From The Bucktails To The CO

Up until recently, whenever the question "Why isn't Gerald Green getting playing time?" came up, I'd look at the record and answer, "Because when he was getting playing time we weren't winning games. Next question."

As usual, Mike Fisher is forcing me to re-evaluate.

We had been winning ballgames with G-Money (that's the officially sanctioned locker room name, he nicked it from his little brother) vacuum-sealed. However, way back at the beginning of December I was noticing the trend of playing down to the wire in very winnable games. The encouraging trends -- JJ finally shutting up the doubters, roleplayers like Jimz showing they can step up when called upon to do so -- have been outweighed by the discouraging ones -- Josh Howard's inconsistency, the fact that Kidd cannot be counted on as a scoring threat, Dirk and Jet's shooting slumps, none of the potential 2-starters making a strong case for their candidacy.

What I think is happening, with G-Money's instance being a symptom of a general problem, is that Coach's constant rotation tinkering is starting to backfire. Green's defensive weaknesses and low basketball IQ are well-documented. However, his screw-ups aren't any more or less glaring than those of the other players not named Nowitzki, Terry, or Kidd. It's tempting to rely upon guys like Devean George because they're "defensive minded," because they can be relied upon to do their jobs without hot-dogging, heat checks, impromptu bullshit shot creation, because they're known factors that don't fuck with the master plan. Fine, I get it. With this team that is a recipe for disaster. The veteran roleplayers are simply not that mighty.

Which brings us back to our Mr. Green. To his credit, he's behaving like a professional, putting in the time, saying the right things. Unless he was benched for reasons the Organization hasn't disclosed to the public -- health reasons, he needs an attitude adjustment, he didn't refill the coffee pot, whatever -- it might be time to pull him out of the space bag, fluff him up, and throw him back on the couch.

And what if that really is the problem, Coach's rotation tinkering causing locker room unrest that's manifesting itself in games?

Ah, yes. Well.

(mumbles a quick prayer to God for forgiveness, amen)

That one is on Dirk.

Mike Fisher's metaphor for last season's ongoing meltdown was the movie, "The Caine Mutiny." I haven't seen the movie . . . but I've read the original novel. Here's a user review from Amazon.com:

"I recently read quite a few online reviews, and they reflect a much more contemporary viewpoint -- the original context of the novel is lost in time. One reviewer thought the mood and point of the book were 'Faschistic'; others concluded that the point was 'it's okay to buck the system.' I was reminded of a colleague on the faculty at West Point who was teaching a cadet elective in psychology of abnormal behavior who used a clip of Bogart's performance on the stand at the court-martial as an example of disordered paranoid ideation. Sometimes I wonder what book all these people read!

"This is a novel of war, seen through the eyes of a nonprofessional officer of incisive intelligence, one both inside and outside the Navy system and possessed of ability to look beyond the moment. Many readers (or movie fans) somehow completely miss the story's central issue and the critical turn of plot. Captain Queeg was not crazy; he was overwhelmed by the burdens of command, but would probably have muddled through if his officers had managed to put aside petulant resentment and work to compensate for the captain's flaws. Instead, they put a combat vessel out of action during a critical period in the Pacific campaign."
-Ltc Timothy R. O'Neill

If that is what happened -- if Avery Johnson's eventual crash and burn was because of Dirk's actions as team captain and platoon leader -- then that's a big black mark (yellow stain?) on Dirk. And if it's happening again -- Dirk undermining Coach Carlisle's authority, consciously or unconsciously, deliberately or inadvertently -- somebody please call Mr. Geschwinder and have him kick Dirk's ass.

However, I do not think that's what's happened then, and I don't think it's happening now. Avery Johnson shot himself in the nads just fine; he didn't need help aiming. For the nonce, the players have to trust that Coach knows what he's doing. You don't have to like your boss. To do your best work, you do have to trust and believe in them. Fostering that trust and belief is in the team leader's job description. It's in Dirk's job description.

There are two things I wish I knew for facts. One is the look on Dirk's face when he answered Sports Illustrated's question about whether or not any of the Mavs had bothered to learn German ("Nothing except geshunteit"). The other is who called the players-only practise the day after Game 4 last year . . . and who showed up for it.

For the record. This is the bullshitting of a fan who doesn't want to believe her team is getting legitimately outplayed. Take your grain of iodized salt and I'll see you at the AAC tomorrow. The Hornets are in town. I'll be waving the colors.
-BJ

Report Cards

Okay class, front'n'center. It's time for your first-quarter report cards.

Now, I'm just a student teacher -- that's Ms. BJ to you Mr. Williams and don't think I didn't see that eye-roll -- and your actual grades for the quarter will come from Prof. Fisher. I just want you to know what I think before you go out to the arcade this afternoon [AN: true, the team's hosting a party at a place in Plano, God I wish I could go, video games plus Mavs equals Very Happy Beej].

Please take your seats, I'll be calling you up one at a time.

Barea, Jose Juan "JJ"
A+, with a gold star
What can I say? You've been doing your homework and your in-class work has been spectacular. I know I haven't been very supportive. I've said some unkind things. And I'm sorry, I had no right. You're an excellent student. One of the best in the class. Keep it up!

Bass, Brandon
B-
Is it that you miss your old coach? Is it something else that made you fumble a little the first few weeks of the semester? The grade is what it is because you're capable of improving. And lately you've been doing that, taking care of the little things we all know you do well. You're a natural. And dunks after catching full-court passes? Outta sight.

