thomas: Printer, Patriot, and Philanthropist, by Clifford K. Shipton.
Punishment Endured: Fowle was too lazy to discipline Thomas.
Declaration of Independence: Thomas is famous for performing the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence. However, he first declared his own independence by walking out on his apprenticeship with Fowle at the age of sixteen.
Accomplishments: Performed the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence. Reported on the battles of Lexinton and Concord. Published a semi-weekly newspaper called the Massachusetts Spy. Founded the American Antiquarian Society, devoted to preserving the antiquities of America.
Achilles Heel: Headstrong personality.
Future prospects: Dim.

We're baffled, too, Mr. Thomas.

Isiah Thomas 1961 -
Training: Coached in college by Bob Knight, who was widely known for being unstable and irritable.
Punishment Endured: Knight kicked Thomas out of practice on a regular basis.
Declaration of Independence: Having withstood two years of Knight’s abrasive coaching, Thomas left college in 1981 for the greenback pastures of the NBA, enabling him to provide for his previously poor family. (At an alumni dinner the next year, Thomas made Knight uncomfortable by recounting the coach’s use of the term “sunt.”)
Accomplishments: Won two NBA championships with the Detroit Pistons and made multiple All-Star appearances. Considered one of the best point guards of all time. His great success as a player is nearly matched by his failure as a manager. As General Manager and then coach of the New York Knicks, he presided over a stretch of epic dysfunction and profligate spending, capped by the organization’s loss in an $11.6 million sexual harassment suit over Thomas’ behavior.
Achilles Heel: Overweight big men. Overpaid former stars. Sexual harassment trials.
Future Prospects: Reputation is down, but Thomas has a keen eye for young talent and a knack for landing in good situations.

His future's so bright, we had to photoshop in some shades.

Isaiah Thomas 1989? -
Training: Apprenticed to himself. According to a Facebook post by a reliable friend of the author, 12-year-old Isaiah Thomas dominated high school and college kids at a Tacoma Bally’s Fitness. His more senior competitors rolled their eyes when he informed them of his name. He has since been taken under the wings of Lorenzo Romar, Nate Robinson, and Jamal Crawford.
Punishment Endured: Romar pulled Thomas from the starting lineup for showing up to pre-game warmups one minute late because he was having his ankles taped.
Declaration of Independence: At age 17, Thomas left his family and his hometown of Tacoma to attend South Kent School in Connecticut.
Accomplishments: Posted better high school numbers than Isiah Thomas. Averaged over 40 points per game in the state high school tournament. Jumped over a 6’9” teammate for a dunk in practice.
Achilles Heel: Errant jump shots, cheap fouls, Strawberry Pop-Tarts.
Prospects: The name doesn’t lie, Dawg fans. This pup is headed for greatness.

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Husky Hoop Guide: Your Glossary for the 08-09 Season

The Washington Huskies men's basketball team kicks off its season against Portland tomorrow. Here is a glossary to help you get acquainted with the team:

Blizzard – Whenever any two of the three white Dawgs (Jon Brockman, Artem Wallace, Joe Wolfinger) are on the court together.

Blizzard Supreme – Whenever all three of the aforementioned are on the court together. Unlikely to occur for reasons of offense, defense.

Duran Duran Duran! – Chris Berman play-by-play call for three-pointers made by Joe “Hungry Like The” Wolfinger.

The Redistributionists – Venoy Overton and Isaiah Thomas. Overton was originally slated to bestow his athletic riches upon USC, while Isaiah Thomas spent two years at South Kent School developing his game before coming to the UW. Both players are notorious lefties.

Bargain Doll – Meta-nickname for Quincy Pondexter, comprised of pre-existing nicknames Q-Pon (coupon), and QP (as in the doll). Like an inexpensive children's plaything, Pondexter catches fire easily (see: 25 points in 26 minutes against Arizona in 2007) but cannot necessarily be relied upon for consistent production.

