The Jimmy Chitwood Files

Wherein we attempt to alleviate the anxiety of Anglos under 6’8″ everywhere by analyzing the past, present and future prospects of a selected white kid currently tearing it up collegiately. 

We meant to start this section some time ago but the reality is it just hasn’t been an exciting year for the Random White Guy. Don’t get us wrong, Hansbrough has looked spectacular and Kevin Love has shown trademark flashes of brilliance, but no one has inspired White hype hyperbole this season the way the Luke Jacksons and Morrisons and Redicks and McNamaras have of seasons past. We’re talking the kind of hype that inspires lazy Larry Bird comparisons and subsequent lazier refutations of lazy Larry Bird comparisons. We’re still not there yet this season, and consequently probably won’t be for the rest of the year, but because we all know that Tennessee won’t get out of the Elite Eight and a Tigers-Vols recap is patently unnecessary, we’re using a brilliant Sunday night performance by Kyle McAlarney to wake up the echoes. 

Name: Kyle McAlarney  

Position: Guard  

Class: Junior  

Height: 6’0″  

Game: 30 pts, including 9-11 from behind the Arc.  

Is current school synonymous with whites?: He plays for the Fighting Irish – have they had an African American player on their roster since Austin Carr? 

Can he shoot 3s?: Re-read the above stat line.  

Laziest White Guy Comparison: JJ Redick  

Most Accurate White Guy Comparison: JJ Redick. A three point shooter with a resume blemishing weed arrest? All he needs to do is compose bad poetry and send harassing text messages to Latin women. 

Distinguishing White Guy Feature (Luke Jackson had floppy hair, Adam Morrison a moustache, Redick wore Pink Polo’s): His last name is fucking McAlarney. 

 

Does his team have a shot come Tournament Time?: Generally we’d say be wary of any roster whose best player is a shorter Todd MacCulloch, be really wary when said player is playing for the Irish. But there’s a toughness on this team reminiscent of the early 90′s Duke squads. Syracuse is a young, brash, bullying bunch that seemed shocked by Notre Dame’s reticence to respond to the Orangemen’s chippiness. Notre Dame ain’t Elite Eight material, but they ain’t ain’t Elite Eight material either.  

Does he have a future in the NBA?: If he was a few inches taller he’d fulfill the increasingly effective role of NBA White Spot-Up Shooter (hello Kyle Korver.) But at six feet flat? He can look to a lucrative career hitting 3s alongside Bracey Wright, Darius Washington and Hanno Mattola for Aris Thessaloniki (Incidentally that’s not a joke – Wright, Washington and Mattola are playing together on a roster that has to have been constructed by Aris GM Isaiah Thomasapolus.) However, even Travis Diener found his NBA niche so there’s hope for McAlarney yet. If nothing else he can succeed fellow Golden Domer Pat Garrity as Treasurer of the NBA Player’s Union.

ESPN vs. Lifetime Channel, Round 2

(Wherein we continue our quest to see where your viewing minutes would have been better spent last night – watching ESPN’s college basketball offering or the Lifetime Channel movie of the night.)  

Awfulsome is one of the most useful words not currently recognized by those Ivory Tower grammar fascists at spellcheck. It encompasses all things that are simultaneously awful yet awesome, like German TV, International Male, and Isiah Thomas, GM. It also describes as concisely and accurately as possible the programming philosophy of one Lifetime Channel. When practiced correctly, awfulsomeness is a life-affirming experience that allows one to guiltlessly make fun of other people for artistically degrading themselves, as they are likely making a lot more money than you and dating better looking people.  

Occasionally, however, experiences that should be awfulsome are just, well, awful. Hollow, soul-crushing exhaustions of time that make you doubt the existence of a benevolent god. Last night’s Lifetime Channel original, “Fatal Reunion”, may actually be a notch below that. To say it has the production value of a porn flick would be a grave disservice to the film industry of the greater San Fernando Valley. A star vehicle for Erika Eleniak, fresh off her roles in “Baywatch” and “Under Siege” a scant 15 years ago, with a supporting cast as obscure as “Bum Fights” and only slightly better paid, it deprives you of the simple pleasure of laughing at someone else’s dramatic incompetence for the simple reason that, unless your job involves knowing the difference between “grande” and “venti”, you are likely making more money than the actors involved. Even a peek at the cast’s imdb entries is an exercise in low-budget depression. Lifetime seemingly spared every expense, not wanting to spend the extra time and Union OT in post-production to edit out the crew’s shadow in the background, nor seeing the importance in making sure the main character’s name is correct in the Lifetime website’s synopsis (They call her Jennifer while the film makes a convincing argument that her name is actually Jessica.) Making fun of this movie is kind of like jeering the players at a Sacramento State/Cal State East Bay game.     