Carlisle, Rick
no grade
Ahem, yes well. I know it's against protocol, technically, for a student teacher to evaluate the coach. Please pardon me, I thought it would be good for the class. May I give you my impressions? Thank you. I think this group is a work in progress. Yeah I know that's obvious, but logic is right at first. What I'm seeing, and why I'm easy in my mind with you as the leader is I see everyone working together. Homework is on time, everyone is organized, even the kids at the back of the class feel like they're a part of something great. By the end of the school year these men should be playing out of their minds because anything less would be treason to their trade.

Dampier, Erick
B
You do the dirty work and by and large you do it well. The kids on the playground know they will pay if they try and play silly buggers. My only complaint is consistancy. Some nights you're a beast, but other nights you look like a tree.

Diop, Desegana
C-
This should be lower. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. I see sloppy work, I see shot opportunities missed, I see bad judgement. And I see a free-throw percentage just short of shameful. Desagana, free-throws-- this is basic basketball! With you and Erick filling the center position . . . games aren't won at the five, but they sure as hell can be lost there. For your extra homework, shoot a thousand free-throws a day. Every day.

George, Devean
D+
You're here because Dean Cuban and Principal Nelson think you can contribute. I don't see it. Your defense is hit-or-miss, your shot percentage is nothing I want to rely on, and I don't see the effort I want. I don't like not liking you. Please don't make me write you off at the semester break.

Green, Gerald
C
Sigh, I just don't know what I'm going to do with you, young man! You keep saying you're willing to learn, and I keep watching you made bad decisions. I don't see you showing off as much as you have in other classes, which is encouraging. Look, you're surrounded by examples of what an A student looks like, the school is committed to helping you excel. I'm willing to be patient; you should be willing to put in the extra work.

Howard, Josh
Incomplete
How's your paw? Ouch, man. Listen, getting hurt wasn't your fault. Your classmates believe in you and your work up until was solid. The important thing is making sure you're at a hundred percent. If that means staying home from school for a while, I'm okay with that. It's early in the year. What you've missed you can make up later. You might have to accept being asked to sit at the back of the class for a while; please don't let it bother you. The record's not telling the full story. Your classmates miss you.

Kidd, Jason
A-
New ring? Oooh, shiny! Of the upperclassmen in the school, you're a standout. Everyone likes to say how the younger guns can run rings around you; haven't seen it. The only complaint I have is your work isn't as tidy as it could be. Things slip through your fingers sometimes. And you need to remind some of your classmates that just because you can get away with putting the extra flash on your papers doesn't mean they can. Their handwriting isn't as nice; ink splotches everywhere.

Nowitzki, Dirk
A
Well. How do I objectively evaluate the teacher's pet? You stumbled out of the gate, there's no point denying that. I remember the Chicago game and I'm not sure whether to laugh or throw up. So. You're the one who said the best is yet to come. I believe that. And if the roll you're on continues . . . the ring's the thing and you know that. You're doing what you can, and doing it in monster fashion. Keep up the good work. You make us all proud.

Singleton, James
B
Ah, I see the look. You see yourself sliding in the rotation, back into the trunk with the rest of the children. I don't need to give you the lecture about roleplayers being just as important as starters on a basketball team, do I? Course not. You're doing good work.

Stackhouse, Jerry
Incomplete
How's your heel? I'm coping with that myself; hurts like a sonofabitch. You want to transfer classes; okay that's fine. It is to your credit that you're being seen and not heard just lately. If I may be allowed a personal observation -- you're not going to get what you want. Not without throwing mud all over your permanent record. Accept it. And start looking into teaching opportunities.

Terry, Jason
A-
Wow. Just . . . wow. If you're not Sixth Man of the Year this year there is no justice. I love most of what you do, and I love how beautifully you do it. Seriously, you look like a dancer; did you take ballet when you were a teenager? Bless your coach if you did. I love your unselfish attitude, I love how you work to get everyone fired up, I love the Wing Stop radio spot ('Hhhhheeey . . ."). There's only one thing I don't like; your penmanship can get awfully sloppy, loose balls all over the place. For what the class needs, that's not good.

Williams, Shawne
C+
I understand Principal Bird doesn't like you much. I don't see why. Was it just that you weren't happy in Indiana? Are you happier here? Never mind; that's private. You look like you've taken Coach's Prime Directive -- Semper Paratus (Always Prepared) -- to heart and you've been pretty damned good. Not just good; coldly professional. Continue, and the good things will come.

Wright, Antoine
B-
Hey, how's your area? Forget I asked, tacky question. You seem to have hopped right back into the swing of things though. The improvements needed have mostly to do with consistancy. That will come with time and more hard work. You should be at the head of the class.

Okay guys, that's it for today. Have fun at the arcade!

Yes? Oh, thank you! Apple for the teacher.
-BJ

In Other News . . .

This falls under the heading of Totally Out The Ass speculation.

Seems like damn near everybody in the NBA is priming their checkbooks and gearing up for the biggest auction since Cash In The Attic debuted. Okay, bad example.

Of all the players in the NBA today, the man who arguably has the best claim to Greatest Of The Post-Jordan Era is Lebron James. According to basketball-reference.com, he averaged 29.1 points, 7.8 rebounds, 7.0 assists, 2 blocks, and 0.8 steals per game last year. And he's only 24 (!), still a young man by NBA standards.