Femerling! – Curse shouted by Joe Wolfinger whenever he re-breaks his foot. It is a reference to Patrick Femerling, the likeable former Husky center who many nevertheless believe cursed future UW 7-footers by failing to secure Rip Hamilton’s rebound in the Sweet 16, returning to Germany shortly thereafter, and looking faintly like a muppet.

Venoying – Punny adjective opposing point guards use to describe Overton’s manic ballhawking defense.

Levi Bill – Former Compton youth sports coach referenced by Romar in a speech at a Big Brothers Big Sisters fundraiser in 2002. Levi Bill always wore Levi's Jeans. He was known for unfailingly, uncritically encouraging his players, and for knowing little about the sports he coached. Critics have accused him of designing some of Washington’s halfcourt sets.

January 22 – My mom’s birthday, and also the day Jockdreams.com named John Brockman “Jock of the Day.” No word yet on whether the latter is an annually recurring honor.

Cameron 50 Cent – Assistant coach Cameron Dollar's club persona. Useful for recruiting visits.

Lorenzo “Super” Romario – Head coach’s Halloween costume.

“This Is Scott Suggs” – declaration that follows highlight plays by freshman from St. Louis. Often accompanied by Jay-Z soundtrack, comparisons to Bill Russell and Michael Jordan, and slick YouTube production.

Fun Fact: 41% of current Husky players and coaches wear mustaches.*

With practice, you too can dunk like the Huskies!

* This fact subject to change.

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Touring the Association: Seattle Ballers in the NBA

It’s a shame that FSN isn't broadcasting the Blazers up here. The team is a treasure, as anyone who watched them against the Rockets on TNT last night can attest. Husky fans were given a fun flashback when Brandon Roy twisted and elevated for a game-winning buzzer-beating three. (As a senior, he hit two buzzer-beating jumpers in the same game against Arizona, though Arizona ended up winning.) But the best thing about watching the Blazers is their bench; there’s no letdown for viewers when the second string comes in because it bringsthe Flamboyant Spanish duo of Sergio Rodriguez and Rudy Fernandez, as well as one of two gangly jumping jacks, depending on who started: Travis Outlaw or Frenchman Nicolas Batum. In the variegated world of the Association, few things are more exciting than international flash.

Last week I wrote about former Rainier Beach Vikings Nate Robinson and Jamal Crawford, and their impending zenith in Mike D’Antoni’s system. It’s been ups and downs since, with the Knicks losing more than they’ve won and Crawford shooting poorly, but Robinson holding up his end of the bargain. Yesterday, ESPN put up a video about their newest teammate, rookie Danilo Gallinari. It’s called LZ’s Cafe, and in it writer LZ Granderson dines with Gallinari, Blassie or Andre style, and discusses life. Gallinari is known in Italy as Il Gallo, or the Rooster. It’s a fine nickname, and I hope it sticks, but this picture of him reminded me of this.

Since one trope of hoop nicknames is to include pigmentation (Chocolate Thunder, White Chocolate, the Vanilla Gorilla, etc.) and since the image is a throwback, I think it’d be appropriate to dig up some old school racial nomenclature and call Gallinari “The Spree of the Caucasas”. It’s a mouthful, no doubt, but it also sounds like an Obama primary campaign strategy, which of course sounds like a winner. The Rooster has been foreordained by the man with whom he shares half a hue. (Another option would be to allow him to keep the Italian article while translating the noun, making him “Ill Rooster”.)

Speaking of Whitey, Spencer Hawes continues to impress, the result of finally getting his body fat below ten percent (it’s amazing how long it takes some athletes to figure that one out). He also still looks like Michael Phelps. Former Franklin star Aaron Brooks is shooting 50% from three-point range and still looks like Chris Rock. And his Franklin forebear Jason “Jet” Terry can still fly at 31. Now if only someone would sign Will Conroy.

