Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

By the way, I’m aware of the irony of appearing on television in order to decry it. So don’t bother pointing that out.

Sideshow Bob.

And with further ado, we deliver a real treat – actual follow-up on draft results for every team, every player. That’s right. And we’re off.

1. Derrick Rose, Memphis, Chicago Bulls. Great draft for Chicago. A pure point with an extra gear. IMO, a sure thing.

2. Mike Beasley, K-State, Miami. Good draft for the Heat – Beasley may actually thrive with Marion and Wade in tow. And, of course, we predicted a complete and total fleecing of Chad Ford. Thanks for the continued misinformation. With three principle scorers, Mario Chalmers (2nd) could actually start right away – and be effective.

3. O.J. Mayo, SoCal, Grizzlies. Sure, he’s the third-best player – but how does he fit with Rudy Gay, Hakim Warrick, Mike Conley, Kyle Lowry, et. al? I’m sure they’re rearranging pieces for a fire sale or eventual free agent push. But when will that be? 2009? Les Grizz heisted Darrell Arthur late at night, which is a plus. My guess is Warrick and Conley are shopping for new places, soon.

4.  Russell Westbrook, UCLA, Seattle. Um, no. I’m sorry, everyone’s in love with Westbrook, but UCLA was on TV like every weekend, this kid couldn’t score in a brothel, and last I checked, you didn’t waste No. 4 picks on defenders-only. Later in the day, the Sonics selected a guy from the Congo to play overseas. I know you’re shocked.

5. Kevin Love, UCLA, Minnesota. I actually think he’ll be a good pro. Not in Minnesota.

6. Danilo Gallinari, Armani Jeans, New York Knicks. Sure, fine, D’Antoni could make it work. Probably should have tried to deal this cursed pick with a passion before the day; but given NY’s trade record, maybe not.

7. Eric Gordon, Indiana, L.A. Clippers. And we never heard from him again.

8. Joe Alexander, West Va., Milwaukee. The Bucks and Grizz, racing to fill their AAU squads with small forwards. At least they got rid of Yi.

9. D.J. Augustin, Texas, Charlotte. But whom to pass to? The Bobcats’ uniforms and Michael Jordan’s presidency are arguments a-and-b for contraction.

10. Brook Lopez, Stanford, New Jersey. The Nets added lots of solid complementary parts, including Chris Douglas-Roberts – an upgrade over Richard Jefferson, if you ask me. At some point they’ll have to pursue a free agent. When they move to Brooklyn. Wonder who.

11. Jerryd Bayless, Arizona, Portland. OK, so my new favorite team dealt my favorite vogue-pick Brandon Rush to acquire Bayless to play point, even though he’s a chucker. I guess if anyone knows point guards, it’s Nate McMillan, so we’ll see.

12. Jason Thompson, Rider, Sacramento. To all those who blast the Kings for snagging the blase senior Thompson – they also drafted Kevin Martin way too high. So you know.

13. Brandon Rush, Kansas, Indiana. The Pacers are going to be b-a-d next year. However, TJ Ford-Jarrett Jack is an adequate PG combo, Rush and Granger are adequate swingmen. Soon they’ll be pursuing a huge free agent. Not sure if it will be next summer, or whom. We’ll see.

14. Anthony Randolph, LSU, Golden State. Before the rosters are trimmed to 12, Randolph and Brandan Wright can play some fantastic games of 1-on-1.

That’s all for now – just the lottery. We’ll re-up later with our thoughts on the rest of the first round. And, ahem, Donte Greene, what the hell did we tell you? Too late to listen now.

You’ve all been waiting for it, now here it is. I’ll spare you my annual soliloquy claiming (1) I don’t know how to gauge drafts anymore, (2) The NBA Draft now closely resembles the MLB Rule 4 Draft; (3) I’m down on all these young tweeners with poor skills but unlimited upside (4) Everyone and their dog crafts a mock draft, whether privy to inside information, used by various teams as a puppet, aggregating gossip, or blindly throwing darts, (6) The whole exercise is petty and futile.

So there’s that. Anyway, here’s one jaded onlooker’s view of the draft, its possibilities, and its fruitless rationalizing. How did this draft look great during college basketball’s season – yet now looks so poor? Months ago a friend of MFG commented Oklahoma’s Blake Griffin would have gone third. I didn’t believe it then, but it turns out, he was spot-on. (I know, you’re reeling. I actually have tangible friends. Believe it!)

1. Chicago Bulls. Derrick Rose, Memphis. The NBA season wasn’t as fantastic or revolutionary as its league partners would have you believe. However, its two breakout stars were Deron Williams and Chris Paul. Doubtful that’s gone unnoticed. Rose may not be the passer Paul is, but he’s faster than either point guard, with a lethal first step. The Bulls have a full backcourt, but it’s an average backcourt. Gotta take the best player available, worry about Ben Gordon and Kirk Hinrich later.
2. Miami Heat. Michael Beasley, Kansas State. I’m sorry, I don’t buy a team waffling over Beasley and falling in love with Mayo because of one player’s character issues. It’s like steering clear of KFC because you don’t like grease and heading straight to A&W. Like claiming you refuse to sit through The Love Guru but punching two tickets for Zohan. It’s Beasley, and it’s an easy choice.
3. Minnesota Timberwolves. OJ Mayo, USC. I actually think Mayo has a chance at being an outstanding player, similar to Dwyane Wade, but not as gifted offensively. However, I think he especially could be a difference maker on the defensive end. Of course, like most teams, Minnesota looks at him, sees an athlete, and immediately says: “He could play point guard!” No, no he can’t. At least it would be a step closer to abandoning the Randy Foye/Rashad McCants morass.
4. Seattle Sonics. Danilo Gallinari, foreign. The drop-off in this draft is monumental after the top-3. The perfect excuse for notorious skinflints Seattle to snag another unheard-of foreigner, and ship him to a different country until everyone forgets about him. (Souleman Sene.) I don’t mean to be hard on Seattle, but their recent draft history outside of Kevin Durant is, shall we say, a bit checkered.
5. Memphis Grizzlies. Jerryd Bayless, Arizona. Point guards! We’ve got point guards! Bayless fits neatly into Memphis’ rotation of Javaris Crittenton, Mike Conley, and Kyle Lowry. Makes perfect sense.
6. New York Knicks. Russell Westbrook, UCLA. According to most mock drafts, he’s a fast riser. Which should scare the shit out of everyone. What’s he bring to the table? Oh, he’s a lockdown defender. Well, supposedly, but he played slow-down with Ben Howland in school. He’s athletic. Gulp. He’s been compared to Rajon Rondo. The No. 6 pick in the draft, ladies and gents, intended to revive New York basketball, and he’s compared to a point guard barely above replacement level. Color me unimpressed. (Maybe he can play point guard!)
   
