On a beautiful June day in 1998 I attended an event I had been anticipating for quite some time: the NBA finals. I had been watching the Jazz all my life, and was excited that my team was finally on top. Each year my father gave me a pair of tickets for Christmas and my birthday, and this year he had given me game K of the playoffs. He told me that if the Jazz didn’t get that far into the playoffs to give them back and he’d give me a pair for a game during the following season. As it turned out game K was game 6 of the finals. My Jazz team was repeating as Western Conference finalists, and I was sure that they would get revenge against Michael Jordan and the Bulls team that beat them in six games the previous year.
As it turned out the Jazz didn’t win. Game 6 turned out to be Michael Jordan’s last with the Bulls, a game known for “the shot” where Jordan pushed off of Bryon Russell and hit the game-winner with just over 5 seconds left. Though I was sadly disappointed that my team lost, I remember being filled with hope as we drove home, because as all sports fans know, there is always next year, and as usual, I anticipated the following season with excitement and hope.
My hopes were dashed when the NBA announced a lockout of players over the failure to come to an agreement over the collective bargaining agreement. At first it was just the preseason and the first couple of weeks that were lost. Then half of the season. Pretty soon it was announced that there would be a protracted season, and the NBA expected that fans would be excited that the teams would have to play 50 games in just a few months. The teams would play three games in three nights, and by the third night the games were so sloppy and ugly that they were unbearable from a spectator’s standpoint.
The lockout was stupid and unnecessary. We had to hear billionaires (the owners) arguing with multi-millionaires (the players) about how the individual sides weren’t getting a fair share of the money. I was disgusted. Then before the end of the lockout we had to hear stories of woe from such poor wretched souls like Patrick Ewing, who complained that he couldn’t afford to feed his family.
It was during the lockout of the ’98-’99 season that my faith in pro sports was shaken. But even before that the seeds of discontent had been planted. When Major League Baseball had their strike in 1994, I remember thinking that if that ever happened to pro basketball I would never come back. It happened to pro basketball, and like a dupe I came back.
I love sports. At least team sports. You can take sports like golf, tennis and boxing and throw them all in the garbage can and I’ll be fine with it. You can also get rid of other things that some consider sports such as bowling, car races and poker (it’s on ESPN isn’t it) and get rid of them too. But baseball, basketball and football I love. I don’t really care who is playing, as long as the game is entertaining.
But let’s take a minute and take stock of the state of pro sports. When Charles Barkley was at the height of his career was criticized for saying “I am not a role model.” Yet I find it ironic that years later I have more respect for a guy who clearly didn’t want any. We thought the ‘Round Mound of Rebound’ was controversial? Sorry, Chuckster. You’re pretty tame.
I’ll start with football. Today we hear headlines about players getting involved in attempted murders the night before the biggest game of their career: the Superbowl. We hear feel-good stories about how Ray Lewis had his double homicide charges dropped. We hear about Minnesota Vikings players hosting a sex party on a rented yacht. We hear about players like Terrell Owens, a guy who is such an upstanding member of the community that he publicly threw his coach, his quarterback, and the Philadelphia Eagles ownership under the bus because of the team’s failure. He never has taken any responsibility for anything upon himself. We was a disruption in San Francisco, cried about being traded to Baltimore and forced his way to Philadelphia, where he is now one of the most hated people, and now supposedly is going to start fresh in Dallas. How comic is that? The Dallas Cowboys? Don’t get me started on them!
Then there are the boys of summer. Last year Texas Rangers reliever Frank Francisco got in trouble after an on-field altercation led him to throw a chair at a fan, breaking her nose. We also saw Kenny Rodgers get busted for assaulting a cameraman, while the cameras were on! And though the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry is one of the greatest in sports, Pedro Martinez throwing pitches at guys’ heads and then pointing at his own head to show that he did it on purpose is unacceptable. Grabbing 500 year-old Don Zimmer and throwing him to the ground in a bench-clearing brawl is worse. I won’t even talk about Manny Ramirez and his cry baby ways. Raphael Palmeiro lied about steroids and got busted. Barry Bonds lied, but still won’t admit it. And now we have ESPN airing a show about what a stand-up guy Bonds is. Right.
Then we have the sport that I hold most deal. A sport that was my only love as a child: the old peach basket. The attitude of today’s players is best summed up by Allen Iverson’s rant about how he is too good for practice. “Practice? We’re talking about practice, man.” Spoiled. That’s what I see in today’s players. I have to admit it I experienced a great deal of joy to see the vaunted U.S. team walk away with less than gold last time out. The Dream Team of 1992 was far superior to those who think they are dream team material of today. Now we have stories about whether or not Kobe is a rapist. Who cares? He cheated on his wife and when he got caught he tried to pass the buck by saying that Shaq does it too, but Shaq pays the girls off. We have incidents like the brawl in the Palace of Auburn Hills where Ron Artest ran into the crowd to pound on a guy who threw a beer at him. (He Ron, you got the wrong guy!)
It’s a me-first attitude in the NBA and I am tired of it. I see Kobe score 82 points in a game and I am uninspired. I will always cheer against the superstars like Kobe Bryant, Allen Iverson, and Tracy McGrady. I was happy to see a team player win the MVP again this year (Steve Nash). While I don’t like the Pistons, the reason that they won their title was because of teamwork. The same goes for the Spurs, and while I can’t stand Mark Cuban, Jerry Stackhouse and Jason Terry, I have to admit that the Mavericks are in the finals because of their unselfish play. The superstars either don’t get it, or they are lying when they say that a championship is the most important thing.
When I think of all of the problems with pro sports I wonder: who is to blame? Is it the owners for throwing so much money at players and not holding them responsible? Is it the players for demanding so much money and acting like prima donnas? Is it the fans for supporting their behavior? The answer is that it is all of the above. And I am part of the problem. For me sports are an addiction, and every time I turn on the TV I feed my addiction. When I know there is a game on, I will stop and watch. If I can’t watch I will read about it in the paper and check the box score. When a player gets into trouble I am eager to get the details so that I can pass my judgment.
I was happy to see the Denver Nuggets sit Kenyon Martin for his inappropriate behavior in the locker room during the playoffs this year. But I recognize it as a small victory. I don’t ever expect things to change. When I was growing up I looked to pro athletes as an example. Today I look at pro athletes as an example of what not to do. When trying to teach my kids how to behave I will use sports figures, but not in the way that the sports figures would like to think I am.