If the Jacket Fits…

It’s hard not to like Roger Federer. He just seems such a nice guy. While anything would have been a step-up from the oft-glum Pete Sampras, he seems genuinely charismatic. As if that’s not enough, he’s from Switzerland, more neutral than a comment piece in The Independant.

As Nadal infuriates with his penchant for extending matches as if he was being paid by the hour, Djokovic go into full sulky four-year old mode when not being given sufficient attention and Andy Murray be, well, just downright unlikeable, Federer is just… nice. Too nice. Even when he hit that purple patch after losing to Nadal at Wimbledon last year and couldn’t seem to buy a win over his rivals, you found yourself feeling sorry for him.

Well, this year’s Wimbledon reminded me why I shouldn’t. Why I routinely root for him to be embarassed by some wildcard entry from Bolivia. It’s not the hair, it’s not the fact he seems to win everything, it’s the jacket. Yes, that stupid, pretentious, cream and gold thing he insists on wearing to Wimbledon each year as if he’s some sort of tennis royalty. Give me a break…

When he first turned up at Wimbledon 2006 in the Nike swoosh-laden ensemble, he was undisputedly the best in the world; he’d won three straight titles at SW19. Rafa Nadal was still getting there while Djokovic and Murray were still a year or two away from really breaking through. But even then, what’s wrong with a bit of humility? You’re good, we get it. Are you telling me it’s really necessary to not only walk out onto the court, but practice in a pair of cream trousers, shirt and jacket, complete with a crest to let everybody know just how many Wimbledon titles he’s won.

God it just makes you sick doesn’t it. At what point did he decide that he was so much better than everybody else, that he should start wearing some poncey blazer as if he is in a different class to every other player in the tournament. Ok, he probably was, but that’s for commentators decide, not the player himself. Especially coming from such a supposedly soft-spoken guy; it’s just sheer arrogance, plain and simple.

What really gets me however is that he has the cheek to carry on this ridiculous facade when actually, as it turns out, he’s not better than everybody else. Last year, Nadal took his crown. He went into Federer’s home court, and beat him, again. They’ve now played in 7 grand slam finals and the Spaniard leads 5-2. Overall, Nadal leads 13-7. The torch for now has been passed. To further compound the downfall, Federer was now taking losses to Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic too and a loss down-under to Nadal saw the no.1 ranking relinquished. There’s a new King in town, and he’s not all about the toblerones.

Except he’s now injured to the point where he couldn’t even defend his clay court title. So Wimbledon rolls around again and guess what? Federer still has the cheek to turn up in this ridiculous get-up. Except now, it’s even more “fun” as it’s turned into a fashion statement as well, straight from the Milan catwalks. Next year he might as well just go the whole hog and turn up in Kanye West-esque sunglasses and a shemagh scarf. At least that would be purely motivated by fashion, not some need to come out with some ridiculous “look at me, I’m great, Nike even says so” peacock gesture

It’s just so arrogant and pretentious; you’re not even the best any more. When it’s all said and done history may judge you differently, but for now, the scales are tipped in the favour of the guy four years your junior.  Yet, a year after being beaten on your best surface and best tournament, because Nadal’s succumbed to injury you turn up and strut around like you own the place again? Gold man-bag and all? Please… Would it just kill you to show a little bit of humility? If you want to keep your little crest with your initials, fine, wear a designer polo shirt like everybody else. Don’t insist on walking round in this get-up, acting like it’s just “a bit of fun.”

I’d take Andy Murray over the self-anointed God’s gift to tennis any day.

Whats a Confederations Cup?

Before the Spain/USA Confederations Cup semi-final last week, the ever-philanthropic FIFA announced that it would be giving away free tickets to the game. With some 6,000 seats still available in the 38,000 capacity Free State Stadium, it’s just another damning indictment of this waste-of-space competition. “It’s a gesture from FIFA,” said spokesman Nicholas Maingot, putting on his most convincing voice, “for people to have a chance to enjoy this game.” Oh, a gesture? Much like the gesture that the collective football world has given to you and this competition? No? Or did you actually mean “a last ditch attempt to try and salvage some credibility for this pathetic attempt to make a quick buck?”

Let’s look ahead to Sunday’s final, when Brazil inevitably put four past those plucky Yanks and Lucio lifts the trophy (anyone actually know what it looks like?) at historic Coca-Cola Park. Where do you think that experience is going to rank? Playing in front of 40,000 apathetic South Africans, who much like the rest of us, are killing time before the real thing. Yes, the US team’s smash and grab against Spain will have done a lot for popularity in the States (at least they now realise this isn’t just another batch World Cup Qualifiers), but I hardly think the Spanish were taking to the streets in anger over the loss. They probably were already tucked up in bed.