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The Impending Zenith of Gotham's Rainier Beach Ballers

“Crawford stunned the Indians with his defense and dazzled the crowd with his open-court moves. He had three dunks in the period, including one off an alley-oop pass from guard Nate Robinson.”
-Seattle Times, December 5, 1998

It’s not news that former Rainier Beach ballers Nate Robinson and Jamal Crawford play together in the New York Knicks backcourt. They reunited in 2005 under killjoy Larry Brown and labored on through the the Isiah Thomas era, a circus of sexual harassment litigation and jiggly-tits big men. What is news is that Robinson and Crawford have been unleashed, finally, to play with the fast-paced, fire-and-ice panache that originally made them household names in the 206.

Their new coach, Mike D’Antoni, sports a middle manager’s mustache, but in his day he played with such flair that he was idolized by a young Kobe Bryant. His teams are exhilaratingly fast and fluid; Phoenix came just-the-tip close to burying the bump-and-grind slow-ball paradigm that rivals guaranteed contracts as a cause of NBA fan boredom. They were fast but not hurried, frequent but not wasteful shooters. In fact, despite their shoot-early-and-often approach, they regularly had the most efficient offense in the league. Much credit goes to the personnel, of course—any offense featuring Steve Nash and Amare Stoudemire will be efficient—but D’Antoni’s system allowed them to flourish.

After the stifling rigidity of Brown and the comic anarchy of Thomas, D’Antoni’s practiced chaos is the Goldilocks “just right” for the Seattle duo. At heart, they are breakneck improvisers, made restless by the half-court game. While Robinson plays with passion and Crawford with cool reserve, both rely on uncommon speed, quickness, and body control—like former D’Antoni charge Leandro Barbosa, but with more moves.

It may be counterintuitive, but D’Antoni’s run-and-gun system actually curbs or harnesses their worst instincts, as long as neither is relied on too heavily to run the point. The goal of getting a shot within seven seconds precludes the byzantine crossover combos that Crawford uses to set up his long jumpers. And Robinson’s quick trigger—he’s a much better shooter than many fans realize—will be just what the doctor ordered.

Robinson and Crawford aren't All-Stars, but D’Antoni’s system allows them to get back to what they did in high school: running teams out of the gym. It’s easy to idealize that cartoonishly fast, creative style while forgetting the talent gap that helped make it possible. But these guys are cartoonishly fast and creative, and they—and we—deserve a coach who takes advantage of that.

Some clips of Robinson and Crawford in action.

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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I Can't Quit You, NBA

Chicago Bulls forward Luol Deng

This won’t be the most popular column with Seattle fans, but I’ll be damned if I don’t love the NBA. (Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, I suppose.) It’s not just the best ball in the world, it’s also some of the best drama in sports. Here's a quick look at a few storylines that have this fan excited for the the upcoming season.

Fixing the New York Knicks:

For the last several years, the Knicks have been ground zero for NBA drama. Larry Brown openly sabotaged their 2005-2006 season while attempting to ruin the psyche of every young player who came within 100 feet of him. And former team President Isiah Thomas ran the franchise into the ground with chronic mismanagement, topping it it off by losing an $11.6 million sexual harassment trial to a former employee.

Those guys are gone now, but many of their players are not, leaving new coach Mike D’Antoni in a difficult situation. it’s like following up George W. Bush but having to keep his cabinet. D’Antoni’s top foil will likely be insane ballhog/laconic Lothario Stephon Marbury, whose inspirational exercise video will hit stores in time for Christmas, and who said this of D’Antoni’s system:

"From what I've seen, he allowed Steve Nash to dribble the ball for 22 seconds. He allows guys to shoot coming down on the break, one-on-three. For me, I like that style of basketball."

Can he metastasize to the point that the Knicks buy out his contract?

Another Knick to keep an eye on is UW alum Nate Robinson, who’s flourished in D’Antoni’s system in preseason games, averaging nearly a point a minute. He'll be joined in the backcourt by Rainier Beach alum Jamal Crawford and amateur stripper Chris Duhon. And don't forget about rookie lottery pick Danilo "The Rooster" Gallinari. At just 20 years old, he already has a bulging disc in his back. But he also already has a guaranteed contract and his own shoe:

He ain’t gonna die!

