Allonzo Trier is in 6th grade, and he already has his own shoe.
His mother is already being called by agents and scouts. This is the world that young basketball prodigies inhabit, and it blows my mind. The commercialization of the game at this level seems unreal and reeks of exploitation. Signs of this trend exist elsewhere. Last year, Brandon Jennings, because the NBA now requires players to be at least one year out of college before being draft-eligible, decided to go play basketball professionally in Europe rather than go to college. He is now predicted to be a high pick in this year's draft.
As a parallel though, (and it is undoubtedly a system), consider how things operate in Europe with soccer. David Beckham was 14 when he was signed into the Manchester United youth academy. Most European clubs have these youth academies, and I believe (though couldn't guarantee) that they sign players before they would attend what would be high school. I'm not sure how schooling goes post-signing (whether they keep going but also play for the youth squads), but I could almost guarantee that whatever schooling they got in those years isn't nearly what they would get if they were not in this system. Players can play for the actual club at any age after they have signed. I think Messi was playing for Barca at 16, and Federico Macheda, who is from Italy, now lives in Manchester and has played a few games (and scored this disquentos game-winner) for the first-team.
So now, the question arises, are these systems equally exploitative and (potentially) harmful? Obviously, those who go through the system and succeed in the professional game are not really the concern here. Of concern are the Arthur Agees of the game, players with potential who are encouraged and wooed by promises of wealth only to be discarded with no preparation for the future when players fail to reach the level that is expected of them. My natural inclination is that the basketball system is, but I can't decide if that is simply because it gets more negative press (or, rather, I am exposed to more of the negative press). Is the fact that, in the European system, there is no false pretense of amateurism important? Perhaps. There also may be more troublesome issues of race as well as class in the American system, where it is very often poor blacks that are. However, I couldn't guarantee that class doesn't play a factor in Europe. I think what troubles me most about the US system is that there is very little effort anywhere to really develop talent. The article from the beginning talked about how those Adidas camps and the like basically consist of players hogging the ball to show off their skills for scouts. The youth academies, while more obviously commercial (as they pay the players in the hope that they will develop to play for their first team), actually care about the success of the players. The purpose of these academies is teaching the players how to play the game at the highest level, and while this may be an artificial difference that I'm noting, it seems at least worth thinking about.
Help me out while having fun at the same time. I've been interning at Sony Pictures Television this semester and we're launching a web-based trivia site in the vein of "Scene It" and I need to get people to start playing it.
Do you guys mind making Usernames and playing some of the pods? It's free and you won't receive any emails because of it.
You get to watch some pretty awesome video clips from movies in the Sony Catalogue and check out what me and 5 other interns have been working on the past few months!
Look, you can question Whiskers lack of experience, he's only taken 385 naps in his young career, but you cannot question his skill set. He's got vision, decision making, the guts to make a throw with dogs in his face, everything you'd want. Detroit needs to build around a cat like this and it's the right pick.
Queen Princess -- OT, St. Louis Rams
Strength is what you look for a the O-line, at Princess has it in spades. Recording over 120 pounces as a kitten, Princess shows aggressiveness and tenacity you need at the next level. A low-risk, high reward pick. Heathcliffe Garfield -- OLB, Kanas City Chiefs
K.C. is not far away from contending, and Garfield will give them the total package at linebacker with his quick reflexes, speed, intelligence and experience. Not afraid to bust out the claws when needed, Garfield notched 201 scratches last season, with 4 forced yarn ball fumbles.
Archie Tippytoes -- WR, Seattle Seahawks
In a bit of shock, the Hawks go wideout with the ultra-talented Tippytoes. With huge paws, unmatched quickness and a diva attitude, Tippytoes is already prototypical NFL receiver. Although mercurial at times -- he was accused of going "missing" for a day, only to return when hungry -- Tippytoes should bring good value at this spot.
Pausey Boddington the Third -- OT, Cleveland Browns
I hate this pick for Cleveland. Boddington showed up late for workouts, came to the combine overweight (he had trouble with table scraps as a kitten), has a noted problem with catnip and they already have a solid O-line! Boddington -- or PBIII, as he likes to be called -- is talented, no doubt, but you have to question his commitment and attitude.
Katian Sonayera Big -- DE, Cincinnati Bengals
The Bengals were probably going to roll the dice with Boddington, but they grab the much safer Big with pick number six. Big is prickly, but that is good with D-lineman. He led the SEC with 14 hisses and 85 shrill meows (an SEC record) as a kitten. Great pick here for the tough-luck Bengals.
