The State of the Sports Column

I mean seriously, what is up with this crap? It's funny now that the guy is so wrong, but have you taken the time to notice what has become of sportswriting in the newspaper?

The most interesting thing about sports newspaper columns these days is just how bad they are compared to basically anything on espn.com or about 800 blogs, even when I happen to agree with what the author is saying. Most of what Malik has written in two months is better than anything I've read in the Orlando Sentinel EVER. I mean seriously, read this column - it's just attrocious writing, perhaps even worse than my own.

When bomb throwers like former Sentinel columnist Larry Guest were the only game in town, they would annoy me. Now that they're basically irrelevant, I just pity the editorial staff at places like the Orlando Sentinel and Florida Times-Union who actually believe that random inflammatory remarks and this hokey, arrogant "look at me, look at me!" writing style still qualify as good sportswriting. (This style completely permeates Florida sportswriting - tell me, can you think of anything else anywhere that's written in this ridiculous, banal style day after day? The Florida Times-Union opinion section is like reading some pre-menstrual girl's blog about ice cream - "Rocky Road is the WORST flavor EVER because I HATE IT!!!! LOL!!!:):):))

ESPN.com didn't replace my local sports section because it's more convenient - it's actually not more convenient at all. I can't fold my laptop up and bring it to the shitter, I can't get bacon grease all over my laptop at the local diner, and I definitely can't afford to burn my laptop in the fireplace when it pisses me off. I choose it because the column writing doesn't completely *suck* like it does in every single newspaper in Florida and really basically every other paper in the country other than the NY Times, Chicago Tribune, and SF Chronicle.

Actually those papers suck too, why not.

cheating fuquans part ii

ok, i hear the argument for zero tolerance on cheating. part of me likes that policy, especially since the PR spin could be gorgeous. but what about the other side?

my roommate employs a brilliant consulting technique which has a name that escapes me right now. it's really simple though, you just keep asking why. i think the magic number is asking why 5 times. perhaps the name is the "5-why technique". consultants are so brilliant.

here goes:
1. WHY do people cheat?
--because they are afraid of failing.

2. WHY are they afraid of failing?
--because they have been moderately successful their whole lives so when put in a difficult situation, they choose to succeed at all costs instead of flirt with failure.

3. WHY do they want to succeed at all costs?
--because they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree.

4. WHY do they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree?
-- because they were admitted to the program.

5. WHY were they admitted to the program?
--to give them a degree.

a ha. you see it? i worked hard to make it work out this way, because as i've learned in this little exercise, the 5-why technique can end up with any conclusion, however absurd it may be.

let's assume that from day one, you walk in and think the program is going to give you a degree. it doesn't matter what you do throughout the 2 years. you saw the comment in the previous post: everybody passes. why *wouldn't* you feel entitled to the degree if you were admitted?

i'd be curious to hear what people think about whether you EARNED your degree or if you just finished a curriculum and were GIVEN a degree. there's a subtle difference but changes the entire attitude you would take.

if you had to EARN your degree, would you let anyone cheat off you? conversely, if you knew everyone was going to pass regardless, would you help someone out in the spirit of team fuqua?

Cheating Fuquans

Saturday night found me at a really nice, outdoor deck party on Houston and 6th Avenue. With booze flowing freely, insecurity about my own deck in the Village started to creep into my subconscious. We don't have a trelice. Nor do we have the nice wooden furniture or cool elegant lighting. Or plants for that matter.

Just as I was spiraling into despair, a classmate hits me with this serious text message:
"34 Fuquans caught cheating on decision models. on abc.com. Sucks."

I can't find the abc.com article, but here's the local Raleigh report. Would love to hear other thoughts out there.

Some notable commentary from email chains I've seen:
"People have been pretty down on the ‘08s this year for a variety of reasons, which is probably a longer conversation. But my thought is that theirs is just the class that got caught doing something that in one form or another happens year-in and year-out." --current '07 student

"Did they miss the part of orientation where they explain that everyone passes and grades don't matter?" --'04 alumna

"I’ve long suspected various groups of walking on the Honor Code when no one’s looking. My understanding is that this sting struck deep within one particular community of international students, but that’s not been in any way confirmed." --current '08 student

"J.B. Fuqua rolling in his grave..." --'06 alumna

"I have no idea why people still try to do this….of course that might be because for all the one’s that get caught many get away with it." --'05 alumna

Incidentally, Decision Models is going to become an elective next year. Which brings up a whole slew of follow-on questions. At the top of my list is: how are future students going to project the number of attendees at a wedding without the knowledge of crystal ball? and a close second: without the power of excel solver, how will future Fuqua summer interns differentiate themselves?

