The Amazing Steph Curry
I wonder what the conversation will be when he retires. Cause numbers don’t lie…
http://espn.go.com/espn/feature/story/_/id/15492948/the-numbers-steph-curry-incredible-mvp-season
Nike - you mad tho?
(RIP Prince)
Tiger.
I’ve long been fascinated by Tiger Woods. I remember exactly where I was when he won his first Master’s. How attractive he was that now I was being pulled into this sport called golf.
The highlight of 2012 was when Jay and I went to Bethpage and watched him golf. He was walking by, I happened to be in front of the line, and said so casually “Great shot, Tiger.” He looked right into my eyes and said “Thank You.” I couldn’t stop telling that story if I tried.
So with his absence over the past few years, and him not being who we all need him to be, I found it timely that Sports Illustrated and ESPN both decided to break down what exactly “happened” to Tiger this month. I’ve read both, I’ll leave it to you to figure out “What Happened to Tiger Woods?”
My ending comment, whatever happened, whatever he is dealing with, come back to us, win a major and then do whatever he damn well pleases. But we, the fans, need one more. We want to go out on a high note too!
Kobe’s Last Game
Already sad. It was an honor watching you Kobe. Don’t be surprised if there’s a Kobe Sukhraj sometime in the future!
So THIS is what THAT feels like…
This was the first National Championship, in my lifetime, since 1982, that UNC didn’t come out on top. That’s 34 seasons. They lost in the Final Four (I was there and definitely cried), they lost in the ACC tournament. But they never lost the Championship game. THIS is what THAT feels like…
Don’t get it twisted, I’m a crier. I cry during the Olympics (getting a gold medal while your National Anthem plays? Tears stream!), sports movies (cried twice on Sunday afternoon during GridIron Gang, yes, the one with The Rock), and hell, I even cry during the reveal “Move That Bus!” moment on Extreme Home Makeover. I’m a crier.
I also feel that I have an increased amount of sympathy. I always hated the end of big games - I’m talking huge stages where teams lose the World Series, the National Championship, or even during the first 5 rounds of the NCAA Tournament. I always feel so bad for those guys. Even when my team wins, I still feel bad for the other team. I understand their pain. I hate, HATE to see a man cry over sport - cause I know that feeling.
Yet it surprises me that almost 20 hours after UNC lost on a 0.4 second buzzer-beater for their 6th NCAA title (7th if you count 1957) that I haven’t cried yet. I’ve been a zombie, I’ve had trouble eating, I haven’t even said more than maybe 25 words today, minus a client meeting, but I haven’t cried.
I stayed up til about 2am, waiting for Adam Lucas’ recap - he usually writes these heart-churning, tear-jerking recaps, especially after a loss like this, but my twitter feed wouldn’t update. (Damn you Twitter!) He was my last hope at getting rid of the tears before I slept.
I woke up and read his article, but still, the tears didn’t come. Instead, I found myself “keeping busy”, uncharacteristically busy for a 7am wakeup call - I made coffee x2, took extra time on my hair, changed my leggings three times, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, put the furniture back in it’s proper place (not due to angry outbursts, but due to a Championship party gone terribly wrong), and even took down the laundry. I did more this morning in my despair than I usually do in a week of domestication. My husband will be happy at least.
But why, oh why, haven’t I cried?
Could be because I couldn’t be prouder of my team, those boys from Chapel Hill. Yes, they were pre-season #1. Yes, they were #1 during the regular season. Yes, they did win the ACC outright and the ACC Tournament. Yes, UNC is a “blue-blood basketball school”. Yes, they did overcome all kinds of obstacles this season - injuries, questions of toughness, questions on defense, questions on their perimeter play. They endured it all with class, and even lost last night with that class. Yes, UNC is the 1%.
But that is the beauty and the pain of college athletics.
When your professional favorite loses the World Series, or in my case, the Super Bowl, you always have next year. Next year, it will be different. Next year, we’ll know how to win in the big game. Next year, we’ll come back stronger. Next year, we can pay so-and-so to come over and fill the void that created the loss in the first place.
In college athletics, it’s not the same. Marcus Paige, Joel James, and Brice Johnson are seniors. They don’t have a next year. And that’s why I find college tournament losses so saddening. Those guys don’t have another chance to get back to the ‘ship and win the game. They don’t have .4 more seconds.
