Celtics Rule, Disappointment Reigns

At the beginning of the Finals, it all seemed so promising. It ended with a thud.

As a longtime Laker fan, I have absolutely no problem with the Boston Celtics claiming their 17th NBA championship. They were clearly the better team. No argument from me.

It wouldn’t be the craziest idea in the world to send the Celtics to Beijing this summer and have them represent the U.S. in the Olympics.

My problem is with my “beloved” Lakers. They just flat out quit. In the second half of Game Six, their hearts just weren’t in it. It was like they just texted it in. Phil Jackson wasn’t exactly a coaching genius in this series. He looked more concerned about where to get a crate of walnuts.

The Lakers have a long history of disappointing their fans when it comes to facing the Celtics. No need to re-hash. I’m already feeling bad enough.

Some adjustments need to be made if there is to be an improvement in the end result next season. Lamar Odom needs to go. A new offensive system needs to be put in place. And, I’ll be the one to say it:

Phil Jackson needs to be put to pasture. It appears the game has finally passed him by. He was clearly outcoached by Boston’s Doc Rivers. The Celtics’ coach was also able to out-think Jackson. Clearly. If this had been a chess game, it would have taken Rivers to reach Checkmate in about 12 minutes.

Jackson’s rightful place is now in an office, consulting, scouting, dealing, and conferencing with Jeannie Buss. Not on the Laker bench. Not anymore.

If things stand pat, the same thing will happen again next year. That is if the Lakers are lucky enough to win the Western Conference. You know damn well that the Spurs, Mavs, Kings, and Suns will not stand pat.

Moves must be made, and soon. Dr. Buss, it’s up to you.

Laker/Celtic Tidbits

Game Four of the Finals will rank in history as among the great all-time chokes in sports annals. How did it happen? How could it happen? I was embarrassed to be a Laker fan, and that’s never happened before.

If the Celtics don’t win Game Six, they won’t win it at all. Provided the Lakers don’t place their hands near their throats again.

Now that I think about it, if the longshot proves to be true, and it turns out that the Lakers-Celtics Final was engineered by the NBA, well, so what? Both the league and ABC need ratings, and a San Antonio-Detroit Final wasn’t going to do it. Could you imagine a final between Sacramento and Charlotte? Geesh!

The NBA Finals of both 1978 & 1979 had Seattle vs. Washington. Ratings were in the proverbial toilet. They were both “Who Cares” editions of the Finals. The Lakers and Celtics were able to renew their fierce post season rivalry in the 80s. If the league “arranged” for that to happen, well, it was for the overall good. The NBA might not have survived otherwise.

I don’t have a prediction for Game Six, except that I expect both teams to be intense to the point of being wound up tightly. I’m only slightly surprised that a fight or even a shoving match hasn’t taken place as yet.

A friend of mine here in L.A. is from Boston, and is a Boston College grad. Sunday, he was already at a local tavern, celebrating the inevitable Game Five victory and World Title that didn’t arrive. Before the game started, I called him on his cell, and he was already out of it. I wonder how he reacted when he woke up?

Spring Cleaning Needed at NBA

In the midst of what should be the NBA’s finest hour, The Finals, allegations have surfaced, albeit from a dubious source, that basically say that the NBA is dirty, and that the fish stinks from the head.

Disgraced former NBA referee Tim Donaghy has stated that the pins were set up as far as the 2002 Western Conference Finals between the L.A. Lakers and Sacramento Kings were concerned. The Kings had a sno-cone’s chance in a microwave oven.

Donaghy has hinted strongly that the league wanted this. It needed a series to go seven games. This series was the only one that went the distance that year. That meant more ticket and television revenue. And, it’s so alleged that Shaquille O’Neal was a bigger TV attraction than the Kings’ Vlade Divac.

Before Game 3 of the Finals in Los Angeles, NBA Commissioner David Stern dismissed Donaghy’s assertions as being from a desparate man trying to get a lesser prison sentence.

If one surfs the Internet, the thinking might be different.

Even before the playoffs, bloggers and journalists both have stated that the league and ABC badly wanted a Celtics-Lakers Final. Well Go-LLeeee, lookie what happened in the playoffs.

In Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals, the San Antonio Spurs sure appeared to get screwed by a horrible non-call at the end of the game that potentially could have tied the game and sent it into overtime.

Allegations like these have surfaced before. I had always dismissed them as being from disgruntled, malcontented fans who didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. Now I wonder.

It’s bad enough that most of the fun we used to have with sports has been taken away from us. Expensive ticket prices, outrageous salaries, drugs, sleazebag behavior, relocation anxieties, and erratic ownerships have taken a heavy psychological toll on fans, causing many to give up on sports as they get older.

