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The Greatest

I was watching PTI at the gym this afternoon and in the first four stories Wilbon and Kornheiser called something the greatest of all time. First up were the Patriots, who Tony said would go 19-0 and were the best football team of all time. Then came Devin Hester, the greatest kick returner of all time. Finally, after a brief respite during a college football discussion that flirted with calling South Florida the greatest something or other of all time, up came the Colorado Rockies who are on the greatest hot streak of all time.

Cris Collinsworth did the same thing during halftime of last night's Sunday Night football game when he referred to New England as the best team he's ever seen. There's been scuttlebutt here and there that Tom Brady is having the greatest season of any quarterback ever, during last year's NCAA Tournament we heard that Greg Oden was the best Freshman to ever play college basketball. Unless it was Kevin Durant.

Elsewhere there are articles proclaiming Brett Favre, Joe Torre, the USC football program, Roger Federer, San Diego State kicker Parker Douglass, Floyd Mayweather, motocross racer Ricky Carmichael , high school running back Jerandon Bussey and Roger Clemens the Greatest ______ of All Time. Appalachian State's win over Michigan was called the greatest upset of all time until that USC football program was defeated by a Stanford team that ASU would probably handle with ease.

What's all the fuss about the greatest of all time? I think it has more to do with us than with anything these teams or players do in their chosen fields. We're obsessed with thinking that we are witnessing the absolute height of human achievement rather than just admitting that every era has its standouts, that its impossible to truly compare sports performances from one era against another except in the mind's eye. Sure, statisticians can create formulas that put things on an equal playing field but can anyone say with any degree of real certainty what would happen if Clemens took on Babe Ruth or if Tim Duncan's Spurs played the Knicks of Reed and Frazier?

I'd love to see both matchups but until someone harnesses 1.21 gigawatts it's going to remain a fantasy. These mythical titles seem to exist just to start the next debate - If the Patriots are the greatest team of all time and the Colts beat them does that make the Colts the greatest team of all time? - and in that next debate no one is going to be more inclined to temper their remarks.

I'm not saying any and all of these people are being mislabeled, except for the San Diego State kicker thing which is just hyperbole out of control. I'm just saying that our need to feel like we live in interesting and amazing times trumps any and all perspective about the length and variety of history.

They called World War I the "war to end all wars" and as you'll note by the ongoing muck of Iraq that was more than a little premature. The generation that won World War II, the "greatest generation," went on to get us into Vietnam, presided over Jim Crow and helped create divides in this country that are still being fought over. And those are things that actually matter. Wouldn't it be both easier and more accurate to say that huge things and magnificent individuals exist in every era and just celebrate them that way instead of resorting to hyperbole that only serves to make us feel better about ourselves?

If You See The Moose Coming, You Best Get Running

Not since the Zapruder film has a video done more to explain a tragic situation and make me feel like a fool at the same time. I was convinced Oswald acted alone and I was sure that the Moose was guilty. So very wrong...Let the Moose loose! (Shakedown Sports)

Finally someone in Boston pays some attention to Brian Scalabrine. (Epic Carnival)

Is someone at work calling you Herban and you don't know what it means? It's not a compliment. (Loser With Socks)

No pitcher deserves the infamy of giving up #756 more than Jose Canseco. (The Extrapolater)

I wonder what problem the venerable Southern Christian Leadership Conference could have with honoring Michael Vick? (Nation of Islam Sports Blog)

Can we make August 7th Butch Hobson Day? (One More Dying Quail)

Erik Morales was a helluva fighter. Good to see he's getting out of the game before his brain gets scrambled. (Rumors and Rants)

Only 88 days until Michigan destroys the Spartans. (The Ghosts of Wayne Fontes)

The world needs fantasy track. (Shot to Nothing)

Matt Vasgersian will be paying for drinks in St. Louis for the near future. (Awful Announcing)

Cereal, Bruce Willis and Shawn Kemp: Together Again For The First Time

A list of cereals you'd probably never eat. We're waiting for Roger's Roundies. They're really expensive, only fill half a bowl and never stop telling you how great they are. (Deuce of Davenport)

