Two Years After Katrina

You know how print journalism is often compared to a dinosaur taking it’s last gasp? Don’t believe the hype.

I subscribe to Sports Illustrated partially out of habit and because every couple of weeks they drop an article that leaves me speechless. Tonight I was kicking around my place killing time before Canada battles Puerto Rico and I was amazed by an article that Alexander Wolff wrote called “Two Years After Katrina.” The article is phenomenal and makes it worth buying this week’s Sports Illustrated to read this article alone.

During the past two years a lot has been said and written about Katrina and it’s effects on New Orleans and just when I feel I’ve become desensitized to what transpired something captures my attention. This article is yet another reminder of the tragedy that happened and that residents are still attempting to deal with.

Midway through the article Wolff made me wince when he wrote:

As the city filled with water, the Dome filled with more and more people, many delivered by helicopters straight from rooftops. The generator couldn’t supply air conditioning or water pressure, only a post-apocalyptic half-light. Heat, squalor and unchecked rumors tugged at the fraying social fabric. Vandals and looters had their way with corporate suites and vending machines. A man was nearly beaten to death on word that he had tried to molest a girl. The corpses of four people who expired from the heat would up in a catering freezer, while a man hurled himself off the upper deck. As several inches of sewer water covered the field, and human waste backed up, people – ultimately more than 30,000 – would eat an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat), then defecate in the bag it had come in.

The sports fan in me got thinking when he stated:

That the Saints are now so prosperous beyond the field seems to beg for an even more fantastical explanation. Despite New Orleans size (the smallest market with two major pro teams), median household income ($27,355 a year before Katrina) and dearth of Fortune 500 businesses (the city has one, Entergy), the team has sold out all 137 suites and 68,000 season seats for this fall while sitting on a waiting list of more than 30,000. But then the region today is pulsating with contractors, mostly male, ready to step out and spend when not working overtime. “Discretionary stuff usually suffers during tough times, but there are fewer ways to spend your money,” Thornton says. “This community will be rebuilding for a long time, and we’re just now seeing some of the federal money trickle down. The big question is when and how that will translate into a broader corporate base.”

It’s a question most critical to the NBA Hornets, who in October begin their first full season back in the New Orleans Arena after spending the last two seasons in Oklahoma City. Unlike the Saints, the Hornets play a game that holds no special place in the cultural heart of the Deep South. They don’t enjoy revenue sharing within the NBA to the same extent the Saints do within the NFL, nor do they play all their games on weekends, when Saints fans routinely drive to the Dome from three neighboring states. Local sponsorship is more critical to NBA teams than to their NFL counterparts, and many of the city’s top businesses left after the storm.

Like the Saints, the Hornets are trying to attract corporate support in part by folding community service projects into sponsorship packages. (This summer in their Hoops Tour, sponsored by Touro Hospital, Hornets players held free clinics for children aged seven to 14 in Louisiana and Mississippi.) Meanwhile Brees’s own Brees Dream Foundation has launched a $2.5 million campaign to raise funds for eight projects to benefit New Orleans youth. “What’s keeping people from coming back is wondering if this is a safe place to raise children,” the Saints quarterback says. “Whether it be schools or athletic programs or infrastructure, our biggest emphasis right now is on providing those things.”

And then reality kicked in when he wrote near the end of his article about the risk New Orleans is at of being swept away again:

New Orleans isn’t merely a city still in peril. It’s a place at even greater risk than before the storm. A Category 3 hurricane whose eye struck well to the east, Katrina wasn’t the Big One, notwithstanding the epic damage and suffering it caused because of breaches of the levees (“that frail breastwork of earth,” as Mark Twain put it, “between the people and destruction”). Nonetheless, by wiping out more than 100 square miles of Louisiana coastal wetlands and the protection they afford, Katrina ensured that the next middling-strength hurricane to deal New Orleans even a glancing blow will bring a storm surge roughly three feet higher — and the defenses that failed so miserably two years ago haven’t been restored even to pre-Katrina strength. (This assessment doesn’t account for global climate change. Forget New Orleans; at their current pace, rising sea levels will make Baton Rouge a coastal city by the end of this century.)

These facts shouldn’t be taken as an argument not to rebuild. On the contrary: There’s a preservationist case to be made, in which sports in New Orleans muscle their way alongside cuisine and music — all worth saving because they make life worth living, especially when people the world over want to sample that very culture.

