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'Sup jocksniffers? That's right. I said "sup." Of course I said sup. It's more d-baggy.
For those of you who don't know, I'm Doug Gottlieb, the only accurate analyst on ESPN. You may recognize me from College Basketball Live, when I disagree with everyone else just because they're on the same set as me. Or you may recognize me from my radio show, where I mention my wife every five minutes because she's the only chick hot enough and smart enough for a guy like me. Or you may recognize me from college basketball broadcasts, when I deliberately say dickish things and exude a dickish attitude as the color guy, messing up the nice dynamic the hack play-by-play guy is trying to establish.
Turns out I'm friends with DJMJ, co-blogger here on Creative Differences. He's really pissed about Boise State winning another Fiesta Bowl. But if he said what he really wanted to say about it, every race/religion/political affiliation/sexual preference would storm his apartment with pitchforks and pathos. So he passed it off to me, Doug the D-Bag.
Hey, Boise State, who the fuck do you think you are? That guy on Fox tonight said that you "solidified your status as a college football power." The only status you solidified is that of the erect schlort of every woefully ill-equipped male Boise State fan. You know, the same guys who taunted LeGarrette Blount from the stands and then hid behind each other faster than Byron Hout fell to the ground. Why the hell do you go to school in Idaho? Didn't we sell Idaho to Canada 20 years ago? Is that what you are now? Is that why your nerf turf at Bronco Stadium is Labatt Blue? Go slam a few more bottles and try to score with the butt-ugly band chicks who represent the hottest co-eds on BSU's campus. As for your football team, give me a fucking break. So you've won two BCS games against teams whose body language was silly putty. Okahoma and TCU clearly didn't give a shit about the game because they were playing you and not, I don't know, a program that doesn't treat chicken-shit trickery like it's fucking fundamental. The second-place team in your conference lost to Notre Dame 35-0. But hey, keep trumpeting the W(h)ac(k). Keep telling us you're getting tested week in and week out. Tested for STDs after sleeping with subpar competition, maybe. But not tested by real teams. And don't even try to throw that Oregon win at me. That Oregon team looks as much like the eventual Pac-10 champion as Rupaul looks like Zoe Saldana. Who's your most famous alumnus, Boise State? Kimo Von Oelhoffen? Ryan Clady? How's Diggity Dan Hawkins doing now that he's coaching a decent program in a BCS conference? Sucking shit? No, I don't think you should worry about him. I'm sure Colorado loves losing two out of every three games it plays. You'd be lucky to do that if you moved into a BCS conference. Until then, keep sweeping through the local Pop Warner league and neighing about how you deserve a shot at the national championship. Have fun watching Alabama and Texas like the rest of us, dickwads.
If you root for a good NFL team, I humbly request that you always keep in mind one thing:You are really, really, really, really lucky.That's it.
So I got a little hammered Wednesday night and woke up still hammered the next morning, which is why I penned a little paragraph and sent it to ESPN.com AFC North blogger James Walker. Normally I'm not the type of person to write bitchy little e-mails or complain to my senator or shit like that, but it was the alcohol talking.Anyway, Walker actually led off a post with my diatribe, which concerned the tissue-paper toughness of Steelers fans detailed here. He could have led off with any of the hundreds of messages he gets each day, but it took a well-penned paragraph with truth and justice as its foundation to bat leadoff in this Friday post.
Perhaps we're finally on our way to exposing Steelers fans as cold-blooded pussies! No longer will they be ranked as the best fans in the NFL by sports media outlets!
We can only hope!
Sports journalism is a deteriorating medium. People who don't deserve jobs are getting hired, informal nonsense like Twitter is considered a legitimate source, and even the slightest events are stories amid 24/7 coverage. But there is beacon of light, a transcendent announcer with the power to turn the simplest chores into white-knuckle excitement. His name is Gus Johnson...
GUS: Honey, I'm heading off to the dentist for my tooth cleaning! I don't know if I'll be back by five but I'M GONNA TRY MY BEST!
WIFE: All right, sweetheart.
Gus drives over to the dentist's.
DENTIST: Well, Gus, good to see you again.
GUS: Good to see you too, Doc!
DENTIST: Ready to get started?
GUS: YES SIRRRR!
DENTIST: Go ahead and lie down in that chair.
Gus lies down.
DENTIST: First, we'll clean out your mouth. Here's a cup of water. Swish that around in your mouth a bit and then spit it out into the sink by the chair.
GUS: DOWN IT GOES! THIS WATER IS EXCELLENT!
