An Open Letter to the Dayton Flyers

Dear U of D Flyers:

You did it. You so and so's fucking did it. I didn't actually get to see it because I was cleaning up a bunch of "code twos" at the human petting zoo I work at. Yes, "technically" I could have watched the game against West Virginia, the game where you rose above 20 years of misery and broke through to the second round of the NCAA Tournament. In fact, I was actually watching television during the game. However, "The Sandlot" is only on so many times during the year, and while I am a fan of the Dayton Flyers, my heart really belongs to a ragtag bunch of little leaguers, a blind James Earl Jones and a pair of PF Flyers.

I have to warn you, I'm a greedy bastard. The win against West Virginia was unexpected, exciting and euphoric--like my last visit to the local VA hospital for a condition I have come to affectionately call "melancholy herpes and the infinite scratching." I want more. More bounce passes. More shots that are just like shots that count for two points, but are in fact awarded an additional point because they originated from a distance just a bit farther that the aforementioned "two point shot" (from what I can decipher, anywhere from 1.6 to 34 feet). I want to see London Warren's dreds in full Lil' Wayne crunkvision. I want London Warren to drive the team to the game in a diamond encrusted utility van only to be arrested for crunk driving five miles from the arena. I want London Warren and Brian Gregory to attend a camp where the instructors solely teach them two skills: how to make bird feeders out of coconuts, and how to beat Kansas. I want them to both room together. I want London Warren on top of their crunk bed.

I admit it--I don't just want this, I need this. I have never seen a sight so gorgeous (other than Brett Michaels' hair) than the victory against West Virginia. I need you guys to beat Kansas. I wish I could give you some pointers, but the truth of the matter is--I don't really know much about them. I think they are just like West Virginia, only a little less rednecky. I also think if you score more points than them at the end of the game, we have a decent shot at winning this thing. Let's keep that on the DL though, I wouldn't want let the media know about that last part before the game.

You have to admit it--it felt good to win the West Virginia game. Why not do it again? You know what happens if you lose? You go back to class. You have to remember, we still think of you are "student-athletes." In other words, lose to the Jayhawks, and on Monday you will be sitting in Statistics wondering what the hell happened and why you're not wearing any pants. Even worse, the depression that comes from a loss could be too much for me to handle. At this point, the excitement has reached such a crescendo that anything less that a victory could forever damage my psyche. Remember that game in Cincinnati a few weeks ago? I know we told each other that we would never bring it up--like that time we accidentally fell asleep on the couch together watching "Because I Said So" and woke up in each other's arms. You remember it; we ate a whole box of Oreos and accidentally killed that hitchhiker we picked up on the way back from Blockbuster. Anyway, spiritually that loss will seem like a picnic if you lose on Sunday.

There are not many times in life where you can have the opportunity to achieve greatness. Alexander was great. The depression was great. Jonathan Brandis' performance in "Ladybugs" was great (sure, when Gwyneth Paltrow and Hilary Swank dress up like dudes, they get Oscars; when Brandis asks us to reconsider our most basic of assumptions regarding gender roles his performance was less critically acclaimed than the clearly inferior performance of Jackee'). If you win on Sunday, you take one more step towards greatness. You're in the same no lose situation Ray Combs was in when he was given the Family Feud gig, the same no lose situation as Sammy Hagar when he joined Van Halen--so no pressure.

I should stop. I have said too much already. The truth is--there is no pressure on you guys and I don't want to add any. It has been a pleasure following you this year. Sure, there have been some ups and downs, but that's the way this floating blue marble works. I have praised some of you, cursed others, but through it all I think we all knew that we would be there for each other. I am proud of you guys. You never stopped fighting, even though I was the one who got drunk, threw a drink in that guy's face, and grabbed his girlfriend's ass while quickly getting the hell out of there. One piece of advice--we don't want Scotty Howard out there on Sunday, we want the goddamned Teen Wolf. I don't want to jinx you guys, but I have a good feeling about this game. A really good feeling. In fact, I felt so good, that come to think of it, I do have one last favor to ask. Just a small, little nothing. Please, please, cover the spread.

