What Kobe Meant to Me

My brother Brad wasn’t always my best friend. Growing up, as the two in the middle of the Four Downs Boys, we never really had much in common. He was always cool, I never was. He was a great athlete, I was awful. It wasn’t until my freshman year of high school, Brad’s senior year, that we began to get along. I had mostly grown out of my pre-teen awkwardness, we’d begun to interact with some of the same people, and he had to drive me to school every day in his 1979 Chevy Malibu. By the time he moved to Colorado for college and I moved to Wisconsin for my dad’s new job, we had become friendly.

We became best friends when he moved back into our house during my junior year of high school. I was the only person that he knew in the whole damn state, so he was forced to hang out with me. And hanging out with Brad meant watching basketball. NBA basketball. Lakers basketball. And while many (most?) Lakers fans gravitated towards Shaq; the Downs Brothers fell in love with Kobe Bryant.

Growing up in Iowa you find that you must justify your professional sports fandom. Some teams make sense, geographically, and you’re never questioned. Some people pick one city and adopt every team. But when you’ve got a seemingly random assortment of favorite teams, you better have a good story for why you picked them. Why do I like the Bears? We used to go to Training Camp in Platteville while visiting my grandmas in nearby Potosi. Why do I like the Giants? My dad was a young Willie Mays fan in the 50s and he raised me right. But I never needed a story for my Lakers fandom. I only needed a word: Kobe.

When Brad and I would stay up late at night to watch Lakers games in our parent’s basement in Wisconsin, we were doing more than watching basketball. We were creating a friendship that’s lasted two decades and isn’t slowing down. We’d watch this kid, just a few years older than us, begin to dominate the most elite sports league on the planet, and we were in awe. We’d talk about him, we’d defend his greatness. For years after we both left that basement, no matter how far away life took us from each other, we’d call each other on those nights. Those nights that Kobe did what Kobe did; make the world stop and watch.

We watched Kobe go from a kid to a man, and the fact that we’ve now seen his entire life is a tragedy. I loved him as a cocky kid wearing #8 and apologizing to nobody because I was a cocky kid too. I loved him as a more mature player wearing #24 because I’d matured and appreciated the way he carried himself. I loved him most as a man and father and creator, I couldn’t wait to see what Kobe had left to give the world in his films and interviews and daughters.

It hasn’t always been easy, being a Kobe fan. There were years, many years, where I lost every argument I got in about Kobe. I’d say he’s the greatest of all time, knowing he didn’t have the career of Jordan or the skills of LeBron. He didn’t always make it easy, either. Trade demands, refusal to shoot, that cockiness and brashness; and that’s just on the court.

Then there’s the giant, mile-high elephant in the room. I don’t know what happened in that hotel room in Colorado all those years ago. I can say for sure that how I reacted at the time is different than how I’d react now. The world would react differently today. I can only hope the wounds have healed and peace has been found for the people involved. My love and support for Kobe never wavered; maybe it should have. I didn’t know Kobe or what was in his heart, but it seemed like he grew and became a better man and husband and father, and I’m proud of that. 

I was sitting next to Brad watching the Lakers win the 2009 NBA Championship. It felt like we had won something too. I know to most fanbases a 7-year title drought is a ridiculous thing to worry about, but it felt like vindication for Kobe fans everywhere. He’d come through the hard times and was back on top. And this time, for the first time, it felt like he fully appreciated it. I loved watching him celebrate that title, and the one a year later. I felt like I was there with him, on top of that scorer’s table, on top of the world.

The night Kobe played his final game was the last time that Brad and I called each other after a Lakers win. Sure, we’ve talked a lot since then about LeBron and AD and all that’s happened; we’ll always be Lakers fans, but it will never be like it was. Watching Kobe carry the team, one more time, to an unexpected win. Watching him shoot himself out of another first-half slump. Watching him take every shot, wanting him to take every shot, wanting this moment to just continue forever, for him to never leave that floor. The floor in the arena that he built, where his five championship banners are displayed, where two (TWO!) of his jerseys hang from the rafters, where a statue will stand for people like me to make pilgrimage to. It was glorious. And now, fewer than 4 years later, his story has come to an end.

