Sports

103 posts

How to Win the NYC Bike Lane War

Why do you hate me?

I mean, you’re lucky I saw you. Happily cruising in the bike lane in along 34th Avenue in Queens, watching warily, as I usually do, for cars that don’t bother to signal before pulling out from parking, or people who open doors without looking, or drivers who think the bike lane is a passing or turning lane—you stepped out from between two parked SUVs, in the middle of block, not looking at oncoming traffic, holding the hand of a little girl who was clutching a wrapped birthday present.

Thank God I’d just gotten my bike tuned up for spring, complete with new brake pads. I can stop on a dime. You stepped forward. You stepped back. That made it difficult to ride around you.

So I said, “Excuse me.”

This uncorked a fury inside you. You screamed at me, throwing F-bombs like Mellissa Leo at the Oscars, yelling about how you had more right to be here than me, how I don’t own the street, how I need to leave him alone, how I should go and lose some weight (you lost five points for creativity there, buddy).

New Yorkers are angry at people who ride bikes. Let’s explore why.

First off, bike lanes take away room for cars. There’s no getting around that. Bike lanes take away driving lanes in some cases, and parking spaces in others. It’s interesting that everyone agrees we need to encourage less driving in the city, but no one wants to give up their cars.

That’s the least of the problem. Biking’s problem is that the major cycling advocacy groups have no clue how to win over the public.

Some suggestions:

Cycling advocates need to back cops when they hand out tickets for cyclists committing traffic violations. You want to be treated with respect, helmet-people? Well, start earning it. You’ve got to stop at red lights. You’ve got to yield to pedestrians. You’ve got to stop wearing headphones while biking. Make sure your bike is equipped with the reflectors and bells and lights required by law. Don’t argue with the police officer who stops you for not stopping at a light. She’s only doing her job. When a police officer is directing traffic, his directives also apply to you—not just the cars behind you. Don’t ride on the sidewalk. When the street is too dangerous, dismount and walk. When Central Park is crowded, slow down. This ain’t the Tour de France. In other words, act like adults.

Next: Use that record of law-abiding good behavior to demand from your city representatives that police go after drivers who make conditions unsafe for everyone—other cars, pedestrians, and cyclists. When was the last time you saw someone make a full stop at a stop sign? Stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk? Use signals on a regular basis? That this driving behavior is allowed to continue unfettered in this city is outrageous.

Can we just get rid of Time’s Up and its ilk? There is a difference between persistence and aggression. Groups like Time’s Up push aggression, hoping to shove bike lanes and bike infrastructure into place. No one likes change to be shoved at them. Present. Sympathize with the opposition. And be willing to compromise. More can be done with talking than with fighting.

Don’t respond to fire with a container of gasoline. When the conservative population in Willamsburg got upset about a bike lane there—largely, it was alleged, because women rode bikes in “immodest clothing” (I wonder how my bike tights would be taken there) the hipsters organized a protest which involved them riding their bikes naked. Turns out it was too cold to ride naked, so the group largely backed out, but that’s not helping. Cyclists came off as a group of entitled brats with a complete lack of respect for everyone around them. That’s not to say the conservatives were right. But it would have been very easy ride onto high road, rather than the low.

Lastly, play nice. Let a car go past you. They’re faster. And heavier. Let an old lady cross the street. Remember this isn’t a race. Realize you’re not the only person on the road. And don’t yell back at peckerheads.

Botswana and Dancing Queen’s Not-Quite-Liveblog of the Ortiz vs. Berto Fight

So Dancing Queen and I were Gchatting Saturday night, which inadvertently turned into a not-quite-liveblog of the Victor Ortiz vs. Andre Berto boxing match on HBO. Neither of us are boxing experts and we don’t know if our little Crass experiment will work or not, but we hope you enjoy it.

A little background about this fight (which DQ did not have prior to tuning in): This was a fight between Andre Berto and “Vicious” Victor Ortiz from the MGM Grand Theater at Foxwoods. Berto, the Welterweight World Champion and undefeated star, was a 2004 Haitian Olympian who skipped a career-boosting fight with Sugar Shane Mosley when the earthquake happened in Haiti, was the odds on favorite. Up-and-comer Ortiz, promoted by Oscar de la Hoya, was looking to make his mark on the scene in a new weight class. His personal story (link is included at the end – muahahaha) makes him quite compelling.

By most accounts, this has been the fight of the year, and DQ and Bots have to agree. DQ only wishes that this fight had been in Vegas and that she were there, too, so she could see the ladies’ cray-cray outfits. Two words: plastic catsuits.
**DQ apologizes in advance for her sailor language. She currently has soap in her mouth.**

9:54 DING! DING! Here we go:

9:57 PM HBO shows the undercard: Amir Khan vs. Johnny McCloskey in Manchester, England. McCloskey happens to be Irish.

Bots: oh my, they’re showing a fight from the uk first. and the irish boxer fights EXACTLY like the Notre Dame mascot.

DQ: what’s his name

Bots: well i’m watching boxing on hbo.

DQ: i was wondering

Bots: McCloskey. he’s fighting Amir Khan who is the heavy favorite.

Bots: so when is this royal wedding i’m supposed to liveblog?

DQ: april 29th!

Bots: oh ok. i thought maybe it was today and i missed it.

DQ: no such luck there, buddy

Bots: no i want to liveblog it. i feel like i could add a lot to the experience.

Bots: this is hilarious. they should put a green leprechaun hat on him.

DQ: uh yeah. i would say so. [at McCloskey] throw a punch man!

10:00 PM – DQ notices McCloskey is clad in extremely shiny boxing shorts

DQ: doesn’t it do something to your credibility to have sequins on your shorts?

Bots: haha. they are silly.

DQ: hey! maybe you and i should liveblog this!

Bots: he looks like a disco ball.