DENTIST: All right, now I'm going to give you a local anesthetic.
GUS: THEY LOCALIZED ANESTHESIA? IMPOSSIBLE!
DENTIST: It's just to numb you so you don't feel any pain. You'll still be awake during the cleaning.
GUS: No need, Doc! I watched Allan Houston's runner to knock out the Heat before I came here! I CAN'T FEEL A THING!
DENTIST: Well, if you say so.
GUS: I gotta ask, Doc, WHICH TOOTH IS THE DIRTIEST? IS IT MY LATERAL INCISOR? TELL ME IT'S MY LATERAL INCISOR!
DENTIST: Uh, several of them could use a good cleaning. That's why you're here.
GUS: UNBELIEVABLE!
DENTIST: OK, just tilt your head back for me.
GUS: RISE AND FIRE, DOC!
DENTIST: Oh, looks like you've got some tartar buildup just under your gumline.
GUS: TARTAR STRIKES AGAIN! INCONCEIVABLE!
DENTIST: Let me just remove that for you. There we go.
GUS: DOCTOR YOU DEFINE CLUTCH!
DENTIST: Thank you.
GUS: Make sure you SPIFF UP MY MOLARS!
DENTIST: Your molars are fine. I'm almost finished. There.
GUS: How much is this appointment gonna cost me!
DENTIST: Check with my receptionist Linda up front, but it's usually around $135.
GUS: ONE-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS? UNFATHOMABLE!
DENTIST: It's not a cheap procedure, but it is worthwhile.
GUS: I'm not mad, Doc! I'm STUPEFIED BY OUR SKYROCKETING HEALTH CARE COSTS!
DENTIST: Yeah, it's pinching everybody right now. Anyway, have a good day and I'll see you again soon.
Gus walks out to the front desk.
GUS: MY APPOINTMENT IS ALL OVER!
LINDA: Why are you yelling?
GUS: Because I was a little nervous coming in! TREPIDATION! APPREHENSION! CONSTERNATION!
LINDA: Your bill is $134.67.
GUS: THAT'S THIRTY-THREE CENTS CHEAPER THAN WHAT DOC TOLD ME! DO YOU TAKE VISA?
LINDA: We sure do.
GUS: INCREDIBLE! IT TRULY IS EVERYWHERE I WANT TO BE!
LINDA: Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Here's your receipt. Have a nice day.
GUS: I SURE WILL!
Join us next time for more excitement with Gus Johnson.
Happy first day of the NFL season, folks! It's 8:30ish out on the West coast but I'm still up to watch the first bit of NFL coverage on ESPN. Oh, hey! It's Chris Berman! That reminds me!
I HATE YOU, CHRIS BERMAN. You're a fucking bigot, and there's no way around it. Your head is so far up the NFL's ass you're probably licking Roger Goodell's shit residue as we speak. When players fight in the NFL, you just brush it off and say it's a physical game. When players fight in hockey and baseball, they're just governing themselves. But when NBA players fight, they're gangbanging thugs who don't deserve our respect or attention. You're a piece of fucking work Berman, you know that? Everything about the NFL is awesome to you. Everyone in the NFL is awesome to you. Wake up asshole! Michael Vick went to jail for two years and aided in the murder of hundreds of dogs. Pacman Jones is a deplorable piece of shit who lives at strip clubs and treats the people around him like garbage. Chris Henry has been arrested more times than O.J. Simpson. Travis Henry has fathered so many children he might be your dad. FOOTBALL PLAYERS ARE JUST AS FLAWED AS OTHER ATHLETES. But it's OK because you have a million catch phrases that stupid people enjoy! And you give nicknames to players! And you've been with ESPN for all 30 years of its existence! Free pass! NOT FROM ME, JACKASS. YOU ARE THE FOREMOST PROPAGATOR OF THE NFL'S HEGEMONIC BULLSHIT. I HOPE I NEVER FEEL ABOUT ANYTHING THE WAY YOU FEEL ABOUT THE NFL, BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN I'M A NARROW-MINDED RACIST FUCKWAD WHO'LL PROBABLY DIE IN FIVE YEARS BECAUSE I WEIGH MORE THAN ANDRE SMITH. If I want to watch an amorphous blob pontificating about pro football, I'll wait for Peter King on NBC, thank you very much. I hate you, Chris Berman. Go fuck yourself with Tank Johnson's handgun.
Think about all the different Web sites on the Internet. Think about all the different pages each site has. Now think about the history of the Internet.