7. L.A. Clippers. Eric Gordon, Indiana. I’m lower on Gordon than any other player in this draft; was never impressed in college, and of course, he resembles DaJuan Wagner in game, stature, and legend. Good luck with that. (By the way, I love it when prognosticators compare Eric Gordon to Ben Gordon. Wow! Dig deep, professors. What led you to that?)
8. Milwaukee Bucks. Joe Alexander, West Va. Living proof that if you can bang your head on the rim, you’ll get drafted super-high. For a team with no idea what to do with you.
9. Charlotte Bobcats. Kevin Love, UCLA. Yes, I’m a skeptic. Basically, they’re taking Sean May all over again. Love is another great college player benefiting from a weak draft. If he’s ever on a loaded contender, as the fourth option, he’ll be fine. Here, not so much.
10. New Jersey Nets. Not a clue. If they can trade this for an additional parking spot in Brooklyn, maybe they will. I’ll pencil in Brook Lopez. I actually don’t think he’s a bust. (Stanford).
11. Indiana Pacers. Darrell Arthur, Kansas. I think Arthur is vastly underrated; I also think reports of him “not trying” are overreported. He’s still a bit raw, but polished against players just his stature. Could have a season similar to Julian Wright, which for a No. 11 pick, is just fine. No, I don’t compare them just because they’re from KU. Supposedly they’re trading for TJ Ford, which is just re-arranging deck chairs at this point.
12. Sacto Kings. DJ Augustin, Texas. They need to try out a point guard, unless they trade Ron Artest for Jordan Farmar or something. (And why would they? It makes too much sense.). Augustin may as well be Jamaal Tinsley’s son. Great college player. We’ll see in the pros.
13. Portland TrailBlazers. Brandon Rush, Kansas. This is the perfect pick for them, and I’ll admit, as my new (retro) favorite team (Coming soon! Learn why!), I shoehorned these last few picks in order to deliver Rush to the Blaze. For a team with three big-time draft hits in three years, Rush stands a chance at being a fantastic role player.
14. Golden State Warriors. Chris Douglas-Roberts, Memphis. I’ve seen everyone from Kuofos to Greene to Randolph to Thompson pegged in this spot. How about the only ‘tweener with an unstoppable mid-range game in the draft? He’s offense-first, also, so Nellie should love him. Fun fact: I think this kid might be a top-five talent in this draft. I think everyone’s not talking about him in order to sneak up and snatch him. I thought the same thing about Lawrence Moten.
15. Phoenix Suns. Mario Chalmers, Kansas. Chalmers’ stock is rising, even though I can’t foresee him as much more than a backup. That said, he’d be a great backup in Phoenix, and allow the Suns to shop Barbosa. I’m not going to mention that he would even have been a better fit in the fun n’ gun Suns – you know, before Steve Kerr decided to rebuild the 1994 Knicks.
16. Philadelphia 76ers. Donte Greene, Syracuse. Philly got lucky with a schizo raw, malcontent freshman once in Andre Iguodala. They’ll try it twice with Greene. I’m sure you’re shocked, but I’m not optimistic about Mr. Greene. Safe to say when you’re clearly the third-best player on an underachieving NIT squad; you’re probably not NBA-ready. Just a thought.
17. Toronto Raptors. Anthony Randolph, LSU. What’s the ceiling for Randolph? Steven Hunter? Sam Dalenbert? What’s the basement? Patrick O’Bryant? I never heard of him before the draft; now he’s projected in the lottery. Please. The Raps can afford this mistake, assuming they can make that no-brainer trade for Jermaine O’Neal.
18. Washington Wizards. At this point I don’t know. Not that I will know at any point. How about Mareese Speights? He’s from Florida. And, no, I never heard of him, either.
19. Cleveland Cavaliers. Kosta Kuofos, Ohio State, “Workout Wonder.” And LeBron James dies a little inside. Trade this pick, next year’s, and some of your trash and get this guy some help!
20. Denver Nuggets. Shan Foster, Vanderbilt. I’m not even kidding. Denver has employed exactly one sharpshooter in the last eight years, and it was Voshon Lenard. If the Nuggets are ever going to be good (and with AI and Camby, they’ve got two years), they need to do three things: (1) Make sure Kenyon Martin never plays a game again, (2) Finally find a shooter, ever.
21. New Jersey Nets. I’m disappointed with my mock draft, because I thought I was differentiating from others by predicting drops for Love, Randolph, and Greene – then I saw Chad Ford is forecasting the same things. Ugh. Interestingly enough, he foresees the Nets taking two centers. Right, because that always works out. Jason Thompson, Rider.
22. Orlando Magic. Courtney Lee, Western Kentucky. Guys named Courtney are always overvalued (Courtney Alexander? Anyone?) This signals the end for J.J. Redick and the beginning of years of paid free-throw camps for Dick Vitale’s can’t-miss kid.
23. Utah Jazz. Javale McGee, Nevada. Oh, like everyone doesn’t see this coming.
24. Seattle SuperSonics. This is almost too good to be true! The Sonics, with another chance to select a first-round foreign kid and ship him to European oblivion forever! Alas, they take Roy Hibbert, Georgetown. If it’s any solace, Hibbert only ever looked palatable around Jeff Green. Take two, I guess.
25. Houston Rockets. Robin Lopez, Stanford. With Rafer Alston and Mike James, it’s not like they need a point guard, right?
26. San Antonio Spurs, Blazers, Grizz. You know as well as I do they’re all taking foreigners. Alexis Ajinca, Serge Ibaka, Nicholas Batum. Any three of them to any one of these teams.
27. (29) Detroit Pistons. Bill Walker, Kansas State. I’ve got to believe that Walker knows he’s a first-rounder, otherwise he would have gotten out of this draft. Of course, we’re talking about the guy who peed in a towel during a game, so his mental capacity isn’t exactly staggering.
28. (30) Boston Celtics. JR Giddens, New Mexico. I love mock drafts that try to pinpoint a need-only pick later in the draft to the NBA Champions. Well, they might need a better outlet passer or backup point guard, so here’s what they’ll do. At this point, Giddens is the best player available, and the Celtics can afford to take a chance on a talented player, even if he might be a head case.