DQ: get a girl’s perspective on a man thing

Bots: gooch and i talked about it but we may do the pacquiao – mosley fight.

DQ: [regarding disco ball pants] dude is getting his ass beat

Bots: the leprechaun isn’t nearly fast enough to fight khan.

DQ: kahn seems to have a longer reach

Bots: he does. by an inch and a half. he’s also like 7 years younger. and his trainer is freddie roach.

DQ: i dunno what significance that has

Bots: oh. freddie roach is pacquiao’s trianer. he’s the best in the biz.

10:05 PM – Someone in the crowd is blowing what we think is a vuvuzela.

DQ: take away that fucking horn!

Bots: is that a vuvuzela?

DQ: it’s higher pitched

Bots: boxing is so fucking livebloggable. it’s such a crazy scene of a sport.

DQ: i think you just made up a word. it would be more fun if we could see the crazy outfits the women are wearing

Bots: oh i’m sure.

10:17 – Somehow the conversation turns to places we’d like to visit.

Bots: i love the geography out west. i really love the west actually. i should be home on the range, riding horses, getting into gunfights with banditos.

DQ: haha. that’s what we do

Bots: not fucking going to the stripmall to buy socks at target. uh oh. the irishman is taking punches.

DQ: yikes!

10:20 The fight doctor calls the fight after a small cut opens up on McCloskey’s forehead.

Bots: wtf. doctor’s decision or something? BOOOOOO! Do not like. the cut was from an accidental headbutt. crowd is NOT happy! Oscar De La Hoya sighting.

DQ briefly switched to SATC 2 because she likes to punish herself. She soon decided that watching men beating the hell out of each other was a major improvement over SATC 2 so she switched back to boxing.

DQ: they stopped the fight?

Bots: yep. the irishman is mad because “people paid their hard earned money for the pay per view.” hilarious. no american fighter would EVER give a shit about the fans! hahaha

DQ: i heard that

Bots: those horns. ugh. make it stop!

DQ: i’d choke that fucker

Bots: i’d shove that horn up his ass! /no homophob hahaha

DQ: haha

Bots: Larry Merchant insults the fight doctor. he is totally senile. boxing is the crazy cousin of the sports world.

10:33 – The main event (Ortiz vs. Berto) begins and Ortiz comes out wearing a giant gold and white sobrero and a bizarre silver tunic-like garment with the American flag, Mexican flag and a giant Kansas Jayhawks logo on the chest.

Bots: oh lord. what is Ortiz wearing?

DQ: um, i have no words for that

Bots: hilarious.

they were talking about his story earlier. apparently he and his brother were abandoned in a small kansas town as kids and they like lived in a barn or something for a while. crazy.

DQ: wow. terrible. did he go to KU? i saw that on his get-up

Bots: i highly doubt it. not a lot of college students in boxing! i love boxing but it just chews you up. it’s brutal if you peek behind the curtain.

10:36 – The ring announcer is a blue-eyed, white guy with ponytailed dreadlocks, an extremely well-groomed goatee and ring announcer voice.

DQ: theeeeeee fuck?

Bots: YES! I want this guy at my next party!

DQ: i don’t like how he is holding the mic. he is confusing to me

Bots: His suit is fantastic too. boxing is insane.

DQ: 12 rounds is just ridiculous. TOO MANY!

Bots: who is the guy with the mohawk behind ortiz? this is crazy.

DQ: he is confusing me too

Bots: and they’re all wearing those reflective suits like ortiz.

DQ: please don your tin foil suits!

Bots: this announcer kind of sucks. despite the awesome hair.

DQ: you think so?

Bots: i want to like him but he’s no michael buffer.

DQ: why did he just say ortiz, twice

Bots: don’t ask why. just go with it!

DQ: i was just wondering if there was a reason! yeah, that guy berto is fucking diesel

Bots: he’s really, really quick.

DQ: he did the double name thing again!

Bots: this announcer! what the what?????

DQ: the HBO commentator is talking to himself

Bots: i know. we should be liveblogging this!

DQ: WOW look at berto’s lats!

Ortiz surprised everyone by pummeling Berto right away in the first round.

DQ: the fuck!

Bots: berto is wasted tired.

DQ: berto is beat

Bots: we should be commentators

DQ: he got rocked!

Bots: berto is just blatantly missing on his punches. not even close to landing them.

DQ: wow. ortiz is kicking his ass

Bots: berto’s confidence seems gone

DQ: he doesn’t know what is happening. he is not well prepared for this fight

Bots: well he just knocked down ortiz! this is amazing!

DQ: i know! i rewound

Bots: i want this fight to keep going. no KO’s yet!

DQ: the slow mo is nutso. Ortiz’s right is a hammer

Bots: these guys are just slugging away at each other.

DQ: he can duck like a …duck

Bots: berto? yeah he’s fast.

DQ: [at Berto] get off the ropes! ortiz is crazed

Bots: ortiz is taunting him a bit. hi def is the ONLY way to watch this shit!

DQ: or on an old giant 32 inch TV! i should be a coach. the commentator just told him to get off the ropes which i just said

Bots: berto’s corner seemed like a disaster. jeez. while ortiz is relaxed.

DQ: his corner is as shaken as berto

Bots: what a cute usher over there on the left.

DQ: oh hello. haha “not 50 cent”

Bots: Fitty and Floyd Mayweather in the house.

DQ: chelsea handler is going to get blasted tonight

Bots: chelsea handler? why? is she there?

DQ: she’s with 50

Bots: why am i even surprised? it’s boxing. crazy stuff like that always happens.

DQ: i keep thinking antoine dodson is there

11:07 – In the seventh round Berto makes a huge comeback and knocks Ortiz down.

Bots: well shit. berto has his legs back.

DQ: [mixing metaphors] berto is swinging for the fences

Bots: holy shit.