Yours in Christ,

James Oglethorpe

The Myth of Bobby Knight

Chances are that your father thinks he likes Bobby Knight. He thinks Knight is a winner, a disciplinarian, someone who graduates his players and has sex with his wife every Wednesday night with the lights off and door closed. Chances are that your father also pretends to care about baseball. Every now and then he will talk about the playoff race, whether he agrees with the designated hitter rule and where he stands on "the whole steroids issue." There is something innate in men aged 55-65 to think that Knight (like baseball) somehow represents a different, more pure era in our country's history. Your dad does not necessarily know that much about Knight, he only knows that he stands as a repudiation of the "modern" college basketball game--where shorts have the nerve to fall below the knee and no one calls a moving pick anymore. People need symbols in life to simplify and publicize their social, political, sexual and religious preferences. An "Obama" or "Coexist" sticker is required for those who drive a Toyota Prius, a "Jesus Fish" or "Fair Tax" sticker is necessary for those who drive SUVs, and those who use bicycles have tattoos, piercings and various patches on their messenger bags delivering the message for the rest of us to piss off. Your dad thinks by showing admiration for Bobby Knight, he is showing others that he knows what it's like to work hard, to respect his elders, and more importantly, to demonstrate what he is not: someone who thinks that 18 year old kids should hold press conferences to announce what colleges they will attend, someone who would make an unnecessary behind-the-back pass, someone who thinks that the current state of college basketball (and America) is better than it used to be.

Knight is a symbol just like any other. Ironically, the qualities for which Knight supposedly stands: discipline, team over the individual and hard work, have no more to do with Knight than GNC has to do with steroid use in baseball. Regardless, your dad will still like Knight, not because he truly knows the man Knight is, but because it says something about him as a man. As with baseball, which has become little more than artificially enhanced men from Central America playing a boring game with an inability to speak English during the post game press conference, your dad will continue to feign interest in the sport because he thinks it's an uniquely American game, something that as an American, he should continue to support.

Just as baseball has once again entered the mainstream consciousness, so has Bobby Knight. Knight, who literally quit on his team last year after shortly obtaining the record for most all-time wins, has less than a year later stated his desire to get back into coaching (or as those who pretend they are not merely placing several 18-21 year old black men strategically around a basketball court to make themselves and their employers money, to "teach.") Your dad thinks this is a great idea. In fact, your dad wouldn't mind if Bobby coaches at his/your school. But, your dad's logic would be as misplaced as Knight's windbreaker in a climate controlled basketball arena.

The controversies surrounding Knight are very well known, yet do little to dissuade Knight's supporters (who, it should be noted, would never dare call him "Knight"--at least not to his face) that he practices what he preaches. The throwing of chairs, his interesting position on sexual assault, his yelling at NCAA tournament volunteers, his whipping of players, his criminal status in Puerto Rico, and his attacks on both students and student-athletes alike are summarily discounted by his supporters. If anything, they argue, his "faults" are a result of his refusal to adhere to a progressively "politically correct" America. Sure, when he was not voted in the Hall of Fame in 1988 he called it a "slap in the face," and later dramatically asked that he not be placed on the ballot due to the nerve of the committee not electing him in the first place, but every now and then the focus has to fall away from the team and to the individual, that's only human nature--right?

Last year was an interesting one for Knight. Having been banished to the wasteland that is Lubbock, Texas and Texas Tech basketball, Knight decided, shortly after obtaining the all-time wins record, that we was no longer interested in "teaching," and that he would quit on his team (before the season was over, and after having a showdown at a local salad bar with a university administrator--the radishes could not be reached for comment). Knight designated his son, Pat, as the new Texas Tech head coach, which makes sense since Pat has no head coaching experience, has never accomplished a legitimate feat in college coaching in his life and is currently 2-10 in the Big 12 with a loss to Lamar (which is either a legitimate college basketball program or some black dude from Dallas that had the game of his life).

With his hatred of the media well documented, Knight did what everyone expected him to do: he quietly retired to Florida, wrote numerous books about coaching and leadership, and volunteered as a local high school basketball assistant coach, teaching young men the qualities of discipline and competition (actually, this is incorrect). Instead, Knight joined the biggest sports media conglomerate in the history of the world (ESPN) and spends his days doing exactly what he criticized during his coaching days--reporting on college basketball. After less than a year into his new profession, Knight has decided that he does not receive the media attention he truly deserves, and has decided once again that his desire to "teach" is too great, and that he needs to get back into coaching.

