Clemens calls and Houston media flocks

I have nothing against Roger Clemens (shown here playing in an over-50 men’s senior softball league on Wednesday), but I need him as far away from a baseball field as possible. He’s making my hometown media look like clowns. (Photo by Associated Press)

I have nothing against Roger Clemens. Absolutely nothing at all. As a Houstonian, I admire and respect his skill as a baseball player, and I can’t think of a more mesmerizing season (maybe aside from the ’94 and ’95 Rockets seasons) than that 2005 Astros campaign. The last time the Astros were relevant, Clemens was playing a vital role and was arguably the face of the franchise. So what I’m about to say is really reflective upon the Houston media and coverage of Clemens since his comeback to baseball, and how it has gone gaga and completely undermined its professional responsibilities to hometown hero Clemens.

Last week, Clemens announced he will sign with the independent club Sugar Land Skeeters to pitch this Saturday. It sort of came from out of nowhere, and there is no doubt “The Rocket” is riding high on good graces, mowing down the feds recently after walking out of a courtroom  free, another victory in his books after he was acquitted on all charges that he lied to Congress when he denied using PEDs. Despite the fact that he was one of the centerpieces of the Mitchell Report that came out late last decade, the bottom line is the bottom line. Clemens is not a cheater, at least not by the law, and he got his day in court and won. Good for him.

(By the way, if you honestly still believe Clemens never once dabbled in PEDs, well, uh, good luck with that).

I have no problem with Clemens wanting to play baseball again. That’s his right; that’s what’s so great about America. We can do as we please; the opportunities are limitless. It’s up to us whether or not we choose to take advantage of what’s placed before us. What I do have an issue with is the plethora of ungodly media attention provided by Houston “journalists.” Ever since Clemens announced he was bound for Sugar Land, everyone has seemingly dropped what they were doing to hang onto his every word, to watch his every move.  We’re talking about a 50-year-old man who last pitched in the majors five years ago and clearly has no future in the game, at least on the field. Really? This is the big story right after the Astros made significant coaching changes and the Texans are weeks away from kicking off what many hope to be a run to the Super Bowl?

Quick trivia question: What was the centerpiece of today’s Houston Chronicle sports page? Was it, A) Feature/news story on the Texans and their plethora of storylines this preseason; B) an advance on the Dynamo’s Champions League opener tonight; or C) gamer on Clemens’ Over-50 men’s softball game he participated in Wednesday night. Take a good guess.

If you guessed C, kudos! Congratulations on having a grasp on the madness that’s been birthed. For the people who say journalism today is a complete joke, well, there’s their ammo. Tough to argue with them on that one, and it’s doubly annoying when national media like the AP is scoffing at this whole scenario to begin with, but of course the guy’s hometown paper is drinking every sip of the kool-aid. Unbelievable, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Houston has never really been home to hard-hitting sports journalists who don’t cater to the city’s big stars. Journalists in Houston have biases and allegiances. That’s just the way it’s been, and they’re far from the only ones who are that way, but, whatever. It’s still discouraging.

Here’s another question: why is Jose Canseco laughed at for his ventures into minor league ball and Clemens is applauded? I am far from a Canseco apologist, but whatever you want to say about his buffoonery, he opened eyes in baseball with his book. And he was right: juicing was very much a problem back then, and apparently still very much is now. So why is he some abomination and Clemens is adored as soon as he announces he wants to play baseball at the indy league level? And why are people looking down upon Canseco’s chosen Indy ball venues like Laredo and Worcester and yet Sugar Land is hailed as some king of the minors. Indy ball is indy ball. It’s the minorest of the minors. That’s right. I said “minorest.” That’s how perplexed I am. It doesn’t make sense. It’s unfair. It’s hypocritical. It’s two-faced. In this certain case – a former stud Major Leaguer who has been linked to PEDs looks to stay in the game at any level and even flees to play indy ball – Jose Canseco should be treated no differently than Roger Clemens. It’s just not right. Clemens, at least to me, has made Canseco look almost like a sympathetic figure. Almost. Maybe. OK, perhaps not, but it’s close. It’s made me think twice, that’s for sure.

You have every right to argue that, “Dennis, well, it’s not only Houston media that thinks this is a big deal. CNN, ESPN … they all do too.” And I get that. CNN, I don’t understand at all. Whatever. ESPN will broadcast Clemens’ start on ESPN Classic on Saturday, but is that really a big deal? I don’t think so. This is an entity that glorifies little league baseball, so it doesn’t surprise me one bit that it would broadcast Clemens’ start for an obscure indy ball team in Houston. What else better is there to broadcast on ESPN Classic on a random Saturday afternoon anyway? Look, I get that there is an interest in this. But there is no need to hail Clemens’ every move, to thirst over his every word. There are much bigger fish to fry. Much bigger. And I have a big hunch that the whole Clemens return is a bigger deal to Houston media than its actual audience and readership. You’re telling me that readers would really care about how Clemens fared in a senior softball game than if Trendon Holliday is going to make the Texans’ roster or how the Dynamo might look against Champions League competition? I have my doubts.

Back in the game

It’s been awhile. But do know that the last few weeks or so that I’ve been absent from this blog have not been from naught. Indeed, much has been accomplished.

Tentatively, I am no longer a free agent. Last week, I accepted an offer from the McAllen Monitor to be a general assignment sports reporter/designer. I say “tentatively” because it’s not yet official; my drug test and background evaluation still have to be complete. but I do have a start date of Aug. 28 set. Interestingly enough, I’ve always held The Monitor in high regard. I have known McAllen very well over the last decade and counting, as my aunt and uncle – and now my brother – all work and reside there, so I grew up reading The Monitor’s sports section whenever we visited them. It was an impressive section then, complete in its purpose. It seems no stone is left unturned.

Aside from that, I’ve been finishing up some reading as well. Thursday, I finally wrapped up Jack McCallum’s “Dream Team,” which is worth all the accolades and hoopla that’s been sent its way since its July release. I found the book insightful. It doesn’t read too long – maybe around 330 pages or so – but it is packed with information and new material about, in my opinion, the greatest team ever assembled. Most importantly, the book offers much needed perspective. All you have to do is turn on ESPN and hear the stupid debate about whether the Dream Team could beat the 2012 USA team. It’s ridiculous, and just further proof of how short our memories are. This year’s USA team couldn’t even hold a candle to the 1996 USA team, let alone the ’92 version. And that ’96 team had plenty of issues of its own, as McCallum points out toward the end of his book.

