I Feel Good About This One

2006 — Vernon Davis, Norv Turner arrive. San Francisco 49ers improve their record from 4-12 in '05 to 7-9. Seahawks win the NFC West...barf.

2007 — Niners pick Patrick Willis. Norv Turner leaves, Alex Smith loses his marbles. Niners suck, go 5-11.

2008 — Mike Nolan lets new coordinator Mike Martz start JT O'Sullivan at QB. Mike Nolan is fired. Mike Singletary takes over; takes care of business. Niners salvage a 7-9 record; being named 'Mike' becomes part of front-office job requirements.

2009 — Niners move to retro jerseys, look awesome, play awesome. Brett Favre proves that karma does not apply to him, kills Niners' hopes for a 4-0 start. Kurt Warner uses his swan-song season to ruin the Niners' first solid season in half a decade. Still, Niners go 8-8 for a decent season.

2010 — LET'S GO!!!!!!


Here's the deal. The Niners are making the playoffs this year. I'm guaranteeing it.

No, I'm not crazy. Though the previous four years of history that I have displayed for you above may lead you to believe otherwise, I'm here to tell you that picking against the Niners is like saying Albert Haynesworth isn't fat. Or that JaMarcus Russell doesn't take enough cough syrup.

Let's start out by looking at the rest of the NFC West:

Kurt Warner, eternal Niner killer, is gone (finally) and has no plans (of now) to play for the Cardinals again. His replacement, Matt Leinart of now-tainted USC title-winning fame, is more interested in where the party's at than getting to the SuperBowl.

Leinart's former coach, Pete Carroll, is taking the helm of a Seahawks team that is floundering and could start Matt Hasselback, who broke multiple ribs after being hit by Patrick Willis last year, at quarterback after a career-worst season.

The Rams just paid Sam Bradford, he of multiple shoulder injury fame, $50 million in guaranteed money. That, and the fact that he might already be their best player, is all you really need to know.


And then there are the Niners. Coach Mike Singletary is the authoritative but respected leader of a team of talented youngsters looking for their first playoff birth in nearly a decade. Alex Smith has supposedly bulked up for the upcoming season, and is still one of the most mentally-tough men in the NFL (for more evidence read this). Michael Crabtree, after missing 6 games in a hold-out last year, is ready for a full training camp and season ahead of him, his sights set on Jerry Rice and T.O. Vernon Davis finally lived up to his G.O.A.T billing and is back for more next season. Frank Gore is still a perennial Pro-Bowl running back, and will get some help from a slew of young back-ups. And, though water covers two-thirds of our earth, the other third is most certainly covered by Patrick Willis.

But that's not even the most encouraging aspect of the Niners' 2010-2011 campaign. Two first-round rookie offensive linemen (Anthony Davis, Mike Iupati) will beef up Smith's security detail and open holes for Frank Gore to pound the ball in the running game. The Niners' defense, with the return of Manny Lawson from injury, the addition of Ricky Jean-Francois, and potential breakthrough in wild-card rookie Taylor Mays, stands to be one of the top five in the league. And Niners' offensive coordinator Jimmy Raye plans to tailor his passing attack to Smith's strengths, something he only did for half of last season.

So really, this is the Niners' year. I'm not talking about a SuperBowl win or anything, but an NFC West title and a playoff berth are in the cards. It's a sure shot, like Brett Favre on a hunting trip or Plaxico Burress in a club. And in a year where all the early 49ers talk has been about a move to Santa Clara, the Niners look to finally put San Francisco back on the football map.

Say Hello to the Savior(s)

As you may have heard, the Golden State Warriors have been emancipated. Former owner Chris Cohan, who shackled the Warriors for so many years with his bogus decision-making and cheap-skate mentality, has finally sold the franchise to an ownership group led by Joseph Lacob and Peter Gruber (LaGruber!) to the tune of $450 million (the highest price paid for an NBA franchise).

Initial reaction: thank goodness. Gruber is the CEO of Mandalay Entertainment and Lacob has been a Warriors fan for over 10 years and is well respected around the league. These guys (and their friends) laid down $450 MILLION for the Warriors. If anything else, the financial commitment will force them into becoming profitable and, thereby, improving the quality of the product on the floor.

But the more I think about it, the real reason I'm so happy about new ownership is because the man on the right, Stephen Curry, will likely be a Warrior for the rest of his career. Or at least for the next few years.

But, to be honest, I'll take either of those options. You see, if Cohan were still owner, Curry would be out by the end of this year or the next. At that point, looking for a contract extension, Curry would be staring into Cohan's empty wallet and soul-less eyes. He would have no choice but to leave the Golden State, as so many talented Warriors (including Chris Webber, Larry Hughes, Antawn Jamison, gun-less Gilbert Arenas...oh man this list is making me feel sick) have in the past.