DQ: dem some hay fucking hay makers. good night ortiz. this is the best fight i’ve ever seen

Later in the same round, Berto himself gets knocked down.

Bots: oh my! berto just flops backward. mind ASPLODE. i need another fucking bourbon.

DQ: pour one for me! [watching replay of massive blow to Bertos’ chin] GAWD! did you see that?

Bots: incredible. this is why i love boxing. it’s pure drama sometimes.

DQ: now i want berto to win even more

Bots: yup. go berto.

DQ: come on berto get those legs back

Bots: berto was wobbling like a drunken leprechaun there!

DQ: is that bill cosby! [it was not]

Bots: did you see the cos? I swear i saw the cos like four times. [still not] must be the coogi sweater.

DQ: jello pudding pops

Bots: if they show 50 cent but no cosby, cosby is going to slap someone.

DQ: oh i see your usher lady

Bots: haha. THERE SHE IS. She is pretty fetching in that bright red blazer!

DQ: i think she is wearing gloves too. Fancy!

Bots: she’s a star usher. also, the one photographer on the right looks like he will sell you some pig liquor out in the parking lot after the fight.

DQ: pig liquor?

Bots: moonshine

DQ: did you see the one on the right? he looks like the elephant man

Bots: that’s pig liquor guy.

DQ: perfect. ortiz keeps hitting berto in the back of the head

Bots: ortiz! what are you doing? stupid. should have lost a point this time!

DQ: okay. there are just too many rounds

Bots: no! they used to go like 15 rounds back in ali’s day.

DQ: [watching replay of berto getting pummeled] gaaaaaawddamn

Bots: And it obviously had no ill effects…

DQ: true, true. those guys all ended up as rhodes scholars

Bots: i’m going to hell for that, aren’t i?

DQ: i’ll meet you there. berto is done. and then he’s back!

Bots: it’s amazing. he’s taking like huge combinations of punches, then counters right at ortiz’s face.

DQ: if berto is going to win, it will have to be by KO

Bots: berto getting up off the canvas looks like me after about 8 rum and cokes. reaching for things to hold on to. losing the batle against gravity.

DQ: like a baby giraffe with his legs locking backwards

Bots: like a baby honey badger after bingeing on snake venom.

Bots: ortiz’s uppercut is badass.

DQ: he throws a lot of hooks

Bots: listen to you, miss boxing analyst!

DQ: kickboxing class has taught me many things

Bots: oh shit. you’re kickin’ motherfuckers.

DQ: in dey head

11:27 PM – They go into the final round with Oritz clearly leading on points.

DQ: it’s like a fucking counseling session in berto’s corner. here we go

Bots: yeah. berto needs to punch big here.

DQ: what is this?

Bots: ortiz is stalling kinda.

DQ: ahhhh that’s what i thought

11:31 – The fight is over. Ortiz wins by decision.

Bots: wow. very entertaining. ortiz is kind of evil looking, no?

DQ: that gold belt is going to conflict with their tin foils suits

Bots: the announcer just said Maidana won a great fight, and then had to be corrected. Ahh, boxing.

DQ: ahhh head injuries

Bots: ahh premature alzheimer’s symptoms!

DQ: the ring chick is over acting a bit

Bots: whoa. leave the ring girl alone!

DQ: oh they thought of everything! gold hats to match the belt!

Bots: that sombrero is redonkulous.

DQ: what? no

Bots: sombreros are just innately silly.

DQ: they are great for dancing around

Bots: and for hiding things in while being worn…

DQ: and for carrying babies. ortiz sounds pretty good

Bots: yeah, he doesn’t sound nearly as evil as he looks. i kind of like ortiz actually.

DQ: the commentator sounds brain-injured

Bots: larry merchant. yeah, he’s really really old. i think he had a stroke but HBO wont fire him since he’s been around so long.

DQ: he’s like the diane rehm of boxing

Bots: here in atlanta the local npr affiliate has this old lady who sounds like an 80s stereotype of a rich white lady. and they will not EVER take her off the air because the old white people who donate money all love her. larry merchant is just painful to watch.

DQ: now i want to read Ortiz’s story

That’s all, folks!

Image courtesy of BoxingRepublic

Mastering New Challenges

My heart was pounding as I walked toward the mostly-unmarked side door of the building. I always get overly nervous when going to something alone for the first (or fifth, or sixth) time. I wound through parents waiting for their kids and entered the pool area, and luckily saw two people who looked like they were there for the same thing I was. “Hi, this is my first time and I don’t know anything”- I like to lay the facts on the table from the get-go. The woman, who definitely knows stuff, chuckled and pointed me to the women’s locker room, warning me of the hoard of under-10s in there. I decided to brave it, temporarily deafened by their heedless shrieking and screaming (I don’t think it was at me), and I headed straight for the toilet stall. I started to take my things out of my backpack, and quickly found there was not nearly enough room in there. I put my bathing suit and rain jacket on top of the toilet paper dispenser, then turned to take off my shoes. I heard a splash. My rain jacket had fallen on the ground, but my bathing suit fell in the toilet. Which some girl had not flushed. Well this is starting out smoothly, I thought. I was at once cursing and praising myself, because I had had the forethought to bring an extra bathing suit. This I put on immediately and kept everything away from that dastardly toilet. Most of the girls had left so I got out, put my things in a cubby, and headed out to the pool.

There were more people there now, including a guy who was wearing regular clothes, so I took him to be the coach. I introduced myself, quickly telling him I had bunion surgery so had not really moved in four months (it was really more, but I could only blame four of those months on the surgeries). I told him I had never swum competitively but had swum a lot in general and had always been fairly active. He sent me over to lane 1 and told me to start out with some freestyle. “All right,” I thought, “at least I’m good at freestyle.” The coach quickly put to rest my delusions of greatness, or at least of minor ability. I probably shouldn’t have told him I taught swim lessons for the last four years, I think it worried him after he saw me swim.