And he's gone on record -- several times -- saying he doesn't want to stay in Cleveland. Which has certain teams not-so-quietly clearing out cap space. James's contract is up in 2010.

Now there's no indication that the slightest thought of Bron-Bron in a Mavs uni hasn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing the Organizational mind. But they'd be remiss to not at least run the scenario through . . . especially when Bron-Bron and Jason Kidd have had several instances of public flirting while he was playing for the Nets. That would require keeping Kidd around another couple of years though, and that would eat up too much ready cash. Espeically with both the Nets and the Knicks being quite . . . indiscrete about their lust for Bron-Bron's services.

Argh! As a fan, I'd love having Lebron's ability on my team. Rooting for him might prove to be a bit problematic. My allegience is with the Mavs, of course, but cheering for them's easy because I like and admire most of the players. I don't know how I feel about a player with no demonstrated loyalty to his current organization. The jury in my head is split; some of the panel remind me that this is a business and James has the right to seek a situation more personally and professionally beneficial, and some cross their arms and stubbornly insist that loyalty means something, goddammit.

In a perfect world we'd find a way to get LeBron and still keep Dirk and Kidd. OhmyGod, the insides faint. But that's not possible.
-BJ

Games 5 and 6, Dallas Mavericks visit Denver Nuggets and Los Angeles Clippers

Theme: Combichrist, "Shut Up And Swallow"
Game Info: Nugs here, Clips here

I'm just going to do these two together, if it's okay with you guys. Don't like it? The Internet's a big place; I'm sure there's some other girl who watches basketball whose rants you can read in between Solitare breaks.

Bitter? Pissy? So tired I'm delusional? All of the above and then some. Somebody hug me.

- The Denver game I'm not so mad about, really. The Nugs made the second-to-last mistake, pretty much. I was chewing my nails off until the final posession.

- The Clips? If I could, I'd express-mail a smack upside the head to the entire team, starting with Coach and going straight down the line. I'd need a stepladder to do most of the work but never mind.

- Rebounding? You're not doing enough of it. Period.

- I don't like Randy Galloway. I think he's a southern-fried jackass, to be perfectly honest. But . . . and God how much do I wish I wasn't writing this . . . he's got a point. It's a mite early in the season to be talking about hardcore motivational schtick. Now, I believe cheerleading has a place in life. Most of us need someone to coax our best stuff out of us. The Mavs didn't need the best stuff; that's what's so galling. Just the regular stuff. And that should be above rah-rah claptrap. The game against the Nuggets was winnable; the Clips game was ours to lose.

- I have a question. Is it me, or are the Mavs hearing a disproportionate number of whistles? I mean, a flagrant against Kidd? What'd he do, anally rape Al Thornton's mother while pouring sugar in his gas tank? And how come Dirk doesn't get fouled unless he throws his arms up and does Duncan-face? For crying out loud--

- Settling for jump shots; is that a judgement-shot-because-my-brain-is-on-fire thing? If it is, we're screwed. I read somewhere that Dirk was laboring under the idea that he'd only have to play 30 minutes per game. Look at his stats; that's not happening. And it isn't for lack of a backup; Four-String's been solid.

- Jet Terry's 3-15? Dude!

- Fourth-quarter shit remains a problem. I'll grant that a lot of the lopsidedness in the score is Coach striking the colors and subbing out the starters when the situation becomes hopeless (I'm very not okay with that, but I understand his rationale). But why are the situations allowed to become hopeless? Why are they permitted to win these ballgames? Why are you not stomping those maggots' guts out?

- And no hanging these on Dirk's doorknob (that came out significantly filthier than it sounded in my head). A double-double against Denver and 32 points against LA strongly suggests all due diligence on his part.

- Gerald Green, Sixth Man of the Year. That's where he should be in the rotation. Just my opinion.

- Stackhouse is trade bait. We need to get him to a team that needs his leadership and get a comer who can play in the frontcourt. Also my opinion.

- Waitaminute, the Knicks don't suck? Ack!

In The Wash: I am so tired of being on the wrong side of the Cinderella story. We're becoming the second-to-last boss in the main body of an RPG, the one that gets you ready for the Save The World And Get The Girl Final Fight. Look at our last few post-seasons; loss to the Heat because God reached down and said unto D-Wade, "Hey I need somebody to be the best basketball player in the entire fucking universe and I picked you," loss to Golden State because they were the only team we absolutely did not have an answer for, loss to the Hornets because they turned in the performances of their lives while the Mavs were preoccupied with not killing the coach.

It isn't a lack of Veteren Leadership. We've got something of an embarassment of riches in that department. So why aren't the Mavs locking down? Unless it's -- horrible thought -- the team tuning out the veterens. Read, tuning out Dirk. If that's the case, we're totally fucked.

It's early yet and I'm in this for the long haul. Hell, high water, or the lotto tank. The Lakers are in town tomorrow and I am there. Look for the two fat ladies up in nosebleed country. I'll be the one cheerfully overreacting to everything; my mother'll be the one sitting next to me saying I don't know this person.
-BJ

And You Didn't Look Under The Bed 'Cause . . .

No laundry today. Just some extra socks . . .

- Coach is a Mountain Dew freak? And he hates the Diet shit? File information for a meaningless rant with the man, should the need ever present itself. Logistics of life in Dallas are difficult for Pepsi drinkers, especially so for fans of the supersaturated sugary green goodness. And for the record, Surge did nothing for me.

