Showing posts with label Seattle Seahawks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seattle Seahawks. Show all posts

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Midnight Dragon Musings #1

I typed a bunch when I separated from my wife. I found a used Brother manual typewriter in a pawn shop, and I would spend evenings after work drinking Midnight Dragon malt liquor and tapping out my suffering and loss, as well as my hopes and bombast.

Four years ago the loss of the Seahawks to the Falcons in the divisional round sent me spinning. So wedded I was to that team, to Marshawn Lynch and Russell Wilson and the read option, I went searching for a collection of old writings to figure out who I was.

I was looking for a spontaneous prose document called Shit Stinks. I had written it the spring and summer of 1991. I ended up finding, in addition to Shit Stinks and other notes, a collection of letters I had written my first two years living in New York City at the end of the 1980s, which were also the last two years of my marriage. As an experiment in remembrance I entered them on this page with the title of "The Colt 45 Chronicle." It took me longer to do that than it took to write them in the first place.

The manual typewriter typing directly follows "The Colt 45 Chronicle." I had moved to Seattle to work for a drywall contractor who had previously employed me for a couple of summers in the Bay Area. His company was headquartered in the Emerald City.

With the Seahawks manhandled today, and once again bounced out at the divisional round by the Falcons in Atlanta, I thought it would be appropriate to return to these old writings of a young man looking for a way out. I don't feel the emotional connection to the Seahawks I once did. Marshawn Lynch retired at the end of last season. But today's loss is the occasion for some sadness. It is the end of an era. The era of Seahawks dominance.

So here goes. Glued to the folder that contained the Midnight Dragon Musings was a typewritten page:
SEATTLE -- spaceship earth/man made the planets/green grass earth blue round sky.
NEW YORK CITY -- further back in history/brown light bulb of childhood spent with grandparents/the spaceship is gonna land and I gotta find the heart of the planet/diamond black earth electronic sky halo.
As Nietzsche says of suicide, I think of tomorrow as an idea, and it is a great consolation.
Fuses blowing in my hand. My life and the real world. The young witch in training by my side. Quiet. Waiting for the big jolt to send me to the next weigh station.
EXCREMENT OF JOY. Hard Lake. Black pit. Recalcitrant halo. Hope against hindrance. Dreams of the future. Imagination of significant events. Why all this tense rage in the here and now?
Bruised knuckles; skinned, too. Back. Tooth. Hand. Finger split. Hemorrhoids. Hamstring stripped. I'm overwrought and beleaguered. By the whole setup.

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

NFL Ratings Drop Revisited

National Football League television ratings have rebounded from the doldrums of October, but they are still below last year's, according to an article by Thomas Barrabi, "NFL TV Ratings See Post-Election Boost":
Since the election, national NFL games across broadcast and cable are averaging an audience of 18 million viewers, according to Nielsen data obtained by FOXBusiness.com. That’s a nearly 17% increase from the period from the start of the season up until the election, when national NFL games drew an average of 15.4 million viewers.
Sustained success by the 11-1 Dallas Cowboys, owner of the NFL’s largest fan base, has helped to boost TV ratings. The Cowboys’ win over the Washington Redskins drew 35.1 million viewers, the highest total for a regular-season game in more than two decades. Similar, the Cowboys’ victory over the Minnesota Vikings on December 1 drew 21.8 million viewers, making it the most-watched Thursday Night Football game in the series’ history.
The data suggests that at least some viewers are dedicating more time to the NFL since the outcome of the election was decided on November 8. But overall, TV ratings are still down across the board compared to last year.
During the 2015 season, CBS said it drew an average of 19.1 million viewers, while FOX said it drew an average of 20.75 million viewers.
NFL media executives addressed the ratings decline in an internal memo in October. At the time, ratings across all networks were down 11% through the first four weeks of the season, ESPN’s Darren Rovell reported.
"Prime-time windows have clearly been affected the most, while declines during the Sunday afternoon window are more modest," NFL executives, Brian Rolapp and Howard Katz, wrote in the memo obtained by ESPN. "While our partners, like us, would have liked to see higher ratings, they remain confident in the NFL and unconcerned about a long-term issue."
Aside from election coverage, pundits offered the NFL’s concussion scandal, a series of player protests during the National Anthem, cord-cutting and the league’s oversaturation of the television market as potential reasons for its ratings struggles.
President-elect Donald Trump took credit for the ratings decline during an October rally in Cincinnati, Ohio.
“Then you look at the NFL. Well, now they should start recovering, but their ratings were so far down, and you know what that reason was? This -- because this business is tougher than the NFL,” Trump said.
NFL executives are whistling past the graveyard. The ratings drop is clearly a long-term issue. If not for the spectacular season of "America's Team" -- for some reason people have always loved the Dallas Cowboys -- viewership would be down by more than a couple million.

As a general principle I like to pay attention to low-brow entertainment -- professional football, comic books, etc. -- because I believe it corroborates aspects of the political zeitgeist.

In the case of the NFL ratings drop, I think it mirrors the loss of faith in the Establishment, the political and mainstream media, whatever you want to call the reigning center, that has led to the rise of Trump and now the Deep State's counterattack by ginning up a Fake News crisis against a New Cold War/McCarthyite backdrop.

The NFL will have no such recourse. A majority of the games remain terrible, nearly unwatchable, like Sunday's Green Bay blowout of Seattle. The Seahawks have never been blown out in the Russell Wilson era. That's four years never having lost a game by more than ten points. That's an amazing achievement. A first like that has to augur something.

One could argue that it is just a natural changing of the guard. But it is not. Rising powers like Tampa and Tennessee remain mediocre. Overall offenses are inconsistent and defenses don't dominate. Performances are weird, lackluster.

I think the reality of CTE and the enormous amounts of money are finally suffocating amazing athleticism. Repeat head trauma and corporate concentration of wealth pretty well sums up the United States.

Monday, October 24, 2016

NFL Ratings Drop & the End of the Unipolar World

UPDATE: Today (October 26) Ken Belson, Richard Sandomir and Rory Smith of The New York Times ponder the NFL ratings drop, tossing in the even worse drop in viewership of English Premier League soccer matches, in "TV Viewership Falls in N.F.L. and Premier League: A Blip, or Something Worse?"
The two most successful sports leagues in the world, bringing in billions of dollars in revenue, the biggest corporate sponsors and mammoth audiences every game day, are now sharing an altogether different experience: The National Football League and the English Premier League are seeing startling, double-digital declines in television viewership this season.
Viewership through the first seven weeks of the N.F.L. season is down by 12 percent in the United States, while the audiences for E.P.L. soccer matches this season, which began in August, are down nearly 20 percent in Britain.
All the trends that drove viewers away from other programs on broadcast television in recent years, including cord-cutting and DVRs, never punished the N.F.L. and the Premier League in the same way. Fans — lots and lots of them — did not seem willing to look away. 
They are now, in numbers that are alarming for the leagues, which have grown used to fans tuning in to their games in good times and bad, and for the networks, some of which have spent 10-figure sums for the rights to broadcast them. Viewership for N.F.L. games on CBS on Thursday nights, on NBC on Sunday nights and on ESPN on Monday nights is down by as much as 21 percent.
Everything -- from the presidential election season, to too many games being broadcast, to absence of Tom Brady to begin the season, to distracted viewers during the games -- is considered.

Sure, the presidential election year makes a difference. And we can't ignore the digitalization of our lives -- Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, smartphones, Tinder, Google, on and on. But I think the main impetus to go cold turkey from the national opiate is the loss of competitiveness in the first month, month and a half, of the season. This synced with the shift in consciousness already underway -- the loss in faith in the mainstream; the digitalization of our attention span -- to deliver up the double-digit ratings drop.

Will the NFL rebound? It could. But, as I argue below, since U.S. global hegemony and the potency of the NFL opiate are linked, it probably won't.

****

The seventh Sunday of the National Football League's 2016 season concluded with an overtime defensive struggle between the Seahawks and Cardinals. The game ended in a rare tie, 6-6.

This kind of nailbiter is more rare now than in recent years past. Most of the games I have seen this season have been deplorable. Before last night, I can think of only a few good games all year (though with Week 6's Thursday Night match-up between the Broncos and the Chargers, it appears a shift back to competitiveness is underway).

This is unusual, and worthy of remark. I came across this opening line from a story on the NFL's latest domestic violence snafu, "N.F.L. Shows It Doesn’t Really Care About Domestic Violence," written by the excellent reporter Juliet Macur: "Television ratings for the N.F.L. are down 11 percent this season, and league officials have been grasping for possible explanations."

