Surprise, surprise, the Oklahoma City Thunder are off to play the Warriors in the NBA’s Western Conference Finals, spurring the Spurs last night in Game Six of their semifinal matchup. I’m a bit disappointed not to see a Game Seven there, but given the last couple game sevens I’ve seen (cough—hockey) I’m not sure I’m missing too much.
This is what passes for a sob story where I live.
Front-page article in my local rag—that’s The Washington Post—Sunday about poor old Loudoun County, where million-dollar homes now sell for only $900,000. Or some such thing.
Kind of makes hockey losses seem pretty insignificant.
I’ve been waiting for two NBA matchups all season (haven’t we all?): San Antonio/Golden State in the Western Conference Finals and Golden State/Cleveland in the Finals (with about a 99% chance Golden State will win). Could have locked those up in October.
How quickly we dismiss the Eastern Conference, even with its venerable soon-to-be champion. Has not Cleveland more than any Western team seemed most dominant in its games thus far? Will this be the year?
The Cavs.
The Cubs.
Donald Trump.
This is the year of the unthinkable.
Start believing.
The Capitals may be down three games to one, the Wizards and Nationals may have missed good chances to make the playoffs last year, and the Redskins’ 2015 run may have been a fluke, but all is right in the D.C. sports world because of one thing.
The return of The Sports Reporters on ESPN 980.
Taken off the air three years ago, TSR has returned among a myraid of changes at WTEM, around here proudly called “Redskins Radio.” What was behind shuffling around pretty much every show the station offers was never really explained, but I’m in favor of whatever brings Andy Pollin back to a regular slot, teamed now again with perhaps my favorite sports radio personality (and neighbor) Steve Czaban.
If you’re in the DMV, check out The Sports Reporters weekdays from 4-7 p.m., or catch any 980 programming anywhere from its “audio vaults” at www.espn980.com.
I’m Michael O’Connell and approve this message.
Former New York State Senator Tom Libous (“R”-Binghamton) died yesterday in the community he professed to care so much about. Over the past 24 hours there have been many glowing tributes among the political class, “business” leaders, and boot-licking local media outlets.
This will not be one of them.
In “The Barry Bonds of Binghamton” (Nov. 30, 2015) I told you I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again in his obituary: Tom Libous was a blight on the Southern Tier for 30 years and did irreparable harm to the community he professed to care so much about.
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Libous’s legal troubles the past few years? Those which made him lose his senate seat and would have landed him in jail had not the man been dying anyway?
His fall from grace is no stain on his legacy: it is a perfect illustration of a career of malfeasance.
Agreed. And as decorum prevents gloating in an obituary, I will stop there.
Simply put, Tom Libous is gone. And I am glad. As one who has made a career of saying the emperor has no clothes, I will say it one final time when no one else seems willing to do so.
In addition to ruining the community in which I grew up, Tom Libous used his influence time and again to harass and intimidate me personally and professionally for a decade. It stopped when I left.
Well, now both of us have left.
Goodbye, Tom Libous.
Goodbye.
Watching the Golden State Warriors yesterday do their thing even without their brightest star made me realize I should triple-double down on whatever bets I can take for them to win the NBA championship. Lock it up.
I wish I could say the same for the Caps, Caps, Caps, though I proceed with the cautious optimism growing among the vast wilds of suburban D.C. Look for tonight’s matchup to be a tone setter.
And in the game of base… how about the delightful assortment of aces on parade yesterday throughout MLB? They say baseball doesn’t market its stars; by divine or planned intervention yesterday’s pitching performances were a treat for the most casual or diehard fan. Leading the charge, of course, was a certain Mr. Kershaw of Los Angeles, who not only pitched a shutout while fanning 14 and surrendering zero walks—compiling a game score of 95 for those of you interested in such things—but knocked in the game’s only run!
Then there were my friends visiting Fenway Park. For once I was not envious of those sitting in the rain and cold of Boston in May. A classic Yankees-Red Sox affair, no doubt, won unfortunately by the home team to complete their sweep of my beloved and recently hapless Bronx Bombers. Proof again, though, why these teams deserve to play on the national stage every night of the week.
And now we commence the silly part of the day known to some as “work,” and to others, “no sports happening yet.”
It would be hard to top last night’s lineup on TV, especially if you care about things that are awesome. NFL Draft, Capitals hockey (woot woot!), The Eighties, Archer, and… bonus after midnight… It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown (that one I had on DVD).
Happy Arbor Day, everyone!
I love thinking about the environment…
On TV!
You’ve got to hand it to truTV. You know truTV—that other station that shows NCAA Tournament games? All through March I intended to watch some of their other programming but never got around to it. Well, better late than never.