- You mean someone besides me reads this ridiculous waste of my employer's computer time? Hi Jake! His blog, NBA On The Brain, is an ongoing story of the regular season with a Real Person Fic twist. I like the metaphors he's come up with for each of the teams -- the Spurs as a Skynet-esque Machine force, the Suns as a legion of the undead, the Nets as a caporegime that can't wait to get the hell out of Jersey, the Pistons as workingmen at a production plant out of Detroit, etc. In particular, thank you for the mental image of Dirk on horseback. That's going to make me smile for weeks.

- It's unfair but inevitable that any pro sports endeavor within the DFW Metroplex should be judged by the impossibly high standards of the Dallas Cowboys. In Cowbow fandom . . . you know that Calvin and Hobbes panel, the one where Calvin raises his fist and yells, "Happiness isn't good enough for me! I demand euphoria!" It isn't enough to win, the Cowboys have to utterly destroy the competition and do so easily and with style. Athletes are fantasies, not role models; the franchise is set up as an extreme case in point and has gone out of its way to cultivate extreme expectations. So when the Mavs became serious contenders after a decade of epic yuck it tapped into the flat insanity of Sportus Fannaticus, Dallasi, the fanbase that demands six impossible things before breakfast and gets really fucking nasty when they aren't delivered.

In other words, can't you guys express disappointment without being evil? Questioning manliness, love of the game, worth as a human being? I mean it, some of the remarks I heard on the way home Tuesday night were really awful. Next person looks at me askance when I yell "FUCK!" after a blown layup gets an earful, I swear.

- For Painted Fan Nite -- which I am going to do at least once this year -- I've got some ideas. The trick I'm going for is a costume sufficiently Goth so's I can go straight to The Church from the game. Or maybe I should go punk. Punk has more flexibility, and is more forgiving of badly made clothes. Fifty safety pins? No problem.

- The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac looks like something I should keep an eye out for at the Half-Price Books in a few weeks. Fascinating.
-BJ

Meet Our Army

That does it, folks.

Mavericks have inked in their official roster, as the Organization releases Reyshawn Terry, JaJuan Smith, and Cheyne Gadson. McLeod they're hanging onto because dear God do we need another decent back-up point guard.

I hope those three gentlemen find homes somewhere in the NBA. They seem like nice guys and good players. Similar to the situation that got us Brandon Bass -- there just isn't a place for them on this particular team.

There's the potential upside to a professional sports career (money and fame and all the accessories that go with vast shitloads of same), but goddamn. How do you deal? I mean, here you are, shoved around the world in twelve hours, having to audition for an extremely demanding job when you're jet-lagged out of your mind, might not even speak the language, you're probably barely out of school, missing your folks, terrified you won't make it and all that effort and money down the tubes--

What kind of person rolls the dice, with the odds jacked that high against them? Like Mom told me once about someone she knew who went to New York straight out of high school to pursue a Broadway career -- she asked their music teacher if her friend stood a chance of making it and the teach told her Broadway's full of cute blondes who played Eliza Doolittle in high school. But it can't all be teenage hubris . . .

In any event, travel safe and good luck.
-BJ

Relating Basketball And Final Fantasy, or Welcome To Nerd World

In Nerd World, one can easily waste months of one's life in a peculiar way; role-playing games. Sort of like solving a maze, reading a novel, and watching a movie all at once.

Say you're exploring a cave, lava rivers all over the place, looking for the @#$!%& switch to open the next cave, when the screen blanks and your party's face-to-face with some lizard-looking thing with little CGI flames coming out of its nose.

First thing you do? Get your Offensive Magic user to cast an Ice spell, because in just about every RPG ever made Fire monsters are vulnerable to Ice attacks. You might have your Archer (who's usually a woman even though women don't have the upper body strength to handle a longbow) switch to her Ice arrows before attacking, meaning your half-dead Melee character can use a healing item instead of attacking this turn.

Basically, you're exploiting a mismatch. And RPGers who don't learn to do that don't get to save the world, marry the princess, et cetera. By the same token, basketball teams who don't learn to do that don't win rings. And teams that don't look for that and plan for it don't either.

Look at the history. Dirk underperfoms in playoff series games because smart teams realize that making him underperform is a key to victory. The question isn't "why does Dirk disappear in big games," it's "where's the Plan B so we can get him back in and win anyway."

Back to Nerd World. This cave is under a volcano, which means you're probably going to see a lot of Fire monsters. Opposite magic damage (ice-fire, light-dark, etc) usually does more damage than physical attack. So let's say you set up a party of only magic users. Rip right through that silly cave, right?

Not so fast.

Let's take another look at the fight with the lizard thing. RPG enemies come in groups, so add a couple of ogre-like things. The ogre-like things have red accents on their armor to go with the volcano theme but to your horror they're not writhing in agony under the force of your best Ice magic. At the end of the first round the lizard thing is probably dead, but there's these two ogre-like things still in your way. And did I mention that magic-users are usually very weak in terms of physical defense?

Okay, so ditch the mismatch idea entirely. Sit out your mages and go with the bruisers. Then what happens is, after the ogres've been dispatched, the lizard thing nails you with a heavy-duty Fire spell that wipes out your team.