If anything, excellent competition has been the norm in the National Football League for more than a decade. Such was not always the case. In the 1970s and 1980s blow-outs were common. The obvious explanation for the significant ratings drop this year (one that doesn't include Kaepernick protesting white supremacy by taking a knee during the national anthem) is that the games have been lousy.

But, as I said, with Week 6, things seem to have snapped back to the competitiveness we have grown accustomed to, with exciting, close games like the Rams and the Lions, the Falcons and the Seahawks, and the Colts and the Texans.

The NFL is the premiere entertainment product in the United States. Hollywood is not what it used to be. Old media is giving way to the ubiquitous internet, and there is a scramble among corporate giants to gobble up as much content as possible.

The NFL remains the one true opiate of the masses. For that opiate to lose its potency at a time of political  tumult (Trump, Black Lives Matter, New Cold War) is auspicious.

What this portends -- and here I am being optimistic -- is some form of realignment. The U.S. unipolar world is over. (See Dilip Hiro's magisterial "American Power at the Crossroads: A Snapshot of a Multipolar World in Action.") The power elite lining up behind Hillary think that through confrontation the U.S. can maintain its monolithic status. This is clearly delusional. Most voters in the Western core, while possibly not able to explain this, nonetheless feel it in their bones. For the United States, based on the voluble new McCarthyism of Hillary and  the Democratic Party, it appears to be either catastrophic direct conflict with Russia or an embarrassing about-face.

A third way would simply be the maintenance of the status quo where the U.S. unipolar world exists as a sort of kabuki, a fiction whereby American destroyers continue to travel in waters claimed by the Dragon in the South China Sea and the CIA continues to collude with Al Qaeda in the destruction of states, blowback be damned.

But the status quo cannot be maintained. That is what we are living through right now.  That is our present tense.

Hillary chose to reboot McCarthyism to help her rancid old carcass across the finish line; it was either that or address directly the content of the WikiLeaks Podesta emails.

She is in a box now. She is going to have to retreat or escalate. And she is going to have to act with very little popular support.

Dilip Hiro thinks that U.S. global leadership will be unchallenged for decades to come. But this assumes that Europe doesn't continue to disintegrate, which should proceed rapidly in the next four years, particularly given the situation unfolding in Mosul. It also assumes stability in the American electorate. Hillary is about to ascend to the throne with the duopoly crumbling beneath her. No one can foresee how she will able to govern.

The U.S. needs it televisual opiate now more than ever, and early indications are it is not going to be there. Let the brave new world be born!

Saturday, January 2, 2016

NFL Week 17: The End of the Regular Season

The New Year arrived cold and clear here. Usually on days when I don't have to work I like to be out on the road for a run before 8:30 AM, but the below-freezing temperatures kept me indoors. I finally made it out around 10:00 AM. On my way out the door I dropped off my rent check in the building super's mail slot. On the outside of the check envelope I jotted a note about the dire circumstances in which the home team finds itself at Week 17.

The building super, like so many men and women in this city, is a Seahawks junkie. Whenever I run into him at the entrance to the apartment building we hash out the team's state of affairs. The last time I saw him I believe was prior to the Cardinals-Seahawks Sunday night game in Week 10. Since that loss and up until last week's shellacking administered by the Jeff Fisher Rams, Seattle had gone on a Russell Wilson-fueled winning streak; the result of which, thanks to the synchronicity of losses by other teams competing for a wild card berth, is that the Seahawks had secured a playoff spot at the end of Week 15.

But now, the day before the last game of the regular season, things are not looking good. The Seahawks visit the Cardinals at University of Phoenix Stadium Sunday afternoon with a roster decimated by injury: Jimmy Graham out for the season; Thomas Rawls gone for the year; the great Marshawn Lynch, heart and soul of the team, missing since the Week 10 Cardinals loss because of an abdominal injury that required surgery; Kam Chancellor, absent since the game in Baltimore with an injury to his pelvis, will be a pale shadow of his former self if he does return to active duty; Michael Bennett and Jordan Hill both slowed because of toe injuries; Russell Okung hobbled with a bum calf. One could go on, but you get the idea. The Seahawks are not the team they once were. When they take the field the vibe is different.

Which was the gist of my note to the building super: Never before in the Russell Wilson era has Seattle been so vulnerable.

My fear is that Cardinals head coach Bruce Arians has a beat down planned for the Seahawks, payback for the humiliating defeat Seattle dealt to Arizona at the end of the season last year. But not just payback, also a statement. The statement being that the Seahawks are finished, kaput. There will be no more Super Bowls for Seattle.

As I think I have mentioned before, football, National Football League football, is important in the United States because it provides an ersatz form of community in this era of peak neoliberalism, in this age of possessive individualism run amok. Yes, it is a corporate product that serves as a public relations foil for U.S. militarism (which comes pretty close to a good definition of fascism), but it binds people together, gives them a way to relate to one another in what is otherwise a benign way. Because underneath the layers of commercialism, the billions of dollars in advertising and the excessive violence is the athleticism, the basic element of human effort. For a Seahawks fan when Marshawn Lynch rushes for a touchdown at the goal line the feeling is "All is right with the world." Or for a Jets fan, what it must have felt like when Eric Decker caught the touchdown that beat the Patriots last Sunday in overtime. It is sad to say but this is what represents exuberant, collective fulfillment for us in the West now that neoliberalism has bankrupted our politics.


After I dropped off my rent check I headed out the front door to the trash and recycle bins. I had a green biodegradable bag full of kitchen compost -- banana and grapefruit peels, coffee grinds, onion skins -- that I needed to drop off before I began my jog. When I flipped open the compost container I was greeted by the vision of a large carcass of some sort of bird of prey. Hawk or owl I don't know which. I couldn't make out the head, and the body parts were hard to identify. The feathers were white with some gray checks; it could've been the under-wing of an osprey. Probably road kill that some Samaritan scooped up and tossed in the compost. In any event, a very ill omen for Seahawks fans.

It has been a bizarre season. Despite Carolina's flirtation with a perfect record, which came to an end last week thanks to Atlanta, there has been no sense of transcendence or complete domination by any one team. I think injuries have upended a lot of the drama of the regular season. Baltimore has been uncharacteristically turned into an also-ran because of season-ending injuries to Suggs, Flacco and Forsett. Green Bay, once the apple of the tout's eye, is now limping, like the Seahawks, to the playoffs, their offensive line devastated. In the AFC, conference powerhouses New England and Denver (not to mention Cincinnati), are very beatable because of rosters wracked by injury.

If I had to make a prediction I would say the Arizona Cardinals are the team to beat. Nonetheless they are beatable. The Seahawks had them in the fourth quarter in Week 10, but they couldn't hold the lead. It is going to take a team with a stout line and good defensive secondary who can run the ball on offense. That team very well could be the Panthers. The problem with Carolina is that the defense has looked shaky lately.

In the AFC I think it is a toss-up. The Jets could even make a run, assuming they don't shoot themselves in the foot tomorrow against Buffalo. I say this because New York has proven they can beat the Patriots. There has been a lot of talk about the run that the Chiefs are on. My issue with the Chiefs, and the same can be said of the Bengals, is that they have a tendency to underperform in the playoffs.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

NFL Week 12: Let's Get Caught Up, Again

This weekend of the Thanksgiving holiday marks three years that this page has been up and running. I started the blog when I got back from California, where I go every Thanksgiving to visit my father. We have a routine. We run a "turkey trot," one of these community fun runs that are popping up all over and are very popular now, so much so that the turkey trot is becoming as much a part of the Thanksgiving holiday as Black Friday and the National Football League. After we run the turkey trot, we return to my father's modest house in a suburban neighborhood close to downtown of the Solano County seat, and we watch football all day. The next day, Black Friday, I travel north back to the Emerald City. That's the routine.

There was some variation this year in that I decided to get my father a flat screen digital television. TV is very important for the elderly, something I found out one Christmas while visiting my mother, who resides in an assisted-living facility, when her universal remote quit on her. A panic attack ensued. Thank goodness it happened at a time, 4:30 PM on Christmas Eve, that I could run out and buy a replacement at the Radio Shack. If the remote had quit just an hour or two later, my mother, who can only move about with the aid of a walker, would have had to go without her regular televisual experience for more than 36 hours. A real crisis.

My father has had the same TV for years, a small -- 13-inch -- analog model with a picture tube and a built-in VCR; the same kind of TV that I have had for the last 12 years. We both have the analog-to-digital-antenna converter box. But recently a co-worker gifted me an older flat screen that she and her husband never used in a spare bedroom because they found something newer and larger on craigslist. And it was such a marked improvement from the old-school 13-inch, particularly for the type of programming that I use the television for -- the NFL -- that I decided my father, who watches TV every day, would benefit if he had his own.