If you want to watch something good before more episodes of Better Call Saul roll around, check out Adam Conover’s Adam Ruins Everything. A few episodes in I’m already hooked. (You should be able to see a bunch on demand.) Without giving too much away, Adam’s got the exact show I’d put together were I doing a TV show again, so yeah, thanks, Adam. Now I don’t have to. Ruined that too
Sort of a Freakonomics brought to the screen, few have presented the “dismal science” so cleverly. Adam’s energy and enthusiasm for his topics is contagious, and he ruins otherwise happy thoughts like charity and democracy with great flair. I don’t think he’d ever admit to being a Republican, but it’s hard to watch without feeling at least pro-free market.
Nice work, truTV. See you again in March.
Yesterday I celebrated the tenth anniversary of one of the greatest moments of my life. It was April 24, 2006, that I for the first and only time in said life actually caught a foul ball at a professional baseball game. “Caught” is a bit misleading, but let me explain.
It was a Monday, and like most Mondays one doesn’t expect many memorable things to occur. I was working at the time at a place called Wing Zone, also known as “The Wing Zone,” also known as that place in North Carolina where Mike worked. This was the brief period in my life during which I lived and worked in Raleigh, North Carolina, and in fact had only about 10 days left on my stint. I wanted to see all I could in Dixie before I left, and one of the ways I’d planned to do that was to undertake what I called the “North Carolina Minor League Baseball Fantasy Tour.” There are probably a hundred minor league stadiums in that part of the world and my goal was to see them all.
That Monday morning (yes, morning), the Greensboro Grasshoppers were hosting the Hickory Crawdads at 11 a.m. The Grasshoppers are the single-A farm team of the Miami (then Florida) Marlins, and the stadium, First Horizon Park (now called Yadkin Bank Park) was in only its second year of existence. The Grasshoppers had been part of the Marlins franchise since 2003, having previously been affiliated with the New York Yankees (and others). Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, even Don Mattingly going back a bit…they all played in Greensboro. I was in good company.
Speaking of company, I spent the morning with several thousand school children, as morning start times tend to draw. Who doesn’t love a field trip to the ballpark? I’m sure I was mistaken for either a chaperone or a student several times. No, just some guy at the park.
I had an aisle seat along the third base side, and I couldn’t say a thing about the game except that the weather was pleasant and my experience was as well. I would guess maybe the second or third inning provided me with my memorable moment.
A foul pop to left came like the proverbial dying quail towards my section, bouncing weakly before literally rolling my way. Barely moving an inch I picked up the ball at my feet, the ball having passed through several sets of grimy little kid fingers along its way. I put the ball in my pocket and said not a word, made not a commotion.
An unwritten rule of ballparks is that if one is an adult, he must give foul balls to the nearest child, regardless of familiarity or kinship. I would have gladly abided by this code but for one thing.
I was surrounded.
There was no child around me… there were hundreds. Nay, thousands.
What would be a good way for me to make all but one of them hate me? And no doubt any one of them would lose the ball before he or she reached his bus back to school.
So I sat on the ball, saying nothing. Who picked up the ball? I gestured. Where did it go? I implied.
Ha. I sat on the thing for two hours before… while walking to my car after the game I took out my prize. I examined it. Beautiful.
OFFICIAL BALL
SOUTH ATLANTIC LEAGUE
Classic.
I wrote on it “Greensboro, N.C., 4/24/06” and it has sat on one shelf or another at several different places I’ve lived over the past decade. It’s one of those worthless possessions one treasures nonetheless.
To think I was going to let some kid have it.
The true King of All Media in 2016 is conservative radio host, editor, and author Mark Levin. As of last month Levin added “TV” host to his resume, with his new offering broadcast at www.levintv.com. What does one call a video podcast at one’s own website?
“TV.”
(Aside: we are now one step closer to your TV and your computer being the same thing.)
In general I think Levin’s “TV” show is good. The only trouble is I’ve seen it before. Every Tuesday from 2004-2011. It was called Politics After Dark.
Yup, Levin’s show is a complete ripoff of the show I hosted for 318 episodes over seven years, right down to the stairs and fake fireplace.
Commercial free? Comfortable armchairs? Long-form interviews?
Check, check, and check.
Levin lives just up the road from me, and a few years ago when I lived even closer I ran into him several times at a restaurant we both frequented. (I’ll admit part of the appeal of going there was that one had about a 10% chance of running into Mark Levin.) We talked at length several times and I’m sure I would have mentioned the show.
You’re welcome, Levin. You’re welcome.