And really, losing Curry would sting more than any of the previous Warrior casualties did. He would invariably go to the Knicks, where he would be paired with Amar'e Stoudemire, Danilo Gallinari,  etc., and immediately become Steve Nash 2.0 (this time with a title or two). And we, as Warriors fans, would go back to rooting for our hapless team, all the while wondering what could have been.

But this is Curry's team now. Anthony Randolph is gone, as is Anthony Morrow. Monta Ellis is on the way out, as is Don Nelson. With open-minded, dedicated owners, a young, rejuvenated squad, and a fresh logo/jersey redesign, Curry will be handed the keys to the franchise and be told to run this (Oak)town to new heights.

Because he's not LeBron James, Curry will relish that challenge. And Warriors fans will no longer wonder what could have been because the alternative, a Cohan-owned team, would be too painful to think about.

Welcome back Warriors fans. Say hello to the saviors. Curry and LaGruber are in the building.

Sporting Thoughts from New Delhi

If you’re wondering why there hasn’t been a blog post of late, particularly with all of the Warriors stuff going down, it’s because I’ve spent the last week traveling to India and getting situated here. After a journey/ordeal that totaled more than 24 hours straight, an Internet connection that has never worked 24 hours straight, and what can only be described as ridiculous Heat (just like Miami), I’ve finally gotten a moment to settle down and write about sports. That is, if things like rugby, cricket, and Formula One racing fit your definition of “sports”.

You see, after watching the Indian version of ESPN for, oh, about two full days now, I’ve come to realize that the dominant sports here, and in the rest of the world for that matter, are quite a bit different from the games that we covet back in the USA. So, after one week of experience in an alternate sports reality, here are some of the things that I’ve noticed/decided upon.

1. Cricket, at least in traditional form, really is as boring as its cracked up to be. I mean, just imagine watching a baseball game where the catcher would call an infield conference after every pitch, home runs happened once every couple of days, and the players would break for brunch and tea. That’s bordering on Craig-Sager-in-a-plain-suit boring. And it doesn’t help that Indian cricket players find a way to flop and otherwise pull up with fake injuries, DURING A CRICKET MATCH! Yes, a cricket match, where applying more sunscreen to your nose while playing in the field might be the only physical exertion required of you for MULTIPLE HOURS. These guys make Arjen Robben look like Brett Favre.

2. Rugby, for the most part, is really just a bunch of guys rubbing up on each other. There are exciting points, like the bone-crunching tackles, diving tries (their version of a touchdown), and splendid drop kicks, but other than that it’s like one big hug-it-out session. A rugby scrum, which features groups of opposing players pushing up against each other to regain possession, pretty much typifies what I like to call the rugby mentality: I may look like a physically sculpted man-beast, but I really just want to cuddle.

3. Formula One racing is like NASCAR, except that its drivers are made out to be the biggest prima donnas in the sporting world. There is so much manufactured drama, so many doctored story lines, and so much unnecessary hype that you really can’t focus on the racing at all. Which, in all honestly, probably works in Formula One’s favor. The one race that I watched (through-and-through, I may add) featured exactly zero lead changes and zero wrecked cars. It did, however, feature a pair of utterly unbearable announcers, a dramatic confrontation between two drivers’ pit crews, and plenty of discussion about the latest news regarding star racer Lewis Hamilton’s love life. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how you draw a worldwide audience of over 600 million people per race.

Anyways that’s all I’ve got for now, but I’m doing some more research on my Golden State Warriors’ new ownership group and I’ll get back with some thoughts on that development in a couple of days. Until then…I guess some more cricket won’t hurt, right?

Beauty Trumps the Beast

If you were one of the record 24.3 million Americans who watched the 2010 World Cup Final, you saw what can only be described as an ugly game.

In fact, if you tuned in to any of the 64 World Cup games played this past month, you probably ended up watching an ugly game. Maybe it was a bruising 0-0 tie in the group stage, like the one between Ivory Coast and Portugal (that I woke up to watch at 6:30 in the morning with a high fever). Or maybe it was the 0-0 stinker between Paraguay and Japan in the Round of 16 (which, as a result of penalty kicks, finally conjured some drama in extra time). More likely it was the World Cup Final, a game that featured 116 minutes of grueling, violent, goal-less soccer.

It was a game that was very much representative of the entire World Cup, and of the current mood in international soccer. Goals were at an all-time low, defense at a premium. Teams like Portugal, Uruguay, and even the heralded Brazilians were happy to sit back and play "cynical soccer", willing to defend constantly and look for scant opportunities to get on the offensive via counter-attack. It's like an American football team putting all 22 of its starting players on the defensive end, looking for a pick-six to put points on the board. This strategy doesn't make for a very compelling game of football, regardless of which version you're talking about.

There were dissidents to this strategy; counter-culture rebels looking to light up the scoreboard at a ridiculous pace. The Argentines took after their manager Diego Maradona, taking after both his knack for flair and his penchant to crash and burn in the most dramatic of fashions. The Germans, after their 4-0 dismantling of Maradona's Men, looked fit to carry the torch after back-to-back four-goal performances. But even they ultimately resorted to playing defensive soccer when faced with a superior Spanish side, ultimately bowing out of the tournament without unleashing their full offensive potential.