So prior to my trip down to California, I went online and found a well-rated, reasonably-priced 2015 high-definition (HD) 32-inch LG flat screen. (Read Nicholson Baker's magisterial New Yorker piece, "A Fourth State of Matter," on the South Korean flat screen television industry. Samsung and LG are the two big South Korean producers.) The LG arrived at my father's house in a little more than a day, and he installed it himself. But by the time I arrived he was having difficulty picking up the same stations that he had with the old set.

Here our troubles began. I thought we would face only minimal difficulty in working out the kinks and matching the reception he enjoyed before because I had no problem with my own gifted flat screen. What I didn't take into account is that my flat screen was so old that it didn't have its own HD tuner; hence, I was able to use the same analog-to-digital-antenna converter that I used on my old-school cathode-ray-tube TV. These new flat screen televisions come equipped with their own HD receiver, and, apparently, at least what my father and I have learned, is that they are not as good as the analog-to-digital-antenna converters which were widely distributed when we the non-cable unwashed were kicked off the analog spectrum into the digital stream.

We then proceeded to problem solve for the next two days, our goal being to try to match the number of channels he had with the old technology; that, and be able to receive all three networks televising the Thanksgiving games -- FOX, CBS, NBC. This meant two separate trips each to both Target and Best Buy, and one trip to Sears. What we learned is that most digital antennas are useless, particularly if you live in an area that is windy and rainy and far away from the nearest transmission tower. My father lives in a wind corridor, and we learned by research online that the nearest transmission towers are 29 miles to the east. So we returned the first digital antenna we purchased at Best Buy and upgraded to one with amplification and a 40-mile range.

After purchasing 100 feet of coaxial cable at Target and walking the digital antenna all around his living room, dining room and kitchen; out into the front yard; and finally out into the patio area at the back of the house, we found the sweet spot -- the window in the living room at the front of the house. Thanksgiving Day was clear and not too windy so we were able to enjoy the morning and afternoon games on the big screen. But the winds picked up at night, and we were forced back to the old 13-inch to see Chicago hold on for a big upset of the Packers at Lambeau Field.

My takeaway from all this is that "superior" technology is not always better. Analog TV might not have been high definition, but neither was it so sensitive that a gust wind would lead to disintegrating pixelation of the picture.

If new, "higher" technology is not better then we as a society can expect nothing but trouble ahead because that is all that Western civilization has to offer its citizens these days -- the promise of "consuming" newer, more wonderful digital technologies.

As neoliberalism -- the divination of the market above all else -- continues to reign supreme despite its inability to deliver economic growth, as our political parties, in fealty to concentrated wealth, atrophy beyond recognition, as the Global War on Terrorism" leads to ever more terrorism, as the mass extinctions of anthropocene surge, we the people are cajoled to visit the big box outlet at the super mall and purchase the latest digital tech. That is our consolation. And having just "been there and done that," I am here to tell you it is no consolation at all. Pope Francis is completely on the mark when he says in his encyclical "On Care For Our Common Home" that the dominant technocratic, consumer-driven paradigm is killing the planet and needs to be overturned.

But this is supposed to be a post about the National Football League Week 12. Of two unbeaten teams, Carolina and New England, the Panthers are the team that has the best shot at going all the way. Why? Because they are playing the best defense -- hands down -- of any team. They have it all -- a fantastic secondary; super-fast smart linebackers; a steady stout line. As long as Cam Newton can keep his gigantic ego in check and play turnover free football, I like Carolina's chances.

The Patriots, always formidable, have issues, which were on display Monday night against mediocre Buffalo. Julian Edelman is Brady's go-to guy, and he's gone for the year. Maybe he could come back for the AFC Championship game or the Super Bowl, assuming New England is there, but it is doubtful. Dion Lewis is gone for the year too. The Patriots defense is beatable. New England depends on Brady controlling time of possession.

If Osweiler, who is good, can play well; or if Cincinnati can overcome there late season issues; or if Pittsburgh gets hot -- all could beat New England.

Speaking of Pittsburgh, the mood in Seattle is not buoyant heading into today's game with the Steelers. The young men in Seahawks gear I talked to on the flights down and back were not optimistic. The feeling is one of resignation. We've been burned too often this season to believe otherwise. The oddsmakers favor Seattle because the Steelers-Seahawks match-up is usually decided by who is playing at home. It should be a nail-biter. Again.

My epiphany while struggling through the turkey trot on Thanksgiving is that will power is a hard thing to maintain year in and year out. My times have really suffered lately. I'm not training like I used to. There are a whole set of reasons for this, but the end result is the performance. And my performances have been poorer.

The Seahawks are in the same place. This cannot be denied. The Seattle faithful, the 12s, long hoping for a turnaround I believe have accepted that the team is diminished and will be fortunate to win today. Something Seattle must do to remain in the hunt for a wild card playoff berth.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

NFL Week 5: Let's Get Caught Up

The National Football League season is already in its fifth week. The season, entering its second quarter, has been a strange one, particularly if you are Seahawks fan. At this point last year, the hard times were ahead for Seattle; now, Seahawks fans have essentially dodged a season-ending bullet with Kam Chancellor's ball punch of a paydirt-bound Megatron on Monday night.

At 2-2, things could be worse, though it is a long shot to think that the situation will improve going into Cincinnati this Sunday. Marshawn Lynch is out again with a strained hamstring. Seattle is going to have to find a way to run the ball; otherwise, Russell Wilson will be eaten alive by the Bengals front seven. It will be a good test of the Seahawks defense. I can't think of a more complete offense right now than Andy Dalton's. A.J. Green is awesome, and the Cinci running-back combo of Jeremy Hill and Giovani Bernard is potent.

Let's get caught up on the season so far. First, two general comments. A guy, a labor politico of sorts, who survives by peddling seminars to unions, came into the office recently. He sat in the little reception area in front of my work station and waited for the head of the labor council to get off the phone and come out of her office and greet him. While he was waiting I took the opportunity to ask him, "Are you a Seahawks fan?"

This is my litmus test, a type of loyalty oath. Most people, believe it or not, say yes and then proceed to break down with acuity recent action. There are a few who beg off and say, "Well, yeah, but I don't really watch the games." This labor politico, which was surprising to me, admitted up front that he didn't follow the Seahawks, quite a liability for someone whose business is telling labor leaders how to connect with their membership.

I said to the guy, "Imagine if there was just one-quarter the interest in our political process as there was in the National Football League."

He stared back at me in a perturbed, confused manner. He didn't get it. The fact is that right now the athletes of the National Football League -- Kam Chancellor, Russell Wilson, Aaron Rodgers, A.J. Green, et al. -- are in the cultural vanguard. When I wore my Beast Mode hoodie on Friday, young people turned their heads as I passed by.


The music industry has been debased along with film. Neither can lead the masses as they used to. It is a dystopian world in which we live. But the gridiron is an idealized space where the heroes are untarnished (except for the New England Patriots). I can't remember a time -- and I've been following the NFL since 1975, when I was in sixth grade -- when the cultural cache of professional football athletes was this full.

Prior to last Monday night's Detroit-vs.-Seattle match-up I was in the grocery store. I live close to downtown in what many would describe as a hipster neighborhood. Never before have I seen so many young hipsters decked out in NFL jerseys. In the past, allegiance to the NFL home team was the provenance of the white, suburban working class. No longer. After Seattle's overtime Week 1 loss to St. Louis I went out for a run and was surprised to see the number of young people in Seahawks regalia glumly streaming out of house parties. Something different is happening here.

That's the first point. The National Football League is of enormous cultural importance now in the United States. I take it as proof that our political system is almost entirely bankrupt; the rapturous allegiance to the NFL is the observe of this bankruptcy, a hunger to believe in something that is authentic. And what is more real than a physical contest? Until our political system becomes more democratic and begins to address the many concerns of working people, I'm sure the NFL will continue its meteoric rise.

If the first point is that the NFL represents the cutting edge culturally in this country, then the second point is that it is simultaneously able to tap into an amazingly nourishing pool of nostalgia for a time when things were stable and prosperous, when every man was safely ensconced in his castle (and securely positioned in front of his television, usually in the fortress of the suburbs). I speak here of Thursday Night Football, at least the first nine weeks that are televised on CBS before retreating behind the paywall of NFL Network.

There is something about being a bachelor alone in his apartment at the end of the work week watching a primetime professional football game as the sun goes down and the room goes dark, particularly when the contests are close, as they have been the last two Thursdays -- Ravens vs. Steelers; Colts vs. Texans; it is a feeling of contentment, order, and tranquility, a lifeline back to previous generations of bachelors alone in t-shirts bathed in the phosphorescent glow from the TV screen, like a fictional Paul Drake watching a nighttime telecast of Norm Van Brocklin's Los Angeles Rams. One sleeps well after a night like that.