However, one would never know that Knight was interested in coaching again. After all, Bobby Knight would not actually stoop so low as to admit any interest in obtaining millions of dollars to be associated with a child's game. Instead, Knight, through "sources," has indicated his desire to be the new coach at the University of Georgia--only he would not say he was interested, and he would not interview for the job--he would simply accept it if offered (which was pretty selfless of him). We were told that Georgia was just the kind of job Knight was interested in, that it had all the tools necessary for him to be successful, and that he could even keep his red windbreakers. After learning that Georgia may be interested in moving its program forward (i.e., hiring someone who has won or shown an ability to win since 1995, not being put into a similar position to hire someone in 1-3 years after Knight decides that he is through "teaching" (won enough games), and having no desire to get itself into more trouble with the NCAA (or having Pat Knight in any way associated with the school)), Knight's "sources" say that he is now interested in Alabama. You know where this is headed: Knight, the oldest dude at the frat party who graduated 8 years ago, is extremely intoxicated and in the mood. He tried his chances with the hottest girl at the party (UGA), and was denied. He drank a little more, and decided to try his chances with the hot girl's best friend, who although good looking, was a little hefty (Bama). If Alabama says no, Knight is really going to lower his standards, throwing himself at any girl (even Lamar) that may listen.

Knight was a very good college basketball coach, that much cannot be mistaken. It is difficult to argue with the amount of wins he has amassed, he clearly knew (operative tense) how to win. But, Knight was never the man he demanded his players be; he is and will always be concerned solely about himself. Knight enjoys being on television, he enjoys throwing chairs and holding press conferences where he yells, makes funny faces and shouts expletives while he holds his grandson on his lap because he knows it will put him on television. By getting involved in his constant antics, Knight ensures that he becomes the story over the game and his players. His hypocrisy in demanding discipline and selflessness are apparent and should be criticized, not that Jay Bilas (who was coached by Coach K and works with Dick Vitale, who loves Coach K, who was coached by Knight) would dare comment upon Knight's ridiculousness. And so here we are, a year after Knight has quit the game once again talking about Knight's antics at the expense of the game and its players. Those who concede Knight's shortcomings, and there are many, huddle themselves around their one constant rallying cry: Knight graduates his players. This is the equivalent of me asking for recognition for paying taxes, not beating my wife and stopping at red lights. When a man's best employment quality is adhering to the most basic requirement of him, his worth as an employee has to be called into serious question.

So the next time Bobby Knight's face comes on television (and believe me, over the next month of so, it will be on a lot), hope your dad is not watching along with you. It will be tempting to argue with him over what a hypocrite Knight is, how his actions completely contradict the qualities he expects of his players, how Knight is only interested in "teaching" us what a cavalier and great coach he was (and can still be). But fathers, like everything else, will eventually leave us. So instead, switch the channel to a baseball game, and talk to him about how Mickey Mantle was the best player to ever play the game--a simpler and better time.

How Dick Vitale Ruins College Basketball

When I was a little younger, it did not take much to impress me. Shrinky Dinks, for instance, completely blew my mind. Truth be told, even today I don't know what kind of black magic is involved to get those plastic pieces to somehow shrink to a third of their original size, but I possess enough reason now to assume that it has something to do with an equal mix of chemistry and God's will. Pizza Hut's stuffed crust pizza was also a huge concept for me to contemplate. Between delicious bites of dough, cheese and grease, I would attempt to reverse engineer the process of getting large mounds of processed cheese into the crispy crust of a pizza. After about five minutes, I would eventually give up, and resign myself to trying to figure out what would happen if the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turned on Splinter and used the skills taught by him to ultimately usurp and overtake his power (for the record, there is no way in hell Michelangelo could take Splinter--now Donatello, that my friends, is a different story.)



I am not sure when I turned on Dick Vitale, but it was not unlike the day that you turned on your Naughty by Nature or Technotronic tape and thought: "Wait a second. What the hell am I listening to?" First, what I initially perceived to be Vitale's enthusiastic knowledge of the game was in reality just his loud yelling. When you are a kid, your level for annoying sounds is heightened. We spent most of our days playing video games, torturing small animals and yelling ourselves, so to hear the orgasmic shrieks of Vitale was not only refreshing, it was somewhat comforting. What we failed to consider was that Vitale's volume was mere posturing for his self-professed love affair with college basketball. We are led to believe that a heightened speaking volume correlates to a heightened appreciation and/or understanding of the game. This is a somewhat confusing proposition, as it solely seems to work in the arena of sports announcing, and not customary social situations: "Did I read Don Quixote? You bet I did! The themes regarding incompatible systems of morality blew my mind! Cervantes was a literary PTP'er baby!"