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Seattle Sports Fans: On Our Own

The indefatigable Bounce proved defatigable the last couple weeks; it returns to find Seattle sports the same charred carcass as a fortnight past. If anything, the situation’s worse: the NBA pre-season has begun, so those withered remains are being triumphantly dry-humped by money-hemorrhaging oligarch Okie owners. (Mr. Anti-Gay Marriage, Aubrey McClendon, likes ‘em lifeless.)

My esteemed colleague Duff McKagan (man, it’s fun to say that) offered his insights on our moribund sports scene yesterday. Suffice it to pun, this ain’t no paradise city!

“We’re like San Diego with shitty weather,” complained my friend TC. (Apologies to San Diego, which at least has LaDainian Tomlinson.) “If you're from Buffalo or Cleveland or Philly, everyone remembers your humiliations. No one really knows how bad we've had it. No one recognizes.”

He’s right. So many times we’ve come so close only to be on the wrong end of a whistle. The Western Conference Finals in ’93; The Sweet Sixteen in ’98; The Super Bowl in ’06; The Sweet Sixteen in ’06. But sports is a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately affair, and the answer is, “not much.” The Mariners established the elite double-century club, becoming the first team ever to spend $100 million for 100 losses. The Seahawks are washed up like medical supplies on a New Jersey beach. Getting a Ty Willingham team to stay competitive in the second half is like getting an unsupervised Aubrey McClendon to stay celibate in a morgue. There are dreams and there are pipe dreams.

But there are also hoop dreams. Jon Brockman, Isaiah Thomas, Venoy Overton, Quincy Pondexter: Seattle turns its lonely eyes to you. You’re a bunch of barely legal ballers being asked to play under the weight of vicariously sought glory, to fulfill the dreams of the frustrated masses. Good luck.

In the meantime, we can get some pleasure from the successes of underdogs like the Buffalo Bills and the Tampa Bay Rays, and we can look forward to the arrival of Sounders FC. Really, though, if we’re wise, we’ll pin our hopes not on kids who can’t drink or teams that aren’t here, but on ourselves. The time has come to sublimate our frustration and grief into our own extraordinary athletic feats, like Brandon Ehrlich has. When was the last time you kicked your ceiling? Self-reliance is the clarion call of the new era of Seattle sports. On that note, I’ll let my favorite coked-out '80s star take it away. Tell ‘em how it’s gotta be, Bobby:

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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YouTube Nostalgia for Depressed Seattle Sports Fans

The Bounce column will return next week. Until then, let these YouTube clips help you through this sad stretch in Seattle sports:

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Ty Willingham Suspends Season to Confront Financial Crisis

University of Washington football coach Tyrone Willingham announced that he is suspending the Huskies' season, just one day before the team's game against the favored Stanford Cardinal, so he can fly to "the other Washington" to address the nation's financial crisis. As evidence of his ability to contribute, Willingham cited his service as PTA Finance Committee Chair at his daughters' school.

"I call on Coach Harbaugh to join me in putting team second and country first," said Willingham. "We are truly facing a crisis. Now is not the time to engage in school rivalries."

Willingham added that he would suspend all blocking, passing, running, and tackling, pending Harbaugh's agreement.

"I was under the impression that they had already suspended tackling," said Oklahoma University running back DeMarco Murray.

Reached on the campaign trail, where he was packing heat like the oven door, Democratic Vice Presidential candidate Joe Biden said he disapproved of Willingham's decision. "Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!"

Attempts to question Republican Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin were prevented by the McCain campaign, which has not suspended blocking.

Meanwhile, Harbaugh plans to go ahead with the game, whether the Huskies show up or not. “[Their absence] would not have a significant impact on our game plan,” he explained.