In all likelihood, there have been more than one duodecillion (that's 39 zeroes, kids!) pages created in the history of the Internet. And I have singled out the greatest page of them all.
http://deadspin.com/5354828/why-your-team-sucks-pittsburgh-steelers
I dare not even quote any of it. Where would I begin? There's too much to quote. It's all well-written, it's all funny, and most importantly, it's all true.
The tough reputation of Steelers fans is the biggest crock of shit in sports. You give Browns fans a team that wins 10 games a year and consistently challenges for a division crown and always plays hard and has more Super Bowls than anyone else, and yeah, we'll pack your fucking stadium.
Steelers fans shouldn't be ashamed to root for that kind of team. They should be ashamed of being douchebags, because by and large, that's what they are. Towel-waving, mouth-breathing, dimwitted douchebags. And don't pretend you know what suffering is like because of the Pirates. So your baseball team sucks shit. Bet it feels good to have the Steelers to look forward to every fall, and the Penguins on a fairly regular basis over the past couple decades.
Try rolling out of bed without a championship in your lifetime. Try getting excited about a football team that has two winning records and zero playoff wins in the last 10 years. Try supporting a baseball team that keeps inventing new ways to choke in the playoffs. Try cheering for a basketball team that's finally gotten a transcendent superstar, only to be bombarded with talk of how he'll never win in that city and he's leaving next year because of it.
It gets old. Real old. And there are plenty of other fan bases with their own shit to work through.
Meanwhile, you're whimpering about the Pirates, who in all reality you stopped supporting well before they hit the first five years of their 17-year streak. You've been well below the National League average for home attendance in 15 of those years. That's pathetic.
Is that what you'll do when the Steelers start to suck? Turn tail and stop supporting immediately? Only now are you starting to see the Indians' attendance figures come down (and we're still above the league average). Only now are you starting to see the Browns games struggle to sell out. Sure, there are bandwagoners following LeBron James, and that's because he finally gave the city a legitimate reason to give a shit about the NBA.
Fuck your team. Fuck your city. Most of all, fuck you, Steelers fans. You don't deserve your football team.
Let that serve as a welcome to the 2009 season.
GO TITANS
Yep, just another day in Cleveland sports. You know, a crappy team defeated the crappier Tribe. Fans are still talking about the recent Browns minicamp. Same old, same old.
But I'll probably have more about Wednesday's events later. Call it a hunch.
Oh hi there! How are you?
Me? I'm just slipping further and further into sports hell, thank you. I'm surrounded by Laker fans who are already celebrating the franchise's 15th NBA championship like entitled assholes who don't appreciate how lucky they are, and tonight I got to watch my favorite city (NOT) win the Stanley Cup title. Moreover, I lost a bet to a good buddy of mine and now I owe him an expensive bottle of liquor because Sidney Crosby won it all before LeBron James. But I can live with that.
Meanwhile, here I sit, increasingly frustrated and decidedly championship-less. I listened to a Laker fan the other day balk about suffering, about how he started rooting for the team during the "rough" times. Yeah, like that one year in the '90s the Lakers didn't make the playoffs. Right.
I responded with a vitriolic sentence or two telling him to shut the fuck up and scolding him about pretending to know what it's like to root for a loser. It probably seemed jerky at the time, but I don't regret it. Not for one second. I was born with a competitive gene. Sue me. I take sports very seriously. Not life and death, but still very seriously. If you're reading this blog, you probably feel the same way. If you don't think so, then you're full of shit.
As for tonight's events, I can't really hate on the Penguins. I don't like the hype that Sidney Crosby gets, but the Pens don't incite my ire like those fucking douchebag dickhole fuckface Steelers do. Still, a Stanley Cup for the Penguins means two titles in one year for Pittsburgh, and two titles in one year for Pittsburgh means one pissed-off DJMJ.
I can't help it. It's the Cleveland fan in me. It's petulant, it's bitter, it's jealousy. But can't someone be jealous of us for once?
I now turn the blog over to FLS, who may or may not choose to post in celebration.
Once upon a time, you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime
Didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware Doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all
Kidding you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal
There's genius in the words of Bob Dylan.
66 wins, one division title, one coach of the year, one MVP, one dominant home-court advantage, all boosted by the No. 1 overall seed in the NBA.
Gone.
There was a wondrous feeling of destiny about this team, shared by about two million Northeast Ohio sports fans -- myself included.
Gone.
Following a 30-point loss disguised as a 13-point loss in Game 6 at Amway Arena, I sat there speechless with three friends who were rooting for either the Cavs or a LeBron-Kobe Finals.
Gone.
So the question becomes...