Along the lines of reading, as I leave this post, let me offer some worthy material for your own enjoyment. I promise you won’t be disappointed;

– Grantland.com’s Jonah Keri, who has become my favorite baseball writer, has a neat piece on Felix Hernandez’s perfect game from Wednesday here.

– SI.com’s Andy Staples takes a look at the copycat process going on across college football, as Alabama’s Nick Saban apparently holds the gold standard for the game today. Read it here.

– SI.com’s Thomas Lake has a compelling open letter asking Michael Jordan why he hasn’t come to the aid of his former high school coach, whom Jordan has incorrectly called him out time and time again for “cutting” him. Read it here.

– Via ESPN.com, a Texas Pee Wee youth football league bars a 300-pound player. It’s here.

 

 

 

Where do we go from here?

 

I won’t harp on the issue too much, since it’s been scrutinized and beaten every way possible, but I wanted to offer my two cents about the whole Penn State/Paterno/Sandusky nightmare that came to a conclusion last week when the NCAA penalized Penn State significantly for its involvement in the situation.

First, let me say that the punishment was fair. I agreed with it. PSU is looking at a four-year ban from bowl games, was fined $73 million dollars total ($60 million by the NCAA; $13 million by the Big 12 when it announced the football program could not compete in championship games or receive any of the financial split between league members), and vacated all wins from 1998-2011. The last component was, yes, important, contrary to many’s thinking, since it was Joe Paterno’s legacy, as well as the program’s, that was protected at all costs in this whole thing. The vacation of wins knocks Paterno off the top of the ladder as owner of the most wins in college football.

Second, I hope we can all stop talking about Penn State football. Football is grossly irrelevant in this case. This is a matter of a heinous crime, committed by an assistant coach and aided by Paterno – two sporting gods trusted and beloved by so many. The crime itself, and how we can further prevent child sex abuse and the monetary support that will be directed to programs that aide those victims , is No. 1. No. 2 is the fact that trust is at the centerpiece of this. Just as those kids trusted Jerry Sandusky, and just how others trusted Paterno and his response when he found out Sandusky was sexually assaulting kids, how are we supposed to expect young kids to trust coaches today? How do we as parents or guardians fully lend our trust toward a coach or administrator and expect them to truly have our kids’ best interests at heart? Where do we go from here?

The essence of sport, even more so than wins or losses, is the bond we develop between teammates and coaches. For many young athletes, from the day they can pick up a ball, they spend a great amount of time under the care of their coach. Generally, we’d think to never second guess the concept. We meet with the coach, we’ll talk with them, we get to know them. Perhaps we invite them over for dinner or hit up a ballgame with them. We feel comfortable in their presence, so, naturally, we let our guard down a bit. Or a lot. We begin to see them as another selfless caretaker for our child, and when our kid refers to the coach as a “second father,” we don’t even blink. We even understand it.

But this whole Penn State debacle has only proven once again that we never, ever, truly, really know someone. We just don’t. We don’t know what an individual is capable of, whether it’s our mother, brother, son, friend, or, yes, coach. We tell ourselves we do, but who are we kidding? Sandusky founded an organization in 1977, “The Second Mile”, that was a children’s charity that provided care for foster children. He was one of the most respected defensive coordinators to boot. His name, like Paterno’s, was angelic around Happy Valley. And yet when he was found guilty on 45 of 48 charges against him, including eight counts of involuntary deviate sexual intercourse with minors, many of his victims came from that same “Second Mile” franchise he had built. But how was anyone supposed to know? That’s why Paterno deserves so much scorn sent his way. Only he knew. Only he, within the parameters of the university, could stop it, and he chose not to.

It is a scary proposition, this idea that the best friend or coach or parental figure that we know today could be someone entirely different. And what’s more, I’m not sure there is a way to be more aware or conscious of that. We can’t be with someone 24/7. As human beings, we (most of us, anyway) have a propensity to trust, to give our fellow human being the benefit of the doubt. Especially if that someone plies his professional career in a field like coaching, which embraces discipline, responsibility, accountability, teamwork, unselfishness. What are we to do? Sure, for every 1 Sandusky there are 300, 400 others who truly care for others and would do whatever possible to see young kids succeed and fulfill their dreams. But the bottom line remains that there is that 1 guy. There is a possibility. In sports, we’re coached to gameplan for everything that can go wrong. We’re taught to have a plan B and C, and then to have a counter should those be unavailable. But how do we gameplan for misguided trust? Even more so, what are we to do when those “players” are precious kids, who are only more impressionable and giving of their heart the younger they are?

I really don’t know what to think or even what to make out of the Penn State stuff. I’m a bit shell-shocked, to be honest. The past 7-8 months have been a blur of disgust, discomfort, anger, tragedy, you name it. It’s all come so fast, that I really haven’t gone too deep beyond the basics to really tear this thing apart. I don’t know if I even want to. It’s maddening. But I do know that in sports, trust is something you don’t play around with. So what happens now? Perhaps there is nothing to be done. Optimistically, we can look at Sandusky as more of a rogue figure. Either way, it’s unsettling. It’s disturbing. It’s an issue that, in my opinion, should at the least be approached, be given some thought. Even if these were disadvantaged kids Sandusky dealt with, that still does not mean it can’t happen to anyone else. I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.

I just know that I’ve been told so many times, over and over, is so very true: No one is as they appear to be.

 

Lin’s significance complex for Rockets

Jeremy Lin is taking his talents to Houston. (Photo by Associated Press).

In all honesty, I know why it was done, but then again I don’t. Yes, the Rockets needed a point guard. Yes, the Rockets needed a signature star. And, yes, the Rockets were desperate to do anything – everything – in order to climb quickly up the latter back to relevancy. I certainly understand that much.