But this Sunday the story is about the unbeaten teams that remain. Let's hope the Seahawks knock off the Bengals; the loathsome Cowboys wallop the villainous Patriots; the Falcons keep rolling; the Raiders whip the Broncos; and the Packers best the Rams. This would leave three teams undefeated: Green Bay, Atlanta and Carolina (because of a bye).

Oh, and I wouldn't mind seeing the Lions give the Cardinals another loss.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Pay Him!


A friend sent me a link to the video above. The outcome of two games of this new season can be directly attributable to Kam Chancellor: the opening loss to the Rams when Kam's replacement Dion Bailey fell down and the Rams scored a TD in the final quarter to tie the game; then Monday night when Kam single-handedly saved the win over Detroit. Like Michael Bennett says "Pay him! Paul Allen is the 17th richest man in the world. Pay him!"

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Some Unamazing Thoughts on the Beginning of the National Football League Season, Though I Do Manage to Mention Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus

The National Football League regular season gets underway today. Well, it actually started Thursday when New England's offense got the better of a confused looking Steelers D.

The talk coming out of the game was about Pittsburgh's sideline having the Patriots radio broadcast in the coaching staff's headsets. More allegations of New England's dirty tricks. Apparently it is a common occurrence for the visiting team at Gillette Stadium.

For a diehard Seahawks fan it was a tough way to begin the season: all the flashbacks of Malcolm Butler's Super Bowl interception; the repulsive Bob Kraft in hipster footwear hoisting the Lombardi trophy to the rapturous Foxborough masses; the tight camera shots of handsome Tom Brady; Julian Edelman making catch after catch. It was like sitting down to a several-course meal, and all the plates and bowls set before me were filled with steaming piles of shit.

But this morning hopefully things will turn out to be more appetizing. As a devotee of the Sunday ritual of television gazing, I usual begin each new season with trepidation. The thought is, "Oh, no. Here we go again." Seventeen weeks, plus the playoffs, from the end of summer to the beginning of winter, usually on my mattress on the floor, a newspaper or printout in hand, filled with stress and moments of ecstasy.

Sadly, it is what qualifies as communal activity in our digital age, a time when our political structures have been zombified by neoliberalism; it also connects us to the roots of our Western "civilization." Let us then call it essential activity.

I read a newspaper that features the writings of superb football reporter, Ken Belson; I get Dave Zirin's blog posts in my email inbox; and while I let my sub to Sports Illustrated lapse, I'll still pick up one now and then at the magazine rack of my local grocery store. That being said, I enter this season unprepared. I have followed very little the off-season and preseason developments, for instance, the huge loss of status of commissioner Goodell as a result of Tom Brady's Deflategate triumph in federal court. (I know enough to conclude that it is good for the players; the league office can no longer capriciously discipline individuals.)

The reason for my lack of preparation is the painful way the season ended. The Seahawks should be repeat champions with Marshawn Lynch the MVP of the last Super Bowl. The fact that they are not and the despised, corrupt Patriots are the world champions is a wound that has not healed.

But it makes this season one of incredible drama for Seahawks fans. This is most likely Marshawn Lynch's last year in Seattle. Once Beast Mode goes, the Seahawks will have a completely different personality; it will be a different team. So this is the year that the wound has to be healed. I liken it to Oedipus at Colonus. Can we come to terms with our past failures and be absolved by Zeus?

We'll find out. The morning is appropriately overcast and rainy. I am going to shelve plans for an eight-mile pre-game run and bunker in for the first NFL Sunday.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

The Colt 45 Chronicle #96

This letter record is almost complete. The one below, undated and unsent, recounts a winter's evening in Berkeley, probably January of 1988. The football game referenced was an early playoff round. The university was in between semesters. The story told is of an aborted infidelity. Whenever I have attempted to be a "player," I have always made a mess of things.

These letters were written, almost entirely, from September of 1988, when my wife and I first moved to New York City, until April of 1990, when I separated from my wife and returned to the West Coast where I would live and work in Seattle for the remainder of the spring and the entire summer before returning to Gotham in an attempt to salvage the marriage.

I started transcribing these old letters because I was experiencing an intense emotional crisis. The crisis was brought on by the Seahawks 2012 playoff elimination in Atlanta. My world was topsy-turvy and I needed to make an effort to bring some order and sense into my life, to stop the free fall.

I began the project with gusto, gusto which has long since petered out. It took a little over a year and a half to compose the letters in the first place; it has taken more than two-and-a-half years to transcribe them.

At the nadir of my 2012 Seahawks playoff crisis, my intention initially had nothing to do with these letters. They just happened to be stored in a string-tied cardboard folder identical to the one that housed a spontaneous prose document entitled Shit Stinks, composed while living as a bachelor in Washington Heights recently returned from my Emerald City sojourn. I opened the string-tied folder thinking I was going to get Shit Stinks, and it ended up being letters I wrote trying to make sense of a living in the megalopolis, working dead-end low-level clerical jobs, drinking and struggling with a doomed marriage.

I read a few, and I thought, "Why not?"

One thing that is clear to me now, one bit of advice that I wish I could impart to my younger self -- something I realized, understood, back then but had difficulty following through on -- is to do things while you are young because when you start to age you don't have the energy.
I have this story about watching TV all day, football TV, and I even have a picture to record the event. But a day before, a redhead with a lot of pancake on her face paid me a visit. She was delivering a letter from her boyfriend who was in Memphis for the holidays but who didn't have my address. So she was acting as a messenger.
Her name was Juliet, and she had a few blemishes which peaked out of the pancake. But the deal was that she had a vitality, a joy to her that wasn't usually there; so I told her that she looked really great, and I meant it.
My shirt was dead and green and my hair was dirty, but I think I had the look or the energy that set the clock ticking, and, anyway, she got a little too high. We stood there on a sidewalk in front of my old building, and the sky was gray and the season was winter and it was Berkeley and the grass was still green. And she wouldn't leave. She gave me her phone number, and I gave her mine. Then we parted.
I went back upstairs and realized that I had to start watching myself; I was becoming an indiscriminate Romeo. Anyway, later on that day -- in fact, it was night, one of those  rare, cold, black winter nights in Berkeley -- Ashley and I were sitting doodling in the living room talking about what was for dinner when the phone rang. I picked it up, and it was Juliet, love-starved and looking for a savior and a guru. She wanted to have a drink, and she wanted it fast. And she wanted it to be like a Mickey Rourke movie, the one where he has the bear's body and the angel's face and the sage's brain. 
But Ashley was right there, behind the coffee table, sniffing out any change in odor. And sure enough, my brow furrowed, and my tone took on paternal priestly modulations. I was, with a few words over a telephone receiver, transformed from sex-packed and sex-approving male Aphrodite to genderless and emotionally-emaciated Pilate. 
I declined with powdered sugar dry strawberry puffing from my bloated shredded gap-toothed twat-like maw, a golden boy king on a shit-&-gold throne (his mother curling up in the wings with a peacock plume and chicken nuggets piled on lengthy silver platter). 
All I remember about the rest of that night is that I don't remember it; whether beer or bay fog, I don't know. But somehow I was able to fall asleep with myself, an amazing feat considering that I was caught red-handed in my own skin.
The next day the sun rose, and we were there, though I can't remember exactly where, in which way the light was or what I was thinking.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

The Colt 45 Chronicle #84

Now that the Super Bowl has been played and football season is finally over, the New Year really begins. In a sense the real American New Year, the one that begins after the NFL has crowned a Super Bowl champion, is more in line with Chinese New Year, which is a week-and-a-half off, February 19, the Year of the Goat.

For me this new goat year is all about completion -- whittling, chiseling away at projects left unfinished; for instance, this Colt 45 Chronicle project. Begun in an emotional meltdown as the Seahawks were eliminated in the 2012 divisional round of the playoffs, I had intended to be finished with it by this year's Super Bowl. In fact, I made a pledge to that effect. Needless to say that pledge went unfulfilled. But since 2015 for me is going to be a stubborn goat-like display of dedication to completion, I am re-pledging to finish off the Colt 45 Chronicle in the next couple of months.

The Colt 45 Chronicle is a collection of letters I pulled out of storage at halftime of the playoff game in Atlanta where the Seahawks were getting their clock cleaned by the Falcons. Seattle came back in that game, and should have won, but the defense could not prevent Matt Ryan from connecting long to Roddy White, I believe it was, to set up the winning field goal by Matt Bryant.