Most RPGers have a set of characters they like to use in hostile territory, based around the melee-magic-healer trinity. The trap there is making sure all your characters get enough experience to work through character-specific boss fights. RPGs practically beg you to outsmart yourself in that regard, making you throw your second-stringers into fights they can't handle to make up for hours and hours of only playing with your main guys.

After a while -- and with the help of strategy guides -- setting up a balanced party while still making sure everyone gets the experience they need becomes a habit. And heyhey! You've just completed a beginner's course on tactical thinking. Know your enemy, know their style, be flexible enough to get the most out of your team, make allowances for your weaknesses, commit to improving and upgrading, waste nothing, and never lose sight of your major goals.

Which, I think, is why the Organization had to make the trade for Jason Kidd. Physically he's hitting the end of his useful life but there's nothing wrong with his brain or his playmaking abilities. And those are what Dallas absolutely need. RPGers have the luxury of memory cards, strategy guides, a Pause button, and a game that doesn't adjust to keep beating you. Athletes don't have that. Of the active point guards, Jason Kidd's probably the best at Making The Most Of Everything (though Deron Williams might pass him this year).

And there's something else. I'll let you in on a Nerd World secret. Apart from healing magic, the most valuable spell you can have in a major fight is . . . Haste. Haste speeds up the clock for your characters. Depending on the game, it can amount to your party taking three turns to the boss monster's one. Jason Kidd is our Haste spell. Have a coach behind him that can spot and exploit mismatches -- jury's still out on that -- and . . . I think we've got a shot at it, I really do. Our seed won't be a high one -- this is the Western Conference and with the problematic exception of the Suns (Steve Nash is another Haste spell on sneakers) nobody's downgraded -- but we'll be there.
-BJ

Boy, Is It Ever Monday

No notes on the Bucks game. Is it being unfair to say the result was a foregone conclusion? Even with Jason Kidd taking a personal day and playing in the middle of nowhere? If you live in the neighborhood of LaCrosse, I'm not knocking your town. I'm from Michigan and I know how pretty the country is up there. For someone used to NBA-approved accomodations it probably feels like the Twilight Zone.

DLord crunches the dollars and cents of the Jones-for-Williams trade.

Okay, Mr. Nelson, I take back half the bad things I said about you over the offseason (you're not off the hook about Devean George).

This blows the season wide open. Williams's potential downside is considerable -- Pacman Jones has him beat in that Williams hasn't actually been convicted of anything -- but from a purely acquisitional standpoint we got him for loose change. Not as exciting as getting Ron Artest, but I think it's a safer bet. I have visions of Ron-Ron having to be taken out of restraints come game time.

Nnngh. Less than three weeks until the season opens. Meanwhile the preseason gets interesting with roadies at Indiana and Detroit. Of the two, I'm going to be obsessing over the Pistons game. Let's face it, the Wizards, Bulls, and Bucks were outclassed, under complement, and pretty much fucked from the start. Detroit, #2 in the Eastern Conference last year, are more like what Dallas should expect and fear in the coming year.

Oh, by the way, lineup on the floor at one point during the Wizards game -- Dirk at the 5, J-Ho, Antoine, Jet Terry, James Singleton. Hereby dubbed the Kentucky Fried Lineup; four wings and a biscuit. My phrase. Don't steal it.
-BJ

Happy Birthday To Me

Well it looks like our favorite dwarf'll be in town on January 28th -- Golden State. Do me a favor, guys. Don't lose. In fact, could you please bitch-smack them into the Twilight Zone? Thanks, you guys're sweeties.

An aside into Cowboy-land, a place I don't venture often or willingly. But this is Dallas in the fall of the year. The Cowboys get mentioned in the news with the same frequency as God's name in the Bible. I don't like the 'Boys, I'm only mildly fond of football -- hey, you try getting excited about a sport when your allegience lies with the Detroit Lions -- and I only care about the whole shebang insofar as it takes attention away from my Mavs. As franchises to follow, give me the Mavericks. The tickets are affordable, win or lose live games are always fun, most of the players are men you might actually want your kids to idolize, and our potential Major Problem Child -- Jason Kidd -- has been behaving himself.

Not so for the Cowboys. Adam "Pacman" Jones was their big acquisition of the offseason -- an honest-to-God felon laboring under a season-long suspension and possible expulsion from the NFL if I read the release right. For the past few months everybody's been hearing about how he's reformed and oh by the way he's a superb ballplayer and we're getting him for pennies on the dollar or damn near.

Eeeent! Someone set us up the bomb, Jerry. Jones was arrested night before last, getting into a fight with his Cowboy-mandated bodyguards. And according to Randy Galloway at the Star-Telegram, Jones hasn't spent the past few months at home reading his New Testament, as the Cowboys PR department have painted him in not so many words. He's been out partying, and unlike yours truly he has the money to cause major damage to himself and others. Call to mind a scene from Lonesome Dove; Gus, a sucker for pretty girls, defends his caretaking of Lorena by saying the situation was an accident. Clara retorts with, "I notice you never have accidents around ugly girls." These things happen around Pacman, a lot. Accidents? Or a stupid, self-destructive man who's gotten cut a lot of slack because of what he can do with the oblong?

Well, it was a gamble. Now Jerry Jones is faced with a nasty decision -- can Pacman, proving there's depths to which even he won't sink where the team's concerned, or duck and cover and hope the NFL doesn't suspend him.