But I still am uncertain about whether it was right. I still have doubts about whether it makes sense to toss $25.1 million to a point guard who has played just 65 games in the NBA and has been waived twice, including by, you guessed it, the Rockets. I have my doubts about exactly how smart it was to bypass sure things like Kyle Lowry and Goran Dragic in order to hand the keys to Lin, who has started just 25 games, though almost all masterful and on Broadway. I have my doubts about if the Rockets truly felt Lin was the answer to their problems – if he is truly part of the solution – or if it was a decision of haste, of chaotic minds and blurred thinking. I have my doubts about how Lin’s game – not so much the turnovers (those should subside with more experience), but the iso-heavy, ball-controlling facets – will fit into an offense that has the potential to be so dynamically diverse, that it may have not been wise to acquire Lin for the sake of possibly taking the ball out of the hands of playmakers like Chandler Parsons, Royce White and Jeremy Lamb and force defenses into complete madness. And, indeed, I have my doubts about a professional who refused to play in the postseason and help his team when even he admitted he was about “85 percent” healthy after months of rehab following a knee injury. Reeks of selfishness, though I grudgingly understand as he was putting his best interests (specifically a sexy financial deal for the next few years opposed to aiding a No. 7 seed against a too-much-to-handle Miami Heat team) at heart, which is what many of us would do as well.

Even with those doubts, however, it comes down to this: Houston simply had no choice. This was the bed it made. These were the cards the Rockets dealt themselves. After whiffing on previous franchise stars like Chris Bosh, Deron Williams and (maybe, maybe not) Dwight Howard, this was an offseason headed toward glorious failure if something wasn’t done, and done quickly. Because for all of the hype and praise thrown the way of boy wonder GM Daryl Morey, the bottom line is the bottom line. And that bottom line reads as follows: Five years, two playoff appearances, one playoff series win, three consecutive lottery seasons with not even a top-10 pick. This offseason is not so much about the Rockets’ reclaiming their bid as contenders as it is about Morey, the king of “all smoke, no fire.”

With all that said, Lin is a superior  acquisition. I love his pick-and-roll game, I love his swagger and I love his resilient nature. I don’t think he’s a perfect fit, but I think he’s a notch below. Where I think the ideals will clash is if the Rockets manage to actually get Andrew Bynum, and obviously will then have to turn schematically from a guard-oriented offense to a post-centric one. If the Rockets truly want to build around Lin, interestingly enough the best complement would be Howard, who doesn’t need the ball to be effective yet still commands double teams (only God knows why) and thrives off rebounding and shot-blocking. However, with the stable of young talent that’s been on display at the Rockets’ summer league in Vegas, I’d be very cautious before surrendering most of it for a one-year rental of Howard. A core of Lin, Donatas Motiejunas, Chandler Parsons, Royce White and Jeremy Lamb is tantalizingly special. Of course, I’d like Howard if possible, but if he’s not going to give any promise of re-upping, why sacrifice the future? The Rockets have a bevy of draft picks and cap space at their disposal to further build the club, and I’d like to see how the aforementioned core grows together. Howard could thrive playing off Lin’s dumpoffs and alley-oops, whereas Bynum needs the ball with his back to the basket and his defense is predicated upon his offense, not vice versa, and that’s a no-no with a ball-dominating guard like Lin.

Aside from the basketball aspect, there is no question Lin also puts the Rockets back in the limelight nationally and internationally. This all goes back to Morey wanting to bring the team back to relevance, and he managed to kill two birds with one stone: not only did he make his team better and acquire that big star, but he also managed to produce a big wave for the team’s bottom line in revenue. National pundits can now ignore the fact that this Rockets team still has underachieved greatly this summer and can focus on the fact that media darling Lin is now wearing the red and silver. I’m amped up about this. I won’t even lie; I can’t wait to get my hands on a Lin jersey. Not only am I a fan of Lin’s game, I’m a fan of what he represents: an astute, savvy businessman who is marketable, humble and represents his team in the appropriate fashion.

It’s very much the second coming of Yao Ming. Like Yao back then when he was drafted No. 1 overall by Houston in 2002, Lin signals the berth of a new era. I hate to sound cliche, but he does. Rockets fans have longed to hold onto someone – anyone- who symbolizes the Rockets with the grit and thrive-amongst-adversity swagger that Houston represents. Yes, we’ll miss Luis Scola and Lowry, and yes there are some nutty fans who still haven’t gotten over the trade of Chase Budinger, but no talent or personality has gripped our attention like Lin has these last 48 hours or so when it became clearer and clearer that the New York Knicks wouldn’t match Houston’s offer. And even re: Yao, we didn’t really know what we were getting when he was drafted. We knew he was tall and boasted a myriad of brilliant skills for a man his size, but we didn’t truly know. With Lin, we do. We’ve seen him destroy the defense of the Dallas Mavericks and put up 38 points on the Los Angeles Lakers. We’ve seen him create for others and get to the rim seemingly at will. There is substantial proof that Jeremy Lin has the skillset to be a transcendent star for the Rockets, and that’s the difference.

Top to bottom, there is no reason to not like this move by the Rockets. A move of desperation, yes, but a move nonetheless. This is a fastball that Morey has whiffed upon so many times in his tenure, and finally he got it right. I don’t care if I should be wary that free-spending New York felt it was too much to match Lin and instead thought Jason Kidd and Raymond Felton were just as qualified to hold down its point guard fort. I don’t care if there are questions about Lin’s defense and propensity for turnovers. I don’t care if Jeremy Lin really, deep down wanted to play for the Knicks and simply accepted Houston’s offer, not because he really wanted to be a Rocket, but because it was too good to pass up.

I just care that he’s on our side. I just care that he’s only 23 years old. I just care that he averaged 18 points and 7 assists in his 25 starts. I just care that Morey finally struck it big. I just care that the Rockets are finally relevant again, even if fools will consider that because of Lin’s race and not because of his vast array of skills.

As a Rockets fan, I just care again. Not that I didn’t care before, but certainly not with this much guile and with this big of a smile on my face. As a Rockets fan, I’m in love again.

And isn’t that the point?

 

 

Shane Rinner: Understanding the man behind the whistle

Former TAMIU head men’s basketball coach Shane Rinner (in white) was one of more mercurial and successful coaches I’ve covered in my seven years as a sports journalist. Here he is talking with me (in black) along with star guard Ryan McLucas after winning the program’s first conference tournament championship in 2011.

(Since 2009, I covered Shane Rinner’s stint as head coach of the Texas A&M International men’s basketball team. I was the beat writer for the program – and was from June 2007 through January 2012 – and recently learned of him leaving the program last week for a job in California. As one of the more mercurial and successful figures I’ve had the joy of reporting on in my career, here is my recollection of Rinner’s tenure in Laredo, Texas).