As you grow older, you consequently become more critical. Santa Claus dies. The tooth fairy not only stops coming by, but you actually get a little scared at the entire process of her initial involvement. You realize that regardless of the amount of well drafted and sensual letters that you sent to Anna Chlumsky, she ain't gonna drop those restraining orders. And that's when you realize that while Dick Vitale may do a competent job of yelling about college basketball, in reality, what he is really promoting is himself. Vitale does not want you to appreciate the subtleties of the game, the spin of a well shot long range three or the thought process that went into a coach changing his defense from man-to-man to zone after a timeout. He wants you to know who his "diaper dandies" are, his "PTP'er's," and of course, when a "dispy-doo dunkeroo" occurs (and believe me, it inevitably will). That way you are not just watching a college basketball game, you are watching a college basketball game being announced by Vitale. The emphasis shifts from the action on the court, to the person calling the action on the court. And that is why Vitale ruins every basketball game he announces.



Vitale is also probably one of, it not the biggest, hypocrites in all of announcing (let's be honest, he is not a commentator, meaning that he provides actual "analysis" of what is occurring on the court). Bob Knight literally quits on his team halfway through the season, and Vitale has nothing bad to say. He spends his entire broadcast hyping up his "diaper dandies," only to lament the incredible pressure put on young underclassmen. He bemoans the business of high school basketball recruiting, but is happy to announce a high school basketball game featuring LeBron James and telling the audience of the millions James will eventually make. His complete adulation for Jim Valvano is paradoxical, given that Valvano was forced to resign from his position due to recruiting and academic scandals, which includes a point-shaving allegation against his players. If it were up to Vitale, 327 teams would be able to play in the NCAA tournament each year. Of course, Vitale never necessarily states that an individual team should NOT be invited to the dance, he simply mentions 76 other teams that were not invited and makes some nonsensical comments about how they should have been invited. Vitale is the only guy on Selection Sunday who wants the big boys to get in, as long as the little guys do too.



What has been increasingly annoying about Vitale is his willingness to get involved in matters which he clearly has no qualifications. What does Vitale have to do with the naming of Indiana's court for "Robert Montgomery Knight" or Syracuse's for Jim Boeheim? Why do we have to hear about the people (to include Dick himself) who "should" be voted into the Hall of Fame? Why do we constantly have to hear about why Bob Knight/Steve Lavin needs a job or why Notre Dame football will be back? Perhaps no article can summarize Vitale's inept and uneducated views than the following (which I can clearly recall reading in sheer disbelief several years ago due to an attenuated connection to University of Georgia athletics): http://espn.starwave.com/dickvitale/001211BestofWeek.html



In the attached link, not only does Vitale call the firing of one time UGA football coach Jim Donnan "unfair" (without any reasoning whatsoever), but he also descibes disgraced basketball coach Jim Harrick as a coach who is doing "well." First, I would be interested in ascertaining the knowledge base for Vitale's opinion that Donnan's firing was "unfair." It should be noted that since said firing, Georgia has consistently been a top ten team under the guidance of Mark Richt. But what about Vitale makes him believe that he is an expert as to college football matters or the hiring/firing practices at UGA? Now that is just one small example I can recall at the top of my head, but it proves the point nonetheless. If Vitale is so obsessed with college basketball, why does he spend so much time speaking about the Tampa Bay Rays or Charlie Weis? If he really wants to assist the progression of college basketball, why is he doing commercials for DiGiorno and Hooters? The answer is clear: Vitale is not about making you appreciate college basketball or promoting the game, he wants you to appreciate his catch phrases and to be force fed his opinions and personal agenda.



It would be too easy to critique Vitale for his obsession with Duke Basketball and Coach K. The topic has been covered by others far more intelligent and sober than me. But the question deserves to be asked, can you correlate a single sports team with the unabashed affection of an announcer who is specifically paid to be objective? Can you justify the constant adulation for a single team or coach? How is it that a "national" announcer can crawl into bed with Duke and Coach K and the average fan is supposed to believe that he is unbiased during the game or that he will call the game fairly?



The defense of Vitale seems to revolve around one constant mantra: "Yeah, but he really loves the game of college basketball." I love a lot of things: walking around in public with my fly down, French surrealist poetry and auto-erotic asphyxiation. However, my love of such things does not automatically qualify me to comment upon them on a national stage--no matter how loud I yell.