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Farewell, Dodgeball; Fuck off, Tennis

I recently had the privilege of watching a rough cut of my friend Terry Kegel’s documentary on pick-up soccer in Brazil, Thailand, and Nigeria. It made me want to be there, kicking a ball around a beach or field or even a patch of concrete, talking good-natured shit with a bunch of people I just met. It also made me wonder about the local counterpart. Sure, Seattle’s a big enough town that, if you look in the right places, you can find an impromptu game of a number of different sports. But there are few pick-up games that serve as a destination for both players and spectators, that draw a crowd and go late into the night.

For about a year-and-a-half, on Tuesday and Friday nights, you could find just that in the dodgeball games on the North tennis court at Cal Anderson Park. There were players of all ages, backgrounds, and skill levels; spectators taunting them from the sidelines; others wandering over to play or watch or flirt. On a good Friday night, there could be up to a couple-hundred people, which may not sound like much to the Rucker Park lot, but which sure was fun for an adolescent city with a reputation for shyness—like a drunken, past-curfew party that ends in a handjob.

Starting this week, that’s gone, thanks to the complaints of tennis players and a decision by Seattle Parks and Recreation. You see, thanks to the dozens of people playing dodgeball each of those two nights, ten or so people didn’t get to play their weekly tennis game. And the courts were getting scuffed up, too. Now Dodgeball’s being banished to some less-central location, where fewer people will attend and the games will feel less like a festival.

I’m hesitant to dis any sport that I and so many others have enjoyed watching and playing, especially any sport that warrants a lifetime of dedication from a man as fascinating and good-natured as Jeff Borowiak. But, Tennis, I have a hard time with any sport that requires silence of its audience and in whose most famous tournament players are required to bow or curtsy before royalty. I have a hard time with an expensive sport enjoyed by a few displacing the inexpensive bi-weekly games of the many, games that many more came to watch. I always wished golf courses could be parks, and I don’t see why, for a few hours a week, a tennis court can’t be a dodgeball court. It’s not like dodgeball’s not going to occupy or scuff up the basketball gym it’ll be stuck in next. And, Tennis, let me tell you—basketball is way cooler than you’ll ever be. So from me, Patches O’Houlihan, and any dodgeball fan who cares to join me, we tell you this, Tennis: Fuck off.

Click below for more dodgeball photos, taken on a Tuesday night in August.

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Wanted: A Really Futile and Stupid Gesture

Much like the national economy, our local sports scene is in or on the brink of a recession. (Apologies to the Storm, who are pulling their weight.) The Seahawks are arcing toward irrelevance, the Mariners ensconced in it, and the Huskies descended to its ninth circle. Finally, lest we forget, the Sonics have been torn from our cold, dead hands .

All this is prelude to Saturday’s matchup between the Dawgs and a University of Oklahoma team eyeing a Heisman Trophy and a national title. As Clay Bennett’s paper points out, it’s a prime opportunity for revenge. The folks that gave us James Inhofe and took our beloved Sonics are in town, and we need to respond.

I’m reminded of the scene in the movie Animal House in which a similarly overmatched collection of losers decides it’s had enough. “This situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture,” says one. I agree. Here’s what I want to see on Saturday:

For just one game, I want to see a bad Ty Willingham team play like a good Dennis Erickson one. I want to see triumphant wideouts wave the bird at Larry Farina and his thousand points of emphasis. I want to see unrepentant unsportsmanlike conduct that continues long after the first flag is thrown. I want to see Gary Payton reprising the Luther Campbell role, roaming the sidelines and handing out cash rewards for big plays. I want Ocho Cinco to watch the game and wish he was back in college. I want to see the worm. I want to see the Riverdance. I want to see the Ickey Shuffle.

But even if the Dawgs don’t win, I still want Icy-Hot in Sooner jocks. I want Ex-lax in their Gatorade. And I want big screen footage of Husky mascots copulating in the Sooner Schooner.

We may not get our team back, but for one day, at least, we can get ours.

Godspeed, Dawgs!