Put the season in jeopardy? I honestly think Hell will freeze first. I predicted slime, and slime we have. It's up to the NFL now. Dallas Cowboys, you are on the way to destruction.

Whoo! Detour through Cowboy-land leaves me feeling . . . unclean somehow. I'm sorry, Cowboys Crazies -- for me football will always be a confusing excuse to watch men crash into each other for two hours. If I want to get my homoerotica fix on, I've got fanfiction.
-BJ

Nine More Hours

After a summer full of full-time committment (and pay, thank God) for part-time work, prayers that The Boards would be interesting without being bitchy (riiiiiiight), lots of lol cats (because monorail cats are funny), and too much time looking for good pictures of the big guy (damn pajama uniforms), the off-season is nearly over. We're sitting in the theater, suffering through easy listening and mediocre R'n'B, watching the ads and movie quiz cards flip across the screen (and they've already gone through the set eight times), and finally, there's a click, the screen goes dark, the lights go down, and the talking starts to quiet.

It's been a long few months. And it's going to be an even longer few months as I watch my Mavs become what they're going to be in 08-09. Will the new coach be as advertised, able to balance running offense with brick-wall D? Will Jason Kidd have one more season of greatness before riding into a future rich with alimony suits? Will Josh Howard finally crystalize under pressure, instead of just cracking? Will Stack's body hold out? Will the Four-String Motherfucker give us all the gifts the Hornets were too stupid to take? Will our young guns grow into heros in their own rights? Will Our Dirk become, once more, a player who kills so cleanly you're in Hell five minutes before you realize you're dead?

And will it be enough?

We'll see. Binoculars, train ticket, victory cigarette -- I'm ready!
-BJ

X-Factors and Other Intangibles

Put aside the potential problems in backcourt and perimeter depth (Hollinger, ESPN). Focus instead on those two little words everyone likes to throw around when competetive drive is aroused -- killer instinct.

The greats have it. Larry Bird eats baby kittens as snacks. Raw. Michael Jordan could've caused miscarriages with sheer force of mean. Michael Irvin (former Cowboy turned local sports blowhard), when his son points at his kid's league opponets saying "Dad they're my friends," barks "NO THEY'RE NOT!!!" Bill Russell writes, "No pussycats, please."

Killer instinct is about knowing where the other guys're weak and taking outrageous advantage of that knowledge. If that means making Shaq run his butt off when he's out of condition -- thereby making him look stupid -- you do that. If it means traipsing just this side of foul trouble manhandling Pau Gasol, okay. If it means making Dirk play on his toes when he's rolling on a bad ankle . . . if you're the bad guy (and may you burn in a Special Hell), that's a plan.

It's about fear. None for you, all of you. And it's something the Mavs have lacked.

Respect for this team is grudging at best, and nobody's really scared of us. Coach Carlisle is making a special note of that yesterday. "I’m looking for a few assholes here," said the coach. "Hating the opponent. Hating the opponent is a good start . . . Bird hated everybody."

Is that what we really need? A bred-in-bone son of a bitch? Or two? Or three?

Eagerness for the season just ticked up another notch. It'll be interesting to see what the players will do with permission to turn loose their inner bastards. I'm operating on the assumption that, in order to thrive in pro sports, every player's got one.

Meantime, I'd love to be a cat outside the gym there at SMU. Gauge the 'tudes of the players after practise. See if it's hit the "Somebody make the bad man stop" stage.

I'm evil that way.
-BJ

Weasel Words

I try to be rational where Dirk is concerned. I really do. You wouldn't believe some of the blurbs I haven't posted.

But the idea that he's looking forward to free agency -- implication being he wants to leave the Mavs for another team -- fills my head with flames. I'll accept retirement, or a repatriation back to Germany, but seeing him in the NBA as anything but a Maverick? Not in this or any other lifetime.

But anyway. Today is Press Day, and our man Fish is on the case. The team had physicals on Saturday, and training camp starts tomorrow. I believe the players will play their guts out -- that's what they do. The nerves come from the idea that the organization's upper levels -- coaching and management -- do not have a strong history of making sure the team's effort doesn't go to waste.

If this line of reasoning is flawed, please explain why: championships can't be won at the organizational or coaching level, but they can be lost there.

More later,
-BJ

Quick DFW Say, "Football? Let's Talk Mavericks"

Yes. Let's.

I could seriously learn to love Coach. He appears to have his head on straight. I like the battlefield concept; it's an attitude that seemed to be missing under Avery Johnson.

Training camp starts on the 29th over to SMU. Does this mean they're not going to be holding Fan Jam this year? God for-bloody-bid. Coach is talking about utilizing a more up-tempo game pace and whipping everybody's ass into shape. Two sessions a day, everyone goes home at night.

I'm pondering this a little more deeply than I perhaps ought to -- God knows the guys over on the DB.com Boards are picking Coach apart phrase-by-phrase. I just got done reading a short-attention-span (but fun to read) memoir by Jayson Williams, Loose Balls, and in Williams's opinion coaches don't matter that much. It's the player's responsibility to maintain their bodies, so he says, and training too long and practising too much is counterproductive.

I can see that. One of the news blurbs from the Olympics noted that Shawn Johnson only practises a couple hours a day. She even goes to a public school, which is unheard-of for an international level gymnast.

On the other hand, it could be argued that this is a team that hasn't been on the same page for a while now and needs the extra time. Once more, we have to trust that Coach and his staff know what they're doing.