I’ll admit it – as a supposed rational fan, I came dangerously close to jumping off the ledge last week during the Cubs’ nightmarish series in Tampa. Honestly. The first night, I chalked it up to fatigue and mistakes – Reed Johnson’s two gaffes and Neal Cotts chucking a grounder into right field. Still, the Cubs persevered.Obviously Wednesday’s loss of the game and of Carlos was a bitte, scary pill, but I chalked the L up to freakish seeing-eye ground balls (Ronny knocks down a squib and it turns into a double??) and bad luck. Still, the Cubs came back – though I was petrified that Z would be gone for much, much longer.

After Carlos Marmol’s bewildering meltdown Thursday, I was fully frightened. In fact, Friday afternoon, I actually penned a post in the middle innings of the Cubs’ confused confrontation with John Danks, lambasting their ongoing, frustrating lack of offense, mired in agonizing, contagious slumps of Derrek Lee and Aramis Ramirez. The pitching – good enough to hold oppositions to 4 runs or so per game wouldn’t be good enough if the offense reverted to the 2001-3 Cubs.

Suddenly, on Sunday night, everything looked fixed. Aramis is locked in. Lee is looking to smack the ball the other way. Eric Patterson and Matt Murton combined to hit 7-for-11 from left field. Jim Edmonds attempts to shed his Cardinal persona like a scorned lover. And suddenly, Ryan Dempster looks like the guy scouts ranked ahead of Josh Beckett, Matt Clement, and A.J. Burnett on a young Marlins squad eons ago.

Included in my defunct, largely-bewildered, post was the message: “A team is never as good as it looks when things go well, and never as bad as it looks when struggling.” And I suppose that’sstill  true. No way can the Cubs cut through all upper-echelon teams at home like a warm machete through butter; just as no way every soft-tossing lefty for first-division clubs will own the Cubs on the road. (Uh, right?)

But now it’s OK. Certainly I would have snapped up a 7-4 record during the recent Toronto-Tampa-Chicago interleague swing, complete sight unseen. Probably the Cubs should have lost one game to the White Sox (Friday, right, Hawk? Oh, you’re still mute.) and won one of its games vs. the Rays. (Probably Thursday.) Still, can’t complain. The home games are practically too good to be true. I also mentioned I’d take 55-25 at home even if it meant 40-40 on the road. Still would. Didn’t know that claim would look practically prescient during a necessary sweep.

The team’s mindset is to navigate game-by-game, series-by-series, and review its successes and pitfalls only as necessary. It’s Lou. He’s all business. Better than us nutjob fans, he’s respectful of a season’s grind, ups, downs, luck and effort. I shouldn’t have worried, because they didn’t. The Cubs are desperately trying to put away as many as they can; with luck, they won’t have to scramble as much in September. The importance of winning, accountability and the big picture is not lost on Piniella, and it even trickles down to each player.

And so here we are. June, perhaps the most arduous month on the Cubs’ schedule, down a left fielder, and temporarily missing a starter. So far, the Cubs are 13-7. If you’ll recall (or even if you don’t), I mentioned I’d be happy with a .500 record in a June fraught with road trips, criss-crossing coasts, series against dubious AL squads the Cubs don’t match up well with, then returns to the left coast and three intense rivalry series.  I had no idea what to expect. Five-hundred seemed logically adequate. To have a chance at another successful month is simply icing on the cake.

After the ugly stadium tour wrapped up, Lou mentioned he’d learned a few things, and speculation is rampant. Well, he’s not the only one. Quickly, here’s what we know.

1. As Lee and Ramirez go, so do we.
2. Kosuke is great higher in the order.
3. Ryan Theriot, starting shortstop. Shut up, fanboys – Ronny’s batting like .100 in June.
4. DeRosa and Soto – Oof. When they slump, it’s hard.
5. Ryan Dempster. All-Star. Let that sink in.
6. The bullpen: still a strength. Either Marmol must work every day, or everyone’s blowing his temporary wildness out of proportion.
7. Versatility and platoons – a strength, not a Macias/Womack/Wilson-inspired weakness. Quick, name our outfield tonight. Murton? DeRosa? E-Pat? Whomever, they’re making it work.
8. The trade deadline matters.
9. Stay tuned… Baltimore tonight, then an aggravated ChiSox crew, then trips to San Fran and St. Louis. June isn’t over yet.

How cute, they’re fighting!

You know, one sports blog giant vs. another. Though Deadspin has become somewhat scattershot and caricatured, and The Big Lead has horrible taste in movies, we admire both sports blogs and enjoy reading. Yes, even though Will is a Cardinals fan who lugs a scorebook to each baseball game. (Sole message: I am a better, more cerebral and refined fan than you, you fucking heathen.)

And Jason continues to exhort Cloverfield or The Blair Witch Project ad nauseum at The Big Lead. (Egad, has he actually watched those?) Both became embroiled in today’s recent, ridiculous dust-up, prompted by yet another “sports blogs vs. the MSM” article, this time in the LA Times.

But seriously – there’s a reason MFG failed to weigh in on the overblown Bissinger vs. Deadspin argument from Costas Now ( Just google the damn thing). Supposedly blogs repeatedly piss off old-school writers, and has-been sportswriters piss off blogs and everyone wrings their hands. I’ve ignored it for one simple reason.

Because these are sports blogs. Most of them suck. Mine probably sucks. They’re for the fans, by the fans, that’s it. To shoehorn them into mass media as though it’s some sort of global struggle, well, it’s just pointless. Bloggers begin because they love writing, because they love their own voice, and usually because they’re opinionated and misunderstood or arrogant or an extreme fans or WHO CARES. Even if some do occasionally break news, or operate as an extension of a decorated sportswriter, personality ekes out.