So there they stood, the Spanish, the last purveyors of the beautiful way of playing the beautiful game. Their brand of soccer, one-touch, pass-and-move, possession-style, kept other teams anxious and reeling on the defensive end. Teams abandoned their native styles to play them defensively, and yet they continued to pound away at the offensive end. Xavi, Iniesta, Xabi Alonso, Sergio Ramos, and David Villa mesmerized their foes with subliminal passing and telepathic vision. As they advanced through the tourney, their style and creativity earned them the overwhelming support of all those looking for some real soccer, and not a game of rugby with a spherical ball.

When the Dutch decided to play a bit of rugby during the World Cup Final, with flying leg kicks added for some kung-fu flair, fans around the world drifted towards supporting the Spanish. With every Dutch yellow card and every scoreless minute, we became worried that this, the final stand between good and evil, beautiful soccer and cynical soccer, would ultimately be the demise of the saviors. But in the 116th minute of extra time, with one powerful blast from the boot of Andres Iniesta, the soccer world was wrenched free from the clutches of the defensive game. Spain won the final and announced the return of elegant, flowing soccer in the biggest of ways. The Beauty had slayed the Beast.

Say Hello to the 21st Century Schizoid Man

For those of you who are visiting this site for the first time: this is a sports blog that I have been writing on and off (mostly off) for the past two years. It started out as something I wanted to write regularly, but I never found a way to write it consistently. I have gone an entire year without writing now, but I've always wanted to get back into it. And what I "witnessed" a couple of days ago was just the kick in the pants I needed. It is a shame that it took the drama of one LeBron James to bring me back to the writing game (especially when the world's greatest team sport is having its single largest game today). But such is the nature of the new era being born in sports. So, without further ado, here is my return to sports blogging and an introduction to the new era superstar.

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I'm livin' in the 21st century, doing somethin' mean to it
Do it better than anybody you ever seen do it
Screams from the haters, got a nice ring to it
I guess every superhero need his theme music


And with those poignant words, Kanye West begins to look like some kind of tea-leaf-reading psychic. The lyrics, which open his brand new single "Power", seem to typify the career of...nay, the public spectacle that LeBron James has created, particularly in the last few months. He is the most skilled basketball player of all time (take it to the bank). He has absolutely dominated the games in all non-ring categories. He certainly created a legion of haters during his hour-long special "The Decision" on ESPN. And to all Miami residents, he has instantly become a superhero.

But Kanye didn't stop there, interrupting his cocky flow with the jarring 'punk rock' sample:

21st century schizoid man!


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where Kanye starts to look like some kind of Nostradamus.

You see, the concept of a 21st century schizoid man, a guy who looks out for number one, who makes decisions for his happiness alone, is one that is relatively accepted in post-modern American society. In fact, this ideal has sort of become the new-age American Dream. Being your own boss, enjoying complete freedom from societal pressure, and being absolutely comfortable in your own skin: these are the new ideals for success in America. It's about more than financial success or high quality of life; it's about the freedom to do as you damn well please. It's a powerful notion, and one that drives everyone from those working minimum wage all the way to Mark Zuckerberg.

However professional basketball, up until this point, has remained a seemingly archaic institution in relative terms. Pride, loyalty, and competitiveness were looked upon more favorably than financial security, health, and even happiness. And even as the NBA turned into a superstar's league, and Magic, Bird, Kareem, and Jordan became bigger than the game itself, the purists continued to turn to the notions of pride, loyalty, and competitiveness (especially competitiveness) as the overall saving grace. The aging contingent of sports writers that dominate today's sports journalism field remain convinced that this is still the case.

But LeBron James ushered in a definitive new superstar era this past Thursday. He went on stage, kicked an entire nation (minus Florida) in the gut, and said, "All I want to do is win championships and I'm doing what's best for LeBron." He doesn't care what you and I think and he doesn't care what Cleveland thinks. He has goals, professionally, personally, and globally, and he made a calculated decision to best accomplish those goals. He decided that his legacy, though certainly a concern, would not come as a priority to his personal happiness. And, though he will be derided for that decision for years to come, his views and the precedent established by his decision will define the actions of our future athlete-superstars.

The values that we once held our superstars to no longer exist. Business, personal goals, and happiness are the name of the game for the new age of superstar. Twitter accounts, global marketing campaigns, and TV specials have become their new stage. And LeBron James has become the prototype for success in this new mindset.

LeBron James is living in the 21st century. The rest of the basketball world will soon join him.

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Back with in depth World Cup Final aftermath coverage tomorrow. Game is today, Sunday, July 11, at 11 a.m. pacific time. Tune in to see if Paul the Octopus can make it 8 for 8 on his World Cup predictions. Or just tune in for, you know, the single biggest worldwide sporting event of the year. Either way.