Seriously, why are we bothering with this? What is the point? Forget the tree falling in the woods, what about the Confederations Cup falling on its face in South Africa. Does that make a sound? (note: yes it does, it’s those poxy horns).

Yes, it’s meant to be the World Cup warm-up for the host country, but what happens if they’re not ready? Does FIFA step in and say, “Actually, this has been a bit shit. We’re moving it to China.” Of course they won’t, rather, it’s this ridiculous “Champion of Champions” obsession Fifa seems to have. Yeah great idea, except some of these continents are a tad more equal than others. But wait, it’s the champions of Oceania against the champions of South America! Oh, wait, that’d be five time World Cup winners Brazil against, erm, 0-time winners New Zealand. In fact, the All-Whites (… tell me about it) have qualified for one World Cup, but three Confederations Cups. So far, they’ve score two goals and conceded 24 in three attempts. Well worth it.

No doubt FIFA’s PR machine will swing into full force come Monday morning branding it a success, but when a tournament gets consigned to BBC Three (the home of Horne and Corden), you know it’s haemorrhaging credibility. With an average of just 34,000 fans attending the group games, even the lure of Brazil vs Italy couldn’t convince fans to fill seats.

So come Sunday, as you spend another summer wandering aimlessly, starved of decent football, don’t let yourself be drawn in. It may look like Brazil playing on the screen, but it’s just mirage. Just keep telling yourself, only another 6 weeks… Only another 6 weeks…

Madison Square Guard-en

For months and months, there’s been one consistent theme about the 2009 NBA draft. It’s horrible. It’s awful. It’s so bad it is ranking up their with a certain infamous, turn-of-the-century draft that was so ghastly in it’s lack of talent that it GM’s across the country dare not even speak of it. It produced three allstars. No.1 pick Kenyon Martin, Jamaal Magloire (yeah…) and pick no. 43 Michael Redd. Take out Magloire and his freak selection and add in the Pizza Guy/Bond villain Hedo Turkoglu, that’s three guys with solid careers. Maybe throw in Jamal Crawford, but Mike Miller is pushing it.

Makes you wonder why then that all of a sudden we’re getting so hyped up and accepting Hasheem Thabeet as a good pick at no.2…

Of course, the draft means so much more for so many teams. It’s about the potential for a new era, salvation, redemption, and thus everybody gets caught up in it. My problem is, aside from the over analysing we see every year and picks based purely on “upside” despite the guy being 23 and unlikely to ever get any better, we suddenly start elevating these guys as if they’re going to be real difference makers in the NBA. Even in the golden 2003 draft there was still Michael Sweetney, Marcus Banks and the irrepressible Darko Milicic.

There’s always going to be misses, but every year there are a handful of franchise guys selected. For every Shelden Williams at five, there’s a potential Brandon Roy at six. For every Shaun Livingston at four, there could be a Devin Harris at five.

Just not this year. As much as commentators can whiff on prospects, you rarely get a year where you find them turning round and saying “No, actually, this is bad. Real bad. Zach Randolph taking a three bad.” That would indeed be this year.

With that in mind, let’s go for a recap of last nights action.

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With the no.1 pick in the draft, the Los Angeles Clippers select… Blake Griffin.

It’s becoming a disappointing trend in both the NBA and NFL drafts, the no.1 pick being a consensus and decided days, even weeks before the draft. Talking of disappointing, how sad is it going to be to watch Mike Dunleavy destroy this kid as he sits through three, possibly four years of horrible Clipper futility before being traded away, by then an empty shell of a man with all the life sucked out of him. That’s what Los Angeles can do to you.

There’s really no such thing as a surefire pick, Greg Oden was supposed to be dominating the league for years to come (it could still happen if he manages to get his bucket count higher than his foul count), and I’m not even totally sold on Griffin as an All-star in this league. Maybe the odd selection but I see him as a solid player, could easily be top 3-4 guy on a championship team. Just that team isn’t going to be the Los Angeles Clippers.

Personally I was rooting for OK City to nab the no.1 spot for Blake, because he could potentially fit there. The Clips? They have Marcus Camby, Zach Randolph (all $18 million of him), Johnny Depp look-alike Chris Kaman AND a talented young guy in DeAndre Jordan. The franchise is just a mess and we can only hope it doesn’t take Blake down with it. Still, there’s parallel number 1 with the draft that shall not be named, a power-forward as the consensus “only good player in the draft”.

Verdict: Long-time starter as long as the Clippers don’t ruin him.

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With the no.2 pick in the draft, the Memphis Grizzlies select… Hasheem Thabeet.