I’m sad today. I’ll be sad for a long time. I’ll be sad when I introduce my kids to Kobe via YouTube highlights and stories, or when we talk about his impact on the game, or the next time the Lakers win a title. More than anything, I’ll be sad every time I think about what else he had to offer the world, what the next 40 years would have brought.

Tonight, I’ll hold my kids a little tighter as I put them to bed. Then I’ll call my best friend to talk one more time about our favorite athlete.

WHY DOES THE SUSPENSION OF RYAN BRAUN MAKE ME SO HAPPY?

If my headline piqued your interest, that's great. That was kind of the point. If you're reading this because you want to know the answer that question, stop now. I'm pretty sure there isn't one, or at least not a good one. But it is worth exploring, because I am definitely happy about the situation the Brewers' slugger (and 2011 NL MVP) has found himself in.

First, you have to know some background on me and my biases (which you may already know):

-I am a fan of the San Francisco Giants and during my formidable childhood years, Barry Bonds was my favorite player.

-I think that every player since 1988 (or so) should be under the cloud of the "Steroid Era". This includes guys like Ken Griffey, Jr. If you played during this era, you are under suspicion, whether you're directly linked or not.

-If someone is linked to PEDs, or has a body (or a body of work) that doesn't seem natural, I automatically think they are guilty, regardless of evidence or statements to the contrary.

-I have a lot of family and friends in Wisconsin and, other than them, beer, and cheese, I see no redeeming quality in that state.

So am I happy because this is bad for Wisconsin? I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a part of it. Schadenfreude is real, and I do find pleasure in the fact that the best baseball player in the state finally went down. It also doesn't hurt that Braun's biggest supporter during his 2011-2012 PED scandal was Green Bay Packers Quarterback Aaron Rogers, whom I have a healthy (unhealthy?) dislike of. My hatred of Wisconsin definitely plays a role here, but I don't think it can fully explain the amount of joy in my heart.

Maybe I'm happy because my childhood hero is a known (though not proven) steroid user who is pretty universally hated. Every time someone gets popped for steroids, it makes what Barry Bonds did less outrageous and it makes his accomplishments more valid. If everyone was on 'roids (they were), it doesn't really matter that Barry Bonds was too, but it does matter that he was still better than everyone else. I understand that his place on the list of "Greatest Baseball Players of All Time" will forever be affected by his (alleged) use of banned substances and the era in which he played, but isn't the best cheater among cheaters still the best? The more people who are busted, and the longer this era extends, the more likely that history will remember Barry Bonds in a kinder way than most think possible right now. This is true, and makes me happy, but again, it doesn't account for the fact that I've had a smile on my face since the Braun news broke.

It could be that Braun's guilt will go down as another case of a guy vehemently denying allegations against him before those (or similar) allegations are proven true. The list of these guys would exceed the character limit on this blog. I do like to see bad things happen to bad people, but I don't think this is the answer to my quest.

Is it that baseball is cleaning itself up? Nope. If anything, this proves that the Steroid Era is still going and that this game is far from clean. In fact, Braun being a PED user shows us that it isn't only guys who look impossibly muscular (Yasiel Puig) or those who put up impossible numbers (Chris Davis) who are using. It could be anybody. Let those words sink in and really understand what that means. Anybody and everybody could be  using this stuff, including those who previously passed the smell test. Braun is now our shining example that it doesn't necessarily blow your head up like a balloon or allow you to break all kinds of records. It might just make you good enough to win an MVP while playing for a decent team. It might just make you good enough to sit at the end of a bench for five seasons and make a couple million dollars. This paragraph is so depressing that it can't be why I'm so happy.