Anyway, a couple laps in I’m feeling good, lost count of how many laps I’ve done and how many I’m supposed to do, and he stops me. I’m excited for the guidance and opportunity to improve my technique. “Your kick is good,” he says, “but you need to push your arms through the water instead of letting them just drag along. Keep your hands closer to your body and rotate more, really reaching your hands out before they enter the water. And look ahead of you a bit as you swim, not straight down.” So I say okay, lower my goggles, and get ready to go. I’m mostly focusing on pushing the water with my hands, and I really start to feel it in my upper arms. I do probably another hundred yards like that and stop to rest. Everybody else has stopped swimming so I guess they all finished whatever we were supposed to be doing. The coach tells everyone to do a 3-2-1, whatever that means, and luckily he comes over to me. “You were pushing more, but you still need to lift your head up.” “Oh, right,” I say, “I forgot about that.” “Do another 300 of freestyle.”

Lap one, reach out, rotate, lap one, push back. Oops, gotta breathe. Lap one. Reach out, rotate, push back. This is going okay. Lap one. Oh right, look forward. Wait, now I’m not pushing back. Lap one. Push the water back. Oh, there’s the wall. Flip-turn, oh-I-really-should’ve-taken-a-breath-before-that, lap two. Look forward, reach arms forward, lap two, push the water back. I’m feeling good, my triceps are burning, and eventually I complete the 300 yards. The coach comes over. He looks disappointed. “You’ve got to push the water harder. I really want to see almost a small explosion as your arms come back. You’re taking almost 27 strokes per lap, when you should be doing 18 or 20.” “Okay,” I say, and I get ready to start swimming. Over the next few laps, my mind is a jumble of counting strokes, laps, and remembering to breathe, to reach out, look forward, push the water, and rotate. I eventually find that counting the strokes makes me automatically do many of the things he told me to do, which serves to tire out my poor tiny arms quickly. I take breaks, pretending I’m adjusting my goggles. The lowest I get is 22. I might have done 21 once. He has us all do an IM (butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, and freestyle)- I got through maybe half a lap of a barely-recognizable butterfly. I was glad there wasn’t a lifeguard at the pool so they wouldn’t have thought I was drowning. The coach came over with ten minutes to go, telling me that I can take it easy now; I did more than he expected me to do. I’m happy to hear something good and make a note to set peoples’ expectations low at the next activity I do for the first time, so I can easily exceed them. He had us cool down with whatever stroke we liked- I picked freestyle, still trying to reach the elusive 18-stroke lap. It didn’t happen, even with my probable mis-counting.

It was time to get out of the pool, so I looked around for the stairs, or a ladder. I saw nothing. Feeling my jello arms and panicking, I attempted to get myself out of the pool. I could barely lift myself out. I pulled myself up enough to get my butt out, then kind of rolled over onto my knees. I was the epitome of grace. In the locker room I’d tell anybody I could about my bunion surgery. “It’s so nice to move again, even though I’m so out of shape because of the surgeries.” Yes, definitely because of the surgeries…

As I rinsed myself off in the shower and struggled to get my jeans back on, I was glad I went. Sure, I wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to turn my steering wheel just then, but eventually I’ll get stronger. Though all the swimming lingo and equipment is still very foreign and unintelligible to me, everybody there is really welcoming and encouraging. I’ve gone two more times to the Master’s swimming practices, and I’ve gotten more comfortable with the whole thing. Now I only have to resist the urge to buy obscenely colorful bathing suits!

NBA Western Conference Playoff Preview

It took just about all 82 games to figure out, but here he how the final seeding ended up for the Western Conference:

1. San Antonio Spurs

  • Last season: Lost to the Phoenix Suns in the Conference Semi-Finals
  • This season: Best start in franchise history and had the best record in the league until the very last game of the season. (The Bulls ended up 62-20 and the the Spurs ended up 61-21.) However the team lost six in a row this season for the first time since the Tim Duncan era.  The Big 3 of Duncan, Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili spent much of the season healthy, but all suffered injuries toward the end of the season. Duncan missed 4 of the 6 games of the losing streak. Ginobili hyper-extended his elbow at the 2:14 mark of the first quarter of their season finale against Phoenix on Wednesday.

2. Los Angeles Lakers

  • Last season: NBA Champions
  • This season: Went 17-1 immediately following the All Star break, but then lost 5 in a row and barely beat out the Junior Varsity Spurs squad and needed overtime to beat the Sacramento Kings in their season finale.
  • Notes: I can’t help but wonder if the Lakers will be able to “turn it on” for the playoffs. One last match up with the Spurs on Tuesday, could be a potential Western Conference Final preview. However, the Spurs have the #1 seed locked up and Coach Gregg Popovich chose to rest his starters. Lost Andrew Bynum to a hyper-extended his surgically repaired knee in Tuesday’s game versus the Spurs. Bynum suffered a bone bruise and is expected to available for game one of the first round.

3. Dallas Mavericks

  • Last season: Lost to the San Antonio Spurs in the first round
  • This season: Re-signed Dirk Nowitzki after some speculation following the early and unexpected playoff exit at the end of the 2009-10 season. The Mavericks lost Caron Butler to a knee injury in early January and Coach Rick Carlisle says a first round return for Butler is highly unlikely. The Mavs have not beaten a Western Conference playoff team since January 19.
  • Notes: Despite being the third best team in the West, behind the Spurs who have been having a franchise season and the defending champions, it seems as though Mavs fans have given up on the post season. A recent article in the Dallas Star-Telegram pegs the Mavericks as “an aging team trying to slap together one last miracle run for Dirk Nowitzki.” Could it be true? A series of playoff runs in the 00s, including 2006 playoffs when they were up 2-0 on the Heat, shows the Mavericks as a team built only strong enough for the regular season. You know what they say, always a bridesmaid, never a bride.