Speaking of the aging Rocket, he's one of seven 40-somethings who will start games tomorrow. All ERA's half-off until 6. (ESPN)

Live Free, Die Hard, Watch Sportscenter. (Awful Announcing)

Milton Bradley should really put out this game about Milton Bradley. (Catfish Stew, via Can't Stop The Bleeding)

A great list of the essential attributes of great closers. Like all rules, there's an exception to this one and it's Mariano Rivera. Only makes him better. (Signal to Noise)

We also owned the NBA Superstars videotape and we also remember it fondly. It's impossible to think of Larry Bird without thinking of "Small Town". (Slam)

It doesn't matter how sad a story is, when Shawn Kemp makes an appearance the only thing you can think of is bouncing babies. (Randball)

Tim Tebow draws some water in this town, you don't draw shit. (Loser With Socks)

Ricky Hatton vs. Floyd Mayweather? We're in. (Rumors and Rants)

The Brewers keep coming up with gems from their farm system. (Brew Crew Ball)

The Big Story: The Incredible Disappearing NBA Finals

A daily look at the big story of the day in sports as seen through the eyes of writers and bloggers all across the internet.

In Sunday's New York Times the columnist Harvey Araton wondered why a team as successful as the San Antonio Spurs has been largely ignored by the American masses.

How is it that this team, three victories from its fourth championship in nine years of metronomic excellence going into Game 2 of the N.B.A. finals against the Cavaliers tonight, has not, given all the aforementioned technology, generated more widespread interest and acclaim?

True, Tim Duncan, the Spurs’ best player, generally shuns publicity and is nobody’s idea of the model sneaker pitchman. Their defensive stopper, Bruce Bowen, is occasionally accused of being a dirty player. This spring, Robert Horry stepped out of character to level Phoenix’s Steve Nash, a flagrant foul for which the Spurs wound up being rewarded when key players left the Suns’ bench to respond and were suspended for the next game.

But where is the love for a franchise that thrives on visionary planning, progressive thinking, commitment and continuity? That over the past decade has become the furthest thing from a big-market bully that owes its success to a carnivorous payroll? That has seldom housed me-first braggarts, incorrigible trash talkers, gun toters or pit-bull players?

Those are some very fair questions Araton raises. People wailed and wailed about the Portland "Jail Blazers" because of the way ownership took a small-town team and filled it with undesirable characters. The antics of J.R. Rider, Darius Miles and others turned off the community and turned a point of civic pride into an eyesore that plummeted out of relevance. The New York Yankees are hated across the country because of their large payroll and arrogance, the Knicks are a laughingstock because of the way Isiah Thomas sullied a proud franchise and Peter Angelos and Daniel Snyder are personas non grata on the Beltway because of the way they've built the Orioles and Redskins. Obviously the cities they call home have something to do with why they garner so much attention but if people were really so down on the things they claim to be down on wouldn't a team like the Spurs be America's darlings? Shouldn't they at least be able to sell out their own stadium for Game One of the NBA Finals?

There are parallels to the national response to the Spurs in other places. Miguel Cotto and Zab Judah put on a hellacious boxing display at Madison Square Garden Saturday night but no one noticed. True, it's a summer weekend and there are a plethora of things to do that don't include plunking down hard-earned dough for a boxing match that could be a bust (it's a story for another time but boxing's model just doesn't work) but why then did so many people pay up to watch an over-the-hill Oscar De La Hoya fight a boring opponent in Floyd Mayweather? Many people who watched that fight were disappointed by the lack of slugging and there's been a lot of talk about the current preference for ultimate fighting and its offshoots beacause the action is nonstop. Check out Cotto-Judah and tell me that's not as, if not more, compelling than something involving Chuck Liddell. Similarly, people lauded The Sopranos for years because it changed the playing field for television. It told stories in a different way than the shows that had come before yet when it ended without the pat conclusions those other shows featured people pilloried it. Isn't that what you said you wanted, America?