One of South Texas’ most brilliant and calculating basketball minds resigned last week to head to California for a better gig. But what Laredo’s Texas A&M International men’s basketball program lost in head coach Shane Rinner was not only a man who revived what had been a scandalous doormat of an athletic institution, but an individual presided upon ethics who embraced right from wrong and expected his staff and players to follow suit.

As complex as Rinner, who will be the first assistant head women’s basketball coach at Fresno State, may seem, he’s actually not. The fiery, no-holds-barred tornado that whirled the sidelines in the “Gateway City’s” north side is actually, in essence, an affable, thoughtful, considerate human being without a selfish bone in his body. All the evidence necessary is the reason why he took the Fresno State gig, and that was to get his wife Amanda, a Cali native and Fresno State alum, back home to be with her family, knowing that’s what she’s wanted all along. That was priority No. 1: do what’s right by his family.

See, there’s Shane Rinner, the coach, and there’s Shane Rinner, the person. It’s important to learn how to differentiate between the two.

In a brief but substantially rewarding three years at the helm of the Dustdevils, Rinner – who accepted what appeared to be a career death sentence in 2009 when he accepted the position following a cheating scandal the prior spring in which the program had six players who cheated on a spanish exam, resulting in the NCAA stripping the program of all wins in 2008-09 and putting it on probation for following seasons – led TAMIU to its first NCAA conference tournament postseason appearance in his first year and earning two consecutive conference championships in his next two seasons. He won a school-record 21 games in each the 2010-11 and 2011-12 seasons, and in 2010-11 he guided the program on an epic run toward the NCAA Division II tournament, where the Dustdevils fell to No. 1 seed and site host Central Oklahoma by nine points in overtime in the first round. In his three years at TAMIU, Rinner’s Dustdevils won 54 games. In his final campaign last year, he earned the conference’s Coach of the Year honor and helped Evan Matteson (his first recruit to TAMIU) nab MVP.

It was easy to assume that basketball is all Rinner eats, sleeps and drinks. It’s true that his work ethic is legendary. It’s also true that he is incredibly meticulous on all matters in his program, nothing was void of his fingerprints, and is the definition of “hands-on,” from the style of marketing posters made for the team to the way a player closes out on a potential shooter. But there is certainly a method to his perceived madness, and if you can say one thing about Rinner it’s that it’s blatantly clear that he cares way too much. That goes for any waters he dips his toes into. If he pleads his allegiance, it will be done, and it will be done right.

But basketball is not the end-all, be-all with Rinner. In a sit-down chat right after a heated practice before the start of the 2011-12 season last winter, I found out a few cool things about a leader who is as multi-faceted as he is demanding. Rinner actually does not necessarily aspire to be a head coach at a prominent Division I university. He’d be perfectly fine as an assistant coach at a mid-major DI. He boasts other interests, vastly different from his current vocation. He loves politics. He’s been known to sit in on campaigns and craves that kind of stuff, even going as far as tinkering with the idea of running for office back home in Alaska.

He also likes fundraising. Loves it, in fact. In previous conversations, he has mentioned how he doesn’t necessarily have to coach and he would still be happy in college athletics. He’s talked about his passion for building a program. He also joked that he would like the lifestyle involved in fundraising, which is “little more than playing golf and going out to dinners.” He has a passion for helping others, for building, for structure. It’s a cliche, but Shane Rinner is all about the journey, all about being immersed in the process.

While I was taken aback a bit at the sudden nature of Rinner’s departure for Fresno State last week, I was far from totally surprised. His move not only achieved the goal of getting his wife closer to her family and back home, but also opened the door for former player, longtime associate head coach and dear friend Bryan Weakley to run his own program and keep TAMIU afloat all at the same time. It was a no-brainer for Rinner. It was a calculated move. It was an unselfish move. No one loses. Everyone wins.

It’s the end result to a past three years that have been hellaciously tiring and emotional. It’s why Rinner busted his tail in otherwise deplorable circumstances.

Consider:

– The Dustdevils are one of three Heartland Conference teams not fully funded. TAMIU, in the 2011-12 conference championship season, played with 5.2 scholarships. The rest of the 5.9 went to redshirts. TAMIU played with 5.8 schollys this year, 6.8 total.

– In the Heartland Conference, Laredo is considered the second-least desirable attraction other than Oklahoma’s Panhandle State. The program is also second-worst in scholarship allotment, also behind OPSU, and TAMIU has the fewest number of students on campus (approximately 600). The next fewest is 1,600 in Odessa at Texas-Permian Basin.

– Any increase in Rinner’s budget has come from his own fundraising, which is approximately $2,000 in his three years. That money helped for upgrades in the men’s locker room as well as the women’, due to Title IX. He was the program’s chief fundraiser and drove the initiatives, finding little support from department administrators.

The only plus of being in the situation in Laredo, Rinner told me, is how bad it was before he got there. It was a program mired in scandal and mediocrity; a program of apathy and a revolving door of head coaches, philosophies and principles. For a first-time head coach, it was also a beneficial one. Anything and everything Rinner and his staff would be able to accomplish in Laredo would be seen as the next great thing, simply because the program had never escaped the depths of college basketball purgatory. Had Rinner failed, it would have been thought of as nothing. But if he succeeded – he would be seen by university leaders as nothing less than a savior. It was win-win. Low risk, high reward. Much like his move to leave TAMIU, interestingly enough.

Give Shane Rinner this: No move goes unplanned. He’s always thinking 2-3 steps ahead, on and off the court. He is a throwback to the old age of coaches who demanded excellence on the court, off it and in the classroom. The plus is that TAMIU won’t skip a beat with Weakley. Weakley shares Rinner’s thrill for helping student-athletes succeed, in the classroom first before on the court. And while I have no doubt the Dustdevils – who graduated eight seniors and are in an ideal rebuilding situation with a motivated, hungry teacher like Weakley running the show – will maintain the program’s integrity and growth initiated three years ago, it’s important to take a moment and understand what Rinner truly accomplished, coming to Laredo like a dark knight from his home of Alaska, willing to put his career on the line and sacrificing for the greater good of the university.

And now that sacrifice has been rewarded, for the greater good of his family.