Oh, so that’s how long it ended up taking. Two picks before we got to a guy that someone’s going to regret picking. And hey! Parallel no.2. In 2000, Grizzlies selected with the second pick, C Stromile Swift. How did that work out? Quite similar to this pick I think.

Thabeet is a prime example of someone who put up some flashy defensive plays in college this year, has the physical attributes and thus shot up the draft board. Block a few shots and watch the dollar bills mount up. Don’t worry about the total lack of any post moves, or say, an offensive game at all. That can be coached

No it can’t. Or, at least it won’t.

Verdict: Bust. Bust bust bust.

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With the no.3 pick in the draft, the Oklahoma City Thunder select… James Harden.

Sigh. As a reluctant fan of the Thunder, I hung my head with this pick. Durant is this franchise, Westbrook may be locked in at the point and his lack of a mid-range jumper meant that a SG was the obvious option in a talent-free draft in terms of forwards, but passing on Ricky Rubio is unforgivable.

Rubio has been compared to Steve Nash, Bird, Magic etc when it comes to his passing ability. That’s not potential, that’s now. He’s as good as those guys now in terms of passing and reading the game. He reads the game two, three plays ahead. He’s not on the next page, he’s finished the book and is writing the sequel. And he’s 18. Think he can’t improve his jumper by 21?

James Harden was a sensible pick, IF RUBIO ISN’T THERE. Ok, he might not be a perfect fit but you make room. You’ve got one of the most exciting young trios in the NBA. Westbrook, Green and future MVP Kevin Durant. Imagine Rubio in that set up, creating for someone like Kevin Durant, would you not pay to watch that?

After all that Sam Presti’s done right with the Sonic’s corpse, this is a blunder. I mean, if you really really really don’t believe in Rubio, then why not take Curry? In my eyes, there’s only three players with all-star potential. Rubio, Griffin and Curry. Why not bring in Curry to add that shooting dimension if that’s what you want. Ugh, but it shouldn’t even be an option, take Rubio.

Sigh

Verdict: Probably will turn out to be a solid player, I like him. But he won’t be Ricky Rubio.

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The 2008/09 NBA Season in Review…

Courtney Lee’s missed lay-up, Jameer Nelson’s defense, Kobe’s elbow, Rashard Lewis’s disappearing act, pizza, candy, the 2009 NBA finals alone had talking points aplenty. But as Kobe and the gang put away the Orlando Magic to capture his fourth ring (and remove that proverbial marsupial from his back), it sadly signalled the end to another fascinating NBA season. But of course, to many of us oblivious Brits over here (and let’s be honest, finding the TV coverage was needle in a haystack stuff) it was just a ten guys running up and down a court for a couple of hours and then “next bucket wins!”. Besides, most of us were tucked up in bed before a ball was thrown in anger so you can be forgiven for perhaps letting it pass you by.

But look what you missed! We’ve had the real life Benjamin Button in 21-going-on-51 year old Greg Oden, who could quite possibly be aging backwards, half-time locker room twittering, Shaquille ONeal joining America’s Best Dance Crew, a Nike puppet-centric ad campaign that backfired horribly and L.A. fans celebrating in the most appropriate way deemed possible; setting cars on fire and looting.

But fret not, rather than leave you sitting in the dark like Gordon Brown when it comes to what the rest of his party is up to, I’m here to flick on that lightswitch with a whistlestop tour through the 08/09 NBA season, and we start our countdown with the Atlanta Hawks…

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10. The Hawks lose… their hawk?

Mascots are great fun aren’t they, but most teams are sensible enough to settle for a guy in a costume. Not the Atlanta Hawks however, who thought a live mascot would be much better! Not as if it’s a real bird of prey or anything…

During the Hawks’ playoff series with Miami, Spirit the Hawk (what a fantastically American name that is) did his usual performance of rousing the crowd, getting the arena pumped for the big Game 2 clash of the seven game series. But the problem with these animals is that if you put them in the spotlight, they’ll get a bit of an ego, they’ll get a bit “big-headed”. Obviously fearful of being replaced, Spirit decided to get back in on the action, taking it upon himself (herself?) to fly around the arena for a bit before perching himself on one of the basket supports.

Now, if this was an eagle, the game probably would have been stopped, but the NBA wasn’t going to stoop to accomodate the prissy demands of a attention seeking harris hawk! Play continued with Miami’s James Jones sinking a bucket as Spirit watched on, happy as a Larry. However, the game was eventually stopped with the pesky prima-donna perched right on top of the backboard, allowing for the trainer to eventually call him back.