Regardless of whether you are a sports fan or not this is a must read as it’s full of a wide range of topics that will have you thinking all weekend. Wolff does a great job of examining how sports are needed for high school kids so that they graduate, the value of sports on the economy and ways citizens are helping out their community. It’s the kind of article you can’t help but debate with your buddies and talk about with co-workers at the water cooler about.

Make sure you take some time before you head away to your cottage for the long weekend to purchase this week’s Sports Illustrated.

It’s an article you won’t easily forget.

Historical Glimpses: Artis Gilmore

One would think that at 7’2” NBA fans would have a hard time forgetting Artis Gilmore, but sadly enough, he is not revered as the dominant center that he truly was. The man known as the “A-Train” was a standout collegiate player, a player that added legitimacy to the ABA, and solidified himself as one of the greatest NBA centers of all-time as he wrote his name all over professional basketball’s record books. Artis Gilmore played the game with a humble presence without all the self-promotion, but did so in a fashion that garners him this installment of Historical Glimpses.

Often times when human beings are brought up with hardship they learn early how to do things right and seeing how Gilmore was one of ten children of a fisherman and a homemaker. He quickly learned how to utilize his height on the basketball court at a young age. Artis was already 6’5” at the age of fifteen, but it wasn’t until he was 6’10” as a high school senior that Gilmore moved from his rural hometown of Chipley, Florida to Dothan, Alabama to take the basketball world by storm at Carver High School where he was a third-team high school All-American.

Artis still must have been a small town guy at this point in his career because instead of choosing to attend a much larger educational institution. He rather chose to attend two years at Gardner-Webb Junior College in Boiling Springs, North Carolina where he would finish growing to a full 7’2” and fill-out to 245lbs. Now at full size, strength, and with two years of junior college ball underneath his belt, Gilmore was ready to take a relatively unknown Jacksonville University to the main stage of the collegiate game.

While at Jacksonville for two more years Gilmore put up absolutely astounding numbers by today’s college standards and led the Dolphins to a 27-2 record before losing to the UCLA Bruins in the championship game of 1971. How good were A-Train’s numbers you might ask? Well, aside from being one of only eight players to ever average a 20/20 in scoring and rebounding for their college career and finishing with the NCAA’s highest all-time rebounding average of 22.7 rebounds per game. Gilmore also showcased his dominance equally in both categories in both separate years at Jacksonville. In his junior season, the A-Train averaged more points than rebounds with nightly averages of 26.5 points while grabbing 22.2 rebounds before dedicating himself even more to the glass in his senior year by averaging more rebounds than points with the typical night working out to 23.2 boards and 21.9 points.

Obviously at this point Artis Gilmore was a force to be reckoned with, but it was the way that the giant dominated the game that truly made him special. Gilmore had a tremendously tender touch around the basket. Offensively, he was dangerous with a baby hook from anywhere from inside ten feet and the A-Train possessed a mid-range jumper that had ABA and NBA GM’s drooling. In addition to his refined offensive game, Gilmore was game-changing shot blocker and even more devastating force to the opposition’s center. Although they didn’t keep track of blocked shots back then, trust me when I say that Gilmore made even the most fearless of slashers think twice before challenging his size or strength.

So, when Artis was ready to take his game to the professional ranks he created quite an auction-like atmosphere between ABA and NBA franchises. Nearly everybody in the professional game wanted a piece of Gilmore, but when the chips were on the line, it was the Kentucky Colonels that decided to ante up. The ABA Colonels signed Gilmore to a 10-year, 2.5 million dollar contract which would begin paying off for Kentucky immediately.

In the A-Train’s first professional season he would have an impact not seen since the great Wilt Chamberlain nearly a decade before. With the addition of the big man, the ABA’s Kentucky Colonels set a league record with 68 wins to only 16 defeats! And what makes that tremendous team accomplish even more sweet is how Gilmore not only walked away with the ABA’s Rookie of the Year award with averages of 23.8 points (tenth league wide), 17.8 rebounds (first league wide), and shot an amazingly efficient 59.8% from the field (also good for best in the league), but how he also bagged the league’s MVP too!