How does it feel?
There's no cute, curt description of agonizing pain that fits. There was simply paralysis. I sat there for 15 minutes without saying a word, and when the time came for the TNT crew to present the Magic with the Eastern Conference championship trophy, I bolted for my room faster than LeBron James bolted for the team bus last night.
There was no other way to respond to the first unqualified playoff failure of the LeBron James era. Pushing the Pistons to seven games in the 2006 conference semis was an unexpected boost for the future. Just being around for the Spurs to sweep in the 2007 NBA Finals was a tremendous feeling. The Celtics were too strong for a Cavs team discombobulated by a season's worth of distractions in last spring's conference semis, and that series still went the distance.
It was a run of overachievement as encouraging as Cleveland's run of heartbreak. I find it awkward when people my age reference the Drive, or the Shot, or any other disappointment that took place when we couldn't walk yet, so I stick to what I know: Art Modell moving the Browns, the Game 7 implosion in the 1997 World Series, the Cavs' record-setting choke job in 2004-05, the fumbling away of the 2007 ALCS, the utter futility of the Browns since their return.
I think the 1995 World Series is a fairly apt comparison of the 2009 Eastern Conference Finals. The Tribe brought the offense, the Braves brought the defense (i.e. pitching). This year's Magic brought the offense, and this year's Cavs were supposed to bring the defense.
Instead, the Magic proved beyond a doubt they are the best team in the NBA. They throw the ball in the post to Dwight Howard, who either schools his defender one-on-one or finds open teammates when he's doubled. Those teammates either re-post Howard, use their athleticism to get to the basket themselves, pull up for a jumper or find another open teammate. The Magic are equipped with an army of tall, strong players who can shoot from anywhere. More importantly, the ball never stops moving in Orlando's offense, and they get high-percentage shots because of it. The Cavs are as good as anyone in the league on defensive rotations, and they looked silly chasing Orlando's shooters around the floor. When it's clicking, the whole operation is basically unguardable.
And yet, it's not the offense that won Orlando the series. As thoroughly obnoxious as Stan Van Gundy is (a Marlins cap at practice? Really?), his non-stop stressing of defense has given the Magic a supreme advantage. People will bemoan LeBron's lack of help, but the Magic didn't luck out because of it. They were ready for anything. They have big, physical perimeter players who can defend most guys one-on-one, and when a player like LeBron James is on the wing, they funnel everything into Dwight Howard, who has done a better job of bodying up drivers and altering shots without fouling. The Magic were disciplined, they were crisp, they got big stops when they needed them, and it's a credit to their staff, no matter how prehistoric Mike Brown's offense is.
That didn't stop LeBron from single-handedly keeping the Cavs in every game but the last one. I know it sounds trite, especially coming from a Cleveland fan, but he is truly the best basketball player on the planet and an otherworldly talent, the likes of which we haven't seen since Michael Jordan. Isn't it amazing that people still find ways to criticize a 24-year-old who just averaged 35.3 points, 9.1 rebounds and 7.3 assists in a single postseason, including 38.5, 8.3 and 8.0 in the conference finals? When LeBron improves his post-up game and adds Kobe's killer instinct, the results may be incomparable.
Basketball is still a big man's game, however, and it's Dwight Howard, not LeBron, representing the East in the NBA Finals. Howard is also the leader of a more complete team, and as savvy as Danny Ferry's trade for Mo Williams was, more help is needed. Jalen Rose said it best on Sportscenter following the game last night: The Cavs have a bunch of specialists. Good teammates? Yes. Hard-nosed guys? Yes. But still specialists. Delonte West has a versatile game, but he's better suited being the first guy off the bench. Anderson Varejao can defend, rebound and bring energy. Daniel Gibson can hit 3s. Wally Szczerbiak can hit 3s (although his defense did improve). Ben Wallace can defend. Zydrunas Ilgauskas and Joe Smith are big bodies that can shoot and provide a veteran presence. Mo Williams can be a terror on offense, but he was decidedly un-clutch for most of the postseason, and it seems he's best suited being the third option.
That leaves a hole at LeBron's side, a void that still hasn't been filled after six years. The prospects this summer are rather bleak, and Varejao is a free agent who will likely command $10 million a year. The Cavs' payroll will come down a bit, considering Szczerbiak's expiring contract and Wallace talking of retirement and a buyout. But there's a very good chance the Cavs will be a little worse next season.