The final score? Miami 108 Atlanta 93… Time for a new mascot maybe…

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9. We don’t want him.. but you can’t have him either…
Poor old Darius Miles. As if being drafted by the hapless Los Angeles Clippers wasn’t bad enough. Never really living up to expectations, Miles suffered a horrific knee injury midway through the 2005-06 season that caused him to miss the next two entire seasons. Problem was, Miles had a huge $18 million contract that was hampering the Blazers attempts to sign other players, so they petitioned for an independant doctor.  The doc deemed the injury to be career-ending meaning Portland could now get rid of that hefty contract, seeing as the player wasn’t able to fulfill his side of it. The Blazers’ released Miles and all was well.

Except it wasn’t. If Miles played 10 games the next season, the salary cap relief for the “career-ending injury” the Blazer’s had been allowed would be reversed, and they’d have to pay out that $18 million. By January, Miles had played 8 games (6 in the pre-season) and he had just been released by Memphis after a 10 day contract. Sensing their wallet was about to get substantially lighter, in their wisdom Portland actually threatened to sue any team that signed Miles, citing it would be a cynical move to sabotage Portland and it’s cap situation.

Luckily for poor Darius, who, by the way, had done something completely unprecedented in coming back from such an injury, the NBA stepped in (although only after the NBAPA threatened to counter-sue). Miles was inked for the season by Memphis and to this day Portland fans curse the name Darius Miles…

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8. “Yeah well your momma’s so fat…” “Uh, she’s actually just over there…”

Mark Cuban is one of those owners. Self-made, young, unfathomably rich and certainly not afraid to speak his mind. While other owners sit in luxury boxes, he’s courtside berating referees. He’s conducted post-game interviews from a treadmill, he started a booing campaign against San Antonio’s Michael Finley, he’s racked up nearly $2 million in fines through outbursts. He was even suspended for what the NBA called “un-owner-like behaviour.” He’s that guy.

In the second round of the heated playoff series between Cuban’s Dallas Mavericks and the Denver Nuggets, as usual Cuban was incensed about something. This time, it was the physical play of Denver and an admittedly missed call that cost Dallas a crucial game and left them in an 0-3 hole. After ranting at the scorer’s table, he departed back to the locker room. After a fan commented about Denver being thugs, Cuban pointed at Denver forward Kenyon Martin’s mother and added “that includes your son”, as well as reportedly referring to the rugged Martin as “a punk”. But that was OK according to Cuban, because apparently he knew Mrs. Martin as she had “approached him with trash-talk type comments” before. Hmm…

Then, what has to be the leading contender for Owner/Mother Feud of 2009 really took off. Martin vowed to “take care of him (Cuban)” before, naturally, the fans jumped on the story in the next game in Dallas, with Martin and his mother recieving some choice words.

Cuban apologised via his blog, but it didn’t appease Martin. ““He’s a coward,’’ Martin said about Cuban. “He couldn’t face it… You all read the only apology that he’s made (on his blog )… The world got to see it before the person who it was meant for got to see it. That tells you how that goes. I ain’t never known nobody apology to somebody through other people.’’

Cuban admitted he had erred by not yet apologising in person, but the barbs didn’t end there.

“I still intend to apologize to Ms. Moore,’’ Cuban wrote. “I made a mistake and will keep my commitment. But I would also like to know if Kenyon is going to take responsibility for his actions rather than hiding behind ‘no comment’.

“Will he apologize to the wife of our staff member that he called a ‘(expletive) fat pig’ immediately after Game 3? Will he apologize to fans that he threatened to, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘(expletive) beat the (expletive) down’ during Game 4?”

Denver went on to eliminate Dallas with ease 4-1 but next season’s Denver/Dallas matchup is going to be circled on a lot of calenders.

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7. Darko Milicic Hulks Up

Darko Milicic has a lot to be angry about. Drafted second overall in 2003, to say he didn’t quite pan out would be an understatement. At the time Detroit were a powerhouse in the NBA, and through trading, had managed to land themselves the 2nd overall pick in one of the most talent-filled drafts in years. Yet, rather than pick a future megastar like Dwayne Wade or Carmelo Anthony, they selected Darko Milicic… A name that will haunt Pistons fans for years. Milicic never came close to reaching his supposed potential and faded from view.

Milicic currently plys his trade keeping the bench warm in lowly Memphis, but provides our number 7 moment for us after a bizarre incident back in December. We’re not quite sure what irked Darko, but he was incensed enough almost rip his jersy in half, Hulkamania style. Keep an eye on his teammates trying not to laugh when he returns to the bench

In a brilliant move by the Grizzlies, they went on to actually auction off the jersey for charity, complete with Darko’s signature.

DARKO SMASH!

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