It's a big country and obviously you are never going to get everyone to agree on anything but aren't we selling ourselves short. People like to bitch and moan about Kobe Bryant but they actually watch him. People like to scream about Barry Bonds but they actually pay their money to go to the stadium to watch him play. People claim to want honesty and transparency in their government and then reelect George Bush. Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan and Britney Spears are called everything short of the antichrist yet US magazine flies off the racks. And the Spurs, even though we say we want to have a team worthy of our rooting interest and players our children can look up to, trudge toward their fourth championship in near anonymity. Is it that we don't tell the truth or can't recognize it when we get it?

Manny Ramirez, You Cut To The Core Of Me

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Manny Ramirez is a great hitter, a legendary flake and an advocate for increased testing for head lice. (The Fanhouse)

Diego Corrales always made a fight more interesting to watch and boxing is poorer for his death at just 29 years old. Chico's fight with Jose Luis Castillo is one of the best we've ever seen and we send all condolences to his family. (Rumors and Rants)

It's obviously been a long time since Suzyn Waldman has felt the touch of a good man, woman, billy goat, Hitachi Magic Wand or a stiff breeze even. (Awful Announcing)

More Ryans than a night on Temple Bar. (Washington Times)

Here's a hot stock tip: Buy as many shares of the Phoenix Bandage Concern as possible. (The Basketball Jones)

Televising the Major League Baseball draft is a bad idea. Not as bad as going into a Haitian hooker bareback but a bad idea nonetheless. (Signal To Noise)

The Mets are 46 today. (Faith And Fear In Flushing)

The 2008 NFL Draft list. Will Chad Henne be a less attractive Brady Quinn? (ESPN)

It's probably time for Jorge Reyes to go back to secretarial school. (Washington Post)

An early look at next year's Jet roster. (The Jets Blog)

Tyrus Thomas needs a nickname. I've always been partial to Coco. (True Hoop)

Did A.C. Slater Cost De La Hoya?

During the run-up to Saturday's fight Floyd Mayweather gave Oscar De La Hoya a lot of shit for sparring with Shane Mosley. He said that the Golden Boy had only beaten sparring partners in his career and even lost to a few, Mosley beat him twice, and after losing by a split decision it's likely that De La Hoya has spent some time looking for reasons why. Interestingly, it may be his choice of sparring partners that did him in. But not Mosley.

Mario Lopez, an Oscar De La Hoya fan since the latter won a gold medal in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, told me he sparred with De La Hoya on Monday.

Everyone who's anyone knows that A.C. Slater was an ace high school wrestler and after watching this video it becomes clear that De La Hoya may have bitten off more than he could chew. I think Oscar was still trying to recover from running into that buzzsaw earlier in the week and that's why he stopped agressively attacking Mayweather as Saturday's fight went into the late rounds. I understand why De La Hoya would have thought Lopez was a good sparring partner, his appearance on Dancing With The Stars, proves that he has twinkletoes to rival those of Pretty Boy Floyd, but I think he underrated the violent streak that runs through Bayside's most decorated grappler.

The Running Man

There was an article on Friday in the Los Angeles Times which quoted Jim Lampley as saying that he thought fans might be disappointed in the Oscar De La Hoya - Floyd Mayweather match. At first I thought Lampley was just doing a poor job of salesmanship on behalf of his corporate bosses but really what he was doing was sounding a point of reason among the full-court press of hype. The tactics that had brought each man to the top of the game could counterbalance each other, Lampley warned, and make for a fight lacking in the explosiveness that many viewers were expecting.

It turns out he was dead on in his analysis. Saturday's bout was a showcase for Mayweather's elusiveness and defensive prowess and those things got him the split-decision victory. Throwing punches only when he absolutely needed to helped Floyd accrue a more accurate percentage and since De La Hoya was carrying the fight to him, he also landed more punches overall. All that really shows, however, is that punching stats aren't very significant. Oscar didn't get hurt once, the only time the punches seemed to do much damage is when they would show them in slow-motion in-between rounds. In real time Mayweather was just pawing out at De La Hoya the way a scared man would push back at a charging bull.

Things really slowed down in the later rounds. De La Hoya stopped throwing jabs, a mistake he made in his loss to Felix Trinidad, and that stopped him from landing the successive blows to the body that scored points for him in the middle rounds. Up to that point it was hard to ignore the fact that Oscar was doing more to try and win the fight but once he stopped forcing the issue it was okay for Mayweather to simply do all he could to not lose it.