Of course, any steps backward will feed the LeBron-to-New-York speculation, which is only going to hit its furious apex in the next 12 months. LeBron might have to accept that he won't have a sidekick in Cleveland before next summer, when the organization will have enough money to give him a gigantic extension and still sign any of the superstars available. Will he accept it? That's the million-dollar question.
I suppose there's something encouraging in all this. The superior Orlando Magic simply exposed the elephant in the room. The Cavs were a tight-knit, talented group that played together and had one transcendent star, but they weren't a truly great team. The fact that LeBron still led them this far only makes the future brighter.
Maybe, just maybe, that's the pathetically optimistic Cleveland fan talking. This team was supposed to buck the losing and win a championship. It's not what the Cavs hoped for, it's what they expected. It didn't happen.
It didn't happen for us, either. The drought continues.
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal
This really, really stings, and it's going to for awhile.
More later.
Hopefully "The Shot" will mean something different now in Cleveland. What a moment.
So far this series, we've blown huge leads, regressed on offense, gotten obvious on defense, watched Orlando put up ridiculous shooting percentages, and now there's a hostile environment in central Florida to look forward to.
But I'll worry about that tomorrow.
1-1 baby.
The Orlando Magic? Gee golly! Looks like central Florida's NBA franchise with a WNBA mascot wants a piece of us in the Eastern Conference Finals!
How exactly did Orlando get through the Celtics? I guess Dwight Howard dunked a bunch and they made just enough ridiculously ill-advised 3-pointers to win. I also bet Stan Van Gundy stopped pissing off his stars long enough to preach defense. Plus, you can only blow so many fourth quarter leads in one series.
I hate the way the Magic play. They (it?) are lazy on defense, relying on D12's shot-blocking too much. They shoot 500 treys a game and somehow make a lot of them. They don't push the tempo as much as they should. This team isn't going to out-scheme anybody. If they win, it's because they have more energy or they're more athletic.
I wasn't sure which team I wanted the Cavs to face in the conference finals. Slaughtering the Celtics in four or five games would be juicy sweet, and even without Kevin Garnett, you got the sense they were a better team than the Magic. On the other hand, Orlando plays that pre-Chauncy Billups Nuggets style, an infuriating concoction of ignorance of fundamentals and how-the-fuck-did-he-make-that shots. The old Nuggets gave the Cavs fits, and I bet this series goes at least six games because of it. But knocking out such a juvenile brand of basketball would give me great pleasure, too.
It is what it is. We have to go through Orlando to get to the Finals. Given the playoff intensity, it should be fun. Let's get this thing under way.
In times like this, who can really afford an IMAX ticket? Or a movie ticket, period? You're asking us to shell out $13 for a two-hour film? I don't care how good it looks, that's absurd.
And since movies are often a reflection of society, what kind of dilapidated society are we living in, anyway? Last summer, The Dark Knight mowed over the competition with brute force, which means people turned out in droves to see a movie about a nasty world where our heroes are destroyed and chaos reigns supreme. The Joker took the initiative to show how flimsy the morals of the lawmakers and peacekeepers were, and that in desperate times, the only solution is to stop living by rules. And here's the twisted part. In our current economic climate, couldn't you argue that of all the characters, the Joker was the most reasonable?
It's not just the superheroes, either. Last year's Oscars were dominated by death (No Country For Old Men), greed and ruthlessness (There Will Be Blood), corruption (Michael Clayton), and past sins (Atonement). As John Stewart famously quipped at the ceremony, "Does this town need a hug?"
It very well may, and if that's the case, then we all need a hug. People are losing their jobs, their homes and their faith in the system. Confidence is sagging, paranoia is spreading and desperation is starting to set in. Our entertainment is reflecting those conditions.
The simple truth is there's not a lot of optimism in the world right now.
Star Trek hopes to change that.
I. The hull of the ship
You've seen the people with Vulcan ears and severe overbite, with Starfleet apparel and thick glasses, with plastic phasers and bad hygiene. These people -- not-so-affectionately dubbed "Trekkies" -- have represented Star Trek to mainstream audiences for four decades. Star Trek has become a nerd haven, a subject for geeks to lord over other members of society. The original series, its four offshoots and the movie franchise are a gated community, accessible only to those willing to sacrifice their "normal" reputation among peers and be labeled as true dorks.
Such divisiveness is a real shame, considering the original series was largely about coming together.
Take yourself back to the 1960s for a moment. Here was a show about space travel, a buoyant topic at the time, with a crew that featured two white men, an alien, a black woman, an Asian, a Russian (nee Soviet) and a Scot -- all during the century's most tumultuous social climate, when Vietnam, the Cold War and racial tensions were at their peak.