4. Oklahoma City Thunder

  • Last season: Lost to the Los Angeles Lakers in the first round
  • This season: The acquisition of Kendrick Perkins at the trade deadline seems to have given the Thunder the inside presence they were lacking. Despite the top 3 teams going through their own struggles, the Thunder have won 16 of their last 20 games. Proving that this young team is one that could cause problems for some of the older teams in the West. (Side note: After watching the All Star game, my roommate and I now randomly scream out “Durantula!” ) This team is scary as they are young and up and coming. They have a long time to be a powerhouse in the Western Conference.
  • Notes: Denver Nuggets Coach George Karl hopes to avoid the hot Thunder and play the Mavericks in the first round. The team has won 5 in a row and looks to make it 6 as they play the Milwaukee Bucks in tonight’s season finale.

5. Denver Nuggets

  • Last season: Lost to the Utah Jazz in the first round
  • This season: The team spent most of the season dealing with the “Carmelo drama.” Most people might have expected a complete collapse after losing their franchise player, but the Nuggets are 17-4 since the trade. The Nuggets and the Thunder are playing well going into the playoffs and whoever makes it to the second round will prove to be a tough opponent.

6. Portland Trailblazers

  • Last season: Lost to the Phonenix Suns in the first round
  • This season: LaMarcus Aldridge was probably the biggest All-Star snub this season. Despite having only Marcus Camby being the only player on the team with deep playoff experience, this team will be bothersome to the Dallas Mavericks in the first round. Do not be surprised if this is the team in the Western Conference to pull the upset.
  • (Side note: When was the last time Greg Oden did anything to be effective? Besides as a bench warmer? The man made $6.7 million this year doing nothing. I know, I know he’s injured, but he will always be one of those players we’ll wonder, “what if?”)

7. New Orleans Hornets

  • Last season: Did not qualify for the playoffs
  • This season: Started out just as hot as the Spurs with a 12-5 record through November, but went through at 7-9 slump in December and their play has been so-so ever since. A perennial favorite in the Western Conference since Chris Paul joined the team, this season has been slightly better than last.
  • Notes: Owner George Shinn gave up control of the team to the NBA shortly after the season started, leaving many to wonder if we’ll be looking at the Kansas City Hornets in a couple of seasons.

8. Memphis Grizzlies

  • Last season: Did not qualify for the playoffs
  • This season: Ended with a record of 46-36, improving 6 games in the win column from the 2009-10 season.
  • Notes: The Grizzles are 0-12 in the playoffs, having been swept by the Spurs, Suns and the Mavericks in the first round. After a four year absence in the playoffs, the Grizz are making a return. Even though they are the eighth seed, the Grizzles are not to be taken lightly this year. They split the season series with both the Spurs and the Lakers and won the series against the Mavericks, 3-1.

Here’s what I think will happen: Spurs, Lakers, Nuggets, Trailblazers make it out of the first round, though not without a fight. If any of these series go less than 6 games, I’ll be surprised. Trailblazers and Spurs in the Western Conference Finals and then the Spurs to play whoever comes out of the East. Could I be wrong about the Spurs? Sure, but as a life-long fan, I have to believe.

The Nor’Easter

My upper arms ache all the way up through my shoulders. It hurts to sling a pocketbook over my arm. My hips hurt. My lower back hurts to the extent I can’t sit in the same position for more than ten minutes. My thighs? Fuhgettaboutit.

God Bless You, Advil. Because tomorrow, I’m going to do this to myself again.

I don’t look like a fighter. I’m female. I’m fat. My boobs are more suited to Playboy (trust me) than the ring. I’m clumsy—my body currently bearing the scars of a recent bike crack-up. I fall off curbs and down stairs. I have spatial problems and can’t quite remember what is left and what is right. I know jab and cross, through.

I started boxing a few years ago, as a joke. My husband was taking classes, and the instructor was offering a try-it-free session. He wrapped my hands, and I fell in love.

Throwing a punch felt very foreign, and very wrong, at first. I was the kid on the playground who usually got tripped or smacked or tortured. “Stand,” the instructor said, his gold teeth glittering under the fluorescent lights of the gym, “with your left shoulder forward, your knees only as wide as your hips.” Karim said, “bend those knees. Lower your head. Twist your torso. Now hit, baby girl. Hit.”

I threw like a baby girl at first, too, embarrassed that the heavy bag barely trembled, let alone swung, under the laughable non-force of my sad jab-cross combination. I kept at it, even when I was pretty sure the big boys with the barbed wire bicep tattoos at the gym were laughing at the fat girl attempting to become a fighter. “Don’t look at them,” said Karim. “You and me, we’re the only ones who matter here.” He’d put on the punch mitts and have me aim my punches at them, not getting pissed off when I accidentally hit him in the face. “That was a good one, baby girl!”

I didn’t get hit by an instructor until I’d moved on to Church Street Boxing, an old-fashioned boxing gym by the World Trade Center site with actual spittoons placed around the floor so the Golden Gloves contenders had a place to spit their blood after being hit in the mouth. Antonio hit me after I didn’t leap back to action at the sound of the bell, because I was engaged in conversation with a fighter with a nose as flat as the floor about the condition of Farrah Fawcett. “That bell goes, you go,” said Antonio, “or you get smacked.”

This was no girly kickboxing class. Church Street was another universe.

I thought I’d feel uncomfortable there, at Church Street. I have never felt more welcome at a gym in my life. Usually, as a chubby female not known for my grace, I feel like a pigeon among blonde birds of paradise with eating disorders. Not here. This was a land of broken noses, of dreams that had fallen in the ring and gotten right back up, of careers that had collapsed on the ropes and untangled themselves. This was a gym that kept a mop handy to soak up the occasional bloodstain. This was a gym where Golden Gloves contenders threw punches next to people like me attempting to learn the art; where taut 19 year olds readying for the featherweight title trained next to amateurs, like the 76 year old man who said he liked to feel powerful.