That’s the pain portion. Being so close for my seniors and seeing their tears, their faces and their emotion knowing they don’t have another chance.
The beauty is in next year. Stay with me. In college, you can pull for a player, or a set of players, but your undying support of your team never leaves. Players go to the pros, they graduate, they’re gone. But your team, it is always there.
I’ve been watching Carolina Basketball for as long as I can remember. When my brother was born, I was in a UNC shirt. I remember Carter, Jamison and Wallace. I remember when Dean Smith stepped down. I remember when Bill Guthridge stepped down. I even remember where I was when Roy Williams didn’t come take the job at UNC and where I was when he finally did. I rode the roller coaster of emotions during my four years in university - from 8-20 my freshman year, the worst record in history for UNC, to the National Championship those guys gave me as a graduation present in 2005. I’ve cheered for every team, every player. I keep cheering for the players once they leave for the pros. It’s a badge of pride. “Yeah, they played for us.”
But there is always next year. Next year, we’ll get more recruits. Next year, Meeks and Hicks and Berry will be even better! Next year, Roy Williams will still be the coach. Next year, those boys in baby blue will still be sporting argyle. Those things won’t change. The faces may be different, the numbers switched out, but the connection is the same. The family keeps getting bigger. Year after year, win after win, loss after loss even. Every next year, the family grows.
The Carolina family grows even off the court. I received a phone call from Canada this morning - an unknown number but picked up anyway. It was my Father-in-Law. He’s never met someone like me. Most Canadians have never met someone like me. Yet, he knew, because it’s me, that I would be sad. His words were “I’m sorry your, OUR, team lost. It was a great game. But I know you’re sad today. I’m really sorry, keep your head high.” I immediately felt better. I have never asked him to cheer for UNC, I have never expected him to. We D1 sports school attendees are pretty annoying for everyone else in the world, yes, world. But he became part of the Carolina family because I was part of it. The Tarheel loss was my loss and therefore it was his loss. It’s amazing how sports have the ability of connecting two people who couldn’t be more different.
So maybe that’s it. Maybe the reason the tears won’t come is because it’s not the end for us. It was the end for Paige, Johnson and James, but it’s not the end for the fans. I should have cried for my seniors, but they still have two nets around their neck. They still have an ACC Championship, a Final Four and honored jerseys. Out of respect, I should cry for them. But out of that same respect, I will keep my tears at bay. They’ll always be part of the family.
Tarheel nation, former, present and future, keep your heads up. In times like this, I can’t help but think of my favorite quote from Martin Luther King Jr, “May we all be reminded that our greatest sorrows prepare us for our greatest joys.” Our joys are still coming. Next Year.
Doris Burke and Jay Bilas are giving a piece of their mind. Since Jay is a man, I must say Thank You. I rarely say that, as he is a Dookie and likes to put down UNC any chance he can get, but I must say he’s a supporter of everything college basketball, women’s or men’s.
If this team was a mens team, we wouldn’t be bored - we’d be excited that we were watching history. NCAA Mens Basketball ratings wouldn’t go down - they’d skyrocket. Just like with Illinois in 2005 (2 losses on the season, one on the last game of the regular season and the other in the National Championship against UNC) and Kentucky in 2014 (1 loss on the season in the NCAA Tournament).
When will influential sports commentators stop bashing on women’s sports and give them the same support as their men counterparts? When? It should be now.
Nike made a big mistake. BIG. Like huge.
I remember watching Steph Curry play for Davidson against the Tarheels in 2007. We barely made it out alive. Here was this little D1 school (that no one knew was D1 until we had to play them) and on that team was this little guy (160 pounds is little) who could shoot your lights out. His brother, not even nearly as talented, went to a blue-blood school - the always hated - Duke. Duke vs Davidson - there’s no comparison. You’d think Seth would be the superior athlete.
Duke, like Nike, got that wrong too.