In the next five years, the A-Train would become a staple on the ABA All-Star team, but the only thing missing at this point in Gilmore’s career were the championship accolades and he would have to wait until 1974-75 before raising the ABA crown. In dramatic fashion, the Colonels defeated the Indiana Pacers in five games in a series geared towards revenge from the season before with Artis leading the way. The A-Train didn’t have his best year offensively in that championship campaign, (he did that in the 1975-76 season with an average of 24.6 points before the ABA was absolved by the NBA that next year), but what he did do was find the right combination of rebounding and scoring with averages of 23.6 points and 16.2 boards that led the Colonels all the way. But what is even more special about Gilmore, along with others of this era and league, is how they had proven that the ABA was more than a run-and-gun league full of dunkers and long range shooters and how that legitimacy played a pivotal role in the league’s top four teams being bought by the NBA. It is in this sense that Gilmore was truly one of the founding fathers of the NBA as we all know it today.

The next stop in Gilmore’s basketball career was to be the first pick in the dispersal draft due to the merger of the two leagues and to continue playing for the Chicago Bulls starting in 1976.

Although his numbers were slightly lower than previously in the ABA, Gilmore continued to be a solid contributor for many years to come. He would make six NBA All-Star appearances in total and still holds the NBA’s career field goal percentage mark of .582, but his stay in Chicago would be one with very few playoff runs and even less success in the postseason. After six seasons in Chicago the A-Train would be traded in 1982 to the San Antonio Spurs where he played for five more years and averaged a double-double in four out of the five years of basketball services. However, the championship level would elude Gilmore for the rest of his pro career in the NBA.

Some disliked his game because they felt it lacked intensity, but after watching a ton of ABA footage and doing some research on the A-Train I think that his demeanor was not lacking in intensity, but rather was a controlled power game that should be mimicked by some of today’s less than fundamental centers. Artis Gilmore would conclude his professional career as the ABA’s all-time leading shot blocker and professional basketball’s (NBA and ABA totals combined) third all-time leading eraser (he has since fallen a bit, but nevertheless, was still a force). He is professional basketball’s fifth all-time leading rebounder with 16,330 boards, fifth in professional basketball’s minutes played all-time with 47,134 minutes, and is the 17th all-time scorer in professional basketball’s history with a career total of 24,941 points.

And as far as career averages are concerned, Artis Gilmore’s are about as solid as they come. A-Train can boast ABA regular season averages of 22.3 points and 17.1 boards and NBA career averages of 17.1 points and 10.1 rebounds. The A-train also played in an amazing 670 consecutive games and holds the ABA single-season record for the most blocked shots (422), the all-time ABA rebounds in a single game record with an astounding 40 boards, while also winning 4 out of 5 ABA rebounding titles. Artis was even a participant in the very first dunk contest ever at McNichols Sports Arena in Denver, Colorado in 1976. He was an eleven-time All-Star throughout his 17-year pro career, which included the 1974 ABA All-Star game MVP, and is truly a model of well-rounded greatness for many of today’s young players to learn from. And for all the reasons above, Artis Gilmore is this installment of Historical Glimpses.

To read more of The Nugg Doctor’s writing check out his blog Nugg Doctor.

Melting Pot Of The North

My latest Hoopsworld article is called “The Melting Pot of the North” and deals with the Raptors international roster mirroring that of Toronto’s citizens. You can check it out by clicking here.

Celebrity-NBA Namealikes: The Musical

Obviously, a lot of actors and singers happen to have the same names as some NBA players. But did you know these celebrities share more than that? Join me on this Moulin Rouge-esque journey…

Sammy Davis, Jr. & Ricky Davis
Versatile and entertaining. Sammy starred in “Mr. Wonderful“; Ricky apparently thinks he is Mr. Wonderful.

George Jefferson & Al Jefferson
Al be movin’ on up
To the West side
To a deluxe apartment in the sky…
He’ll finally get a piece of that pie.

Michael Jackson & Stephen Jackson
Got the moves, but also got the “Wacko” image.

Jim Morrison & Adam Morrison
Apart from the long hair and surly look, both Morrisons are fashion phenomena (The Leather Pants vs. The Mustache) and avid readers of unusual stuff.

Madsen & Mark Madsen
Does Madsen dance to Madsen?

Debbie Gibson & Daniel Gibson
Insert immature “Boobie” reference here, you immature person you.