Rockets make impressive first impression in Vegas

In his first unofficial game as a Rocket on Friday, 7-foot forward/center Donatas Motiejunas did not disappoint, compiling 25 points and nine rebounds in a 93-81 Houston win over Toronto in Las Vegas. (Associated Press photo).

It’s only one game. An unofficial one, at that, against peers who will likely see more time in the D-League than the NBA come the 2012-13 NBA season.

That’s what I had to keep telling myself as I watched the Rockets open summer league play with a 93-81 win over Toronto in Las Vegas on Friday afternoon. Then again, as a Rockets fan these days, I’ll take any inkling of hope I can get, and if that means going gaga over the Rockets’ batch of tantalizing youth talent, then so be it. Because if anyone came away with any impression at all after Friday, it was this: the Rockets’ future is bright. Very bright.

With Houston in the midst of heated talks for the Magic’s Dwight Howard – where it is almost certain a great deal of that youth and promise we saw Friday will be dealt away for Orlando’s disgruntled mega superstar – the game at least gave a slight bit of hesitation to Rockets fans who want nothing more than to see Howard wearing No. 12 in the red and silver. For the record, I do not want Howard. It’s not worth mortgaging the future for a moody individual who has made it perfectly clear he will not re-up with Houston once his contract expires next summer. I see it as extremely, and uncharacteristically, short-sighted that Rockets GM Daryl Morey just give away all the assets and young talent he has worked so hard to acquire over the last four years in a move that reeks of desperation and all style and little substance. That’s just my opinion.

The Rockets talent that took the floor Friday was just too overwhelming, in my eyes.

– Motiejunas is incredible. He is 7-feet, 222 pounds and not yet even 22 years old. He amassed 25 points and 9 rebounds, and made it all look so freakin’ easy, playing with a distinct purpose in the paint against a relatively experienced Raptors frontcourt. He ran the court like a gazelle, established position early and then burned his defender witha series of jump hooks, power moves or simple duck-ins. If that wasn’t enough, he went deep and buried two long 3s from the right wing and corner, showing no hesitation to rise up and shoot as soon as the ball was rotated his way. His stroke is pure, and he is sure and able around the rim, shooting 11 for 13 overall. He’s got to work on free throws, though. He missed four of five.

– In case we didn’t know already, the Rockets are in trouble at the point guard spot. Their lone two floor leaders on the roster are the two available in this summer league now that Kyle Lowry and Goran Dragic were either traded or departed for perceived greener pastures earlier this summer. The 5-foot-10 Courtney Fortson, essentially an iffy-shooting guard in a point’s body, missed six of his seven shots, and 6-foot-1 undrafted guard Scott Machado, who led the nation in assists last year, missed five of his six shots and had five assists to four turnovers, often forcing the issue way too much, though that’s expected. Houston is in trouble here. Bad. One point guard I don’t trust to run the offense and set up his teammates, and the other has a tendency to try too much. The good news – aside from the fact that it was indeed just one game, and the first at that – is the Rockets boast an assortment of bigs who are versatile and have the skillset to handle the ball, lead a break and find teammates. More on that later.

– It’s only been one game (again, I have to keep reminding myself), but let me just get this out of the way now: I was wrong about Terrence Jones. I thought the 6-foot-9, 252-pound, No. 18 pick of the first round this year was nothing more than a carbon copy of current Rocket Patrick Patterson, also a product of Kentucky. No. Not at all. Jones can handle the ball. He can take a man off the dribble. He can shoot from distance. He can bang and rebound and defend the post. He’s simply more versatile than Patterson, can do more things with the ball. Not only that, if you heard on NBA TV how coach Kevin McHale gushes over him like none other – calling Jones “my guy” – then you know Patterson’s minutes and spot in the rotation are in jeopardy. Jones made just 4 of his 11 shots, but he made a 3, hit all eight of his free throws and contributed 17 points and 9 rebounds.

– I liked what I saw out of 6-foot-5 wing Jeremy Lamb, the Rockets’ No. 12 pick in the first round, but I wasn’t blown away. Lamb did what we all figured he could do: he scored, and scored a lot. He had 16 points, made 6 of his 11 shots and did little else. He can create off the dribble and attack and is a confident shooter, willing shot-taker. He is a lot like Kevin Martin, except he attacks the paint and loves the floater and doesn’t rely strictly on the jumper. He is a steady presence out there, which is nice for a youngster playing with young teammates, but guards like him who can score with ease are a dime a dozen in this league, especially at an average size like him.

– I am in love with the Rockets’ plethora of versatile bigs. In. Love. Whether it’s 6-foot-9 Chandler Parsons, the 6-foot-9 Jones or even 6-foot-8 Royce White (in a pinch), the Rockets have found playmakers at other positions aside from just point guard (thank God). Early on, White (who looked lost and uncomfortable against the size he saw at the power forward spot) and Parsons took advantage of opportunities to set up others. You can detect White’s passing ability and know-how, and Parsons looks a lot better than I saw last year. He’s much, much more comfortable on the perimeter and seems to relish having the ball in his hands, which is a good sign for someone who’s as skilled as he is. Parsons had 16 points, 5 rebounds and 4 assists. White had two assists to go with six points and three rebounds. With Parsons and White on the floor at the same time, we saw the ball in their hands often, making plays and initiating the offense, allowing a shoot-first point like Fortson to spot up and look for his shot. Parsons’ length and range, and White’s size and bulk both pose difficult matchups for opponents at the forward spots who don’t like to stray far from the rim and defend off the dribble. In all,13 of the Rockets’ 21 team assists came via the bigs.

Again: It was only one game. I can’t stress that enough. However, before we read about all these guys who may or may not be involved in a Rockets deal for Dwight Howard, it was crucial that we see at least what the young kiddos had in the stable. Put it this way: White looked the worst of the Rockets’ youngsters, and he’s been the most heralded by coaches and scouts so far. That’s the depth of talent we’re looking at. If I’m Daryl Morey (and fortunately I’m not), I think twice about getting Howard in tow for all these young players and assets I’ve worked so hard and mortgaged the last three seasons for.

Morey has a tough decision to make, and, for better or worse, he’s responsible for the bed he finds himself in.

2012 U.S. basketball: Does size really matter?

James Harden and the U.S. will pose an interesting dynamic this summer: can small ball win on the international stage? (Photo by Associated Press)

Lost within the mindless drivel of whether or not this year’s U.S. men’s basketball Olympic team could beat the 1992 Dream Team is the intriguing test of ideals posed by the current representatives.