Yes, even 9 years ago, he could shoot your lights out. He put up 24 point on the UNC squad that would win the National Championship only 2 years later. Yes, the squad that had Tyler Hansbrough and Ty Lawson. Even then, I felt his threat. It’s hard to believe Curry has been in the league for 7 years. It feels like yesterday he was leaving Davidson for the Warriors. But in his short time as a professional player, he has shifted the paradigm of what an outstanding athlete should be. No longer are they the “superhero” likes of Jordan, with the freakishly strong greek god bodies of LeBron James, but instead - the “every man”. That’s what Steph Curry represents - someone kids can look up to. You can be 6′3″ and be the NBA MVP.
Now he will be the “next MJ”. His star WILL rise higher than Lebron James’ - even if Lebron has Nike.
Steph Curry was the David in “Davidson”. Sometimes Goliaths deserve to be taken down.
A Coach’s Care
Working with my new company, Carrot Creative, and working on brands like Dove Men+Care, we talk a lot about “men” “strength” and “care”. With the NCAA tournament looming ahead, these conversations get longer and longer for client activation strategies.
One of the best instances of a coach’s care came last night during the UNC at BC basketball game. Coach Roy Williams collapsed after speaking to an official during a timeout.
Coach Williams is fine, he has battled bouts of vertigo for the past 17 years. What happened next shows how far care from a coach can go.
“Within 30 minutes, (Assistant Coach Eric Hoots) had heard from Marvin Williams, Rasheed Wallace, Wes Miller, Jerod Haase, Harrison Barnes (who had a game with his Golden State Warriors starting in minutes), J.P. Tokoto, and Phil Ford, among others. That’s Tar Heels from four different decades; that’s also why Carolina Basketball is different.” ~Adam Lucas
Not to disagree with Lucas, a fine UNC writer, but Carolina Basketball is only a little different.
There are many players that care for their coach long after their run through the program has ended. We see time and time again former players sitting on the sidelines as an Assistant for the school they gave blood, sweat and tears for. Coaches make boys men. Coaches give personal, physical and mental strength to their players. I don’t think you can be a good coach without these attributes. Maybe their care lasts a lifetime, like the Calhoun/Ollie relationship - maybe the coach is like Bobby Knight and only lasts during their tenure at the school - and begrudgingly at that.
But what I think what Lucas was alluding to was that these former UNC players were watching the game. Not catching the highlights on SportsCenter, not reading about it a day later, actively watching. Even Barnes who was tipping off with his professional team - the reigning NBA Champion Golden State Warriors - within minutes had warmed up and was still watching the game. A game that shouldn’t have meant anything to anyone; BC was winless in the ACC prior to this game (read 0-10). BC was mopped all over the Dean Dome floor just weeks earlier. This game could have been one to skip (luckily no one did since it came down to the wire, literally). But former players of Coach Williams? Never. Former players of UNC? Absolutely not.
When you play for a man like Roy Williams, and for a school like UNC, something switches in you. It’s not an “identity” per se, but it could very well be. When you invest your skills, your time, your love and your passion with a school like UNC, it never goes away. (I personally was on a treadmill streaming the game on my iPad - nothing was keeping me from watching this game.)
It could be “care” for the program, or it could be “care” from the coach. Either way, you’re hooked.
After Williams left the game, Coach Robinson took over. You may never hear his name again, but the care from Williams has turned Coach Rob into the man he is. That would be coach/assistant coach “care” if you’re counting. And Coach Rob gave the care the team needed to pull off a win in the most unlikely situation.
“Coach Rob’s demeanor put everyone else in a calm manner,” Pinson said. “We were down, but when Coach Williams went out, Coach Rob was so mellow and chill.”
With no warning and no chance to really prepare for the moment, Robinson was exactly, precisely, completely what the Tar Heels needed. He was the voice of reason. He was steady when the situation was perilous. He was calm when others were frazzled.
Four types of care demonstrated in less than 15 minutes of NCAAB regulation time. That’s how Care Makes a Man Stronger.
I’ve been working a ton, so a more detailed blog post will come tonight entitled “Yes We Cam” about the controversy surrounding QB of the Carolina Panthers, Cam Newton.
In the meantime, I wanted to share one of my favorite football speeches EVER. It’s from a movie, Any Given Sunday (1999) with Al Pacino and Jaime Foxx, but the message is so strong and so emotional, you can’t help but wonder if coaches in real life are this awesome and inspirational. #Props to the writer of this movie.