As the USS Enterprise zipped from planet to planet, most episodes highlighted the pros and cons of human nature. Witness "The Enemy Within", during which Captain Kirk splits into two separate beings (one gentle, one evil) due to a transporter malfunction, and later bravely declares that the evil side is an important part of mankind's ability to lead. Or consider "Arena", in which a powerful alien race seizes the Enterprise and a ship it's chasing and pits Kirk in an unarmed battle against the other ship's reptilian captain, an act that shames their primitive conflict and shows humanity still has a lot of growing to do.
Star Trek: The Original Series only lasted three years, and while there are several reasons it got cancelled, I suspect one of the biggest is that people simply didn't want to hear the truth. We are a seriously flawed race, but we do the best we can. Rarely did a Star Trek episode end on a negative note, which hints that while mankind is far from perfect, we can work together for a brighter future.
That's what director J.J. Abrams and his crew have retained. Optimism was always the foundation of the television series, the hull of the Enterprise, so to speak.
I doubt the non-dorks ever figured that out.
II. People can be very frightened of change
Those words, delivered by Captain James T. Kirk at the end of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, are a good way to describe reaction to the new Kirk.
In the pop culture lexicon, few roles are more synonymous with one person. Before William Shatner evolved into, well, William Shatner, he was the cocky, resourceful captain of the Enterprise with a boyish charm and the ability to make tough decisions (not to mention that speech cadence).
As the new Star Trek movie arrives, so does a group of fresh faces playing familiar roles, and none of them face more pressure than 28-year-old Chris Pine. At first glance, he's got Kirk's look and swagger. But is he a guy you'd want to follow into battle? Pine himself has posed that very question, and as it turns out, we're all going to find out together.
One of Star Trek's keynotes is the transformation of Kirk from a rebellious Iowa farm boy to the confident captain of the Enterprise, and it's a tricky role. We've never seen this story before; it dates back to before the first episode of the original series. Pine has to grow without growing too much, because part of what makes Kirk Kirk is his brash attitude and unshakable demeanor. He'll be a punk kid early on, but will Pine be able to keep the kid while losing the punk?
A large part of the movie hinges on it. Pine has chosen to retain Shatner's "humor, arrogance and decisiveness" while incorporating elements of other characters in his performance, such as Indiana Jones, Han Solo and Maverick from Top Gun.
Pine clearly understands that he's playing Captain Kirk and not William Shatner, which is most important.
And the early returns look like a welcome change.
III. G'day, mates
Captain Kirk isn't the only one being recast for a whole new generation.
Zachary Quinto actively pursued the role of Spock, Kirk's half-human, half-Vulcan sidekick science officer. Only this time, there's a great struggle taking place between those pointy ears.
The writers, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, breathe new life into Spock by presenting him as a conflicted youth, frustrated in his devotion to strict Vulcan logic and abandonment of human emotion. As he learns to govern those emotions, he blows up at Kirk and does all sorts of things that will likely make Star Trek purists cringe.
But that's the point. Like Kirk, Spock isn't himself yet. We know the character from 40 years of television and movies, but everyone grows up at some point or another.
Well, most of us do. Karl Urban's portrayal of Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy finds Kirk's confidante as grouchy and funny as ever, playing the skeptic to just about everything that befalls the Enterprise crew. Bones meets Kirk at Starfleet Academy, so we'll get to see how their brotherly bond developed, and also watch Urban sidestep his tough-guy background and cavort around as the cynical doctor.
Linguistics expert Uhura is given a larger role of the hands of Zoe Saldana, whom Abrams requested specifically for the part. John Cho is the new Sulu, flaunting his fencing skills and representing "all of Asia" on the Enterprise. Pale-skinned Anton Yelchin is the new Chekov, a curious choice who has already adopted the Russian's accent and oddities. And don't even get me started on Simon Pegg as Scotty. I wouldn't recommend eating before the movie, you'll probably lose your lunch laughing.
One by one, the crew we know and love will assemble on the new Enterprise. Hopefully we'll grow to love them just as much as the original team.
IV. Eric Bana and the time-tossed Romulans
No villainous alien race pestered the original crew as much as the Klingons. Thank God they're not the primary antagonists of Star Trek.
Tensions between the United States and Russia have cooled, so there's no longer a place for the Soviet parallel, and this animalistic culture got its time to shine in Star Trek III: The Search For Spock and Star Trek VI, not to mention a number of original series episodes.