First things first: this year’s team would not stand a chance against the ’92ers. Not. A. Chance. As athletic, quick and versatile as this year’s version is, there is no question the Dream Team’s vast size, bulk and efficiency (i.e. pure shooting) would be too much to handle. That efficiency would severely limit transition opportunities for this year’s bunch and force the 2012ers to play in the halfcourt more than they’d like. Not only that, the ’92ers would own the glass and do a sound job of getting to the free throw line, limiting possessions and pace, both attributes this year’s team thrives and is heavily dependent upon. So can we stop with the nonsense, please? Yes, it makes for good conversation, but the bottom line is it’s disrespectful to the 92ers, whom many – including moi – consider the greatest team of talent ever assembled.

Now that that’s over with, let’s talk a bit about whether or not we are truly entering a new era of basketball, something that’s been at the forefront of the minds of hoops enthusiasts ever since Miami won the 2012 NBA title with smallball (though many conveniently neglect how significant of a role LeBron’s improved post play figured into matters). It’s been noted how small this year’s USA team is; only two player stand taller than 6-foot-9). They are wing-heavy, reliant upon incredible versatility, interchangeable parts that cover up fantastic flaws. At one point during Thursday’s 113-59 smothering of the Dominican Republic in an exhibition in Las Vegas, the USA trotted out a lineup of LeBron James, Carmelo Anthony, Kevin Durant, Kobe Bryant and Chris Paul. Thirty-eight points were scored off 27 turnovers, and when the DR zoned, the good guys were able to find Kevin Durant, the team’s lone pure shooter, time and time again. It was fun basketball, pickup at its best. Run, run, run. Shoot, shoot, shoot. Wash, rinse, repeat. Rarely – if ever – was the U.S. forced to slow it down and play through a man defense in the halfcourt.

But there is a reason Americans watch the likes of Spain and Argentina with a careful eye. Spain, in particular. With an experienced point guard in Jose Calderon who can deal with pressure competently and not lose his poise when the likes of James and Bryant are in his face, Spain looms as the U.S.’s biggest threat when you add the tall and beefy Gasol brothers and stringy shot-blocker extraordinaire Serge Ibaka. Or how about France and Tony Parker? Or Argentina and Manu Ginobili and Luis Scola. If the U.S. did not boast just Tyson Chandler as its lone true center, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion. But competitive basketball comes down to two things: Can you stop the other team, and can you execute when it counts? And those two come hand-in-hand with halfcourt basketball and producing when stakes are high and possessions are precious; when the game has slowed to a considerable crawl and not a track meet. The optimist’s thinking is that, just as much as we consider how the U.S. is going to match up against opponents, opponents are going to have to guard them too. This is true, and no one questions how nightmarish of a headache it will be to stop the U.S., especially if racking up transition points. However, playing on a smaller court, in more limited space, size matters in FIBA, and that’s something the U.S. lacks since Dwight Howard, LaMarcus Aldridge, Chris Bosh, and now Blake Griffin are all out with injury. I find it highly amusing that people think the U.S. will cakewalk to another gold medal when even the elements of the game (closer 3-point line means less operating room, and the court itself is smaller in FIBA) do not lend favor to the U.S.

I have long been a fan of traditional basketball (if you can’t tell). Give me size and bulk any day. I want rim protectors. I want guys I can throw the ball into and work inside-out. I want guys who can play with their back to the basket, guys who protect the lane. I want guys who can post up, get to the rim and draw contact and get their defender in foul trouble. That’s basketball. The idea of basketball is to put the ball in the hoop, and you have a harder time doing that if you have guys who can protect the rim and force opponents to shoot jump shots (preferably 3s). The U.S. has almost always had a team who could do those things AND outlet to the skill guys who could race the other way for easy dunks or wide open 3s. Now this bunch only does the latter. Gone are the days of a David Robinson, Patrick Ewing, Shaquille O’Neal, Charles Barkley and Kevin Garnett. And while offense struggles with a lack of size, that won’t necessarily prove the case with these U.S.ers. They’ll score just fine. It’ll be on defense where it will be felt the most, when LeBron and Carmelo Anthony are having to guard the Gasol brothers and could find themselves in quick foul trouble if Spain plays it right.

These Olympics, I can’t wait. Not only will we see if Kobe can win a gold in his (in all probability) swan song on this grand stage, or what LeBron will do for an encore after a legendary championship run, but two basketball eras are clashing – this era of speed and athleticism versus the traditional route of size and strength. Who will prosper, and is this a movement to new form of basketball? We shall see.

Newspapers’ spirals continue; hope diminishes

The New York Times came out with an article on Sunday discussing the recent ugly stretch produced by newspapers. Essentially, the report cites troubles had by the New Orleans Times-Picayune and its layoffs, as well as embarrassingly brutal errors such as fake bylines and, yes, even the presentation of old news on a paper’s front page.

You can read the article here.

This is not going to go away, reporter David Carr implies. It’s the continuation of a quick downfall that has plagued the newspaper industry, which is known for little more than hemorrhaging money and cutting jobs left and right. It’s the end result of papers’ unwillingness to adapt to the digital age in the late 90’s, almost mocking the concept of the internet by choosing to do, well, nothing. We know who’s had the last laugh, and now people are paying for it. Even now, newspapers seem to not completely understand just how to adapt. It’s a whole lot of “throwing stuff against the wall and hoping it sticks.” There’s no game plan, no purpose, and there is certainly no execution.

As I’ve endured a rigged job search this summer, articles like Carr’s have been at the back of my mind. The bottom line is that the bottom line sucks for newspapers. It’s utterly awful for this business I’ve called a career since 2005. During the last 18 months or so of my tenure as sports editor in Laredo, I rearranged my priorities and focused primarily on developing my department’s online initiatives (which had been nonexistent) and diving head first into my own weekly sports tabloid project as a way to not only bring in additional revenue to the paper, but to also experiment in producing more unique content for the readership. I found the project to be a success, and perhaps in a later blog post I’ll go deeper into what it all entailed. But what I have seen since I’ve left the paper in early January is that the department has ceased with what I started. The website is dead, the Twitter and Facebook pages for the department no longer exist, and if it weren’t for the forward-thinking efforts of reporter Kenny Ryan, the YouTube page would be dead as well. It figures. To be committed to the future, newspapers have to be open to new ideas and more creative thinking. They have to try. More than ever, they have to go above and beyond, determining successes and failures through trial and error.