I've got it! It's because while this may not be good for baseball, it is good for society. I don't want kids worshiping guys who don't deserve it (like I did). I want these guys found out and I want them to suffer the consequences of their actions. But, who can kids look up to if not their favorite baseball player? And does anyone really believe that a multimillionaire losing a few bucks and being shamed for a few months is going to change anything? If doing steroids is the reason for my ascent to fame and wealth, and then becomes the reason for my (relatively short) downfall, isn't that a net positive? Doesn't the upside of PED use heavily outweigh the downside? Won't it always?

So, why does the suspension of Ryan Braun make me so happy? I guess it really doesn't. I need some cheese and beer.

MY NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

It’s 7:15 on New Year's Eve. A beautiful young woman sits at a nice restaurant, dressed to the nines, all alone. Across town, a young man sits in a radio studio, finishing up the year’s work before he sprints out the door to meet his date.

This is a true story, and a microcosm of my 2012. That’s going to change.

I’ve never made a New Year’s Resolution before, and that’s going to change, too. In 2013 I will focus less on work, and more on things that really matter.

A little background: In 2012 I worked multiple jobs. I worked between 60-70 hours every week. I worked 7 days a week, four of which included a shift that began before dawn. This was great for my career, and I don’t regret it nor would I change it if I could. I reached some goals and accomplished some things that already have and will continue to change my life for the better. But some things fell by the wayside, most of all my personal relationships.

For the first time since I was 15, I went an entire year without visiting my high school friends in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I missed out on the annual reunion of my college buddies from the University of Iowa. I missed countless weddings, parties, and nights out with people whose friendship I cherish. The people who sacrificed the most last year were the people whom I love the most.

In 2013 I will have one job (with a little work on the side). I will vacation with family, visit friends, rekindle old friendships, and create new ones.

To any current or prospective employer who may be reading this, this doesn’t mean I will stop working hard. I am driven, more than ever, to better myself, hone my skills, and strengthen and broaden my brand. But I do have a new set of priorities.

In 2012 I focused on my career. In 2013 I will focus on my life.

WHAT'S A FAN TO DO?

You may already know this about me, but I hate the Green Bay Packers. I know that hate is a strong word, but I don’t dislike the Packers, I hate them.

I hate their arrogant fans. I hate their ugly color scheme. I hate the Frozen Tundra and the Lambeau Leap and the Discount Double Check. Most of all, I hate the fact that you don’t hate them as much as I do.

My whole life it seems that everyone has been in love with the Packers, and not just because I come from a Wisconsin family full of Packer fans. The media drooled over Brett Favre and his gunslinger approach to the game for 15 years. It wasn’t until a text of a picture of his dong was leaked that anyone said anything bad about the guy. Now the same can be said of Aaron Rogers and company. Even fellow Bears fans will say good things about the Pack when asked. “You gotta admit, Lambeau Field is a cool place to play”. “It’s awesome how the fans own the team.” “No, I don’t think there’s a chance that Green Bay could break off of the state, float into Lake Michigan, and sink to the bottom.” For some reason, the Packers are everyone’s second favorite team, and that really ticks me off.

This whole thing has been a long-winded intro into the point of this blog. I am currently in a situation that no sports fan ever wants to be in. It is the worst conundrum possible. As a fan of the Chicago Bears, I need the Packers to win this weekend or my season is over. 

Even typing that sucks. 

I honestly have no idea what to think. You might not believe me, because 99.9% of Bears fans will tell you that of course they want the Packers to win. They are being rational. I’m being irrational, and I’m not going to apologize. I can’t want the Packers to win. It goes against everything I believe. I would have to rethink my entire life and base my belief system on a premise which I am not willing to accept: that the Packers winning could be a good thing.

Now I need to justify hoping for an outcome that negatively impacts my favorite team, and therefore my mood/attitude for the next month.