It makes me wonder though . . . when Dirk said at Coach Carlisle's PC about the NBA being a player's league, not a coach's one . . . was that an indirect dig at Johnson? Because Johnson went pretty much straight from being a player to an assistant, then he was picked by Don Nelson to take over as head coach. The transition was PDQ, less than two years. It makes me wonder; is the root of his troubles as a coach the fact that he was reacting to situations as a player? Like he really wanted to be on the floor and got frustrated because he couldn't?

I'm shooting from the backcourt again, so I'll shut up.

Wishing Manu Ginobli a pain-free, prolonged (like the entire season) recovery from his foot injury, and praying to God somebody fucks Kobe's pinkie up royally . . . and permanently.

Later,
-BJ

Pau Gasol = Weenie

Have you guys seen the picture Team Spain took for an ad in a Spanish newspaper? The one where they're holding their eyelids in a slant?

Okay, how is that not racist, how could the Spanish Olympic Committe/Team Spain/the sponsors/Marca the newspaper/any of the players be that fucking stupid, and why hasn't FIBA or the NBA publicly condemned Team Spain?

(Pau Gasol's defense is he was pressured into taking the picture. Hence the title of today's post.)

Think I'm being oversensitive? Let me put it this way; imagine if Team USA pulled something like that (a dance mime to Smack My Bitch Up, perhaps). My imaginings include a torch waving mob, suspensions from playing in the regular season, massive fines, and a lot of extra time spent with NBA Cares. Political correctness gets taken to absurd, logic-bending lengths -- but is it really such an evil idea to think before you do something and consider whether or not it'll make you look like a bigoted asshole?

I'm with Basketbawful. It's a little weird to get news of low-class racist fuckery and realize it doesn't involve Americans.
-BJ

With Love, From China

- Team USA is on a steamroller course so far, handing China and Angola their butts on a plate. With a side of cheese fries. Thanks to lack of cable, I'm not getting to see very much. Wah.

- Germany's doing okay, one-and-one so far. Oh well, nobody really expected them to medal, though it would be nice if they could make it out of the prelims.

- Jason Kidd . . . I'm not really sure what to make of him. The stat line I saw for the first game had him at 0 points and 0 assists, and I don't think that's accurate. I saw some truly delicious half-court passes in the second quarter, but no thanks to crappy reception I don't know if he was the passer or not.

- The next game I'm going to get to see is USA v. Spain on Sunday. USA v. Germany's only on the USA network. I have to remind myself that Spain's the defending world champion and it's not really fair to whine, "But I have to watch Pau Gasol when I could be watching Dirk?!?" 'Weenie Man Away!' as opposed to '1000% Man Beast'?

Save it for the medal round, Beej.

- One thing I really like is that the players on Team USA are being encouraged to mix with the other athletes. Kobe Bryant was Beatlemaniac-calibur mobbed when he went to one of the women's games, and some of the others have been seen at the swim meets and suchlike. No harm in knowing that you're good, but arrogance is like salt -- too much and you ruin the food and have heart troubles.

- Speaking of -- I'll keep it brief -- Michael Phelps ought to spend a few days in a tank getting filmed and scanned into a motion-capture program. If there are really merpeople in the deep sea, they move like that. Seriously, he swims like a seal.

- I'm not really a gymnastics fan, but I should start paying attention to the men's competitions. How the fuck did he do that? Honest to God, I was looking for the wires and the bluesceen. Nobody outside of a special-effects shop should be able to fly like that.

- Meanwhile, MavsLand is quiet. 4AM at the Thrifty Acres quiet. Is the offseason over yet?!?
-BJ

It's Tomorrow's Bedtime There . . . I Think

- They're here! They're here! Four years of sport flirting, foreplay, and heavy petting has led up to this -- the Olympics. Meant to be a celebration of brotherhood through competition, these days they're more like a sort of organic billboard for whoever's got The Cash. Whatever; my favorite player's there, Team USA looks ready to paddle tushies, and the VCR had damn well better work.

- It's official, yo. The 2008-2009 schedule for our Dallas Mavericks was announced day before yesterday. Opener -- which begs the question who came up with these matchups -- is against the Rockets on October 30. I am so there. Mr. Ming, I respect you, but your ass is going down.

- Our draft pick, Shan Foster, signed a contract to play for a year in Europe. I'll admit I'm a little disappointed we're not going to see him in action right away, but all things considered it seems a smart move. The Mavs still have his NBA rights, and if he distinguishes himself he's got a decent shot at making the team sometime in the next couple years.

- And because I can't go more than a day without an update on my guy, Dirk's been selected as Germany's flagbearer for the Olympic opening ceremony. For that? Joyous. For the haircut? Not so much. That does it; no one's allowed near Dirk with clippers, ever. Gentlemen, the Roman skullcap doesn't look good on anybody.

I'm doing this from memory, so bear with me. This is from Magic Memories on Ice, two-time Olympic gold medalist (men's singles) Dick Button:

"The Olympics are sometimes critizied for being overblown in proportion to an athlete's overall career. And that may be. But the test of the Olympics is for man's ability to call upon himself for the best he has, at the time he has to have it."
-BJ

Like I Needed Another Reason To Stress!

With our team captains in Beijing and the Organization ominously quiet on the talent-acquisition front, one would think the average MFFL has enough to worry about, right?