Even with all that said – even with all the plethora of evidence that the industry in all likelihood cannot be salvaged this late in the game – I still believe. I have not quit on newspapers, and I am stubbornly determined to go to a paper and make all my ideas and innovations work; I am determined to work with a team that thinks three steps ahead, not one. There’s a few out there. Not all newspapers are hopeless. Unfortunately, they are the exception, not the majority. I’m not claiming to have all the answers, but I do know the print product needs to be the core of a newspaper (there has not been a way yet to generate consistent revenue via online); HOWEVER, the online product needs to complement. In my opinion, this is where things get off track for newspapers. They don’t know how to complement. And no, there is no generic how-to in regard to how to go about it. It depends on audience and circumstance. Also, they don’t have the time or resources with cut costs and fewer people to do the work. Every newspaper should have online editors. And the thinking should be that it’s not what you cover, it’s how you cover it.

Carr’s reporting is nothing new. Just another reminder that newspapers are not headed for a happy ending. The most important thing that I got from the article was how many prominent staffers at the Times-Picayune who were offered jobs to stay and work within the digital operation turned down the opportunity, simply because they’re tired of the uncertainty. After all, if things clearly did not work before, how can anyone say they’re going to work out now or going forward?

 

Rockets’ system lacks feeling, results

If Daryl Morey had his way, it’s highly unlikely that rookie first-round draft picks (from left to right) Royce White, Terrence Jones and Jeremy Lamb would ALL be wearing Houston Rockets colors. Alas, so far they are, an indictment of how much of a failure this offseason has been for the organization.

There’s an infamous saying that goes something like this: “Sports are a business. It’s nothing personal.” Eventually all fans have to learn to adopt this adage, even if they don’t wish to. We’d like to personalize our teams. We’d like to find ways to relate to the players. We’d like to see them grow and mature, not only on the court or field, but off it as well. In essence, we’d like to feel that we were with them along the way, and that should they ever reach that sacred stage known as their sport’s championship, that we were right there with them, through thick or thin, heaven or hell.

Unfortunately, the Houston Rockets could not care less about the human nature of sports. They are business, above all. Their employees on the court are not people; they are assets. They don’t necessarily care for their players as they do the bottom line, even when, apparently, that bottom line is far from a success. As fans, we understand there is no loyalty in sports, but it wouldn’t hurt the teams we root for if they weren’t so blatant about it. Yet, that’s where the Rockets – playoff-less the last three seasons and owners of middling middle of the first round draft picks over that same time – stand. In an effort to do whatever it is they’ve been trying to do, whether initially trying to rebuild without bottoming out (fail) or now trying to sacrifice all for the precious signature star that has eluded them since the days of a healthy Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady, they’ve also successfully managed to disconnect themselves from their fans, as if operating as some sort of secret service whose intentions are only known to those inside the precious walls of the Toyota Center.

Consider this: This summer, the Rockets have said farewell to four players (Kyle Lowry, Courtney Lee, Samuel Dalembert and Chase Budinger), two of which (Lowry and Lee) were held in relative high regard by fans for their professionalism (Lee much so than Lowry over the previous six months) and two valued two-way talents, a commodity owned by few Rockets. Lowry was traded to Toronto last week for a first-round draft pick that is all but guaranteed to be a lottery selection. Lee was simply given his walking papers; even worse, his qualifying offer was withdrawn even after General Manager Daryl Morey confidently assured fans Lee would be back even as an restricted free agent. Dalembert, a valuable rebounder and shot-blocker on a team lacking interior presence, and a first round pick were traded to Milwaukee for three unknowns in Jon Brockman, Jon Leuer and Shaun Livingston, and a first round pick. Budinger, a sharpshooter, was given to Minnesota for a late first round pick. So let’s summarize: Four Rocket players – three who started a significant number of games last year – and a middle first round pick were essentially exchanged for three benchwarmers and three middle first round picks. In the process, in an offseason with an adored amount of cap room and assets, the Rockets have been rejected by the likes of Dwight Howard, Eric Gordon and even their own unrestricted free agent, Goran Dragic. This summer’s biggest prize so far? Omer Asik, a career backup, one-dimensional center whom Houston desperately is committed to spending $8 million per year upon.

This summer was supposed to be one of redemption for Morey, who has been hyped beyond belief ever since he arrived in Houston’s front office as some sort of boy genius; the Billy Beane of the NBA, if you will. This was the summer where it appeared everything was in line: plenty of money available. Plenty of young assets. Plenty of draft picks to offer in sexy trades. This was going to be Morey’s time to shine. This was going to be his moment; his LeBron epiphany, per se. But it never came to fruition. And now Morey and his staff are left as the laughingstock of the offseason. It has gotten so bad, the Rockets have abruptly switched directions. A team that was only a premier superstar away from really making a quantum leap in the West is now under midst a rebuilding session, a fire sale in a misguided effort to indeed land that signature star; yes, the same signature stars like Howard and Gordon who do not even consider Houston as a fruitful destination. But what else is Morey supposed to do, really? He waited too long. It took him three years before realizing that drafting 14th in the lottery is not where a team desires. The Rockets have been living in no-man’s land for the most of Morey’s tenure. Even the Charlotte Bobcats feel bad. And while owner Les Alexander is also to blame for his insistence that his team rebuild without tanking, his time as owner has not been this discombobulated. The bottom line is it’s Morey’s job to put the pieces in place to field a respectable, competitive unit, and he failed to done so.

It’s also Morey that has a great deal to do with what follows, which arguably could be the most troubling.

Morey prizes assets, not people. And people around the league – opposing GMs and, of course, players – are starting to see that. Players are immediately expendable the moment they find themselves on the roster of the silver and red. There is no such thing as job security if you’re a Rocket. Mind you, that’s true for all teams in all sports, but especially for the Rockets. They don’t even pretend to believe they care for their players. So I give them props for being upfront, even if it’s hurting them just the same. Professional athletes wish to be cajoled, embraced, beloved. Not only financially, but personally. They want to feel wanted, as if they’re valued. They don’t want to be treated as if they’re a minor league prospect, shipped at a moment’s notice if that’s what the higher-ups deem necessary. Morey and the Rockets deal with assets, not people. And don’t think that that doesn’t matter. It does. Just look at the fact they didn’t give Dragic that player option in his fourth year of a discussed deal, simply because they couldn’t harbor the thought that a player was not in their control. Phoenix did offer that option. Guess where Dragic went?