Just as there are terrible sportswriters, old, obtuse, frustrating wretches “who never fucking leave.” (Simmons’ words, not mine), there also are legions of annoying, shabby, stupid sports blogs. The good and bad, in both media. The only reason we notice the bad more is because, well, all of us morons who chose not to climb the ladder operate our own ramshackle sports blog, pointing out fault among the ridiculous, the sublime, and everything in between. Some fantastic, some featuring irritating, endless Ronny Cedeno-Ryan Theriot debates, clearly unable to discern what’s happening in the real world.

This ridiculous fight between TBL and Deadspin underscores each’s recent, somewhat phony gravitas. Yes, both writers do good work. Yes, humor and sports and satire and commentary enjoyably mesh. Yes, the Web features plenty of room for billions of stupid blogs about sports. Yes, this is all fine. No, we are not at war. Why can Howie Kurtz and Howard Fineman get along, but not you guys? Answer – because sports is all so very unimportant, and we all know this, but we take it oh-so seriously anyway.

I’m guilty as charged. Any decorated (or, in my case, vapid) blogger is still on the outside of some ridiculous pastime that he/she follows passionately. Each sportswriter knows they’re just a little bit luck – and not much separates each camp. Therefore, anytime real questions or real issues arise, grizzled writers and snarky fanboys quickly lash out to assert some sort of credibility, vehemently and vociferously. When we all shouldn’t really care. At least not this much, and not this seriously. (We’re seven paragraphs in and now you call me a hypocrite?)

Will is not a martyr, and Jason is no professor. Return to the humor, and the fun, and the dressing down of sports culture. Leave these manufactured issues alone – taking oneself too seriously will ruin you in the end. Example: Jay Mariotti. I say this as a fan of both blogs, and with respect of both writers. Yeah, that’s right – respect. So much so that I criticize Deadspin‘s founder on his way out the door, and pretending I don’t click on TBL 40 times a day. See, fellas? We’re unrefined and annoying and sarcastic, too. We kid ’cause we love.

(Also, no one reads this particular blog. Minor point.)

Not unlike most sardonic, sarcastic, jaded members of some self-effacing generation (X or Y, whichever), today we solemnly note the death of George Carlin. Of course we weren’t privy to the complete rise of Carlin, but discovered him during reruns of Saturday Night Live, HBO, Bill & Ted’s E.A., and re-discovered him while immersed in law school’s First Amendment classes (No, he didn’t help us complete our education).

Carlin was a genius, sure, a brilliant comic with a wordsmith’s penchant for language, blue or colorful, surrounding his gift of observation predating Seinfeld‘s minutiae. Ranging from uproarious (What’s so great about sliced bread? You’ve got a loaf of bread. You’ve got a knife. Slice the fucking thing!) to sublime (Seven Deadly Words), to the football vs. baseball comparison noted today on several sports blogs, Carlin served as a master of his craft, a pioneer like few others.

To say a misfiring blog or unpublished debut novel owes him a debt is far too narcissistic or patronizing, and a comparison too vast. However, Carlin actually will be remembered for his assault on our perspective, a trouper who injected realism, cynicism, profanity, and individualism into my demeanor and nearly all of my bitter, jaded, slightly skewed friends – all of us.

After all, Carlin continually fought the establishment while working inside it, and for whatever establishment you toil, that made him one of yours. No matter who you might be.

“Scratch any cynic, and you’ll find a disappointed idealist.”

(Via NYT link above).

That’s George. That’s most of us. Rest in peace.

Right, we know it’s all just filler until July 18. (And, seriously – how many superhero movies can an audience take? Batman, Hellboy, Iron Man, Hancock, The Incredible Hulk, even Indiana Jones…) Still, each summer we decry the dearth of smart, intelligent cinema – before we’re invariably sucked into whirlwinds of hype and shell out our hard-earned pay for tickets to thousands of disappointing movies.

However, we’ve grown up a bit. We’re no longer evaluating each assembly-line popcorn flick as though it should further our consciousness – rather, we evaluate summer movies by comparing them to comic books. A solid, enjoyable summer movie should provide the appropriate elements of gravitas and whimsy, counterbalancing one another, often serving as a tribute to our favorite heroes.

Good example: Die Hard 4. Bad example: Superman Returns. A solid summer movie should feature believable special effects (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade; Iron Man) instead of falling in love with CGI (Transformers, Spider-Man I-III, Star Wars 1999-2005). Finally, where comedy is concerned, we prefer tongue-in-cheek (Ratatouille) or slapstick (Anchorman) over the self-referential (Austin Powers 2, The Simpsons). You want horror? Please check with us later in the year – we cannot stomach the summer stuff (Blair Witch Project, Signs, The Village).

With that in mind, it’s already been an eventful summer – nattering nabobs are crying Oscar for Iron Man (really?) and decrying Indiana Jones as blasphemous, and here we are, enduring weekends of M. Night and the Incredible Hulk and Get Smart and Zohan, The Love Guru. Typical summer. Like anyone, however, we’re prepping for the release of the world’s greatest literary character by sifting through the enjoyable and the ridiculous, and we present to you – the Summer Movie Guide as told by Mister Faded Glory!

PART I – SO FAR:

• Iron Man. As far as comic book movies go, Iron Man is an enjoyable origin story. Tony Stark is played with aplomb by Robert Downey Jr., and the filmmakers know that they can take liberties with the character’s origin story; I mean, who really has heard of Iron Man? Outside comic book geeks and those who had the Iowa State-inspired toy action figure at age 10, I mean?

  The talented roster enjoys the film, chewing up each scene with appropriate touch, and Bob Downey, Jeff Bridges, Terrence Howard, Gwyneth Paltrow enjoy themselves immensely. It’s quirky enough to escape the malaise of typical superhero dreck (Spider-Man 2) and slick enough that it pleases it’s audience, by actually introducing characters with some depth. It’s good. Most critics would have you believe it’s the OMFGGreatestSuperheroMovieEVAH, but honestly, on the heels of a summer with Spider-Man 3, are you really surprised?

  Best of all, the film isn’t in love with its special effects – and especially yearns to tell a story, rather than wow with explosions. Perhaps we owe a debt of gratitude – i’s flight scenes are far less overwrought than, say, The Silver Surfer. And each action scene features versimilitude rarely seen since, say, Ghostbusters. In short, we’ll buy it – because we want to. Nicely done.