Behind Every Tall Man

NBA and other sports wives follow a code of conduct that supposedly enables rampant infidelity among players. An Oregon State sociology professor has spent the last four years studying it.

soundtrack to my life

i feel like i'm on the outside of this technology-driven music consumption revolution that's taking place. you know, the same "technology-driven music consumption revolution" you've been reading about and experiencing over the past 5 years. or as most simply recognize it as the ipod era.

with all the new ways to purchase or otherwise acquire new and old music, as well as the technology available to listen and consume at any time (car, workout, shower, killing kittens or not killing kittens as the case may or may not be, etc.), i have sat on the sidelines watching musical obsessions flourish amongst my contemporaries. being in nyc, with all the live music options, has further highlighted my disinterest. i guess it can be summed up in one statement:

music is not very important to me.

i know that's hard to believe, given that i'm a charter member of the NKCDOTMC. i mean i'm interested in downloading albums and listening to new music as a primary activity, but music as a secondary, constant activity is not up my alley. i never cruise around the city with my ipod. my phone, which is also an mp3 player, has exactly 0 songs downloaded on it. even on my longer workouts, i don't really listen to music.

it seems that the world falls into two categories when it comes to music: those that want a soundtrack to life and those who don't. i definitely fall into the latter. i mean, a soundtrack to my life would be a cool little add-on feature, but i am equally entertained with the noise or silence of my surroundings, whether that's honking horns and cell-phone conversations or chirping crickets and the hooting of owls.

for those in the former category, i am quite jealous. there has been a massive buildout of technology to help you achieve your desire and enable your consumption. you can always access your soundtrack.

but alas, for me, my soundtrack will remain filled with the normal everyday cacophony.

Finally!

Doesn't it seem like everything is coming to a head all at once? Like:

• The Utah Jazz finally retired former Detroit Piston Adrian Dantley's #4 jersey. Even though I had no idea Dantley ever wore the former most flaming NBA uniform, I can tell you the honor was richly deserved. The Jazz should retire the numbers of some other old Pistons - starting with Dennis Rodman, in honor of his and Karl Malone's wonderful, unintentional NBA playoff comedy, as well as their later, under-appreciated masterpiece for the WWF.

• Don Imus says he will stop apologizing for racist remarks or whatever. Those of you who've been tailing me know I've been commuting to Westchester County a few days per week, which means I've also been a prisoner of bad radio. And this week I've specifically been a prisoner of endless Don Imus apologies. Imus, Mike & Mike In the Morning, Mike & the Mad Dog, Michael Savage, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah... who handed these people microphones? But I'm so desperate for original content that I actually will miss Imus; I guess they'll be playing "best of," but trust me the "best of" talk radio is like eating raw hamburger meat with the "best tasting" e. coli.

• Irving Plaza took on a retread name to better reflect the retread 80s music it's been parading forth as "indie rock" this year. Wow, what a shitty change! Also, did you know Irving Plaza will sell you a Red Bull. And they'll sell you a vodka. But they will not sell you a Red Bull and vodka?
  

Pulling yourself in public

For weeks I've been jocking the Tony Dapolito Rec Center (formerly known as the Carmine Street Rec Center) at the corner of Carmine and 7th Ave. For an annual membership of $70, you have access to an indoor pool (and outdoor during the summer), two basketball courts, weight room, treadmills, stationary bikes, and even a computer center. That is absolutely the deal of the century. Or so I thought.

Recently I've noticed that homeless people swim in the pool without showering first. At first I was skeezed out, but after thinking about how much chlorine they put in that pool, I figured it's no big deal. Changing in the locker room with post-swim homeless dudes isn't the gnarliest thing I've ever done. Not even close.

But the other day, I think I may have hit my limit. While throwing my stuff into a locker, I heard someone groaning. My initial reaction was that someone was taking a painful #2 and having some intense GI issues. The groaning kept up, though, and when I went into the shower area to wash off before getting in the pool, in the corner was a portly man, facing the corner, making all that noise. By looking at where his hands were, I could tell he was polishing his knob.