After the fight Max Kellerman said that the one judge, Tom Kaczmarek, who scored the fight for De La Hoya was out of his mind. Calling it a "virtuoso" performance by Mayweather, Kellerman said that giving De La Hoya even four rounds was beyond his comprehension. He said that De La Hoya hardly hit any punches other than body shots and jabs which when you think about it is kinda like saying that other than the gunshots Mrs. Lincoln really enjoyed the play.

Neither man dominated the other, and I can't argue the outcome all that strenously because of the way De La Hoya stopped coming forward, but for Kellerman to say that Mayweather was as good as he did is basically to put the final nail in boxing's coffin. Watching a man run away from another man isn't good drama nor is it athletically pleasing. I think that once De La Hoya sees the tape of this fight he will begin agitating for a rematch ASAP. Mayweather said he's retiring but if there's anything the 24/7 show taught me it's that Floyd enjoys money and he won't find so much anywhere else he looks. Hopefully when the rematch does come off there will be more actual fighting and a more definitive winner.

The Best Show On TV

There's been a lot of hoopla about the impending end of The Sopranos. HBO's signature show has just five hours left before Tony, Paulie, A.J. and Vito Spadafore Jr. shuffle off to typecasting, reality shows, the Puerto Rican Day Parade and a nasty infection of the foot, respectively. Executives at the network are probably wondering how they will fill their schedule in the future but anyone who has kept watching the channel on Sundays after the mob drama ends knows they have the answer already in hand.

I'm not talking about Entourage. If it wasn't for people's unwillingness to change the channel immediately after The Sopranos ends no one would watch that horrendous show in the first place. But if you can make it past the homoeroticism and midgets to 10:30 you'll find the family that should replace Tony and Carmela's as the people you have Sunday dinner with. The Mayweathers are ready for prime time and after the show covering the run-up to Saturday's fight comes to a close, tonight at 9:30, the suits should figure out a way to keep the family on the air for as long as possible.

The show has already had more twists and turns, profanity and intrigue than The Sopranos and that's with one less episode in the bank. You've got Floyd Mayweather Jr., the greatest boxer in the world, who trains and lives in Las Vegas where he can pursue his three true loves in life - boxing, counting the money he makes from boxing and betting the money he makes from boxing. There hasn't been a more mezmirizing moment on all of television this year than the one where Floyd dances in a ring, throwing money at a camera while chanting "My name is Floyd, My name is Floyd, My name is Money, Mayweather."

If there has been a more enjoyable moment it's anytime Floyd Mayweather Sr. opens his mouth. The dreadlocked father of Floyd and former trainer of his opponent Oscar De La Hoya isn't afraid to let you know what he thinks about his son or his brother, Roger, who trains Floyd Jr. Actually, come to think of it, the most enjoyable moment may have been when Roger called into a press call with De La Hoya's trainer Freddie Roach. Slurring his words, as always, Roger asked for some inside tips about how De La Hoya would approach the fight and Roach told him to call back and speak English.

Both of the brothers have done time in jail and each one was a boxer in days past and there's some real animosity in Mayweather camp while Roger works with the son and pops stands in the shadows. Floyd Sr. is only going to the fight because he got a ticket from Oscar's camp. "He can go home in a rocking chair, I don't give a fuck," is the son's opinion on his father when dad expressed displeasure with what Uncle Rog said about him on the HBO show.

Floyd Jr. has never been shot by his father or his uncle, unlike Tony who caught a slug from Junior, but he has watched his father get shot in front of him. Like Tony, though, he's a villainous character that you can't help but love. De La Hoya is the real villain. He's a civilized, white collar fighter training in a tropical mansion and playing the trash talk with little of his heart in it. All of his head's in it though. Oscar knows that the animosity, even if he could care less, sells tickets but Mayweather is all raw emotion. He hates Oscar for the same reason everyone hates the guy who made it big on the back of things other than talent and that, plus the insane asylum atmosphere he obviously grew up in, makes him a somewhat sympathetic character.