  Certainly the saga requires a leap of faith (as all superheroes do) to assume a flying suit could be built by an MIT-educated prodigy, and other leaps of faith, as well. But we willingly made it, and it didn’t even require the same teeth-gnashing as, say, Con Air. Or Independence Day. Or Signs.

• Indiana Jones 4. We consider ourselves somewhat of Jones savants – in 1990, for example, we probably watched a VHS Last Crusade copy nearly four hundred times (Our personal fave, outshining even the first). And despite the rush of critics lambasting the film – the horror! It’s not as good as Raiders! – it’s an enjoyable sequel, featuring all the requisites for a call-out to a series’ fans.

  Sure, there are a few leaps of faith required, which has the critics gnashing their teeth. But honestly, is hiding in a fridge during a nuclear blast really less believable than jumping out of a plane with a life raft? Is a plunge into a waterfall really so much more egregious than watching a flaming airplane pass a car in a tunnel? The ending is sadly, George Lucas far too in love with special effects, and far too in love with explaining the entire plot and ridiculous MacGuffin Crystal Skulls.

  In this case it wasn’t necessary – the fourth installment furthers the Jones character, and that’s all we require, honestly. We’ve learned Indiana was thrust into spy duty during World War II, we watch as he mourns his father and Marcus Brody, and we ache as the old professor finds himself out of a job. In short, we see the adventurer/archeologist come to grips with the close of his career, and it’s somewhat sad – he even yields Indiana and begins referring to himself as Henry. Of course, to us, he’s Indiana Jones, an archaeologist with a profound respect for cultures’ stories, artifacts, legends, and history. He’s grizzled and wiser, and he knows it. Harrison Ford, for his part, is fantastic as the adventurer knowingly less impetuous than before.

  Cate Blanchett is a capable villain and we didn’t even find Shia LeBoeuf completely repulsive. All the Jones flicks have a whiny sidekick – whether it’s Marion, Willie, Short Round, Henry, Marcus or Marion (again), it’s no biggie to us fans. Callbacks to earlier films include the appearance of the Ark of the Covenant, the look-in on Jones as teacher, Indiana becoming his father (This is intolerable!) and the further backstory of Marion and Jones. Neil Flynn even has a cameo – and not as a janitor! (We were practically giddy).

  As a popcorn and comic-book flick, Indiana Jones and the Skulls (whatever) is a light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek, final adventure for Dr. Jones – who can’t quite believe it himself. As always, Ford makes the movie, and we’re along for the ride. No one else could deliver the campy, cornball lines like him; and no superhero – comic-derived or otherwise – is quite as fallible as the self-effacing Jones. No, not even you, Tobey MacGuire. If you like Indiana Jones, you’ll like Crystal Skull. If you don’t, you won’t. Exactly as it should be. Besides, it’s at least as good as Temple of Doom.

Coming soon: The passed-over! Including Hulk 1. 5 and the fiftieth attempt to update Get Smart – a phenomenal comic series owing as much to its era as its script. The lesson: Don’t remake timeless stuff. Just don’t.

Yes, I’m well aware my steadfast stumping for Kobe Bryant looks stupider and more futile by the minute. What’s he shooting in these finals – ten, twelve percent? That’s right, this is how Kobe pays me back for exhorting his superiority over Michael Jordan. Thanks a lot, Kobe. Here I am, spouting your case, and you’re laying egg after egg in the finals, generally legitimizing white sportswriting’s hero worship of MJ. Way to go. (And you’ve made me sound like Mark Jackson, nursing either a schoolgirl crush or a manufactured ABC storyline. Either way.)

I bring this up because of NBC’s wretched coverage of the U.S. Open, er, should I say, NBC’s Tiger-Beat (no pun) True Hollywood Story on Tiger Woods’ knee. The network is awful at golf, usually, trotting out schmaltzy Bob Costas, Dan Hicks, and Jimmy Roberts, including reprehensible Johnny Miller – but this was the worst.

NBC habitually, implausibly switched between live-action and tape-delay with zero explanation, amid constant, dripping soliliquys – all fawning over Woods. For whatever reason, CBS’s coverage is at least palatable. NBC’s hero worship is not. The tribute culminated with Tiger’s dramatic birdie putt. You’ve seen it. A thousand times. You’ve seen the ridiculous, overwrought energetic celebration, Woods’ fists pumping, face shrieking, the world’s greatest golfer generally looking like a buffoon. Which is, actually, fine.

Of course NBC rubber-stamped the celebration. Woods is the greatest competitor ever, greatest son-on-father’s-day-ever, greatest man ever, a picturesque specimen of human beauty, insert-own-garbage-here. You probably missed the multitude of stories decrying Woods’ spasms, calling him a showboater, egomaniac, unprofessional golfer. (Snort.) Strange … I can’t find any links.

Now, imagine, however: Kobe Bryant spouting the exact same conniption after a Lakers’ finals win.

And imagine what the media would say about him. Condescending. Demeaning. Unprofessional. Rude. What an awful player, nothing like Jordan. Or Tiger. Just imagine.

Or am I just a curmudgeon?

I also detest trips to Las Vegas, the Spider-Man movies, sushi, Grand Theft Auto, apple and cherry pies, Gladiator, Bud Light, Grey’s Anatomy, John Grisham, Slate magazine, and your stupid cute little barking dog. So, yes, that’s entirely possible.

But we doubt it.

We’ve got a Cubs check-in coming later this week, perhaps after the completion of Part II of the three-leg “Hideously Ugly Stadium Tour” through SkyDome, the SunCoast Dome, and Comiskey Park. Yes, I realize all those names are incorrect, and no, I do not care.

Quite honestly, however, count us in among the chorus lambasting Major League Baseball’s insanely stupid Hall of Fame Game in Cooperstown, New York. An exhibition game, within the season, during the beginning of summer. Why this exists is beyond me, beyond Lou, and mercifully, will expire after this summer. Also mercifully, the game was rained out today. (Apparently to the chagrin of annoying Cardinal fans-cum-purists.)

Baseball poets and woeful traditionalists, please spare us. Who can forget the 1988 Hall of Fame Game, when… Er, how about the 1969 edition, you know, when … Hmmm. Some tradition. Instead, it’s an inconvenience for all of baseball, a waste of time and chance for injury in upstate New York, a glorification of the Holier-Than-Thou museum. And this year, it would inconvenience our Cubs, a ridiculous stopover in the midst of a road trip. Presumably, it would inconvenience the Padres as well, nearly 3000 miles away from San Diego.