I began posting these letters, which recount my first few years (at the end of the 1980s) in New York City where my wife and I had moved so she could attend medical school at Columbia University, shortly thereafter. It has taken me longer to re-type the letters and post them (over two years now) than it took to actually write them (18 months).

It is fitting that I finish these letters off now that Seattle failed to repeat as Super Bowl champs. The loss is a week old but it still pains me. I am worried that my original assessment is proving to be on the money -- that the appalling call to throw the ball on a slant over the middle, a ball that was intercepted, is going to be a Fisher King-like wound for the team going forward. I still wake up each morning thinking, "My God. We should have won that Super Bowl." Mostly, I feel bad for the young men, for Marshawn Lynch. He was deprived his just designation as one of the all-time greats. And for that I am angry at the decision of the coaches -- Darrell Bevel, Pete Carroll -- to make such a risky, poor call.

We're primates; we have this thing about justice, about fairness. The outcome to Super Bowl XLIX continues to cause emotional heartburn because it was foolishly unjust.

At the office we still have a wall plastered with the color photo spreads that appeared in the Seattle Times going back to the Thanksgiving-night shellacking of the San Francisco 49ers. Each week, either I or the business manager of the local, would post the new photo spread up on the wall. It is an impressive display. The last spread to go up on the wall is a full body shot of Marshawn Lynch, obviously in a lot of distress, walking off the field in Arizona with his helmet in his hand, a grimace on his face and his head cocked to the side and slightly downcast. The caption reads in something like 50-point type, "WHAT IF?"

So onward we go, into the Year of the Goat, a year for completion.

The letter below describes my first day as a temporary inventory clerk at Lane Bryant, a plus-size women's clothing company. I remember the building was a high rise on 42nd Street across the street from the New York Public Library.

These letters usually break down into two categories: 1) some sort of description of life in the Big Apple, and 2) wailing and moaning that my university life is over. Both are on display in this letter, the latter in the form of a drunken stream-of-consciousness poem.
Summer 1989
Well, I just wanted to write and say hello, keep the line the alive. I got your post card from Palm Springs back in March. Shit, it's July already, and I still don't have steady work. But what I have had is a bunch of crummy temporary jobs since I left California in January. I started out in February doing inventory for LANE BRYANT, a clothier of large woman. I was working at their big New York headquarters. I was working in hosiery. It was on the 9th floor. They had hired half a dozen of us temporaries to count up the number of socks and underwear ordered by the 240 nationwide LANE BRYANT stores. Two hundred and forty stores, and I hadn't even heard of them before.
The first day I reported in I had a hangover, and I don't think I had showered. While I was in the lobby I caught a peek of myself in a mirror. Ouch. My face was the color of dish water, except for under my eyes, and that was charcoal black; my hair was glued to my head; my clothes looked like I had fished them, shit stained, out of the middle of the street. I was wearing my Red Wings, and they were old and scuffed. I had a tie on but I don't think it helped much, just a beer-o trying to dress up.
The supervisor finally came and escorted me down a brown-carpeted hall. I liked her. Her name was Rosa. She spoke to me like I was a person and not some animal to scold and flick matches on. She looked old, worn, but there was something young and beautiful about her. She was nice.
After a few turns and a flight of stairs and a few more turns, she led me into a room. Before me stood a big conference table. It covered the length of the room, and the room was pretty damn long. Around the table sat six or seven black faces. They looked at me as if to say, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you out making the real money?"
I walked to the other end of the room and sat down. Rosa sat down a few feet away at the head of the table. She pulled out a pack of mentholated cigarettes and lit one up. It was a 100, really sweet and long. It smelled sharp and chemical and good.
I looked down the table, all nice faces except for one guy. Good, only one asshole. Rosa told me to wait, that the person who would tell me what to do would be there soon. She said that she wasn't my supervisor; that my supervisor would be in soon; that she supervised half the people and that the other woman supervised the other half.
****
Halfway home and nowhere to go.
Blood should be greasing my rhythm. 
Nice idea; live it, motherfucker. 
At least dreams are for free -- thanks to the MINUTEMEN
Life is only lived when you're young 
And then after you're young, you got to write about it. 
That's the only way you can keep your youth and your whimsy 
To think that you're writing it 
What a tragedy 
We are dead after 6th grade

Monday, February 2, 2015

Some Thoughts on the Super Bowl and the U.S. Failed State

It was a rough night last night. A die-hard Seahawks fan, I kept waking up in the middle of the night with a thought as large as a billboard painted on a downtown high rise filling my head, "Why not run Lynch?" With less than a minute to go in the Super Bowl, the ball on the Patriots one-yard line, the Seahawks had three downs to let Beast Mode punch it into the end zone. Then, inexplicably, a pass play over the middle was called. Undrafted cornerback Malcom Butler jumped it, bumped in front of Ricardo Lockette and intercepted Russell Wilson. After a fight breaks out during New England's kneel down, game over. Patriots win.

I've seen Pete Carroll's explanation of the play call. He stands by it; says it made sense since the Patriots had their run-stopping defense on the field. But why throw such a risky pass, one where Russell Wilson is basically tossing the ball into the middle of the scrum? It was a shocking, appalling decision, one that is going to haunt the team for a long time. In that one play Carroll and offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell cost the Seahawks not only back-to-back championships, but first-ballot Hall of Fame status to Marshawn Lynch and Russell Wilson.

Such a gaffe will follow the Seahawks all off-season. More than likely, it will take on a Fisher-King-like status for the players, a wound that won't heal and that will poison the franchise. Winning is mental and so is losing. Ask Tom Brady. It could be a long time before Russell Wilson gets back to the Super Bowl.

A gloomy silence descended upon my neighborhood. Where last year there were drunken cries of ecstasy, car honks, spontaneous rallies on Broadway following Seattle's shellacking of Denver; this year there was a funereal stillness and weighted hush. I put away the leftovers of my Super Bowl meal (Thai red curry with coconut milk, tofu, zucchini and potato) and went to bed a little after 7:30 PM.

Once there I realized that really the Seahawks loss was poetic justice. After improbably defeating Green Bay in overtime of the NFC Championship, they shot themselves in the foot in the Super Bowl. The offense blew it, but it was really the celebrated Seattle defense who couldn't stop Brady in the red zone in the fourth quarter that cost the Seahawks their second championship. Seattle's one red zone stop -- Jeremy Lane's interception of Brady in the first quarter -- is probably the real reason the Seahawks lost. Lane injured his wrist running back the interception, and Brady ended up skewering his replacement, Tharold Simon, for the rest of the game. Simon gave up two touchdowns, one the game-winner to Julian Edelman. So, as I say, some poetic justice.

I tried to take my mind off the game and fall asleep. I thought about a story, "G.O.P. Campaigns Scramble to Add Romney Donors," by Nicholas Confessore that appeared on Saturday. It used to be that campaign stories having to do with a presidential race were about building organizations in early primary and caucus states like New Hampshire and Iowa; that, and positions on issues and policies, and maybe endorsements. Now it is about who has the most bundlers and billionaire donors. Issues are an afterthought. The voters -- their desires -- aren't even mentioned. This is what it has come to post-Citizens United, and we pretty much have grown to accept it.

The position of this page is that such a situation cannot be maintained for too much longer without a serious shock to the system. The planned Netanyahu appearance before Congress in March is one indication that the system is breaking down. It is completely unprecedented for Congress -- in this case, Speaker of the House John Boehner -- to invite the leader of a foreign country, Israel, to address it against the wishes of the White House.

If Netanyahu goes ahead with the appearance, it will be something of a soft coup. Congress will establish the precedent that it can conduct its own foreign policy separate from the executive branch. The issue at stake here is no less than a war against Iran.

In "A Strained Alliance: Obama-Netanyahu Rift Grew Over Years," by Peter Baker and Jodi Rudoren, Richard Haass, head of the Council on Foreign Relations, acknowledges that Netanyahu, who knows U.S. politics very well, has written off Obama:
Richard N. Haass, president of the Council on Foreign Relations and a former senior State Department official, said it looked like Mr. Netanyahu has concluded that he would rather take his chances with the Republican Congress even at the expense of his already tense relationship with Mr. Obama. 
“I really do think it represents a strategic calculation that from Israel’s point of view, this president and this White House have essentially been written off,” Mr. Haass said. “Particularly since the midterm elections, they have made the calculation that to the extent possible, they will use Congress as the channel to conduct their relationship.” 
Efraim Halevy, a former head of Israel’s Mossad intelligence agency, said that calculation was made clear in December when Israel offered no public support for Mr. Obama’s decision to resume diplomatic relations with Cuba, a move he attributed to a desire not to alienate Republicans. “Israel is now placing its bets on one side of the aisle,” Mr. Halevy said. “I think it’s a mistake.”
Israel is not even bothering with the White House anymore. Obama is the lamest of lame ducks. When NBC's Savannah Guthrie chatted yesterday with Obama in the White House kitchen prior to the Super Bowl, he looked like a guy merely marking time getting ready to clock out. Pale, frail, juiceless, Obama delivered his lines as if he didn't care whether people believed them or not. He'll probably maintain a residence in Chicago and one in Hawaii once he closes out his term, free to read and write and watch his daughters marry and raise families.