My first thought was BARF, closely followed by my second thought, which was yelling at the guy to stop yanking his wank. Isn't it rude to masturbate in public places? The last thing I wanted to happen, though, was for him to turn around mid-jerk and look at me with a hard-on. No thanks. So I turned and went straight for the pool.

There was a recent article in nymag about public sex. I hadn't witnessed any of it. I think the article jinxed me. Damn you nymag.com!

Grindhouse

Trust me, I wouldn't have missed Grindhouse. But after reading A.O. Scott's review, I've realized it has the chance to be a landmark moment in cinematic history. Hell, it might be Kurt Russell's best movie since Big Trouble in Little China.

Bar Dining

Pete Wells writes about the pleasures of bar dining in Diner's Journal, and I welcome him to the fan club. In traveling extensively on business over the last years, I've become a connoisseur of bar dining, and in fact I've come to actually prefer bar dining in most cases, even with a companion.

The bar dining experience always seems to just turn into a really enjoyable time. When alone, you might make a new friend or learn something you didn't know (Charlton Heston was not Demille's first choice in The Ten Commandments, opportunities abound in Simi Valley real estate). You might make friends with a bartender who will help you navigate the menu, steering you away from the duck confit (bland and over-rated) to the pepper-crusted meatballs (crack). You might end up in a Marriott Courtyard with a long-legged pharmaceutical sales rep from Spokane named Mary (I think). How better to engage with the world than through food and drink?

Even when dining with a companion, the bar experience reigns supreme. As Pete says, "When you’re sitting across the table from somebody, it feels like an interview, even if you’re with your wife of 30 years." The bar is a liberator from the those dinners that turn into skin-deep therapy sessions or Hannity and Colmes point-counterpoint, only because staring at someone for an hour and a half unleashes a deep-seated human need to "fill space" with talk talk talk. The bar chills, relaxes - hell, your stool may even swivel. And while you can't easily play footsie with your date, you can definitely pull out the time-tested stretch/yawn/arm-over-the-shoulder moneyshot.

There's a reason Cheers was set in Cheers, not the restaurant upstairs (Melville's, if you're scoring at home). Bar dining is the people's champion - try it this weekend.

The NYC Restaurant Paradox

"I wouldn't join any club that would have me as a member" -- Groucho Marx

There's a similar paradox for NYC restaurants on weekends:
Any restaurant where you don't have to wait is not a good restaurant. Any restaurant that you want to eat at will require you to wait longer than you you'd like.

Weekend visits to NYC restaurants (with no reservations) are what I imagine life was like in the old Red USSR: waiting in line. The one thing these restaurants demand from weekend eaters is the ability to kill time, from at least 1/2 hour for a marginal restaurant to 2+ hours at one with critical acclaim.

Even though the city, and when I say city I really mean the West Village, is teeming with great restaurants, the weekends are always overcrowded because the timing naturally attracts three demographics that aren't around during the week:
1. Bridge and tunnel. Don't underestimate the size of this demographic. It's absolutely massive.
2. Couples. After a busy week where couples may not have been able to spend time together, this is a prime opportunity to go out, drop some cash, and spend some quality time together.
3. Poor post college crowd. (We need to give these folks a name because I have a feeling we'll be referring to them in the future). I'm talking about the 22-26 age bracket, mostly in the unemployed or creative services industry. These people spend the week eating ramen, sale sushi, canned/frozen vegetables and hitting up free cocktail/hors d'heuvres receptions. God love them, sustaining on truly the bare minimum during the week. But come weekend time, it's time to splurge! This is what they've been saving all week for. A $40/day Rachel Ray special at The Little Owl.

So here's my solution. Go to the best restaurants on Tuesday night (most head chefs take Monday night off after a tiring weekend and come in Tuesday rejuvenated, possibly with new menu items). Weekend meals should be local pizza or indian take-out, or better yet, go to your local butcher and vegetable stand, invite friends to bring over a few bottles of wine, and make a night of it at Rio Rancho.

By the way, it's snowing right now!

Best NBA Commericals of All Time

Someone with apparently even more free time than Grey put together a collection of the 50 greatest NBA commercials of all time. It only includes one of the Ali G ads for TNT, but honestly the whole series is a work of unadulterated genius.