Oh, wait! Sorry, I don’t get it, and neither does Lou Piniella. Apparently none of Cubs nation has perspective. It’s not a waste of time, says the Hall of Fame. It’s bigger than the scope of 162 games and the playoffs, says one Kristian Connolly, proprietor of Savethefamegame.com, incensed about the loss of a meaningless exhibition.

“It is disappointing to read the recent comments made by Cubs manager Lou Piniella regarding the upcoming celebration of the national pastime in the sport’s celebrated home,” [Connolly wrote in an e-mail sent to about 1,000 addresses, including national media, baseball executives and politicians] ”The Hall of Fame Game is about something much bigger than the 2008 Chicago Cubs, and I hope that they understand and respect that on Monday.”
(from DeLuca’s CST article, linked above.)

Well, excuse us heathens and baseball fans for not understanding. With all due respect (meaning with absolutely none), please shut up, go away, and never bother us again.

I speak for all baseball fans when I utter, Who cares? A waste-of-time game, at a minor-league field, featuring mostly rookie-league players, serving as afternoon-filler for an institution, board of directors, and a small town lucky enough to have the Hall in the first place. Certainly, the baseball Hall of Fame is important. It is very cool. It’s great – a well-done, fascinating, logical extension of a sport and its 100 years of stars, stats, champions, and lore. A logical extension existing just for the fans.

These same fans who follow a team game-by-game, pitch-by-pitch, out-by-out. The same vociferous, carnivorous, obsessed fans, who baseball can depend on. Whom they cultivate, through XM radio, MLB.TV, WGN, NESN, DirecTV, and the Internet. The fans who know history either by accident or by interest, and who have lived or died along with the Red Sox or Dodgers or Yankees or Cubs or Cardinals through thick and thin. These are baseball’s paying customers. These are the Hall of Fame’s paying customers. And each year, they’re supposed to pretend to support an exhibition which could derail their regular season?

The game is now kaput, a fan-friendly, player-friendly, institution-friendly move by a league often bereft of such decisions. For once MLB acted in our best interests, instead of cowtowing to the self-serving Hall of Fame. For once baseball rose above the pettiness, sniping, and petulance of its own hall of glory, which usually asserts that baseball exists to celebrate the Hall of Fame. Instead of the other way around.

What? The NBA Finals started? Already?

I just assumed that with the monumental, renaissance matchup of Los Angeles vs. Boston (Slogan: The dream NBA finals for all white sportswriters over 40!), the league would coax another week, month, or calendar year of hype before actually ordering the teams to the court. Is that really so much more different than taking a week off, after last Friday’s Boston win? Isn’t that completely in line with the NBA’s ridiculous decisions to start East Coast Finals games at 9:30 p.m. local time? This ain’t the Super Bowl. In 87 NBA seasons prior, the lack of hype was a plus. At least to me.

I’m not going to pretend I care deeply about the Lakers-Celtics rivalry, or pretend I actually believe this was a renaissance season for the league. First of all, only a scant few of the bazillion playoff games during the NBA’s six-week odyssey were any good, which is fairly remarkable – you’d think with all that basketball to play, and all the supposed top-tier teams squabbling over seeding, the league could have stumbled into an interesting series or two. Instead, the demarcation line between L.A., Boston, Detroit, and Utah above the rest of the league was fairly clear.

Also, I can’t pretend that a Renaissance season for me includes a spirited MVP debate (don’t care) and two penultimate franchises whom I’d prefer still occupied the nether-regions of the league. I can’t pretend that the NBA didn’t fall down a well years ago after inking an ESPN contract. And I can’t pretend that I’m going to tune in at 8:30 p.m. nightly after a week of malaise.
Still, some burning questions exist surrounding the league’s grand spectacle, a few actually involving the game itself. I still love basketball. I still like the NBA, though it’s now a bandwagon, tune-in, tune-out league. (More later this summer.) So it’s still in my periphery, still frustrating with its surrounding stupidity, which dots our NBA wrap. But first…

Brent Barry is our NBA man of the year. Take a bow, Brent!
From this week’s Newsweek’s diluted Perspectives page – Barry offered a fantastic quote. You’ll remember the sheer stupidity surrounding the referees’ non-call on Barry’s pump-fake that swayed the final outcome of Spurs-Lakers Game Four.

You’ll also remember the NBA league office stupidly throwing its game integrity and its officials under the bus by asserting a 2-shot foul should have been called. And now, you won’t forget Barry’s response:

“That’s awesome because Doc Brown’s waiting for me outside in the DeLorean. So we’re flying through time with the flux capacitor.”

Fantastic. It’s not every day an athlete offers a quote with the least bit of flash; let alone references a movie classic, and let alone correctly incorporates three key articles from the movie! This isn’t fat, guffawing white sportswriters placating Shaquille O’Neal’s banalities, this is actual humor!

Why is everyone stupidly picking the Lakers?
Read ESPN’s experts page. Eight of their so-called experts rubber-stamped L.A. to win the title! Seems dubious to me – the road teams rarely win NBA Finals, and these two conference champs aren’t so far apart. Yes, Doc Rivers ain’t the brightest coach, and yes, Kobe Bryant is the best player on Earth. But don’t the Celtics actually match up well with the Lakers?

I mean, who expects Pau Gasol to handle Kevin Garnett? Like, at all? To wit, is anyone really surprised with last night’s result? I’m not going to make a prediction – after one game, it seems cheap and shortsighted. Still, I was actually planning to post this column Pre-Finals, but was cooped up in my office basement because of a tornado warning. Of course the tornado didn’t happen, of course my knees are sore, and of course today is sunny and about 98 degrees. I continue to wonder why people live in the Midwest. Besides the convenient 8:30 p.m. NBA Finals starting times, of course.

Are the Bulls stupid enough to re-hire Doug Collins?
Nothing against Doug, but he’s a terrible coach. He’s a Mike Jordan lackey whom Jordan saw no use for in 1991 or 2001. He’s a reported crybaby, according to Sam Smith’s The Jordan Rules in 1992. He also never won anything – he was axed before Phil Jackson took Collins’ perennial first-round-doormat Bulls teams and promptly won three straight titles. If the Bulls wanted a Jordan sycophant, maybe Ahmad Rashad was available?