Of course that won’t stop us from doing so. The story itself seeks to answer the cinematic question, “My buddy Dave has some sweet-ass cameras for the next couple of hours – wanna make a movie?” Eleniak plays a dipshit suburban housewife who seems to have had an accident with a tub of peroxide. She suspects her husband is cheating simply because he comes home from work meetings at 2:30 in the morning. In response she briefly flirts with an old high school flame, seemingly ignoring the fact that even the gaydar of someone who spent the last 50 years in a convent would fly into violent convulsions as soon as this dude walked into the room. When she ignores his attempts to get her into bed (we’re guessing to see what kind of thread count her sheets are), Eleniak is subjected to some of the most horrifying stalker tactics ever devised during a 15 minute smoke break – crank calls, impolite e:mails, her dog getting slightly poisoned, and a Facebook “hey what’s up?” from Steven Seagal.    

Meanwhile, NC State provided a different study in awful over on ESPN. True, they put up a close and almost entertaining game against North Carolina in the first half, but this is a team with a decent amount of talent that has greatly undershot the expectations of a lot of prognosticators this season. Namely ours. It’s unfortunate that trades can’t be made in college basketball, because the presence of freshman J.J. Hickson, a versatile 6’9”, 240 lb. forward, has completely overshadowed last year’s most dynamic player, sophomore Brandon Costner, a versatile 6’9’, 240 lb. forward. Despite the awfulness of the Wolfpack, the game was a worthwhile viewing endeavor for one reason only – David Thompson. Thompson, the original Skywalker, was Mike before there was Mike. He was 6’3” and easily could have done the Gerald Green cupcake dunk, though unfortunately he may have opted to snort a line of blow off the rim while he was up there. That, and a jacked-up knee, ultimately ended his career. But just seeing Thompson, admittedly my favorite childhood athlete in any sport, made me smile. My parents still remember my making them buy me a pair of his horrible Pony DT shoes, which I think were made in Guatemala and given the circumstances of his demise had the most ironic name in the history of shoeware. Having Bobby Jones sitting next to him makes last night’s ESPN/Lifetime Channel battle a no-brainer (Ironically, Jones traded seats with George McGinnis at halftime and immediately won a flat-screen TV.)    

Score : Lifetime Channel 1, ESPN 1

The AP Top 25: Countdown to Relevance

1. Memphis

You know how when a team is undefeated, and people start saying that the best thing would be for them to lose at least once during the regular season, which then leads to the sports media saying how ridiculous that is and losing once isn’t going to make any difference? Uhh…we can pretty much lay that argument to rest now, right?

2. Tennessee 

We’re begrudgingly upgrading them a tic, but we’re still not entirely convinced. There’s not another team in the SEC that we can realistically see in the Sweet Sixteen.

3. North Carolina

4. Kansas

5. Duke

6. UCLA

7. Texas 

The lack of depth is a real concern for the Longhorns, but the continued development of Gary Johnson and having D.J. Augustin puts them back as a contender.

8. Butler

Can a team in the top 10 really qualify as a darkhorse? Frankly this ranking is way too high for a team that hasn’t played anybody of note, but we still like them as a Tournament team.

9. Stanford

Afther much consideration we’re going to stick to our guns here, particularly since the Cardinal were a phantom foul and no-call goaltend away from being swept in Arizona. We like the Lopez boys, but the backcourt will be their Tournament undoing.

10. Xavier 

As opposed to Butler, we don’t think this ranking is too high. Xavier is legit.

11. Wisconsin

There’s only one Big 10 team whose chances we like. This ain’t it.