One of the few things we seemed to have leftover from the good earlier days was the officiating. It always appeared to be solid and on the up-and-up. Now there are stains on it. Dark, grimy, slimy, dirty stains.

Officiating is supposed to be above reproach. With these allegations, it now appears to be barely above a roach. The fact that these alleagations were even mentioned in the first place has to make fans wonder. Officiating, especially in the NBA, is obviously NOT above reproach.

Ralph Nader himself, who is not a sports fan, questioned the officiating after the 2002 Western Confernce Final, and wanted a federal investigation into the matter. He was scorned and laughed at. I was one of the laughers. I’m not laughing now.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Mr. Nader head an independent committee to investigate these allegations. And to have said committee make recommendations on needed changes and adjustments.

For all of its’ gloss, the NBA is still looking good. But there sure seems to be a peculiar odor coming from it’s direction.

Who Goofed? I’ve Got To Know!

This past Sunday, a game was played in Oakland between the hometown Athletics and the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The game went long, and was tied 3-3 going into the bottom of the 12th inning.

The game was telecast to Southern California on KCOP/13 of Los Angeles.

The A’s loaded the bases in the bottom of the 12th. Chris Bootcheck was pitching for the Angels. The batter was Oakland 2nd baseman Mark Ellis.

Bootcheck goes into his windup and delivers. Ellis swings and hits a walkoff grand slam home run for a 7-3 Athletics’ win. The crowd at McAfee Coliseum goes crazy. The entire A’s bench greets Ellis at home plate. Joy permeates the air in Oakland.

Oh, and one other thing: The viewers in Southern California never see it.

Just before the pitch is thrown, color bars appear on the screen. Then, the screen goes black with the KCOP logo in one corner. Then a commercial runs. Following that, the 1997 movie “Smilla’s Sense of Snow”, starring Julia Ormond, begins running. No game. No announcement. Nothing.

Angels Vice President Tim Mead blames the snafu on miscommunications on the production end. “It was some kind of miscommunication between the parties who oversee the satellite feed.”

Production staff in Oakland took the necessary steps to extend the satellite time window as the game went long, nearly four hours. However, the connection went black at precisely 5 p.m.

The glitch apparently resulted from problems between AT&T and Vyvx, the satellite carrier for Sunday’s game.

Added an obviously angry Mead: “We’re going to get answers.”

I’ll betcha Heidi was never like this.

Jim McKay: Remembered and Appreciated

Millions of words will be written about Jim McKay, and his great abilities, if they haven’t been already.

What will be under-emphasized will be the uncanny ability he had to be able to relate to the average viewer. He didn’t talk up or down to people. He just talked like a friend or relative would. People liked that.

He came across as someone you wish you were related to. Not for material gain, but because he seemed like someone you could go to with a personal problem, for advice, or just to get something off your chest. And he appeared to be the type who would understand, and give you constructive feedback in response.

Since we changed centuries a few years back, icons have been disappearing at a rapid rate. Bob Hope, Bo Diddly, and Johnny Carson are just a few familiar names that we’ve had to say goodbye to recently. Now we must add another. The song “Time Passages” by Al Stewart comes to mind.

Jim McKay is burned permanently into America’s minds, memories, and consciences. His marathon coverage at the tragic Munich Olympics in 1972 will never be forgotten. Happy moments at places like Lake Placid, Los Angeles, and Churchill Downs will rank among sports broadcasting’s finest hours.

It would be apropos if the American Broadcasting Company, the International Olympic Committee, the US Olympic Committee, or the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences would find something fitting to name in Jim McKay’s honor. It would be a great way of keeping his memory with us.

Jim McKay showed what sports broadcasts can be, and should be.

And we were lucky to be able to see it.

Celtic Fans, You Are Sooo Denounced!

(Poster’s note: This was written tounge in cheek, and should not be taken seriously. If any part angers you, than please, while you’re out getting a life, please acquire a sense of humor while you’re at it. -dg-)

Attention Boston Celtic fans:

I denounce you.

Former Celtic Rick Fox denounces you.

Elgin Baylor denounces you.

Laker season ticket holders denounce you.

Jack Nicholson denounces you.

Penny Marshall denounces you.

Joe McDonnell of KLAC radio denounces you.

Doug Krikorian of the Long Beach Press Telegram denounces you.

World Famous KROQ denounces you.

Dustin Hoffman denounces you.

Ex-girlfriends Donna Dover and Judy Essman denounce you.

Southern California fashion designer Penelope Gregg denounces you.

Raider Nation denounces you.

New York Yankee fans worldwide denounce you.

Doris Day denounces you.

Nature Boy Ric Flair denounces you.

Uh Huh Her lead singer Leisha Hailey denounces you.

The inmates at Pelican Bay State Prison denounce you.

The bottlers of RC Cola denounce you.

The sports book operators in Las Vegas denounce you.