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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You'll Get Nothing and Like It: The NCAA Keeps It Real

Oregon’s blowout of Washington might have been worse had Oregon offensive tackle Fenuki Tupou been allowed to play. But thanks to a Moons Over My Hammy and five Andrew Jacksons, he found himself on the wrong side of the NCAA’s gerrymandered line of sporting purity.

Tupou had a meal with a representative of LMM Sports Management—a particularly cheap representative, at that. The rep paid for a $10 meal and included five $20 bills in their parting handshake. (Side note: seriously, dude—I get that maybe you were testing the waters, but this is the high-rolling with which you tempt your prospective clients? What’s next—making it rain arcade tokens?)

Recognizing that he’d broken the rules, Tupou tried in vain to return the money. But that meal couldn’t be undone, and the upright folks at the NCAA handed down the one-game suspension. The money will go to charity. (Apparently, NCAA President Myles Brand felt that his salary—he’s paid roughly $900,000 a year to decry the emphasis on winning over grades in his multi-billion dollar industry, and to make sure that the athletes people pay to see don't see any of the money—didn’t need the supplement.)

For that game that Tupou missed over a $10 meal, Oregon coach Mike Belotti was paid around $80,000. The Oregon players wore Nike swooshes on their jerseys as a result of the school’s sponsorship deal with the athletic apparel company, whose founder, Phil Knight (at whose pleasure Oregon coaches serve) has donated upwards of $100 million to Oregon athletics. (Industries insiders refer to these sponsorships and logo placements as the NCAA's nascent NASCAR strategy.) And, of course, the fine folks at Fox Sports pulled in a healthy sum on the advertising spots they sold for the broadcast.

So, keep your head up, Fenuki. You missed one game, but there’s eleven more, plus a bowl game. And, fortunately, none of the white guys in the suits lost much money on your absence. (Phew!) Now it’s time to buckle down, because those guys aren’t just going to pay themselves. (Well, actually, they are—but you have to make the money first.) So the next time someone offers you a slice of the pie that your blood, sweat, and bankrupted future health helped create, you just say no thanks...and go out there and win one for the Gipper!

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Lies, Damned Lies, and Ty Willingham

Photo by Billy A, licensed on Flickr with CC-BY-SA-2.0

Washington coach Ty Willingham is everything college football claims it cares about and little of what it actually does. He’s a Rorschach test for the sport’s conscience, which itself resembles a Rorschach test until you look closer and realize it’s a giant skid mark. College football is big money, which is why Willingham is Washington state's highest paid employee. It's big money cloaked in a fiction about yessir kids who care not about big money but about study hall and the gridiron dreams that get boosters tumescent in their Dockers.

At 76 wins, 76 losses, and one tie for good measure, Willingham’s record is the very definition of mediocrity. But his players attend class regularly and showboat sparingly. And he stands board-straight, shoulders back, the picture of fitness and military-grade discipline. And he’s a black coach in a sport whose hiring record is abysmal, a sport that enriches largely white coaches, administrators, and media and enthralls largely white fans with a largely black cast of unpaid talent. As Notre Dame learned, to fire Ty Willingham is to put the lie to the dream of college football as a wholesome, spirit-filled supplement to education and to force a re-examination of some problematic racial dynamics.

But with his dismissive, hardass persona, he sure doesn’t make it easy for the soapbox standers and high-horse riders. Rank authoritarianism isn’t the stuff of pep rallies and Gipper speeches. And public contracts that rival the budgets of small school districts don’t really warm the heart either. Perhaps beneath that dour exterior, Ty is laughing all the way to the bank.

They say this season is do or die—he’ll either win and be re-signed or lose and be let go. College football’s calling the bluff of the man who called the bluff of college football. Ty Willingham doesn’t deserve his money, but college football deserves him.

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Dear Paul Allen: Go For Bolt!

Photo by Phil McElhinney, used under Creative Commons license.