The Bears aren’t all that good this year anyway. It’s not like they are going to win the Super Bowl, so who cares if they don’t make the playoffs? In fact, not making the playoffs could spark some changes in the organization that would improve things in the future. It could light a fire under the players who are realizing that their window is closing, creating an off-season full of hard work and dedication and a team in 2013 that is ready to take the next step.

Ok, those reasons are admittedly weak. Of course I want the Bears to make the playoffs. We’ve seen it too many times: a team backs in before finding their stride and running through the competition on the way to hoisting the Lombardi (I hate that it’s named this) Trophy.

I’m so torn. Who do I cheer for? Can I put aside my hatred for an afternoon in the hopes of a better future? What if I cheer for the Packers and then the Bears lose? What if the Packers and Bears both win, but the Bears get stomped in the first round, or worse, lose in the playoffs to the Packers?

I’m going to go throw up.

What's Going on in Iowa City?

He only rushed for 122 yards last season.

He likely would have been 3^rd on the depth chart next season.

He didn’t fit with the offensive scheme of Kirk Ferentz and Greg Davis.

The “next man in” at running back has always thrived.

The preceding four sentences are being used when discussing Greg Garmon’s transfer from the University of Iowa. They are all true statements, but they don’t really matter in the scheme of things. If this was the first, second, third, etc time that this has happened, it wouldn’t be a big deal, just another college kid who decided he wanted to be somewhere else. It happens every day at every school in the country. The problem is that it happens every year (sometimes multiple times in a year) at Iowa.

I don’t believe in much outside of coincidence. I’m not religious, I’m not superstitious, and I don’t believe in curses. The running back situation at Iowa over the past decade has gone beyond coincidence and beyond curse. There is something else going on.

I don’t know what it is and I don’t know who’s to blame. I do know that I’ve had enough and I want some answers.

SAD BUT TRUE: BIG 10 EXPANSION IS A GOOD THING

It seems to be the overwhelming opinion that the recent addition of Maryland and Rutgers to the Big 10 Conference is a bad thing. People say that it’s only about the money, that it doesn’t make sense as far as competition or geography, and that it is the next step on the road taking college football further away from amateur athletics and closer to big business. I have no argument against any of these points. They are all valid and true. They also have nothing to do with this.

We need to dispel the myth that college football can ever go back to “the good old days”. We need to enter reality. Maybe college football was much better before coaches made millions of dollars per year and every big bowl game was played on New Years Day. Those days are gone, and longing for them will get us nowhere. The reality is that college football is no longer amateur athletics, it is a professional game. Billions of dollars are spent and earned each year within the game, it just so happens that none (or very little) of it goes to the players. It isn’t a minor league feeder system into the NFL, it is a separate league playing a different brand of football. Think of it like the CFL. When you begin to think of college football as a professional league, as a business, you are able to remove the nostalgia, and you can clearly see why the Big 10 made a shrewd move this week.

In the current landscape of college football, if you’re not growing, you’re dying. Most would agree that this is true for leagues like the Big East and the ACC, but it is equally true for the Big 10 and the SEC. Don’t believe me? Go back 5 years and try and convince someone that the Big 12 would lose 4 teams in 2 years. The Big 12 has since stabilized, but for how long? What happens when the SEC decides it needs Texas and makes them an offer they can’t refuse? No league is stable, not when thinking long term.

What the Big 10 did by adding two more teams is take another step toward long-term viability, and it really doesn’t matter which two teams it added. Conferences are headed to 16 teams, at minimum, and the first ones to reach the number will be the ones who have the best chance of survival. The fact that Rutgers helps open up the New York market to the Big 10 Network, much like Maryland and DC, is important, and that is why they were the two chosen. It brings in tens of millions of dollars to the conference. That’s the bottom line. It doesn’t matter if they lack tradition, they can’t sell out their home games, or they wear god-awful uniforms. They bring money into the league, and they bring the league closer to the goal of 16 members.