Tom Jones and Damon Jones
Exuberant, nattily dressed fellows.

Jeff Daniels & Antonio Daniels
Second bananas to flashier stars: Antonio to Agent Zero, and Jeff to Jim Carrey. Carrey, incidentally, does a great Tom Jones impression (skip to the 1-min. mark):

Carlton Banks & Marcus Banks
Yes, it’s a flimsy excuse to post this:

Prince & Tayshaun Prince
Both of them can ball. And hey, a four-peat: Tom Jones covered Prince’s “Kiss”!

For deleted scenes, check out TheScore.ca.

FIBA Americas Tournament – USA 112, Venezuela 69

It’s that time again folks, the one time of year I like to call the “twilight zone”, that late-summer/early-fall part when you have nearly every sport imaginable on TV. You have your baseball (way to go Orioles!), NFL Preseason and finally, some basketball…with an international flair.

Finally, things have come around full circle for the Dream Team, from dominating fools in the early 90’s, to getting whupped by Greece and going into a rebuilding phase. I was lucky enough to catch the 2007 version of Team USA (can’t call it a Dream anymore folks) and from the looks of their debut, it looks like a return to the old days of USA ball.

The main thing about this squad is that, well, the guys WANT to be there. Granted, the whole tourney is going down in Vegas, it’s still good to see some true NBA firepower come out and rep the stars n’ stripes.

I still can’t get over the fact that I’m watching Kobe Bryant with a “USA” on the front of his jersey. But wait, there’s more! Apparently, this Kobe dropped about 18lbs, LIKES TO PASS, and is willing to kinda’ be a co-captain along with LeBron and FIBA Mixtape Champion Carmelo Anthony.

Coach K is still heading this group of guys up and they looked a bit rusty, but trust me, once these guys gel it’s on like Donkey Kong. Everyone got pretty much the same time in this game, (except for Tyson Chandler, who I guess would be this year’s Christian Laettner). Jason Kidd, the team’s elder statesman, lead the USA charge and was in assist mode the whole night, setting up the offense and letting guys like ‘Bron and ‘Melo express their creativity. Dwight Howard (12pts, 8rebs) was still Magically Delicious down in the post as the outmatched Venezuelans had more then their fill of Howard and Stoudemire (16pts) in the lane.

When the leading scorer/ leader of your team is an ACC sophomore, chances are, you’re in big trouble buddy, as the Maryland Terps’ Greivis Vasquez (12pts, 50% from three) played floor general for the Venezuelans.

But for Team USA, everyone got into the act and played their individual roles to a tee, with Redd (17pts) and Miller (10pts) shooting the lights out, while LeBron and Melo bent, stapled, melted and destroyed the Venezuelan defense, eventually putting on an impromptu dunk contest. Chauncey Billups, who didn’t do too much stat wise, gives the backcourt a different look as they’ll need a bigger, quicker point guard down the road. Next up will be a Tim Duncan-less Virgin Islands squad, who feature some NCAA talent but should be an easy win for us.

Before I go, did anyone peep the coach of Mexico’s team? That’s right, its Mr. “40 minutes of Hell” himself, Nolan Richardson, who’s team got the win in their first game.

Reminiscing: Brazil 120, USA 115

Exactly 20 years ago in Indianapolis the Brazilian National team beat the USA squad by the score of 120 to 115 in the finals of the Pan American Games. As normal as this might sound today, the fact that an American squad was beaten by a foreign team in 1987 was by no means an easy task.

Many say that this was America’s first striking loss in the world of basketball. With a national team represented by a group of college all-stars that included Rex Chapman, David Robinson, Keith Smart, and Danny Manning, and coached by the incredible Chuck Daly, the Americans couldn’t do much besides watch Oscar Schmidt and Marcel de Souza’s drop their treys into the hoop.

It was one of the most spectacular nights of Brazilian basketball and to this day this game is being watched and analyzed by a horde of fans and basketball enthusiasts. What really happened that day? It has been said that Oscar and his teammates challenged the Americans by daring them to shoot and leaving them open to do it so. By using their experience the Brazilians shocked their opponents and quickly gained control of the match.