This time around, the enemies are Romulans, the distant cousins of Vulcans meant to evoke a space-age Roman civilization. And in an increasingly welcome blockbuster tradition, these villains actually have logical motives and aren't all-powerful miscreants out for galactic domination.
Eric Bana plays Nero, a blue-collar Romulan driller who is tossed back to the past through a black hole. But Nero isn't a happy camper. In the future, he and his co-workers have been screwed by the United Federation of Planets, and Kirk and Spock in particular are multiple offenders.
Now, these new-look Romulans have been gifted a morally fascinating opportunity: destroy Kirk and Spock and the Federation planets before they ever screw them over in the first place.
It seems that the Romulans' gargantuan power drill does most of the dirty work, and a European teaser poster shows it plunging into the water near the Golden Gate Bridge -- an ominous image, considering Starfleet Academy is based in San Francisco.
The Romulans have never gotten their due as top-tier Trek villains, and hopefully that's about to change with their starring role in Star Trek.
V. Star Trek, for the non-Trekkie
One thing that early reviews have universally praised is the accessibility of the new film. As mentioned before, the whole franchise has become such a geek gala that the mainstream viewer has been turned off by the mere mention of the name "Star Trek."
This film, on the other hand, is Star Trek for the non-Trekkie. Abrams has openly admitted to being just a casual fan of the original series, and as frightening as that sounded at first, his rewiring of Gene Roddenberry's creation might be the very thing that kick-starts this stalled franchise.
There's a young, good-looking cast. There's a spiffed-up Enterprise, complete with an Apple Store bridge. There are no cheap camera tricks or laughable costumes with visible zippers, only big-budget visual effects and action to spare.
There's also a sizeable cameo by one of Star Trek's chief ambassadors to bridge the gap. Leonard Nimoy, the original Spock, reprises his role as the future version of Quinto. It's a good bet he has something to do with the young crew recognizing and stopping the Romulans' plan, and it doesn't hurt when Nimoy, who has long tried to distance himself from the character, picked this film to make his return and gave it his full endorsement.
Nimoy's presence is one of several things that will make classic Trek fans feel right at home. The infamous Kobayashi Maru test makes an appearance. Spock still tells people to "Live long, and prosper." Rumors abound of the most spectacular (and hilarious) redshirt death in the history of the franchise.
Appealing to newcomers and seasoned Trekkers alike is not an easy feat, and if Abrams pulls it off, it'll be an impressive achievement.
It means that people will come together, which is a big point the movie is trying to make.
VI. You've earned this
It won't be easy to watch Star Trek at first. Kirk and Spock will hate each other's guts. The crew will be unsure of one another. They'll have to deal with a bunch of pissed-off Romulans who want them dead. Abrams himself has remarked, "I didn't love Kirk and Spock when I began this journey, but I love them now."
That's the idea. Is there any better way to reintroduce classic characters than to grow with them on their maiden voyage?
That's the mindset of Orci and Kurtzman, who (Transformers involvement notwithstanding) seem to have picked the perfect vantage point to reapproach Star Trek, along with producers Damon Lindelof and Bryan Burk.
Audiences are going to earn a place aboard the Enterprise. They're going to endure the growing pains. The moment that Kirk and Spock learn to trust each other and work together will be all the more rewarding.
Character-driven storytelling is a staple of Star Trek and a lost commodity these days. The new movie won't have time to pose interesting scientific questions like the original series did, but hey, the cast and crew (excluding Abrams) are signed on for two sequels.
From the moment John F. Kennedy mobilized America in the space race, the world of Star Trek has seemed fantastic but not necessarily far-fetched. With all the progress we've made in space exploration, its vision of the future seems more and more plausible.
Maybe by the mid-23rd century we'll have arrived at that point.
For now, I'm optimistic that we'll get there.
As first reported by FLS in the post below, Cavaliers forward and basketball deity LeBron James is going to win his first league MVP award today, with the official announcement expected this afternoon at St. Vincent-St. Mary High School in Akron.
It's been a three-horse race all season between LeBron, last year's MVP Kobe Bryant and Dwyane Wade. LeBron's numbers (28.4 points, 7.6 rebounds and 7.2 assists) are all better than his career averages, which is remarkable considering he's actually had to do less this season with a more talented roster at his disposal.
In all honesty, LeBron is second on my own personal ballot, simply because I saw Dwyane Wade do for Miami this season what LeBron has done most of his career, i.e. damn near kill himself dragging a crappy roster to places it has no business being. It's my contention that LeBron James was the league MVP in 2005-06, when it went to Steve Nash, and last season, when it went to ol' Sunshine out here in Los Angeles. As always, the voters put way too much stock in the Cavs' win total those years (50 and 45, FYI), and the awards went elsewhere.