12. Georgetown

13. UConn

It’s either a statement about the lack of a dominant team in college basketball this year or about the Huskies themselves that they have come so far so fast. The truth is we were really, really close to vaulting them into the territory of the Elite. Wherever they are placed in the Tournament, this team will scare the living hell out of everybody else.

14. Purdue

Nope, not this Big 10 team either.

15. Indiana

You got it. Speed dialing be damned, this team has two potential lottery picks.

16. Drake

17. Washington State

If they enter the Tournament as a 5 or higher seed, I’m calling my bookie.

18. Louisville

19. Michigan State

I sure as hell hope you didn’t think it was this Big 10 team.

20. Vanderbilt

21. Notre Dame

Harangody may end up Big East Player of the Year, Torin Jackson gives them much needed athleticism, and as usual the Irish have a bunch of white guys who can and will shoot from anywhere at any time. Hopefully they’re scouting the Big South for potential first round Tournament matchups a little better this year.

22. Texas A&M 

23. St. Mary’s 

24. Kansas State

25. Marquette

I Ain’t Dead Yet :

• Arizona – Very, very close to being dead however. Losing Nic Wise could prove crushing, it’s not like there was a lot of depth to start with.
• Pitt
• Rhode Island
• Gonzaga
• Arkansas - if for no other reason than we haven’t been able to talk about Steven Hill for three months. His absence lo these many weeks has absolutely nothing to do with any missing persons in the greater Fayetteville area.
• New Mexico
• USC
• Syracuse
• Kentucky

OJ’s Mayo – Best Friends Forever

Opponent: UCLA 

Result: Loss, 56-46 

Stats: 4 pts. (2-8 FG, 0-0 FT), 9 rebounds, 3 assists, 10 (yes, 10) turnovers 

The truth about college basketball and its hold on the general public is that it is a transient thing. For all of the holiday tournaments and inherent tradition of the conference schedule, the sad fact is that most viewers have two basic questions when watching a college hoops game: “How will this team do in the NCAA Tournament?” and “How will these players do in the NBA?” They want to be able to say that they picked UConn for the Final Four because they saw them dismantle Marquette in January. They want to know who can solve their NBA team’s problems at the point, and say they saw him when. Although we here at Pyramid of Excess obviously appreciate the implications of a mid-season Creighton/Southern Illinois game ourselves, we understand. It’s a crowded entertainment world and you have barely enough time as it is to catch up on the latest Maroon 5 album (Here’s a tip to save your time – it sucks). 

It would be tempting to say that last night’s game went a long way towards answering both of those questions regarding USC and O.J. Mayo. For Mayo, this was easily the worst game in his young career. He struggled to get his shot off, made terrible decisions with the ball, and didn’t get to the foul line once, an unforgivable sin for a scorer like him. Part of this was due to the absence of starting point guard Daniel Hackett, who is recovering from a stress fracture in his back much more slowly than he did that pre-season “elbow” from Mayo’s fist. With Hackett out, more of the ball handling and distribution duties fall on Mayo’s shoulders, and thus far he is responding with all of the aplomb of Sofia Coppola in “The Godfather III” (though we trust with more sexual chemistry vis-à-vis Andy Garcia). Part of it was due to the defense of Russell Westbrook, not only UCLA’s most athletic players but one of the most athletic players in the country. But to say that Mayo is any less of a prospect based on this one game is unfair. As everyone but John Hollinger knows, Mayo not only is not a true point, he really hasn’t been asked to do this very much, at least not at the college level. His prospects as an NBA offguard should no more be judged by his work as a point than should Coppola’s performance as a dead fish be a barometer of her directorial acumen. 

The game probably did go further towards answering the question of the Trojans’ Tournament prospects, but even that is still subject to Hackett’s availability for the rest of the year. With Hackett, this team can be a destructive bracket spoiler. They would have a true point, scoring wings in Mayo and Dwight Lewis, and extremely athletic big men in Taj Gibson and Davon Jefferson. They also have a pretty darn good coach, no matter that he seems to dress with Brian Fantana’s hand-me-downs, and one who doesn’t get nearly enough credit for teaching defense. Playing what is rightfully considered one of the best defensive teams in the country, USC played an exceptional defensive game themselves. They forced UCLA to run the clock out or take bad, hurried shots on numerous occasions, and surprisingly did it without any of Tim Floyd’s usual junk defenses for most of the game. But frankly without Hackett this is a team that may struggle to even reach the Tournament, and it’s not just that they miss him as their primary ball-handler. The USC rotation with Hackett was pretty thin already, with only about 7 guys getting regular minutes. Take one starter away from a team with that little depth and you’re Tournament toast. Mayo will bounce back from this game and USC could still have a Tournament future, but strangely the immediate future of both is going to be determined by the one guy least happy about the O.J. Mayo era.