The trainers at Church Street coaxed the tiger in me to the surface. You must run, they said. You can’t last a round if you don’t run. So I ran. I put my fears of being humiliated aside, laced up my New Balances, and ran as far as I could. At first it was half a block. Then an entire block. Then two. I’m up to three and half miles now, which is nothing compared to a marathoner, but is a miracle for me. What astonished me is that I wasn’t a laughingstock as I ran down 35th Avenue in Queens, from my place in Jackson Heights to the edge of the Grand Central and back. The occasional truck full of landscapers or electricians would slow down next to me, the elephant lumbering along as the gazelles sprinted past. “Good for you, honey!” I’d get a thumbs up. The men doing maintenance at the housing project by the highway said they wished they had the motivation to run. When I said it wasn’t far, they pointed out a marathon is run one mile at a time. Wise men.

Now I do my rounds on my own back patio. I bought a stand up bag, the type you fill with sand, to beat up several days a week. I named him Karim, in honor of the man who introduced me to boxing.

I put on my t-shirt that says FIGHTING SOLVES EVERYTHING across the back, roll the bag, filled with about 200 pounds of sand and gravel onto the cheap faux grass carpet I bought to cushion it against the concrete, clip my portable Everlast round timer (three minutes on, one off) to the laundry line, crank up the headphones heavy on the gangsta rap, and get to punching.

I gave myself a boxing nickname, drawing on my New England roots and my history of covering snowstorms. The Nor’Easter.

The kids at P.S. 212 next door are fascinated by the Crazy Fat Lady Boxing Show. They were first drawn by the slamming sound of the bag rocking back from my cross, coming down on the concrete. They press up against the wrought-iron fence separating our properties, watching as I work through combinations and grunt with the force of the punch hitting the bag. I took off my headphones fast enough as the timer went off to hear one kid yell to his friends, “she’s got a TIMER!”

The people in my building have gotten used to my odd hobby. Some have had to learn about it the hard way—the building’s super once tapped me on the shoulder to say hi when I was mid-round. I came thisclose to clocking him. My husband knows to get my attention from the far side of the patio. The neighbors who live right above the patio are tickled, often leaning out the window and their pumping their fists. The man who lives next door stopped me in the street and said he couldn’t figure out what those long strips of cloth—my hand wraps—were, until he saw my gloves.

I love it when the sweat pouring from my head splashes against the bag. I love it when a kick ass song by NWA pops up on the headphones and I throw punches like the world is about to end. I love it when I have 20 seconds left in a round and despite my pain, I keep going. I love it when I’m rolling up my wraps at the end of 12 rounds and my shoulders ache like I’ve been battered myself.

Sometimes I beat up my husband. I’ve beaten up my boss. I’ve beaten up my editor and various co-workers. I’ve beaten up former and current friends. I’ve beaten up my mother. I’ve beaten up my father. I’ve beaten up Julie Gallagher, who made my life miserable in second grade. I’ve beaten up ex-boyfriends. I’ve beaten up the economy.

A remarkable thing happens when you’re able to do that. Another boxer at Church Street told me that people who don’t box don’t understand. It’s not about aggression. It’s about being able to leave everything you’re angry at on the floor, letting you be a calmer person.

Intellectually, I know I look like a four-star dork in my workout gear—complete with nerd sweatband!—when I box. I know I probably look somewhat silly, especially when I really get into it and start screaming my way through punches. I know it’s geeky to have the theme from Rocky on my boxing playlist. I know being proud of a strained shoulder and sprained wrist is a little ridiculous.

I don’t feel that way, though. I feel strong, and tall, and powerful. For the first time in my life.

NBA Playoffs Preview: Eastern Conference

Apologies in advance to fans of Indiana Pacers, Atlanta Hawks and Philadelphia 76ers. Your teams are decent but aren’t worth talking about (remember these words when all three of them push their opponents to seven games).
Pure Sex Appeal

 

The Chicago Bulls: Unless you live under a rock there’s no question that this season’s biggest surprise has been the fantastic showing by the Chicago Bulls. After back-to-back .500 seasons and getting clowned by LeBron James and his crew of flunkies, the Bulls went out and pulled off one of the best Plan B’s in sports history. By pairing basketball-obsessed coach Tom Thibodeau with humble-bot Derrick Rose, the Bulls established a locker room where maximum effort was expected and defense a priority.
TV Analyst Ramblings:

  • It’s the Defense, Stupid: The Bulls have been #1 in defensive efficiency for the majority of the season. In the playoffs where the pace slows to a crawl and half-court offense reigns supreme, can the Bulls keep their rotations tight and continue to contest shots?
  • Bulls Bountiful Bigs Banging Boards: Carlos Boozer and Joakim Noah have combined to miss over 60 games, but thanks to incredible depth the Bulls’ rebounding has not missed a beat. However, both starters are going to need to play much better offensively than they have in the past month in order for an extended playoff run.
  • The Man from Sudan: Luol Deng has been a much-maligend player for the duration of his Bulls tenure. He’s gone from overrated to underrated to overrated to now the second most important player on a possible title team. Deng is the only non-Rose player who can create his own shot, and his ability to play huge minutes while providing elite defense has been a major factor for Chicago’s success.
  • Do You Know Who This Kid Is?: Derrick Rose is good at basketball, to explain why would be futile.
Like a Bosh

The Miami Heatles: Oh, LeBron James. Little did anyone know that your incredibly self-absorbed and idiotic “Decision” would have been the greatest thing to happen to the NBA since baggy shorts. Thanks to one person’s delusion that no one would be upset about taking a televised dump on the city of Cleveland, the NBA’s ratings have skyrocketed. In the post-Jordan era this has been one of the most successful seasons yet.
TV Analyst Ramblings:

  • In Miami, Basketball is 3-on-5: By now everyone knows about the incredible talent and production of the Heat’s 3 big stars. Bosh, Wade and James are not only incredibly gifted two-way players but they’re also efficient. The problem all season has been, what the hell happens when Miami faces a good defense that can take those 3 guys out of their element? The answer, not so much. The Heat have the worst bench in the league on a PPG basis, and thanks to salary cap constraints haven’t been able to find any impact players to pair with their stars.
  • Boys Don’t Cry: Miami’s struggles against elite teams has been well-documented. Other than sweeping the season series over the Lakers, they have not fared well against the league’s top teams. Even worse is that they seem to choke in every big game, and that the rest of the sports world seems to revel in their missteps. With two of the best closers in the game it was assumed Miami would handle crunch-time with ease, but it hasn’t been the case. Will the Heat actually run plays that work well (like say, a James/Wade pick and roll) or will they just keep forcing each guy to isolate every time?

 

I got nothing.

The Boston Celtics:  2008-2011 record before the All-Star game: 116-43. After the All-Star Game: 50-33. Injuries, age, trades and inconsistent play have put the Celtics on a roller-coaster ride for the past three seasons. They have ranged from the clear-cut best team in the league to a team that no one fears. A shocking deadline deal that sent starting center Kendrick Perkins to Oklahoma City has seemingly sent the team, famously close-knit, into a tailspin. But this is a veteran group that encountered similar struggles last year and almost won the title.
TV Analyst Ramblings

  • Rajon Rondo, defunct Alien Cyborg: While the media fixates on the Boston Three Party of Pierce, Garnett and Allen, the dirty little secret about Boston is that they live and die based on the play of Rajon Rondo. A late 1st round pick who wasn’t supposed to amount to much has turned into one of the game’s best passers and a strong defender. He also has a worse jumpshot than my dad is a gaping piece of shit, but that’s another story. His play since the All-Star break has noticeably dipped and without a rejuvenated Rondo don’t expect Boston to get very far.
  • Will Shaq See the Court?: 74 year old Shaquille O’Neal made another pit-stop on the “Fuck I gotta get more rings than Kobe before I retire” tour when he signed with Boston. It was actually a match made in heaven as he accepted a reserve role and gave the Celtics one of the deepest benches in the league. However, Shaq has only played 37 games this year and last week injured himself by walking down the court (no joke).

The New York Knicks: I’m going to just come out and say it, I hate the Knicks. They are annoying, their fans are annoying, the Garden is annoying, Spike Lee is annoying, the admiration people have for this franchise is annoying. They don’t play any defense, Carmelo Anthony is one of the more overrated stars in recent memory and Amar’e Stoudemire gets less rebounds on a per minute basis than a barstool.

That said, they’re incredibly fun to watch and there are few arenas in the NBA that can get as rowdy as MSG. Mike D’Antoni is a gifted offensive coach who apparently lost the part of the brain that tells you basketball is also about preventing the opponent from scoring. Knicks fans have been suffering for quite some time and I think I can live in an age where Isiah Thomas isn’t running the most valuable NBA franchise into the ground. Also, Walt Frazier is a gift from heaven, everyone should cherish him.

Predictions: Bulls, Heat, Celtics, Magic all make it to the 2nd round. Bulls and Heat square off in the Conference Finals, Miami wins in 7 games.

 

Happy Hump Day

Well hello you dirty little birds! I am not even going to pretend there is any other reason that we are all here except for our barely controllable lust. How do any of us even make it though the day? Anyway, here is some sporty sexiness I have found this week.

I don't know what his name is, and I don't care.
She is holding a pole.

If you all will excuse me, I think I need to head to the showers. Enjoy.

A $50,000 Steering Wheel Is Just the Beginning

Look at your steering wheel.  Now look down.  Look back up.  Your steering wheel is now this thing.

I’m using an old-ass clichéd joke.

This is an Formula 1 steering wheel.  It’s used to speak to the pits, adjust break bias, activate turbo boost (I am not kidding), move parts of the car around, even get you a drink.  Like almost everything else on an F1 car, it is made of carbon fiber, and is ridiculously expensive.  Why carbon fiber?  Because it’s light, and absorbs impacts extremely well.  The steering wheel has to be able to be removed in five seconds in case of a crash, since the seating area on this thing is so tight, you can’t get in and out with the steering wheel in place.

Here’s an Italian guy explaining how the steering wheel for last year’s Ferrari worked.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6HFvF-QfTo

Now: all that stuff he said about how KERS (Kinetic Energy Recovery System) isn’t in place anymore, and that makes the wheel easier to deal with?  That’s no longer true.  KERS is back in this year, in an effort to have more overtaking on the track.  Just like in your wimpy Prius, it takes energy released under breaking, and charges a battery with it.  That battery can then be accessed to provide 80 more horsepower.  You can use it all at once, or gradually over a lap, but once the battery is drained,  you have to wait until the next lap to use it again.  It was tried in 2009 to extremely mixed results.  Ferrari won the Belgian Grand Prix with it, but it also caused a fire in Red Bull’s factory, and shocked a mechanic for BMW Sauber.  Bernie Ecclestone, the commercial rights holder for F1 believes that F1 isn’t more massively popular worldwide because there’s not enough passing.  That’s a little like saying that soccer (or football, for those of you who actually watch it) isn’t more popular because the total score isn’t higher.  As a result, KERS is back in, as is the button that enables it, and the display that shows how much charge you have left.

Also added this year is a moveable rear wing.  The button for this opens a flap on the rear wing that stalls it out, reducing downforce, and increasing your straight line speed.  This can only be used if you are within one second of the car in front of you, and if you deploy it, the car in front of you cannot.  In the first race of the season, no one successfully employed this option to pass anyone, but a few people used it to spin out on turns.  So, mission accomplished!