Yvette Meow Mew -- TE, Oakland Raiders
Meow Mew has some of the softest paws in the draft and has shown he's a great teammate, well-known for rubbing up against owners' legs and purring. Nice to see Oakland go for someone a little more friendly than in years past.
Captain Stinkbutt -- RB, Jacksonville Jaguars
With RB being deep this season, Stinkbutt falls to number eight to Jacksonville. The Jags get a speed runner with great vision. Coaches insists Stinkbutt can see in the dark, and true or not, seeing the field is a neccesity for an NFL runningback.
Hewbert Sebastian -- QB, Green Bay Packers
Showing yet again, the draft is unpredictable, the Pack select Sebastian, despite having a starter in Aaron Rodgers. Sebastian brings an electrifying, scrambling style to the position, but is a bit of a loose cannon. It is well-documented that he routinely brought dead birds, squirrels and other small animals, and left them on owners' doorsteps. Although this story got a lot of press, he was just being territorial.
Scarlett O'Hairy -- LB, San Francisco 49ers
O'Hairy brings leadership and a veteran quality from the linebacker position. While older than a number of the cats in the draft, O'Hairy has shown consistency (eating at the same time everday, letting the kids play with him) teams look for.
Names courtesy of greatcatnames.com. Yes, such a site exists.
If anybody missed this, it is a pretty great read, and dovetails nicely with Grish's piece about athletes totally losing touch with reality. For an alternative perspective, dig this bad larsen:
How a spot on MTV Cribs may hide the truth behind the demise of Carmelo Anthony.
The 2003 NBA draft will go down as the defining draft of the next decade of pro hoops. Six years later, that sentiment rings even louder.
LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh, Carmelo Anthony, Josh Howard, Mo Williams, David West, Chris Kaman, Kirk Hinrich and T.J. Ford have all played major to semi-important roles on a number of NBA teams. And while the '03 draft may lack legendary depth, it's undeniably top-heavy, with LeBron and Wade as the two biggest, and best, stars in the league right now – and for the foreseeable future.
But it wasn't always that way.
The order of the actual draft has been muddled by history, and people forget Wade went fifth, a sure number two if we were to re-draft today. Bust Darko Milicic went two, with Melo and Bosh preceding Wade.
It was Anthony, not Wade, who was poised to battle LeBron for NBA supremacy the duration of their long and illustrious careers. They were pegged as rivals before they shared the same court – one a high school phenom, the other a polished NCAA national champ. Although they were a conference apart, they were expected to be the new Magic/Bird, meeting in multiple finals to decide who was king of the NBA.
Six years later, things haven't gone according to script.
I don't know Anthony beyond what I have seen on the court and I never will. What I do know about Melo is one surreal television moment – MTV's Cribs. On the surface it just seems like another successful and wealthy athlete showing off his whips and sneakers, and maybe it is. But there are moments in that five-minute TV spot that, looking back, are unbelievable. Could part of the answer as to why Melo went from the NBA's prodigal son to relative obscurity in such a short amount of time be in this tour of Anthony's pad?
One character trait Anthony shows immediately is an enormous ego. We get a look at his trophy case, which contains, of all things, an ESPY award for best male college athlete. Far be it for me to denigrate such a prestigious award, but it's a freakin' ESPY. Didn't you win an NCAA championship, nearly single-handedly? Shouldn't you be showing that off instead?
But then it dawned on me. The ESPY was for him. The NCAA title was for Syracuse. He tells the camera that he thanked himself, which, apparently, not a lot of people do these days. Think about that, he thanked himself. Only Kanye West does that. In a way, this hyper-inflated sense of self pride is not unexpected. Carmelo is fresh off being the alpha dog on a national championship college basketball team. He just went number three in the NBA draft and is primed for a launch into the stratosphere of stardom. He was also barely 20 years old. All his young adult life he's been the guy. Who else would he thank?
Next Carmelo shows us an arcade cabinet of House of the Dead 2. And why not, lots of stars have arcade cabs in their abodes. But why House of the Dead 2? “At the beginning if the season it was so dead out here [Denver] til I came out I just had to get a game.” What really gets me about this is not his ripping of the city he has yet to spend significant time in, it's how humorless he is delivering it. There is not one hint of jest in his face or voice when he says this. Carmelo actually thinks Denver was dead before he got there. And he got a video game cabinet to represent that.