Throw in Floyd Jr.'s own kids and their eventual, unavoidable trip toward their family profession and you have a show that's a mash-up of The Sopranos and Six Feet Under with it's criminal element, violence and focus on a family business you'd rather not get into but find yourself drawn to all the same. If you haven't seen it yet check out tonight's final episode and realize that as viewers we need a show like this to be on for reasons that have nothing to do with hyping the big fight. Based on the reports from yesterday's press conference, it's not going to be a disappointing episode in the least. How many times have you said that about the Sopranos this season?

Wish You Were Here

A great question's been posed by The Big Picture this morning: If you could attend any fictional sporting event, what would it be? There are so many worthy contenders. The All-Valley 18-and-Under karate tournament, Kevin Costner's perfecto in For Love of the Game, Kumite, Thornton Mellon's successful Triple Lindy, The Natural...there are many, many worthy choices.

In these parts, though, the choice came down to two movies which didn't take place in the United States. In one corner we have the prisoner vs. Nazi soccer game in Victory and in the other corner is the Rocky Balboa-Ivan Drago Christmas Day fight in Moscow. Both events have some of the same draws. Rooting for the underdog in hostile surroundings, crowds that turn against evil lackeys into supporters of the little guy and stunning endings that would burn into your memory for the rest of your life. And, obviously, both events feature Sylvester Stallone in major roles, as does another member of my near-miss list Over the Top.

The drawback of Victory is that you'd probably have to be either a Nazi or a Frenchman to be at the game. It's a pretty hefty drawback although it's mitigated by getting to play a role in helping the prisoners escape at the end of the game. Sitting in that Paris stadium and cheering for the Allies in open defiance of their Teutonic overlords would be pretty great as well.  "Victoire, victoire, victoire," indeed. Suspending disbelief long enough to believe that Michael Caine is one of Europe's finest footballers would be like a non-narcotic acid trip for the ages. Finally, Pele shrugging off injury to nail that bicycle kick would have to rank against The Dunk among singular moments of athletic brillance witnessed with these two eyes. It would probably even rank a bit higher as Starks wasn't in a POW camp 24 hours before the matchup with the Bulls.

But in the end the vote goes to Rocky's unexpected triumph over Drago. The announcers are American so you have to imagine that being a party apparatchnick isn't a must for attendance at the bout. It would be pretty incredible to sit down close during those first few rounds when Drago is just unloading on Rocky. The blood and sweat spraying from Rocky's body, the sound of each punch connecting with bone and the sheer thrill of a championship fight would outweigh, for a while anyway, the fact that the guy you want to win is getting his ass kicked. And then when Rocky comes back,  it must have been that way in 1985 when Villanova chopped down Georgetown or when Buster Douglas knocked out Tyson, you can smell the upset in the air. Once the fans start cheering for him, I don't know how you'd keep your eyes dry in such a situation. And the waterworks would certainly open up when Balboa takes the mike after the match and addresses the once-hostile crowd with his message of love.

Not a dry eye in the house. Even without being able to see the training sequence, Rocky IV is the king of the fictional sporting events.

Only In Vatican City

I'm not a Catholic although I'm familiar with their concepts of confession and absolution. I'm guessing that Don King is a fan of those out clauses for shady dealings, what with his murder convictions and the dipping into the till of men who beat themselves silly for a few dollars. But when you've got as much blood on your hands as King does, a little extra effort at currying favor with the big fella (and I'm not talking about Ewing) can't hurt. It's even enough to make you change your hairstyle, reports the Washington Post.

Don King got a front row seat at Pope Benedict XVI's general audience Wednesday. The usually flamboyant boxing promoter, wearing a blue suit with his preferred high hair style primly flattened for the papal event, gave the pope a green-and-gold boxing belt and a handwritten letter asking for prayers for people ranging from President Bush to the world's sick and aged.

Pope Benedict XVI, a.k.a. the Pugnacious Pontiff, is now the WBA Junior Middleweight Champion and will defend the belt against Travis Simms who has promised to play lion to his Christian. You can see all that and more at the big card King's promoting in Rome called Mausoleum at the Colosseum.