[Ed: Breaking Friday night. Apparently the Bulls are just a little smarter than I thought.]

OK, so then how stupid is Steve Kerr?

Everyone loves him, but, like, what the hell? Glad I’m not a Phoenix fan (anymore). I still don’t get the Shaq trade, and I still refuse to listen to the sportswriter party line “The Suns needed to do something to shake things up.” Made perfect sense.

Now, the team’s totally changing after the dismissal of coaching upstart Mike D’Antoni. I’m certain Steve thinks it’s impossible to win the NBA Finals without a ploddy, traditional halfcourt offense – which he learned from experience, after playing with late-era Jordan- and Duncan-led NBA champs.

But he’s now aged the Suns franchise himself by 5 years or so, set them back financially and developmentally, and last time we checked, a freewheeling Detroit Pistons team beat a plodding, aging-superstar-laden, Shaq-employed Lakers team for the NBA title in 2004. In fact, the Lake Show and the Celtics don’t exactly walk the ball up; so it’s not like it’s impossible to win with a run-and-gun attack.

Now the Suns face interminable irrelevancy – and vast inferiority to the Lakers, Utah, New Orleans, and maybe even Portland for the forseeable future. Nice work, Steve.

Michael Jordan is still a far superior player to Kobe Bryant, even if Kobe wins a ring. Right?
A ridiculous notion. Ridiculous. Sportswriters argue otherwise, propping up the legend of Jordan, but I personally think Kobe is superior to Jordan; and I personally think Kobe’s current nucleus is much worse than Jordan’s two championship squads. I realize there’s room for debate between the two, but they’re not far apart. I don’t mean to throw Bill Simmons off a cliff, but in a chat this week, he perfectly encapsulated the resounding sports-media conventional wisdom about Jordan vs. Kobe:

Bill Simmons: It’s such an absurd argument that it’s not even worth writing about. Kobe has shown flashes of MJ-dom, and he definitely dipped into those waters in the playoffs, but Jordan played at that level for 10 solid years, and he was doing it during an era when players got pounded and they didn’t have the hand-check rules. I have written this before but I honestly believe that, if the MJ from ’87 to ’93 played with the rules in place from ’05 to ’08, he would have averaged 45 a game.

Yeah, if Babe Ruth played in Minute Maid Park, he would have hit one thousand home runs. That doesn’t adequately compare Jordan and Kobe. Granted, Bill’s a Jordan-lover; I’m a Jordan-hater. That still doesn’t explain the typical hero worship still surrounding Michael Jordan. ABC ran a split screen last night; a casual graphic comparing Kobe and Jordan which owe to Jordan’s legend. The graphic displayed three criteria only:

Mike: 30.1 career scoring average; Kobe: 25.4.

Titles: Mike – 6, Kobe – 3.

MVPs: Mike – 3, Kobe – 1.

Take out the extraneous garbage that fuel sportswriters (second two criteria), which don’t accurately convey the skill of either, and you’re left with the scoring average, which MJ controls. But don’t go nuts – it’s important to factor out Kobe’s first three seasons; after all, he skipped college and was an unpolished chucker until 1999 – coincidentally at age 21, the same as Jordan when MJ entered the NBA. When you do that, the scoring averages are:

MJ: 30.1. Kobe: 28.3. Not quite as farfetched to compare them, is it?

Let’s look at rebound averages, assists, steals, and shooting percentage. Jordan edges Kobe in all these categories, and they tie (relatively) in assists: FG%: .497-.455; RPG: 6.2-5.9, AST: 5.3-5.3, Steals 2.3-1.7.

Now, I know you’re thinking that I just proved myself wrong, Jordan’s ahead in everything, but those are surface statistics, not factoring in Pippen vs. O’Neal or opponents, etc., etc., etc. My point remains – both players are strikingly similar – the absolute closest comparisons of one another, and almost shockingly as players and people.. And though I argue for Kobe simply based on my eye-test, simply because I think he’s a much better defender, like I said, I’m also an avowed Jordan-hater. They’re similar, and sports media’s manufactured chasm between the pair is an awful double standard.

Kobe is dismissed because he’s an arrogant jerk (particularly as portrayed by Phil Jackson in The Last Season) and because of his indiscretion in Colorado. But Jordan’s no saint, either. Last we looked, Michael also cheated on his wife, and routinely employed a crazy mistress.

Kobe is dismissed because of his arrogant, egocentric conduct among the Lakers – phony trade demands, on-court pouting, rebellion against authority, and more. But wasn’t it Jordan who got Brad Sellers traded? Didn’t Jordan get Doug Collins fired? Didn’t Jordan mercilessly berate Bill Wennington and B.J. Armstrong and Will Perdue? Jordan talked constant trash and eviscerated teammates at will? Apparently for Mike this is considered leadership. For Kobe, it’s petulance. Perhaps Jordan was simply lucky not to exist within the 24-hour sports-news cycle, 24-hour blogs, and tabloidesque TMZ coverage of all sports.

Maybe it’s simple titles or Finals MVPs that Kobe needs to surpass Jordan in the media’s eyes, and, well, he may never get there. Whatever. But for years I argued the supremacy of Clyde Drexler and Mitch Richmond against mindless Jordan-worshipers. As I invariably lost the argument, I nearly always ended with the aside “Well, someone will come along who is better.” No one ever believed that. No friend, no relative, no opposing fan, no media member. No one believed anyone could ever possibly rival their precious Michael Jordan.

But here we are. And it’s happened. Or at least, for me, it’s close enough. And for the NBA and its surrounding media, it should be as well.

Strange though it may seem, nearly one-third of the 2008 baseball season is in the books.

Strange though it may seem, in the calendar year since Carlos Zambrano coldcocked Meathead Mike Barrett during the Cubs’ June 1 tilt against the Atlanta Braves, the Chicago Cubs sport a ridiculous 99-67 record – a shade more than a full season of – gulp – solid play.

Strange though it may seem (and of course you’ve heard, and of course nearly every report has found a way to cram 1908 into the headlines) the Cubs closed out their recent homestand atop all of baseball (not by much). It’s all strange, but not all that surprising.