This also represents Melo's immature side. His house is furnished with the taste and expertise of a professional interior decorator. But he has an arcade machine right in the middle of his living room. This isn't surrounded by an Asteroids or Galaga machine in a game room. It's totally out of place and he decided to show it off to the nation on MTV. Why? To deliver his (clever) jab at the city of Denver? The best part is, I can totally picture him shooting zombies while sipping $5,000/bottle champagne, sitting on a $1,000 ergonomic chair, laughing like a 10-year old.
But the best is yet to come. As we traverse Melo's hall to his bedroom, we see a number of magazine covers. Pretty standard fare. Until we come across a portrait of Carmelo and – this is real – Jesus Christ, our lord and savior. The caption on the painting: “Blood Brothers.”
Let's take Melo's thought process step-by-step:
I want a portrait of me in my house because I am great.
It has to be hand-painted, with oil paints because it's more expensive.
What about me with Jesus?
I don't think the imagery is strong enough, throw some text up there. But what...
Blood Brothers!
This is about ten levels of insane. Painting yourself in with the messiah? Crazy enough. But implying, in not so many words, that you and the son of God are brothers? This is of course acceptable because he's a famous, ultra-talented athlete and who am I (or anyone) to tell him not to do that.
All this leads me to my conclusion. That Carmelo Anthony, along with LeBron James, was handed the keys to the NBA. And it's not that he couldn't handle the spotlight or perform well enough – it's that they were simply taken away from him. Dwayne Wade is better. Chris Paul is better. Brandon Roy is better. Kevin Durant is better (and similar). Dwight Howard is friendlier. LeBron James is certainly better. The Nuggets have been notorious chokers come playoff time. His teams have had awful, awful chemistry. He has lost endorsement deals to bigger stars. He was suspended 15 games for fighting, something I don't think Wade or Bron would ever do. He told people to stop snitchin'.
He doesn't seem to have the switch, that leadership and killer instinct truly great NBA players have. So many things – even at the onset of his career, him not going second to Detroit, which could have changed everything – have happened to bring Anthony to where he is today. And it's not where he, or anyone, thought.
I bet Anthony still believes he's one of the best, most famous players in the NBA. The thing is, I don't think he'll ever prove it. Wade took his draft spot as a slight. “I'll show you,” he said. And he did, winning an NBA championship. LeBron has made a Jordan-like leap in terms of competitiveness and will win the 2009 MVP and should make it to the NBA finals, again. Wade is where Anthony should be, battling with LeBron for king of the NBA. But instead, he is fighting to make it out of the first round, again, and doesn't seem all that interested. The great NBA players – the LeBrons, the Wades – take it to another level come playoff time. I think Carmelo is happy playing in the NBA, as the star of a team. And hey, if they make the playoffs, cool, more TV time.
Maybe Melo has grown up since Cribs. Tossed out the Jesus pic. Upgraded his House of the Dead to a Ms. Pacman. Sold his ESPY on eBay. But one thing is for sure – he is no where near the level of LeBron and Wade. And maybe he never could have been. But he was supposed to. And that's the saddest part of all.
File this under guilty pleasure. If you haven't been paying attention to Spike's quality programming (1000 Ways to Die leading the charge), you may have missed Deadliest Warrior.
Let me just say: there has never been a more perfect dude show. Ever.
In fact, it's as manly as great dude films like Predator and Rambo (but not quite Commando or Point Break) and makes us mere mortal men feel inferior for only having two balls.
The premise is simple. What would happen is quasi-historically accurate warriors fought one another in totally ludicrous battles? And what if we simulated it 1000 times, with a number of different weapons? Finally, why don't writers just quit their jobs? For a greater show can never be created.
In Samurai vs. Viking, we had the legendary Japanese fighter shoot a goddamn arrow in a dummy's fucking eye (go to about 3:30 in the video) -- twice. I challenge you to find something better on television. That includes anything on The Office.
Really though, this show's got it all: cheesy re-enactments, faux history, "science," computers, glorious arguments between supporters of each warrior, and high levels of violence.
But the crowning achievement of the show has to be how it changed my mind about the Indians vs. Vikings debate spawned by the feature film, Pathfinder. I, a staunch Viking supporter, have been converted. Apaches are fucking boss.