Basketball Gods must not think so:

Josh Howard arrested for street racing in North Carolina.

I requested permission to PANIC! and didn't get it. So I'm not. Panicking.

But my God, man, if you're on thin ice it's not a good idea to take up tapdancing. "You idiot!" about covers it. "Where are your brains, in your ass?" would do as well.

Mr. Howard, in the win-the-lottery chance you'll ever read this blog, I have something to say.

First of all, I'm not mad that you like driving fast. I like to drive fast. I'd love a chance to take my friend's Miata out for a stroll against whatever sportster his bosses have him driving that week. On a track. With an emergency team nearby. And no necks at risk other than my friend's and my own.

Secondly, I'll assume that you've stayed clean for this offseason since a drug test is SOP for this situation. Good for you.

The issue isn't the moral problems of drug use and public endangerment (although those are thorny enough). That's for the law to sort out. From a Mavs fan perspecive, the issue is you're acting like boy half your age when your credibility is at low tide. And if we can't trust you to obey the law, how are we supposed to trust you'll deliver the best you have when the team has to have it? I'm sorry, but you're performance hasn't been consistant enough to make that an irrelevent concern.

Spend time at home with the folks. Talk to your preacher. Tour the Carribean. Take a trip to Disneyworld if that's what it takes. But please, for the love of God, get your shit together. You're not fourteen any more. Behave like it.
-BJ

When The Good Lord Passed Out Sense . . .

Yao Ming's off-the-thumbs reaction to the Rockets acquisition of Ron Artest.

Ron Artest's off-the-rails reaction to Yao.

I knew it.

Okay, I think Artest in his own inimitable fashion has demonstrated that he lives with his foot in his mouth. I cannot imagine how draining it's going to be for the Rockets to have to deal with this guy on a daily basis. Is he productive enough to justify the stress? Not to mention the chance he might crack and wind up weaving baskets instead of shooting at them?

I'm going to speculate for a second here; if a deal including Artest was seriously discussed by the Organization, I'm guessing there was a veto in the form of a you-gotta-be-fuckin-kidding from Coach Carlisle. The idea of bringing Ron Artest on your team probably feels a little bit like planting a fertilizer-wrapped land mine under your rosebushes. They might grow bigger, but just wait until your dog goes to bury the remote . . . again.

Put another way, bringing Ron-Ron on board would feel like a trip from a nice little garden in Basketball Land to its septic tank.
-BJ

Because Press Get In Free, Dumbasses

Applying for press credentials as a blogger.

I'm thinking about it. See above. And okay, the thought of seeing shower-fresh Mavs is not altogether unappealing.

Here's some thoughts on the subject for later review.
-BJ

Smack

It's a phenomenon one runs into in any form of fandom; the Wall. It's the intangible barricade, made up of outdated news bits and endlessly rehashed (and insoluable) arguements, that prevents a fan's imagination from spending more time in a particular universe.

For instance, rewind to 2005. You're a respectably unbalanced Star Wars fanatic, and the past six years have been great. Fandom is active and growing. There's discussion and interaction everywhere you look. You're glued to the computer. If you didn't have to eat-sleep-work-and-wash, you'd never leave.

But as days and weeks pass after the last movie's released, information dries up. One terrible day you click between starwars.com, theforce.net, and your fandom-run site of choice (score extra points if it's the Master/Apprentice archive) and . . . nothing. No news, no rumors, no pictures, no fic, niente. You have hit the Wall.

Your heart sinks. You have, after all, been through this rodeo before. Membership at your discussion groups and fanfic lists will start to decline. The hardcore fanatics, group hosts, and listparents will find new fandoms and take great chunks of your fellow nerds with them. Eventually it'll boil down to one or two of the old salts, some truly insane people (I'm looking at you, Spuffy shippers), and a bunch of folks too lazy or too disinterested to formally exclude themselves (unsubscribing, unFriending the group, etc).

I knew it was coming. This is the offseason. I just didn't expect it to happen so fast. It does stands to reason though. Star Wars as a fandom is still vibrant, because there's new source material avaiable via the Extended Universe (the Lucasfilm sactioned novels and games). Buffy, which has been off the air . . . God, five years now, is still chugging along via fanfiction. Even Firefly is alive and well. Sports on the other hand . . . there isn't much material other than direct from the source available. Fans don't get to put their own spin upon the fandom. Makes keeping up enthusiasm hard.

So it's been two months since the Finals, and I'm clicking with increasing desperation through my list of websites, looking for some news. (Almost) Any news. Team USA? Landed in China yesterday. Summer League? Wrapped up, with our boys comporting themselves honorably. Not confirmed yet who's staying and who's going. Trades for Josh Smith or (gulp) Ron Artest? Just talk, not serious, possibly the vulgar fictions of demented general managers.

Nothing new.

I have hit the Wall.

. . .

(whimper)

Addendum: Thank God. Mr. Fisher knows the Wall. He spends a great deal of time trembling on the ground, bits of his scalp smeared all over the Wall. Thanks, Fish.

Addendum the Second: Pardon me, but who in Chi would think that Mr. Cuban's acquistion of the Cubs would be a bad thing? I guess it depends how heavily the Chicago fanbase -- and Major League Baseball -- is invested in the ideal of their Cubs as loveable losers. (And that Lansing Lugnuts crack was low. Whitecaps all the way!)
-BJ