The curator of reptiles at the San Diego Zoo denounces you.

The Los Angeles Police Department denounces you.

The Mayor of Los Angeles denounces you.

The LeBron James Fan Club denounces you.

All the Quakers west of the Mississippi denounce you.

The elevator operator at the Eiffel Tower denounces you.

The employees of AstroBurger at Melrose & Gower in Hollywood denounce you. In Spanish.

The Daughters of the American Revolution denounce you.

The Mormon Tabernacle Choir denounces you.

The entire nation of Belize denounces you.

The bats that hang under the Congress St. bridge in Austin, Tx. denounce you.

Stay tuned. Same bat-time. Same bat-blog.

Lakers vs. Celtics - A Frustrating History

I have been a Laker fan since I was a kid. I go back to the team playing home games at the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena beginning in 1960.

Through the years at the Sports Arena and Forum, one thing has remained constant: The Celtics and the thorn that they’ve been in the Lakers’ side.

There was Frank Selvey’s missed shot in Game 7 in 1962 at Boston. It went round and round for what seemed like an eternity until it finally dropped harmlessly off the rim’s side.

There was Red Auerbach throwing his damn cigars at the crowd IN THE THIRD QUARTER in 1965. I swear, Auerbach was one of the poorest winners ever in sports.

There was the frustrating two-point loss in Game 7 at Boston in 1966.

Don’t get me started on 1969. Oh, what the hell? Why not?

Before I begin on Game 7, Game 4 should be duly noted. That may have been the game where the Lakers really lost the series. The series was 2 games to 1 in the Lakers’ favor. They had won the first two games in L.A., and the Celts had won Game 3 at the Garden. In Game 4, also at Boston, the Lakers were up by one and had the ball with 20 seconds remaining. They didn’t even have to take a shot. The ball is inbounded to Wilt Chamberlain. No one is in the same zip code with him. All he has to do is stand there until Bill Russell or one of the other Celts approaches.

With no one near, Wilt suddenly drops the ball out of bounds. Celtics’ ball. After a timeout, John Havlicek hits an easy jumper at the last second, Celtics win.

Fast forward to Game 7, at the Forum, Los Angeles.

Before the game, Lakers’ owner Jack Kent Cooke orders hundreds of balloons to be stored above the court, to be released at the conclusion of the game. The balloons have “World Champion Lakers” printed on them.

The USC band is present, to play festive music on the upcoming happy occasion.

The Celtics arrive at the Forum, and observe all the scenery. Bill Russell approaches Jerry West, and says “Those F**king balloons are staying up!”

In the third quarter, Wilt hurts his knee and takes himself out of the game. Coach Bill van Breda Kolff takes this as a sign of weakness, and decides to keep him out when he’s ready to go back in a few minutes later. They get into an argument. van Breda Kolff holds his ground. Meantime, the Celtics build an 18-point lead. The crowd is screaming at VBK to put Wilt back in. The coach is oblivious to the fans. Owner Cooke is obviously not pleased at the scene on the end of the Laker bench.

With 5 minutes left, the Lakers get within 4 and hope is back with the crowd. With a minute to play, Don Nelson, picked up from the Lakers a few years earlier for the $100 waiver price, puts up a desparation shot that hits the back of the rim, bounces straight up, and SWISH! Right through the net. Everyone knows that’s it, end of argument, case closed. The Celtics win another.

The balloons stay up. The quiet crowd leaves heartbroken, angry and frustrated. Again. In the locker room, Jerry West is openly weeping. In spite of the loss, West is named the MVP of the series, and is awarded a new car. He says that he would have gladly traded the car for a win.

Shortly afterward, Bill van Breda Kolff is fired. And rightly so. Keeping Wilt out at that critical time was a total bonehead move. Bill Russell retires, with a 6-0 Finals record against the Lakers.

The two teams meet again three times in the 80s, this time with Magic Johnson vs. Larry Bird. The Lakers win two of them. Boston finally gets to feel what it’s like. But for me, it wasn’t the same without having beat Russell & Havlicek. Red Auerbach had retired from coaching, and as team President, was watching from the stands. Later, he made remarks about being angry that they lost to the Lakers even once.

There’s a very real possibility that the Lakers and Celtics will meet in the upcoming NBA Finals for the first time since 1987. The league, ABC television, and fans worldwide are salivating at the prospect. It could easily happen.

As for me, I’m trying to stay indifferent. If the Pistons win the Eastern Conference, fine with me. The reason: If the Lakers meet Boston again, I’m uncomfortable with it. I just wouldn’t like their chances. The Celtics always seem to have the leprechauns on their side.

A Disturbing Trend

On a recent episode of Gangland, seen on The History Channel, a Latino gang in Texas was featured. The show’s contents were pretty much expected: the violence, the backgrounds, the lack of remorse, and so on. As gang stories go these days, it was pretty formula.