If reading the previous four paragraphs didn’t make you depressed, there’s something wrong with you. It depressed me to write it. It absolutely sucks that this is where we have taken the game, but this is where we are and there’s no going back. No one is going to decide that they are fine with making less money off the sport. No one is going to decide that the spirit or tradition of the game is the most important thing. And no one is going to suddenly decide that gigantic humans slamming into one another causing serious, but usually not immediate, health issues or death is too barbaric to sit around each week and watch with our families. Things are moving forward, not backward. There will be more money involved, the stakes will only get higher, and it is survival of the fittest. The Big 10 became more fit this week.

Reality is a scary thing to face, and this reality is no different. My heart and history tell me that this move was not a good one. My head couldn’t disagree more. All of me is a fan of a Big 10 team, and this week my league took a step in the direction of long term stability. I may not be excited to watch Iowa and Maryland play a football game in a town 900 miles East of Iowa City called College Park, but at least I know it will happen. In this landscape, what more could you ask for?

Iowa Basketball: The Turning Point

This season of Iowa basketball has been the most interesting one in years. In the beginning, there was the loss to Campbell. In the end, there was the sweep of Wisconsin. In between, a lot of ups and downs. But this season correlates nicely with the 2001 Iowa football season. A season that, by the numbers, was average, but which marked a change in the program that would ultimately lead to greatness.  A turning point. Now, I don’t mean greatness as in a national championship caliber team (although there have been one or two football teams on that level), I mean program relevance, a perennial conference contender, and a team you don’t want to see in the NCAA Tournament. Most Iowa fans would agree, that is the goal right now. And we are on our way.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think the 2012-13 basketball team will perform like the 2002 football team. That would be asking far too much. But I do think that 10 years from now, we will be able to look back and see clearly that this season is where it all changed. Where the program began is resurrection.

In 2001, I was a freshman at the University of Iowa. I distinctly remember being in the stands during the 32-26 loss to 8^th ranked Michigan. The reason it stands out in my mind is that I was absolutely pissed when the game was over. It was one we should have had. The Wolverines were who we thought they were, and we let them off the hook. Going into the game, there was no reason to think that Iowa would have a chance. But a 10-7 halftime lead (Michigan scored on a blocked punt), and a 20-7 lead in the 3^rd had made it clear that the game was ours to lose. Which we promptly did. The point is, there were many games during this basketball season that felt this way. Games that we’ve lost, and have expected to lose, for years now; but this year it felt different. We could beat these teams. Not every night, and not all of them, but we could play with almost anyone and it felt like we could win almost any game. This is the feeling of a team on the brink of breaking through.

Another correlation is the young talent. This is less obvious in football, where freshman and sophomores often don’t see much playing time. But flashes of brilliance from the likes of Brad Banks and Dallas Clark hinted at a level of talent that shone through in the ‘02 season.  Looking at the roster of the 2001 football team, you see names like Banks, Clark, Russell, Gallery, Roth, Hodge, Greenway, Sanders, and Keading. Names that would help build the program that we see now. The young players on Iowa’s basketball team will be remembered in much the same way. Players that will have to step up to fill in the void left by seniors like Matt Gatens, the way the football players filled the void left by guys like Ladell Betts, Kahlil Hill, and Aaron Kampman.

2001 was Kirk Ferentz’ 2^nd season at Iowa. 2011-12 is Fran McCafferey’s 2^nd season at Iowa. Just saying.

I don’t think Iowa will finish in the top 10 next year, the way the ’02 football team did. I don’t think we’ll necessarily see a handful of guys off the team make a huge impact at the next level, the way those football players did. But I do think that in 2021, when some are calling for Fran’s head because he can’t get past the Sweet 16, we will be able to look back on this season and say that it was the turning point. It was when we realized we had the coach we needed, had a system that would work in this league, and could finally get our hopes up after far too many meaningless seasons. It might not be obvious today, but make no mistake, Iowa basketball is back.