To this date some people think that team didn’t provide any solid tactical scheme to beat the Americans. It was all a matter of a great evening by two of the world’s top players at that time, Oscar and Marcel. On the other hand there’s a group that believes the team had indeed a great scheme to hold the Americans in their own turf and Ary Vidal, Brazil’s coach at that time, is seen by many as a guru.

What really happened? It’s yet to be seen a great documentary or report that would reveal the untold story. All we have are bits and pieces of one of the great stories of Brazilian basketball, but the main characters haven’t spoken yet. Not in depth… All it rests are a few images of that wonderful night,

Could something similar happen in Vegas? If it does, the glamour won’t be there.

Indiana is the home of basketball whereas Vegas is a place for gamblers…

Sketchy Recruiting Techniques: Rick Barnes

Today I’m continuing my “Sketchy Recruiting Techniques” by including a snippet from the speech that Rick Barnes gave while trying to recruit Tchaka Shipp to play for Providence.

Frey documented Barnes’ “sales pitch” as being the following:

Rick Barnes does not have a monogrammed briefcase like the other college coaches. He does, however, have a deck of cards. Standing in front of Tchaka, the Providence coach riffles the deck one way – looks like the usual fifty-two. Then he riffles is another way – hey, they’re all the two of spades! With a flourish, Barnes places a ball of paper under one of three cups, mixes up the cups, then asks Tchaka to guess which one covers the ball. There it is – gone! And what is this? A quarter hiding behind Tchaka’s ear!

If Massimino & Sun presented themselves like real estate lawyers promising a share in the family fortune, Barnes, standing in the coaches’ locker room at Lincoln High, looks like some sort of graduate-student magic act. He is a good-looking man in his late thirties, with a soft Southern accent and sparkling blue eyes. From head to toe he is freshly pressed, nott a wrinkle in sight, except maybe near the eyes, which turn down at the corners and give him an expression of perpetual merriment. Apparently card tricks are not the only thing he has up his sleeve. As all of us – Barnes, his assistant Fran Fraschilla, Tchaka, Coach Hartstein, and I – take seats around the table, Barnes looks at me and says, “So. You’ve been sitting in on all these recruiting meetings, haven’t you? What have you learned so far?”

What!

“Go on. Why don’t you show us what you’ve learned! You play the college recruiter. I’ll watch. What are you going to say to Tchaka?”

Well, this is a novel strategy. Quite the way to charm Tchaka. And, given how many coaches have preceeded Barnes, a shrewd way indeed for the Providence coach to separate himself from the pack, to show Tchaka how absurd he considers all this recruiting, even as he goes ahead and recruits the player. However, there must be some way for me to avoid this. I look at Tchaka. Will he toss me a life preserver? No, he’s already turned his chair in my direction, grinning expectantly. The NCAA, perhaps? They’ve got rules for everything; surely one exists to prohibit role-playing during the recruiting process. But the time for stalling is up. I must begin.

I tell Tchaka that he’s a young man with great prospects. I predict that with him – and I don’t say this to everyone – the sky will truly be the limit. But he needs to go to a place that will help him actualize his potential, because the next four years of his life may dictate his next forty. “Now, I’m not going to promise you a starting position, Tchaka, but I am going to promise you the chance to earn it. Because that’s what this game is about – working hard, achieving results, making yourself the best basketball player you can be. Because a person can overcome obstacles if they want it enough…”

I’ve got the music going nicely- Tchaka and I are beginning to waltz to the melody of my sweet, empty promises – when Barnes casually elbows me aside and starts dancing with Tchaka himself. “He’s kidding about it, but whatt he says is absolutely true,” the coach begins. “This game is about hard word. And if you don’t want to work hard, don’t come to Providence, Tchaka. I’m serious. If it means me being tough, I’ll be tough. Hard work is the only way to win.” Barnes is stepping lively now; Tchaka has awarded him his complete attention and I’m back where I belong, watching the couple from the edge of the dance floor. “For instance, we make our players get up for breakfast at eight o’clock,” Barnes continues, “even if thteir first class isn’t until ten-thirty. Why? Because I don’t like guys running out the door at ten-twenty with their shirts unbuttoned and looking like a mess. Impressions are important. That’s why I want you. You work hard. You play hard.”