In the meantime, things will continue to deteriorate in the United States. Dollarocracy will reign supreme. Voter turnout will continue to drop as income inequality soars. Eventually, actively fighting wars in too many countries -- Iraq, Iran, Syria, Afghanistan, Nigeria, Ukraine, Yemen, Venezuela, you name it -- will be the country's undoing.

Friday, January 30, 2015

In Praise of Marshawn Lynch: Dave Zirin Contrasts Beast Mode with NFL Commissioner Goodell

I have always felt a connection to Marshawn Lynch. It probably has something to do with the fact that we both went to Berkeley. Fortunately, the year or two I was in the habit of watching college football on Saturdays (usually hung over) corresponded to the time when Lynch was running for the Golden Bears. What impressed me about Lynch in those Cal games was his speed, his power -- yes, absolutely -- but more than anything it was his ability to absorb huge hits and keep on going. Remarkable, noteworthy, unusual.

I loathed the Holmgren/Hasselbeck Seahawks. So when Pete Carroll made a trade with Buffalo to bring Lynch to town my opinion of the team did a 180. I was quickly made a believer in the franchise.

Make no mistake. Marshawn Lynch turned the franchise around, helped remake it into something entirely unique. That's why it is nice to see Beast Mode getting the superstar treatment in the run up to Super Bowl Sunday. So powerful is his starshine that it has nearly erased everything else this week -- Tom Brady, Deflategate, Bob Kraft's Patriots, you name it. It has been all Marshawn.

It will be interesting to see if the baleful brainiac Belichik will bite down on the hook and structure his defensive game plan around stopping Lynch. This is what most teams do. And this is the brier patch which Seattle loves to lead opponents; it is how Seattle wins games. With defenses keying on Lynch, Russell Wilson makes the big moves. Russell Wilson might not be your classic drop-back passer, but he is brilliant running an offense where he is not the main attraction.

Speaking of main attraction, Dave Zirin latest piece, Marshawn Lynch and Roger Goodell: Compare and Contrast, is a brilliant exploration of the relative merits to the National Football League offered by its chief executive and one of its star players. I quote it in its entirety.

 Go Seahawks! To Victory!

Marshawn Lynch and Roger Goodell: Compare and Contrast 

Dave Zirin on January 27, 2015 - 8:43 PM ET
Seattle Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell have something glaringly obvious in common. They both struggle mightily speaking on camera. That, however, is where the similarities end.
Marshawn Lynch, who thousands of people pay to watch play on Sundays, earned a base salary of $6 million last year.* Roger Goodell, who no fan would put down money to do anything other than perhaps be hooked up to a lie detector, made $44 million.
Marshawn Lynch is financially forced by the league to talk to the media, ideally to mouth the same clichés every other player is hardwired to repeat. He spoke at the Super Bowl Media Day this week and twenty-nine times repeated seven words that speak the truth of a league that demands players to double as corporate pitchmen: “I’m here so I won’t get fined.” If Lynch hadn’t made an appearance, he would have faced a gobsmacking $500,000 fine.
Roger Goodell is under no obligation to talk to the public, even though he oversees a league that has received billions in corporate welfare and whose central office is designated by the federal government as a tax-free nonprofit. As Richard Sherman, Marshawn Lynch’s teammate who has never been uncomfortable in front of a microphone, said, Lynch should not be obligated to speak “any more than the commissioner is obligated to speak.”
Marshawn Lynch has also been fined $20,000 by the NFL for grabbing his crotch, which is Lynch’s customary move when he scores a particularly explosive touchdown. Roger Goodell’s league sells a framed collage that includes the very image of Lynch tugging his testicles for $149.95. While Lynch writes checks, Goodell profits on both ends, while also perhaps grabbing his junk.
Marshawn Lynch, who it’s been theorized by friends has a social anxiety disorder, is mocked mercilessly by the media for his lack of desire to speak to them and his inability to sound like Peyton Manning. Roger Goodell, whose only disorder is inordinate blushing when challenged, receives no such casual barbs. He has actually felt some media heat this year over his years of covering up cases of domestic violence. Yet despite every misstep, he was still praised by on a primetime NFL playoff broadcast by announcers Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth for his “integrity” and making domestic violence “part of the national conversation.” (This is, as I’ve written elsewhere, like praising Goldman Sachs for making corporate greed “part of the national conversation.”)
Richard Sherman put it perfectly in a piece he wrote this week for Sports Illustrated. “Under Goodell the league continues to put players like Marshawn Lynch in a position to be mocked by the media, which seems to get a kick out of seeing people struggle on camera. As teammates we’re angry because we know what certain people do well and we know what they struggle with. Marshawn’s talking to the press is the equivalent of putting a reporter on a football field and telling him to tackle Adrian Peterson.”
Sherman also pointed out exactly why so many players—particularly black players—hold a hostility toward an older contemptuous sports media, writing, “Some of the same people slamming Marshawn for not talking are just as likely to condemn the Browns’ Andrew Hawkins and Johnson Bademosi for protesting police brutality with T-shirts. They want to hear us speak, but only if we’re saying something they want to hear.”
There is one last similarity between both men: they both generate gobs of money for the thirty-one billionaires that run the league. The difference however is that Marshawn Lynch will be thrown on the scrapheap as soon as he no longer has the ability to perform. Roger Goodell continues to be paid long after he has proven in practice that he is a liability to players, their families, and the future of the league. I would love to be able to pull off a “Lucy and Ricky” scenario and for one week, start Roger Goodell at running back for the Seahawks and put Marshawn Lynch in the Commissioner’s chair. Seattle would surely suffer. The league, however, would register an immediate improvement. If nothing else, on game day, we’d all get a whole lotta Skittles.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

NFL Week 22: Super Bowl XLIX

Sunday's Super Bowl in Arizona is about as classic a match-up as anyone could hope for. On one side you have the apotheosis of the corporate machine led by the evil genius Bill Belichik and his telegenic, super-model-marrying, duplicitous matinee idol quarterback Tom Brady. On the other side you have the young, fresh, beautiful, black free men led by the sprightly Pete Carroll and his acerbic, cerebral cornerback Richard Sherman.

Sherman made news when he accused National Football League commissioner Roger Goodell of a conflict of interest. Answering a question about Deflategate (also referred to as "Ballghazi"), Sherman said don't expect any punishment to be forthcoming when Goodell is hanging out socially with Patriots owner Robert Kraft. According to ESPN's Jeff Legwold ("Carroll: Sherman expressing opinion"):
Sunday, shortly after the Seahawks' arrival in Arizona, Sherman said he didn't believe the Patriots would be punished if they were found to have adjusted the air pressure in 11 footballs prior to last Sunday's AFC Championship Game.
Sherman cited a photograph that included Goodell and Kraft from a party at Kraft's house the night before the AFC Championship Game, a photo that was then posted to the Patriots' official Twitter account: 
"Will they be punished? Probably not," Sherman said. "Not as long as Robert Kraft and Roger Goodell are still taking pictures at their respective homes. You talk about conflict of interest. As long as that happens, it won't affect them at all. Nothing will stop them."
Dave Zirin picked up on Sherman's comment in a blog post yesterday, "Patriots Balls and Christopher Hitchens":
This conflict of interest is very real. As GQ’s Gabriel Sherman wrote in a damning long read that dropped this week about Goodell, Kraft is apparently known among NFL execs as “the assistant commissioner.” Even this description is charitable. It’s less the relationship between an assistant and a commissioner as much as it is one between a hand and the bottom aperture of a puppet. Bob Kraft, in addition to being just a “friend of Goodell,” has been the great defender of Goodell’s stunning $44 million salary. He was Goodell’s first defender during the release of information that showed that the NFL cared very little about domestic violence until tape went public of Ray Rice striking his wife Janay. He also, according to GQ, orchestrated Goodell’s disastrous defense of the NFL’s domestic violence policies, in conjunction with CBS network who was about to start airing its lucrative Thursday night NFL telecasts. Kraft ordered Goodell to speak to CBS and grant an interview to, in Kraft’s insistence “a woman,” who ended up being Norah O’Donnell. Goodell complied.
Drew Magary wrote, in analyzing the league’s deep concern with the optics of this, “[Y]ou can see that NFL higher-ups were far more concerned with LOOKING like they were handling domestic violence appropriately than actually doing so (cut to Eli Manning in a No More ad looking like you just told him that we’ve run out of cupcakes).
This relationship with Bob Kraft and the mere appearance of impropriety that marks how Goodell handles every issue that crosses his desk, tells its own story about why he must go. A reckless incompetence now defines everything he touches, whether it is his enforcing of the rules, the health and safety of players, or his dealings with the union. Instead of acting—like his predecessor Paul Tagliabue—as even the mildest of checks on the grasping of the bosses, he is their id unleashed. Instead of listening to players, Goodell is so comically distanced from the reality of his own ineptitude that he has become the sports version of Yertle the Turtle.
Zirin hopes that Deflategate proves to be Goodell's undoing. I think Sherman's comments will prove to be on the mark. Nothing will happen. Already the media has moved on to former Seahawks now Patriots cornerback Brandon Browner  and his statement that New England should go after the less-than-100%-healthy Sherman and free safety Earl Thomas and try to knock them out of the game.