What was disturbing was the gang’s logo. It was a virtually exact copy of the Houston Texans’ red-and-blue steer’s head logo.

There are others:

In Los Angeles, two street gangs sport the logos of sports teams. One is the hometown Dodgers’ LA cap logo. The other features the double horseshoe “W” of the Washington Nationals. I’ve seen tattoos of both on the heads and faces of misguided young men in the area.

I guess what this means is that on some fine day, a young Latino kid, having being given a Dodger or Washington cap as a gift, will be out playing, minding his own business, and he could get shot and killed just for wearing the cap of his favorite team.

Isn’t it bad enough that fans get beaten up at sports venues by moronic drunk home team fans for wearing an opponents’ gear? Now, innocent kids could get killed at home for wearing a damn cap?

It’s getting so you can’t be a sports fan in peace anymore.

Is the simple joy of liking sports now being taken away by idiots with the brains of 2-year olds?

At least some gangs like the Rolling 60s or the Crips have the “decency” if you will, of creating their own logos. I guess some gangs are too lazy to come up something of their own. God Forbid, they should do anything creative or original. Or constructive.

Horse Racing: In Bad Shape

When I was a kid, my parents loved to go to the Agua Caliente race track in Tijuana, Mexico. Nothing wrong with that, except for one thing: Sometimes, I HAD to go with them. I HATED it!

Living in a geographic location like San Bernardino, Ca., that meant getting up way early on a weekend morning, enduring my father’s slow driving on a 100-mile plus trip, and waiting eternally between races, which usually was 45 minutes between races.

It was gawdawful to go through. There was nothing for a kid 10-12 years old to do, and while I’m not exactly a world traveler, I can’t imagine too many places more depressing than Tijuana, Baja California. The poverty in town, noticeable as soon as you cross the border, was sickening. And the Caliente race track was poorly run.

Several times, I reminded (READ: chewed out) my parents for putting me through that crap. They couldn’t stand hearing about it. According to my parents’ way of thinking, hearing about it is worse than putting me through it. I think that’s how Vietnam War era government officials must think.

I have not liked horse racing ever since. I never have liked horse racing. Caliente and my bad experiences there have forever turned me off to the sport.

My father, now 91 years old, visited me recently on the day of the Kentucky Derby. In spite of the bad experience with the horse races back then, we have a good relationship today. Two of my four sisters were also there on the visit. He asked if I would put the Derby on the TV, and I did. He was the only one who wanted to see the race.

That is horse racing’s problem. It seems to be a sport that appeals mainly to older demographics. The industry has done an absolutely horrendous job in trying to attract younger demos. It’s like time stood still in horse racing, then one day the industry wakes up and realizes that too much precious time passed them by, and their core audience is dying out.

Attendence is down. Handle is down. Off track betting has helped some, but the alarm clock is still clanging. The on-track death of Eight Belles in the recent Derby, and of Barbaro a couple of years ago did NOT help it’s image.

I will soon be 58 years old. I was turned off to the sport when I was 10. It appears that there had to be others in my age bracket who were likewise turned off. If people Baby Boomer-age like me are turned off, what about the critical younger demographics? They must be totally apathetic to the sport.

There has been talk in the L.A.-area media that the Hollywood Park race track in Inglewood will eventually be shut down, it’s dates transferred to the Los Alamitos track in Orange County, and will be torn down for retail development. No deal has been done at this time. As yet. But the buzz alone is yet another testament to the deteriorating state of The Sport of Kings.

Horse Racing got themselves into this. It’s up to Horse Racing to get themselves out of it. They can now see clearly what happens when you assume.

July 20, 1969

In order to properly begin July 20, 1969, I need to backtrack to the early 60s:

San Francisco Giants manager Alvin Dark is talking to a reporter about his young, talented left-handed pitcher, one Gaylord Perry. Perry is showing everyone why he’s a future Hall of Famer, but his hitting, Dark says, is leaving something to be desired. In other words, the Giants may as well have 8 batters in their lineup card. To quote Dark:

“They’ll put a man on the moon before he (Perry) hits a home run.”

Fast forward to July 20, 1969.

The Giants are playing a home game. Gaylord Perry is pitching. This is the night of the first moon landing. Jeff Chandler, the Giants’ public address announcer, informs the crowd that according to news reports, Apollo XI has indeed landed on the moon. The crowd cheers loudly. Everyone is excited and happy. The game is held up slightly to let the cheering take it’s course.

The game resumes. About 10 minutes following Chandler’s announcement, the batter is Gaylord Perry. What is the result of his at bat? Perry hits his first major league home run. Right after the moon landing.

File this one under the category of “you couldn’t have made this one up.”