It is a severe disconnect. Players feel like assets to the Rockets, and fans don’t know who to root for or get to know because he could be here today, gone in a few hours. Morey and the Rockets wish to be looked at as a forward-thinking franchise. In some ways, they are. They get the most bang for their buck and have done a relatively admirable job of scouting talent for the draft. But mostly, they operate like a minor league club, jettisoning players to and from the D-League at will (with no real data showing that it pays off in considerable improvement by the particular player) and pretty much employing a system void of feeling, void of personality.

And as a result, a system void of results.

LeBron learns, LeBron wins

LeBron James finally gets to put up a banner of his own after closing out the Oklahoma City Thunder with a triple-double in Game 5 of the Finals on Thursday night. (Getty Images)

Hopefully, the nonsense can now stop. Perhaps we can all retire the “LeBron ringless” jokes and the “lack of clutch” meme that many have resided upon ever since LeBron James made a bonehead decision to nationally announce Miami as his free agent destination of choice two summers ago, further ridiculing hapless Cleveland in the process. Hopefully the childish antics of jealousy and/or hate that have truly embarrassed us instead of LeBron come to an end.

Because the fact of the matter is that James is, yes, indeed, an NBA champion, as of late Thursday night when he fittingly closed out the relentless, if not fantastically spirited, Oklahoma City Thunder with a 26-11-13 line in Game 5 of the Finals, putting a nice little touch on his gaudy resume by adding his first Finals MVP award. Because the fact of the matter is that James is unquestionably the game’s greatest talent that we have seen in quite some time, and he’s certainly its top horse now, with nobody even remotely close.

Consider:

– James joins Tim Duncan, James Worthy, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson as only players to record triple-doubles in title-clinching game.

– James is the third title winner to lead his team in points, rebounds and assists in NBA Finals, joining Tim Duncan and Magic Johnson. He averaged 28.6 points, 10.2 rebounds and 7.4 assists in this year’s Finals.

– James is the 10th player in NBA history to win the regular season and Finals MVPs in the same year.

– The 34 points created from James’ assists in Game 5 were the most in his playoff career and second-most in a Finals game in 15 yrs. How’s that for “clutch”?

– And a pretty interesting note, if not altogether ultimately irrelevant: Michael Jordan won his first title at 28 years, 3 months. James wins his first title at 27 years, 5 months. 

I won’t pretend to have always been on the LeBron bandwagon. I hated “The Decision”, but was fine with the decision. I hated the pep rally to celebrate, well, nothing. I hated his sometimes kid-like manner in postgame press conferences after losses. I hated his smug look. Too often prior to this season – and even in some bit glimpses this season – I saw a man who took his talents for granted; a man who discreetly looked down upon the rest of us.

But I respected his game. From day one. I respected how he never backed down to the criticism, how he remained a team-oriented player during the plethora of times that fans/media/critics demanded he shoot. There has never been one like him. I never once “hated” on his skills. But even more so, I believed he was a good guy who was simply as naive and impressionable as they come. And I certainly believed he was undeserving of all the hate and scorn thrown his way. Ironically enough, all that adolescent hate thrown his way – either by bloggers or national media – ended up making it easier to root for LeBron.

His journey up to this point has been scintillating. In my eyes, the light clicked for him in Game 4 of this year’s Eastern semis against Indiana, with his team trailing the series 2-1. He posted a bizarre 40 points, 18 rebounds and 9 assists in 43 minutes. From there, he kicked it into another gear, scoring no fewer than 26 points in the remaining 14 postseason games, and scoring  more than 30 six times. It’s not like he took over all the time (though sometimes he did), it’s that he asserted himself better. He knew his spots. He knew how to exploit defenses. He looked comfortable, attacking with purpose. It’s like everything all came together for him, and it was that Game 4 against the Pacers when the Heat officially became LeBron’s team. It took him a while later to realize it than the rest of the world, but, hey, better late than never, right?

LeBron earned this championship, and that’s what we all want to say about the greats of any game. We want them to earn it. We want them to take the stage by the throat and thrive. We want them to do their thing. We want them to shut us up. Oh, and LeBron won the title his way. He didn’t just become the scoring juggernaut people demanded of him; it was where he was scoring (in the paint). But even more, he sliced and diced the Thunder with his passing, by setting up on the block and simply tearing them apart with pass after pass after pass. He was a 6-foot-8, 250-pound power forward who led his team in assists and dictated tempo, not to mention the offense. There was no answer. As the kids would say, LeBron went beastmode in these playoffs. He finally figured it out.

I’ve always said that LeBron isn’t anything like Michael Jordan. Those comparisons should’ve stopped years ago. He’s more like the modern day Magic Johnson, albeit a much better defender and shooter. In fact, heck, he may not even be Magic Johnson. Have we ever even seen someone like LeBron James before? We may have to go back to the days of Oscar Robertson, who did whatever he wished on the basketball court. LeBron is the one player since Robertson’s era who we could legitimately argue could average a triple-double over an entire season, like Oscar did.

But most importantly, above all and any of this, LeBron James – he of the Playstation-like stats and three MVPs and one Finals MVP – became human. He matured. He opened up. For the first time this season, we saw that LeBron was just like any of us. We saw him overcome adversity and come out on top. We saw him handle interviews with class and reflection. We saw sincerity, we saw someone who was genuine when he talked about being a changed man. It was like America refused to trust LeBron until he proved that he could trust us. And he did. Finally. But perhaps what’s most reassuring is that we saw a man who made mistakes, just like any of us do. And we saw that same man become a better person for it, just like we all hope to do.

I’m far from a Heat fan, but I’m happy for LeBron. I am. I’m not happy that he won a title and reached the top. I’m happy he had to face some significant challenges along the way, and that he not only succeeded, but also learned a bit along the way. Good for him. We all knew he would (in all probability) figure out the basketball side of things. But for him to figure out the mental aspect of it all? Hard to not applaud the feat.

I’m happy that he proved you never stop learning about yourself. Even if you’re the world’s greatest basketball player, having performed magnificently on the game’s grandest stage.