And I'm sure this is what the Patriots will do. I was a die-hard 49ers fan in the Bill Walsh era. In the 1980s a premiere rivalry in the National Football League was between the San Francisco 49ers and the New Giants. Bill Parcells coached the Giants; his defensive coordinator was Bill Belichik. Belichik's tenure as chief architect of those defenses led by Lawrence Taylor, Leonard Marshall, Harry Carson and Carl Banks established him in the league. Belichik had a reputation among the 49ers for encouraging cheap shots, dirty play.

Of course I never forgot this. And subsequently I always considered Belichik teams to be the foulest and most conniving.

Who could root for a Belichik team particularly with his philosophy that all players are expendable? Isn't the point about giving your allegiance to a team is that there is something special, unique, transcendent about the players? Not according to Belichik. To Belichik players are just so many interchangeable widgets; that is why free agency bulks so large on his teams (think Randy Moss).

Consider it this way: Russell Wilson would never start on a Belichik team. Too small. Maybe, if Brady went down, Wilson might see some time in relief, but never would he be given run of the offense. Also consider Belichik's disdain for star running backs. Belichik believes running backs are a dime a dozen, easily replaced and largely indistinguishable. He never would allow a free, package-grabbing man like Marshawn Lynch the all-important role he has on the Seahawks offense.

What makes Pete Carroll the polar opposite of Bill Belichik is that rather than scheming and cheating and searching for any and every advantage in the X's and O's Carroll is sensitive to the intangibles, the spirit world. Carroll sees and knows that athletics are about the organic unity of team play, positive energy, a will to win and the human spirit. Belichik's corporate slavery is the exact opposite.

Then there is the issue of race. The Seahawks are a black team full of young black men who are incredible leaders. I speak here of Kam Chancellor, Richard Sherman, Earl Thomas, Marshawn Lynch, Russell Wilson. Free men. Black men. The Patriots are team with more whites than most. Tom Brady, Rob Gronkowski, Danny Amendola, Julian Edelman, Rob Ninkovich.

Carroll has complained in the past that the Seahawks are singled out by the league, and that is why they are called for so many penalties. I think it is because the Seahawks represent a threat to the institutional racism of corporate America.

So for the future, for free men, for Black Lives Matter, for athleticism over trickery, for human spirit over corporate dominance, for Carroll over Belichik, for Richard Sherman over Tom Brady -- take the Seahawks!


Thursday, January 22, 2015

Present-Day Politics as Seen Through the Prism of the NFL Conference Championship Games

A few quick hits this morning. First, from yesterday's Water Cooler by Lambert Strether:
From the Department of How Stupid Do They Think We Are? As Matt Stoller has shown, the growth of income inequality under Obama is greater than that under Bush. And only now, when there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of their “proposals” passing — very unlike 2008-2009, when the Democrats had the House, the Senate, the greatest orator of our time in the White House, a mandate for “hope and change,” and their boot on the thoroughly discredited Republican neck — the Democrats are 
closing the barn door after the horse is gonecoming all over populist, while simultaneously trying to fast track TPP with Republican help. Help me.
Well said. Second, from Dave Zirin's blog post yesterday, "Deflated Balls for Some, Miniature American Flags for Others!":
Contrast the faith people project onto sports with the utter absence of credulity we give politics. Why were people talking more about deflated balls than President Obama’s State of the Union address? I imagine it’s because unless you are someone who sees Beltway politics as a form of entertainment, or a DC insider consuming and analyzing every last optic, you would have to be Shirley Temple to feel like anything said by the president, no matter how artfully articulated, connects with your life. We were told the economy is booming, yet household income for the middle and working classes is still far below pre-2008 crisis levels because of stagnant wages. We were told that a tax on the 1 percent and free childcare was on the agenda, yet a hostile Congress makes those promises about as realistic as hoverboards for all. We were told that the US involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan are over, yet the facts—and boots—on the ground tell a different story. We were told that it was time to come together and see both sides on questions of police violence, yet protesters were being targeted in Ferguson while the president was speaking.
Meanwhile, we saw the Patriots kick the snot out of the Colts and we saw the Seahawks have as wild a fourth-quarter comeback as I’ve ever seen to beat the Green Bay Packers. We want to believe that this—if nothing else—represents a tangible truth. Frightening as it is to consider, sports might be our last collective tether to a recognizable reality. If people feel like Bill Belichick has taken that away, it will affect his legacy and this sport, more than a thousand instances of Roger Goodell looking like he has the moral compass of a feral raccoon. It’s sad. It’s pathetic. But it’s also understandable. We can only work with the world we’re given, and it’s a place where the trust in institutions of power is more deflated that any damn balls. 
Absolutely.

Since the return to work from the holiday weekend talk has centered on the improbable, historic NFC Championship comeback of the home-team Seahawks. Coworkers come up and tell me their experiences. I listen. One guy I work with told me the story about how he and his wife were watching the game and finally the wife had had enough; she couldn't take it anymore; Green Bay's domination seemed unbreakable; so she left to run errands. When she was out and about she heard shouts and wails of ecstasy coming from homes. Finally, she picked a random door, knocked and asked what was happening. A couple drinking Champagne told her to get inside quick. The Seahawks had just won in overtime.

The guy who heads the union where I work was back East for a conference with members of the local's executive board. They were in Atlanta waiting for a flight back to Seattle, watching the game at an airport bar when the Seahawks began their 4th quarter comeback. He said that they turned into a bunch of "little girls," crying, shrieking, jumping up and down.

A lot of different stories. One guy, a lineman, was working a call-out for a storm that was going on while the NFC Championship was being played. He ended up working a couple days straight, but he returned home for three hours to watch the game with his son, an authentic Seahawks helmet on the coffee table in front of the television.

Zirin is right, "Frightening as it is to consider, sports might be our last collective tether to a recognizable reality." It is frightening because all that collective passion that ties us together in community is part of a privately-held corporate behemoth (except for the Green Bay Packers), which, if I'm not mistaken, fits the definition of fascism.

But as another National Football League season draws to a close and Super Bowl XLIX beckons, I don't feel diminished by my part -- the many hours in front of the television being force fed wireless plans, Toyotas and Taco Bell -- because it is our primary reference, one that spans race and class and gender, in present-day society. The elemental effort of a Marshawn Lynch carrying half-a-dozen tacklers down the middle of the field or a Richard Sherman playing with one arm tucked against his ribs wiggling his fingers to try to get the sensation back while he continues to make tackles -- that seems real to me and to millions of others, a humanity that cannot be denied and buried beneath the enormous weight of a bloated, tottering, corrupt capitalist system.

As Zirin says, "We can only work with the world we’re given, and it’s a place where the trust in institutions of power is more deflated that any damn balls." U.S special forces are running black ops in over 100 countries, and the Obama administration is considering expansion of another sectarian Middle East war, which will lead to another failed state and more military expenditures. Eventually these chickens will come home to roost.

The political class is increasingly disconnected -- free floating -- from the people, the governed. The people have football, which is still honest. So your average person at least has a commitment to honesty, which is more than can be said about the political class. One can hope that when the masses decide to glance up from the television and cast their gaze upon the political class they will reject its dishonesty and bellicosity. But what is it going to take? And when is it going to happen?