Dear Paul,

This year’s Seahawks offense doesn’t look promising. Hasselbeck’s back aches. The line's a question mark. The debate at running back is too underwhelming to be called a controversy. Mike Holmgren looks more like Wilford Brimley with each passing day.

Speaking of passing, the receiving corps inspires about as much confidence as Vista. (We can make these jokes now that you no longer hang out with those dorks in Redmond, right?) The leader, Bobby Engram, is 35 years old, disgruntled, and has a cracked shoulder; Courtney Taylor lacks elite speed; and Deion Branch is coming off of ACL surgery. As for Nate Burleson, it always feels like he and his "poison pill" contract are the K-Fed to Steve Hutchinson’s Justin T. Since we won’t be bringing sexy back anytime soon, I have an idea:

Sign Usain Bolt! Have you seen this guy? He’s 6’5” and makes world-class sprinters look like second-string corners. He’s only 21 and has a frame that could easily add 20 pounds. He’s ripe for nicknames, from Lightning to Insane. And he knows how to celebrate. Dude set a world record in the 100 while pounding his chest and preening across the finish line. The Hawks could use a little ocho-cinco, and the NFL could always use a little more, especially now that ocho-cinco is turning tres-cero.

Sure, he’ll have a lot to learn. And he’s not a fast starter. And Renaldo Nehemiah didn’t pan out. And it'll take some salary cap wrangling. It’ll be an expensive, gimmicky move, but it could turn into something really cool. Kind of like the SLUT.

So what do you say, Paul? The web’s abuzz with Bolt-to-the-gridiron speculation, so you better act fast.

Sincerely,
A Hopeful Fan

Topics: Damon Agnos: The Bounce to Ecstasy!

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Sticking it to David Stern the Barely Legal Way

Much to the delight of Sonics fans, and just in time for the Olympics, a geopolitical power struggle has broken out among the hardcourts and boardrooms of professional basketball. A number of NBA players and one prominent high school star have accepted lucrative, tax-free contracts to play for European teams. Meanwhile, seeking to restore its symbolic dominance and avenge past losses, the United States has assembled a “Redeem Team” of NBA All-stars, key members of which are coupling their on-court exploits with public speculation about hopping the pond to ball for more cash by decade’s end.

Thus far, the speculation remains just that, but the loose consortium known as the Euroleague would be foolish not to recognize the hint of a buckle in the knee of the NBA Goliath, the faint intimation of a wobble in the heavyweight’s stance. Such a show of weakness must be exploited. Here’s how:

The Euroleague must hold its own draft, with all players 18 years of age or above available. Hubristically, the NBA has taken itself out of the 18-year-old game, thinking that, like true love, talent will wait. A Eurodraft would expose the bankruptcy of that sucker’s refrain, leaving Stern to model his banana hammock in anticipation of a honeymoon that never materializes. (Sorry for that image, folks.)

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Welcome to the XXIX Olympiad and the Golden Age of Sports Drama

The Olympics are upon us, bringing a worldwide focus on the drama of sport. The thrill of victory; the agony of defeat; the spirit of international harmony in the form of medal counts and unreported domestic drug test failures; the opportunity to make millions by pairing puffed-up heros with flaky breakfast cereals; the prospect of Bob Costas and Matt Lauer narrating another mind-numbing opening ceremony; the hubbub over whether China's gymnasts are "legal"; the hullabaloo over whether Maria Sharapova would be allowed to carry the Russian flag in said ceremony (a shoulder injury has negated the debate; the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity now goes to the once-a-year player, Andrei Kirilenko); we even have a local representative in the aptly-named Hope Solo, who has been shunned by her teammates for the last fourteen months as punishment for badmouthing her replacement in a moment of frustration. It warms a sports fan’s heart.

The truth is, the Olympics have always been a soap opera, or, as they are frequently called, a five-ring circus. Drugs, sabotage, conspiracy, even terrorism and protest...the event that was last to embrace professionalism and commercialism is a trailblazer in melodrama. The good news: it’s back. The better news: the rest of the sports world has caught up.

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