Last year, McLaren employed a genius system to gain more speed on straights.  They installed an air intake port in the cockpit that the driver could block with their knee.  When blocked, air traveled over the car normally.  When opened, air bypassed the rear wing, reducing downforce.  Like every genius interpretation of the rules of car construction, this was kept secret until the first race, and then every other manufacturer simultaneously complained it was a breach of the rules, and came up with their own.  Ferrari’s required the driver to activate it with his hand, which became a safety issue.  While barreling down the track at almost 200 miles per hour, the driver had to take one hand off the steering wheel.  This year, drivers are making the same complaint about the steering wheel itself.

There’s so much going on with this year’s wheel, drivers feel they are close to becoming too difficult to operate.  Nick Heidfeld feels that the wheels have reached a saturation point, and the fuck up levels are extremely high, while Fernando Alonso thinks that he needs to stop being a pussy.

The argument could be made that if everyone has the same access to KERS, then the average speed of all cars would increase, leveling the field and defeating the purpose.  Also, the argument could be made that Sebastian Vettel smoked everyone in Australia without even having KERS installed on his car (this is actually true).

Here’s a link to a detailed explanation on what each button did on BMW’s 2009 wheel.  There was no KERS button, because after they shocked a guy, BMW decided not to run it.

Also, here’s another video, this one in English and from Lotus, explaining how their wheel works.

Start Me Up: Formula 1 Roundup

By badhatharry and Daisy Walker

Another F1 season is upon us. If you are one of like three people here who watch it, then you already know this stuff.  If you want to learn a bit about the pinnacle in racing, then come on in. I was hoping to get this up before this weekend, but I’m a lazy bastard, so suck it.

The Formula 1 track contains 24 driver, the most of which you don’t really need to know about.  The ones who you do, are listed below.

Lewis Hamilton (McLaren)

The first multiracial F1 driver, Hamilton was signed to the McLaren youth development program at the age of 13. He made his debut in 2007, finishing second in the World Championship by one point. The following year, he won the title by the same margin in what many claim as the most exciting season finish ever. Has a major rivalry with Alonso, who accused McLaren of favoritism towards then-teammate Hamilton during the 2007 season.

 

 

Jenson Button (McLaren)

The 2009 World Champion, Button has been a bit of a F1 journeyman until partnering with Ross Brawn at the old Honda team and caught lightning in a bottle. An expert at conserving his tires, Button’s smooth style is a sharp contrast to Hamilton’s aggressive approach, but new teammates’ appear to have a good relationship. Button was the victim of an attempted carjacking/kidnapping/robbery at last season’s Brazilian GP weekend.

 

 

Fernando Alonso (Ferrari)

Two-time World Champion, Alonso’s aggressive driving style has won him plenty of fans and also many detractors. Controversy has followed him throughout his F1 career, including conflicts with Hamilton, Schumacher and his current teammate Massa. He is often referred to as “the most complete driver on the grid,” but also a driver who will win by any means necessary.

 

Felipe Massa (Ferrari)

Rebounding strongly from a life-threatening injury at the 2009 Hungarian GP, Massa has finished as high as second in the World Championship (2008). At the 2010 German GP, Massa was involved in the “team orders” controversy at Ferrari when he received instructions from a team engineer that implied he should allow Alonso (ranked higher in points) to pass him. Ferrari were subsequently fined for not following sporting regulations.

 

Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull)

Defending World Champion, and at 23, the youngest ever to win the title. Hailed as the “Next Schumacher,” Vettel is now firmly established as the lead driver for his team after some mid-season tension with Webber in 2010.

 

 

 

Mark Webber (Red Bull)

After 6 years with uncompetitive teams, Webber won his first F1 race in 2009 after joining Red Bull Racing. After leading the Championship for a long period in 2010, he eventually finished the season in third place. Webber crashed spectacularly at the 2010 European GP, flipping his car end over end. He also revealed after the season that he had competed in the final four races with a small fracture in his right shoulder.

 

 


Michael Schumacher (Mercedes)

Seven time world champion (five of those with Ferrari), the German returned to F1 last year after a three year retirement to join former Ferrari team manager Ross Brawn at the new Mercedes team. Results have been less than stellar, and he’s frequently been outclassed by his younger and less experienced teammate, Nico Rosberg.

 

Robert Kubica (Renault)

In February 2011, Kubica was severely injured in a rally race event, almost losing part of his right arm and hand and requiring four surgeries. His F1 future is uncertain, and Nick Heidfeld will replace him  at Renault during Kubica’s recovery.

 

 

(everyone give a shout-out to Daisy Walker for writing those driver bios)

The season opener this year is in Australia.  It was going to be held in Bahrain, but pick up a paper, and you’ll find out why that didn’t happen.  Bernie Ecclestone, the rich Englishman with the mop haircut who owns the commercial rights to the sport, is trying to figure out a way to shove that race in later in the schedule.  Bernie is also toying with the ridiculous idea of installing sprinklers on the tracks so if the race is boring, they can turn it into a wet one.  The drivers, and everyone else with an IQ above 80, are against this.  The tire supplier for this year, Pirelli, supports this idea, because I think they feel it will take focus away from the fact that their tires don’t last very long.

There are two drivers to a team.  The drivers race and accumulate points based on what place they take.  The points are tallied at the end of the season, and the driver with the most wins the driver’s championship.  The points of each driver on a team are tallied, and whichever team has the most between their two drivers wins the constructor’s championship.  Last season was Sebastian Vettel and Red Bull, respectively.

That’s it for the overview.  We don’t want to hit you with too many facts all at once.  This column will either continue throughout the season, or until they stop posting it due to lack of interest.  In the next installment, we will discuss the outcome of the Australian GP, and what KERS is and what moveable wings are.