I think we're going to find out in the next few years.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

NFL Week 20: Championship Round

Before picking the champions of the AFC and NFC a few words on the divisional round. Clearly the most glaring performance from last weekend was the spiritless effort put in by the Denver Broncos. To be honest with you, I can't think of the last time I watched a playoff football game where I witnessed such manifest surrender. It was like looking at a bunch of millionaires pretending to be concerned about the outcome of a match they couldn't care less about. Judging from the shots of the stands about half the home-field crowd had cleared out by the fourth quarter even with the score close enough to easily allow a Denver comeback. But by then the fans knew better.

I was fooled by the Broncos and so was Las Vegas. I am a novice, but the Vegas line is big money in service of big business. They are infrequently as wrong as they were in setting Indianapolis vs. Denver line (Broncos -6.5). My excuse is that I hadn't watched a full Denver game, that I can recall at least, since the big Peyton Manning adulation orgy when he broke Brett Favre's career TD record and the Broncos blew out the 49ers on Sunday night. At that point Denver looked like the best team in the NFL.

Now John Fox is out, as he should be, even after four consecutive AFC West titles. And I would be surprised if Peyton Manning will be back. It is clear what you need in the NFL to win. You need passion and focus and talent. And I believe you need mobility at QB. Denver has talent but none of the rest. It will be interesting to see if Brady ends up in his sixth Super Bowl whether an immobile QB can win a world championship in today's game.

The Packers head to Seattle for the NFC Championship Game a touchdown underdog. Green Bay is not particularly fearsome on the road. If you saw the Pack's NFL Week 15 beat-down by the Bills you know what I mean. Rodgers' calf injury gives a big edge to the Seahawks defense, while Russell Wilson has been playing at a high level. Green Bay could pull off an upset. But it would take another tremendous effort from Rodgers. And he generally does not provide that on the road. Take the Seahawks.

The late game on Sunday is more difficult for me to pick. New England is a touchdown favorite, which makes sense given how poorly Indianapolis has performed at Foxborough in the past and given how on fire Brady was last week against the Ravens; the guy was brilliant. But I have seriously underestimated the Colts two weeks running; they have been -- believe it or not -- the dominant team in the playoffs this year. And it has been the Indianapolis defense that has been doing the dominating. The Colts shut down Jeremy Hill and then they shut down C.J. Anderson, both better backs than any the Patriots have.

The counterargument is that both the Bengals and the Broncos were all but finished before the first snap. The Bengals ravaged by flu and without a concussed A.J. Green didn't offer much fight, and the Broncos performance was a charade. So the argument here is that the Colts have been lucky with their draw so far, but the Patriots will be different.

I think there is something to this. But I have learned my lesson about going against Indianapolis this playoff season. The Colts secondary is better than the Ravens, and Chuck Pagano is hungry. Take the Colts in a upset.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

NFL Week 19: Divisional Playoff Round

Last week the Colts undid me. I foolishly went with the Bengals thinking that their ground game would be the difference. Indianapolis shut it down, and Luck, with plenty of time to throw, completed passes at will. The Colts were impressive. They hadn't impressed me all season. Whether they can go into Denver and do the same thing against the Broncos is a whole different question.

Here are my picks for the divisional playoff round.

Ravens at Patriots: It is foolish to bet against New England at home, but I have done it before, and Baltimore is two out of three at Foxoborough in their last three playoff games there. I loathe the Patriots more than any other franchise in the NFL, even the Cowboys. This one is easy for me. Take Baltimore. Disregard the wisdom of Las Vegas (Patriots by a touchdown) and disregard the legitimate question "Who covers Gronkowski?" Go with Flacco and Ngata, Suggs and Forsett.

Panthers at Seahawks: For Cam Newton to go before the 12th Man and come away with a victory would be tantamount to a miracle. We live in a fallen age. The miraculous is absent. Seattle will be fresh from a week of rest. Marshawn Lynch's legs will be ready for another Super Bowl run. Take Seattle.

Cowboys at Packers: Vegas favors Green Bay. Rodgers' calf injury is troubling. Calves take a long time to heal. I like Eddie Lacy in this one though. DeMarco Murray's broken hand is still bothering him. Dez Bryant is not going to be dominant in the 20-degree weather of Lambeau Field. Take Green Bay.

Colts at Broncos: Here is where Indianapolis' Luck runs intro trouble. Manning much maligned of late will outshine, failing arm and all, his Colts replacement. C.J. Anderson should play well. Take Denver.

Sunday, December 28, 2014

NFL Week 17: Home Field for Seattle

I realized last night as I watched Snowpiercer (2013), Bong Joon-ho's innovative post-apocalyptic thriller that doubles as an allegory for how traditional societies (as well as storytelling) work, what a degradation of one's humanity it is to toil at a job 50-out-of-52 weeks a year.

Hard on the heels of this realization was the thought that what keeps the passengers pacified as the U.S. train hurtles off the rails is the National Football League. The NFL is the preferred opiate of the American masses. Without it there would be little coherence to our national character right now. One can safely assert, I think, that the National Football League is the only game in town.

Then I went to bed thinking about the four games the Seattle Seahawks lost this season. What stands out about those games is that the Seahawks can definitely be beaten. You beat them by running the ball, dumping the ball off to a back in the flat, and connecting with the tight end. That is on offense. On defense you shut down Marshawn Lynch and you keep Russell Wilson in the tackle box.

Two teams -- San Diego in week 2 and Dallas in week 6 -- dominated Seattle this season. The two other losses by the Seahawks -- St. Louis in week 7 and Kansas City in week 11 -- were fourth quarter nail-biters and could have easily gone Seattle's way, the kind of games that routinely went the team's way last year's Super Bowl season.

So to take a stab at the question -- "Can the Seahawks repeat?" -- we need to zero in on the San Diego and Dallas games.

In both those games the Seattle defense was on the field far too long. The Chargers killed the Seahawks with Antonio Gates and Danny Woodhead; Philip Rivers connected on short-to-medium range passes all day long. Kam Chancellor was not a 100% coming back from off-season hip surgery. K.J. Wright couldn't cover Antonio Gates. In the game against Dallas it was running backs DeMarco Murray and Joseph Randle who did the real damage. The Cowboys racked up 401 yards to Seattle's 206. Byron Maxwell and Bobby Wagner left the game with serious injuries.

In those two games the Seahawks offense was a Formula One race car with timing problems; it couldn't sustain drives. It would score quickly; then, in succeeding drives, would repeatedly go three-and-out. This was in the Harvin era.

When all is said and done, the big coaching misfire for Pete Carroll's staff this season will be the inability or the mistaken decision to try to convert the Seattle offense, oriented primarily around the rushing of Marshawn Lynch, to a sleek, super-fast pass-first West Coast-style offense. For whatever reason, it didn't work. Carroll and Bevel couldn't get the parts to mesh and Harvin was sent packing labeled as a malcontent. I think the real reason for the failure is that to run that type of offense you need a drop-back passer with an acute sense of timing and a lot of touch. Drew Brees, who is maybe an inch or a half-inch taller than Russell Wilson, can run that type of offense. But at this stage in his career Russell Wilson cannot. Russell Wilson is a scrambler and a superb rushing quarterback who can drop a ball in over coverage but he is not an "all eyes on me" pure passer. He needs a Marshawn Lynch in the backfield to anchor his attack.

Once the Seahawks returned to the offensive scheme that won them a Super Bowl and the defense returned to health they have been the best team in the league. If they were to play either San Diego or Dallas now Seattle would win. Outside of the 49ers and Frank Gore during the first half of the game in week 15, no team has run on the Seahawks defense since KC's Jamaal Charles in week 11. And no team has beat them this year by throwing long. Beast Mode is cranked up and running. Russell Wilson is connecting to Owen Willson, who finally realized his speedy potential as a receiving tight end last Sunday night. The offensive line has been a shambles and the defensive line is penalty prone. But besides these two shortcomings, the Seahawks are sound. They are young, still hungry and filled with leaders -- Richard Sherman, Earl Thomas, Kam Chancellor, Russell Wilson, Marshawn Lynch, et al.

The Vegas line has Seattle by 13 over the Rams. If the Rams hope to win, St. Louis will have to play an error-free game while at the same time hoping that Seattle self-destructs with turnovers and key injuries. Such an outcome is unlikely. The Rams will need to run the ball and Shaun Hill must be able to complete passes to his tight end Jared Cook. We will know quickly if St. Louis has a prayer.

I say Seattle wins this game and cinches home-field for the playoffs. In many ways, the Seahawks are a better team than they were last year at this time.

In the AFC, the only team at this point that I can see beating New England is Pittsburgh. The Ravens might sneak in if the Chiefs can beat the Chargers, which I think is probable. And Baltimore has shown a knack for beating Belichik in the post-season. So all hope is not yet lost. The Patriots might yet be kept from the Super Bowl.