The Cubs actually look like a competent baseball team (High praise, we know). Seriously. We’re not willing to jinx the whole thing, nor do we expect the team’s torrid pace to continue unabated – but obviously we have few complaints at this point.

For once the offense is potent enough and selective enough to chip away at large deficits, compensate for patchwork pitching, and not require former wunderkinds to toss a one-hitter just to gain a victory. For once the bench seems fairly useful – not stacked with washout shortstops or mediocre versatile veterans. For once the lineup isn’t relegated to scoring runs just on homers -we’ve actually seen two-out hits once in a while. Paired with last year’s four-month finish and this season’s two-month beginning, and this team might actually be good. That’s all we know. But it’s been enjoyable – and so far, not as stick-our-heads-in-the-oven fatalistic as usual.

Still, at each check-in we’ve got to ask questions. (Note! Gimmick alert!) So here they are.

1. Can the Cubs win on the road? Like, ever?

Of course they can – the last two years, the road splits have actually been better than the home record. There’s no real explanation for this, although if you didn’t read Jim Hendry‘s quotes in today’s Tribune, you’d swear the Cubs had a plan.

You’d swear they sunk money into prodigious right-handed power hitters (Ramirez, Lee, Soriano), who also could look to the opposite field if the wind blew in. You’d swear they signed sinkerballers (Z, Dempster, Marquis), and bullpen flamethrowers (Marmol, Wood, Howry) to take advantage of the smallish park, avoiding wind-aided meltdowns. You’d swear they looked for slap-hitting heady role players (Riot, ReJo, DeRosa) and doubles machines (Soto, Fukudome) who weren’t beholden to the lack of weather or presence of it. You’d swear all of that, if you weren’t aware it was untrue:

“We used to spend a lot of time trying to figure out why we weren’t better at home,” general manager Jim Hendry said. “We thought this is the kind of park where maybe we could have an advantage. It’s unique. It’s packed every day.

“I can’t tell you we consciously did anything different. We used to think it was day games and this and that. On the flip side, we’ve had some teams that weren’t this good play better on the road than we are right now. It’s just a coincidence.”

. . .

“I don’t know how you would [build] a team for [just] this park,” Hendry said. “We tried to just improve. It wasn’t based on the park.

“But this is the kind of team that should play just as well on the road.”

Hmm. OK. Jim apparently is too modest. What’s Lou think?

“[But] to be talking about the best team in baseball or the best record in baseball on the first of June, I think it’s overkill. We’re only a third of the way through the season, and a lot of things can happen.”

OK, well put. Personally, we think it’s the song. The Cubs never have signed onto a pop-culture anthem to boost home fan morale like the Sox and Yanks. Now they have. Now it’s pure glee to hear the cheeseball chords burst from venerable Wrigley after a win, watching gyrating louts and uncaring sorority girls dressed for the beach. It’s absolute ecstasy for us Cub fans to torture non-fans (including spouses) with post-victory loud spins of the 1980s’ faux-classic. Who knew, right?

And the Cubs aren’t the only contender currently battling bizarre splits. The Red Sox sport an ungodly record at home (21-5) and a moribund road record (14-20). The Braves are 23-7 in Atlanta and an awful 7-20 away. Even the scalding Rays are 24-10 in that crappy dome, and a pedestrian 11-12 elsewhere. It’s fairly weird, for several teams to look like home titans and road dogs – the Cardinals and D-Backs also enjoy stellar home marks. What’s it mean? Who cares. I’d totally be OK with a 55-25 record at Wrigley and 41-41 everywhere else. Maybe that’s just me.

Whatever the rationale for the Cubs’ home success and road woes, it’s fun. Sure, with a June swing out west and an upcoming jaunt into AL East territory, they could conceivably take a step back. This year, however, they’ve taken advantage of scheduling, Wrigley, day games, and the best game atmosphere on the planet. And how many times in history have they ever done that?

2. Do we need a new fifth starter?

Doesn’t everybody? Even if the quick-working Sean Gallagher proves to be a rotation mainstay – he’s never pitched into September. Rich Hill is a head case, Sean Marshall is still getting stretched out and we’re fairly certain Jason Marquis will be an exclusive pinch-runner by September. That leaves the Cubs looking elsewhere, unless they’re suddenly confident in Jon Lieber or Kevin Hart. And though we all are familiar and comfortable with Ronny Cedeno and Micah Hoffpauir, they may be gone to secure an extra hurler. Matt Murton and Eric Patterson may well start forwarding their mail.

Who might this import? We don’t know. I’d prefer to aim for someone with a track record and ceiling like Derek Lowe, and well above someone with a basement like Steve Trachsel. Too soon to tell. Still, every other team in baseball has fifth-starter issues; that’s just the way things work.

3. Will the Cubs regress?

Sure, some. Though Fox Sports’ resident Cardinal fan and numbers manipulator Dayn Perry doesn’t believe in the hot starts of Ryan Theriot, Geovany Soto, Ronny Cedeno, or Ryan Dempster - we all know that aberrations can and do last longer than a year – and who’s to say they’re aberrations?

Regardless, the schedule will even out; more dates coming up against contenders, a tough interleague slate, an excursion to Canada, and more road games than not. Still, we remind you that in no year recently have the Cubs started particularly fast – not 2003, 2004, nor last year. That leaves…

4. Is this another 2001?

In 2001, ESPN ran some Baseball-Prospectus concocted article (Can’t find the link) which basically anointed the Cubs as playoff-worthy at the break and maintained the Cardinals and the Astros needed to play .750 ball to knock the Cubs off their perch, a virtual impossibility. Guess what, it happened. I remember, because I was horrified. In fact, I hadn’t even watched baseball for many years – but deposited fully in New England, working full-time on nightly deadlines amid grating Sox-or-Yanks fans, I rediscovered my Cub fandom. Now here we are.

ANYWAY, I digress. This team is much better than 2001 (Ron Coomer isn’t hitting cleanup, you see) – but also faces an improved Central division, and an NL East which has so far proven a bugaboo. Stranger things have happened; yes, even stranger than what’s already transpired (See above). We’re planning to sit back, enjoy the ride with a likeable, confident, heady team – and try not to live and die with every pitch. For once, the Cubs appear to be doing the same. That in itself is somewhat of an accomplishment.