Yes, I can recite this speech from heart, and I fully think that you won’t just watch it once, or twice, or even three times. You’ll listen to it all day and by Super Bowl Sunday, February 7th, you’ll be able to recite it as well.
The most defining sports moment of my 2015 (and hopefully EVERYONE’S) - the bat flip heard around the world.
Imagine - it’s Game 5 of the ALDS Blue Jays against Texas. Do or die. Tie game, seventh inning. Two men on. Two outs. The Jays had went to Texas and extended the series to Game 5 after being on the brink of elimination since their two losses at home. Dome closed or dome open - the Blue Jay fans were feeling a little down.
I had been to my very first MLB playoff game only a week earlier. My seats were ridiculous - 3 rows from the 1st base line. I could hear Jose Bautista speak to the center fielder. I watched him the entire game, as I wasn’t sure I’d ever be that close to him again. Yet, we lost. A sad, 14 inning, 5 hour game loss where you didn’t know whether to go to the bathroom in any of the extra innings. If you did, it could all be over while you’re waiting in line.
Somehow, those Jays went to Texas and won two straight away. It was time to bring it home and close out with a Game 5.
Being superstitious, and married to a baseball player, we couldn’t go to another game in person. I was even on the fence about watching it with the guy who went to the game with us (we let him come over to watch at our place - begrudgingly). I wore a different shirt, different hat, and didn’t move from my spot on the couch as long as we were hitting the ball. When we stopped hitting, I moved. Very superstitious I guess.
I was live tweeting some of the atrocities that were happening that game. A base runner scored because of a technicality. Texas was up. The dome was closed. All these things were bad on their own. Combined? They were heart breaking.
Then the baseball Gods smiled. Three errors by Texas helped us tie the game. Now we get to the tie game in the 7th. Two men on base, two outs and Jose Bautista, the man I had watched so intently, was up to bat. They call him “Joey Bats” for a reason. Yeah, yeah, it’s a nice play on his name, but it’s also because he was clutch in 2015. If he was at bat, he was your best chance of getting a hit. I’ll let him fill in this next part:
“When the pitch came in, I turned on it. It was just a natural reaction, just like I’ve done hundreds of times before.
There’s no sound in the world like the crack a baseball makes on the sweet spot of my maple Marucci. You blink on contact. The immediate roar of the crowd lifts your sights to see where the ball is going. Imagine the feeling of watching it land in the seats. How would you feel? What would you do?
There was no script. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.
I flipped my bat.”
Oh and what a flip it was. Now I understand why Texas got mad - disrespect to the pitcher and all that. There are a lot of unwritten rules in Baseball, as old as the game itself. But the game has evolved and so have the players. What fun would it be to watch a game with a bunch of guys just lightly strolling around the bases or showing no emotion? Isn’t that why dunks are fun in Basketball? Or why touchdown dances are recreated by today’s youth? Emotion is a part of sports. And as any athlete should know, at that moment, it’s not about respect or disrespect, it’s all about adrenaline. And that fleeting adrenaline not only pushed Joey Bats to flip his bat, but to flip it all the way to the ALS Championship Series.
If sports doesn’t allow you to have those raw, uninhibited, body pulsing, heart racing emotions, then what will? Your commute? Bananas being on sale? Our daily lives give us nothing compared to what sports give us. Nothing connects to your emotions quite like sports do.
Even Jose says “I was caught up in the emotion of the moment. Those moments are spontaneous. They’re human. And they’re a whole lot of fun.”
Where does my love for Kobe Bryant end?
With so many players behaving badly, chasing money to other teams, and letting personality differences hinder their chances at NBA titles, Kobe took all those same roadblocks and turned them into 5 NBA rings.
He won with Shaq, whom he notoriously didn’t get along with.
He did it after being accused of rape: Changed his number and came back stronger and better than before.
He is a true franchise player - a notion today’s fans don’t understand. Staying with the same team for 20 years? It’s unheard of. But it’s what the greats always did.
His love for the game never faltered. His heart never waivered. If it wasn’t for his body, we’d enjoy his game for many more years.
So, where does my love for Kobe Bryant end? Answer: It never will.