With that, Barnes twirls Tchaka into the arms of his assistant coach. “You know, Tchaka, in Rick’s first year as head coach of the Friars, Providence was picked to finish ninth in the Big East,” says Fraschilla. “Well, the Friars went out and won their first thirteen straight, and they went into the NCAA tourney. We fear nobody. Rick’s attitude is: we’ll play anybody, anytime.”

So this is Providence’s theme: The Little Engine That Could. Tcheka wasn’t born a star, but he made himself into an All-American; Providence may be a Big East underdog, but they’ll fight to the bitter end. “That’s right. I don’t care if I sign Shaquille O’Neal,” declares Barnes. Hearing this, Tchaka allows his right eyebrow a slight elevation. He knows that Barnes would drop to his knees for O’Neal, the LSU star and future NBA sensation. “I’m serious. I’d rather have Marquee Bragg,” Barnes says of the journeyman Providence player. “Maybe I’d find a spot for Shaquille, but he’s not gonna take Marque’s position. Our hard workers, they’re the heart and soul of the team.” Barnes makes a pistol with each hand. “There’s a player who plays with Michael Jordan by the name of Scottie Pippen. He didn’t have exposure in college, he didn’t play on TV. But” – Barnes aims both barrels at Tchaka – “he’s great because his heart is bigger than his chest. And you’re that kind of player too.”

“It’s true,” adds Fraschilla. “If one guys we saw last summer epitomizes what Coach Barnes stands for – you know, blue collar, work ethic – it’s you.”

This is not precisely the music to which Tchaka’s heart quickens. Praising him for his proletarian play – by which the coach usually means hustling for rebounds and diving for loose balls – it like commending an aspiring slugger for his peerless sacrifice bunts.

“I don’t know if you’ll be a shooter, Tchaka,” Barnes says, losing the rhythmn now. “I can’t promise you that. But I like you because you play hard. That’s your best talent. And I won’t promise you you’ll start either, but I give you my word: I’ll give you the chance, and if you get it, it’ll be because you earned it.”

This seems only to confirm Tchaka’s darkest suspicions – that Barnes was planning on using him as a role player, the one who would come off the bench when the stars needed a rest.

“Are you recruiting anyone else at Tchaka’s position?” Coach Hartstein asks, on behalf of his player.

“Just him,” says Barnes.

“Just him?” Hartstein repeats.

“And John Wallace, but he’s a perimeter player.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, we’re looking at Robert Blackwell, too.”

“Anyone else?”

“No, that’s it.”

Fraschilla leans forward with one final thought. “We might not be ready to contend for a national championship this year or next,” he says, “but by your junior and senior years, Tchaka, we’ll have it all in place. And I know I sound like a preacher, but I get fired up because I believe in what Coach Barnes is doing. You see, we’re in this for thte long haul.”

Long haul, short haul – everything is relative. By next season Fraschilla will abandon his Providence post for the head coaching job at Manhattan College.

Finished with their presentation, Barnes and Fraschilla rise to their feet. Then Barnes pulls from his bag a custom designed recruiting booklet and presents it to Tchaka. Looking down at the cover, Tchakasees his own picture under the title: An All-American Boy. Inside it reads, “Ray Flynn… Lenny Wilkins…. Marques Bragg… John Thompson… Tchaka Shipp… The tradition continues!” Tchaka grins but inspects thte booklet like a store clerk examining a questionable fifty dollar bill; he holds it up to the light.

Pleased with how his pitch seems to have gone, Barnes smiles and runs two fingers down the front of his burgundy silk tie. He gathers up his recruiting materials and shakes hands all around. Almost as an afterthought, he reaches into his breast pocket for his deck of cards – there’s still time for one more trick. When Barnes pulls out the deck, though, he loses his grip, and all fifty-two cards scatter across the floor. Tchaka peers over the table before Barnes can scoop them up, and sees that each trick card has been stamped with a two of spades. He starts laughing, quietly at first, then with mounting giddiness – happy to have made it through yet another presentation, delighted as well to have caught Barnes at his own game. Tchaka winks at me so that I can enjoy the moment too. But my mind is focused on the events of a half-hour ago, trying to determine how I got pulled so easily into Barnes’ little game, and wondering why I have this peculiar aftertaste from having been cast as a college recruiter for the day.”

If your looking for a book to read this fall I highly recommend picking up Darcy Frey’s book The Last Shot for more recruiting stories and a great look at high school basketball in New York.