But my ballot doesn't mean shit, and the award is more than deserved. LeBron can cross off "MVP" from his to-do list, which means there's only one thing left to win.
That's what really matters. Everyone can tell you how many titles Michael Jordan won, or Magic Johnson, or Bill Russell, or Shaquille O'Neal. No one can tell you how many league MVP awards they won, and no one really cares.
This six-month night out with the Cavs has been a lot of fun, and this award is like one last Irish car bomb before you leave the bar to go home and hammer a hot chick.
That hot chick is the championship. Let's seal the deal.
I gotta come clean. I don't really like Sidney Crosby. He's a great scorer and an even better passer, I get that. But I hate his slithery style. I hate how he gets rattled by the smallest hint of physicality, and second assists certainly help his rep. Having Evgeni Malkin basically as his bodyguard and running mate doesn't hurt, either, and Crosby plays in Pittsburgh, which is grounds for me lobbing flaming bags of dog shit at him on its own.
But Crosby has an insatiable habit of kicking his game up several notches when the stakes are highest, and with Alexander Ovechkin and the second-seeded Capitals lining up across the ice, he knows that this series will go a long way (right or wrong) toward determining who's the better superstar.
With that in mind, and with NBC HD in my living room, it's time to get this souped-up playoff series going.
I wouldn't expect too much of that.
...the Rock HAS COME BACK to Cleveland!
I see you have an 11-game win streak, Boston Red Sox. I'll tell you what you can do with your win streak.
Take that win streak...
shine it up real nice...
turn that sumbitch sideways...
AND STICK IT STRAIGHT UP
YOUR CANDY ASS
GO TRIBE
This is Mario Ruiz.
Mario is a "musician" based in Hollywood who's been steadily cranking out rap music with all of Jay-Z's bravado and none of his talent.
His latest creation is equivalent to a hip-hop barf bag, one minute and 12 seconds' worth of stomach-churning Laker love that could only be appreciated by other douchebags wearing yellow and purple shit.
Here are some of his genre-splotching lines:
This is our year, Lakers baby
Utah can't stop us baby
NBA playoffs baby
L.A. be goin' crazy
Sad thing is, it probably took him more than 30 seconds to write that.
Got one goal in sight
Kobe wants ring number four, right
You know L.A. got your back, right
Staples Center jam-packed on game night
I've never quite understood why an entire fan base gives so much love to a guy who doesn't give it back.
I'm talkin' about Kobe
Best stand back, Andrew Bynum's back
That doesn't even rhyme.
We run L-A
Oh, I get it. The song "I Love L.A." plays after every Laker win, and you've gone and twisted it with hip-hop macho slang. Groundbreaking.
Apparently, Mario is signed with Pompous Pack Entertainment. I have no idea who they are, but they sure sound friendly.
Here's a link to Mario's MySpace page. Just check out the music box next to his profile picture and click the song called "We Run LA (Lakers Remix)" to hear Mario's audible abortion.
The worst part is that people around Los Angeles are actually rallying around this shit. The guys at 710 ESPN are absolutely in love with it, and southern Californians are playing it left and right. I don't get it. Maybe I'm not gangsta enough.
Then again, I'm not a douchebag. Which is more than I can say for this guy.
Yeeeeah.
He has the award to prove it.
Brown was named NBA Coach of the Year today after leading the Cavs to the best regular season in franchise history and the No. 1 overall seed in the playoffs. His defense-first philosophy has turned Cleveland into one of the NBA's top defensive teams every year. He's also wisely deferred to his assistants when it comes to running the offense. Oh, and that LeBron fellow chipped in a little bit, too.
LeBron will probably get his first MVP award in a few weeks, and he's a dark horse for Defensive Player of the Year, too. It all means jack shit without the Larry O'Brien Trophy, but it's a great time to be a Cavs fan nonetheless.
Smile for the cameras, coach. You earned it.
Now I'm gonna go eat some pot cookies.
What's up y'all. My name's Mikey T, and I'm one of the badass members of Piston Nation.
We got Game 1 against the Cavs today, but I can't see it cuz I'm too busy cookin' crabs for minimum wage down at the Long John's on Warren Ave. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna hop back into the manager's office and log on to the Pistons' site to see how shit's goin'.
Okaaaay...gimme one second here, y'all.
Mm-hmm, click on "scoreboard"...okay...
There we go.
Huh?
YOU JUST GOT RICK ROLL'D
LET'S GO CAVS
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