ESPN vs. Lifetime Channel, Round 1

The two months or so between the end of the Super Bowl and the beginning of baseball season is generally considered to be the sporting equivalent of the Dead Zone, but frankly we’ve never understood why. For one we love hockey, and not just the NHL but also the even more marginalized sport of college hockey, where every game seems to hold some urgency and the athletes play with the enthusiasm of 10 year-olds on a sugar high. The NBA is in full swing by February and is eminently watchable, especially now that the Warriors are running the same offense used at my 24 Hour Fitness. Most importantly, however, in February and March there is much less competition in the sporting landscape for our obvious predilection, college basketball. Nearly every night features meaningful games, either to the respective schools’ pride, to their Tournament chances, or to an oversexed student body hoping to see Erin Andrews bend over.  

But we understand that a Thursday night Fordham/UMass tilt doesn’t get everyone worked up into a lather. There’s still a big world out there, and by a big world out there of course we mean TV, and the watching thereof. So in what may be a running item for as long as it holds our interest, we are going to moderate a battle of the network offerings, more specifically between ESPN and the other most relevant channel on basic cable, the Lifetime Channel. We will take the marquee game from ESPN’s slate the previous night and pit it against whatever the Lifetime Channel had selected to air from its cadre of fine low-budget films. We don’t want to make viewing decisions for you, we just want to provide the viewing public with the tools to decide whether their time would have been better spent watching ESPN continue its torrid affair with Duke for the 12^th time this month or watching a C-list actress struggle with infidelity/diet pills/body image/Scott Peterson/justifying the 10% going to her agent. 

The first night unfortunately wasn’t much of a contest at all. ESPN’s lineup wasn’t bad, headlined by…surprise, Duke! In this long and storied ACC rivalry, Duke almost shot Maryland out of the gym in the first half before a suddenly spry Maryland team, led by the suddenly electrifying Greivis Vasquez, tried to make it a game. Still, in all it was a by-the-book win for the Dukies. The Texas Tech win over K State on ESPN2 was a bit surprising although ultimately about as interesting as Lubbock itself. The best matchup in the country last night, UConn/Notre Dame, wasn’t even shown nationally, mostly because ESPN’s love for Duke > Digger’s love for the Irish. Sorry Digger, maybe next time.  

Frankly, though, it would have taken a Roy Williams/Coach K fistfight to win this first matchup, because Lifetime came out swinging with the Tara Reid vehicle “Devil’s Pond” (Look for the sequel, “Satan’s Cement Pond”, starring Haylie Duff and the guy who played Dauber on “Coach”, sometime in 2009 when the cast and director have a week off from Applebee’s.) After apparently having her face sandblasted, Tara Reid marries Mike Dunleavy and is taken to honeymoon in Ted Kaczynski’s cabin in the middle of a lake. Oops, I mean DEVIL’S POND! Anywho, Ms.Reid is a bit trepidatious about the locale given that she cannot swim, but becomes much more comfortable with her surroundings when her husband tells her the lake is made of vodka. The honeymoon also serves as a kind of “get to know you” for the young couple, as Dunleavy does not know that his new wife cannot swim and Tara does not know that her new husband taught Jerramy Stevens how to treat the ladies. A bit of reality at work there as most of Tara Reid’s relationships end with a “Wait, who the hell are you?” followed by a bout of ferocious vomiting. Much excitement ensues throughout the picture concerning lost birth control pills (since when has Tara Reid been so concerned about contraception?), a bear trap, and a beer bottle that is broken over the husband’s head, which Ms.Reid immediately regrets as it was their last coldie, before I am asked what the hell am I watching and change the damn channel because Project Runway is on.  

Score : Lifetime Channel 1, ESPN 0

Quien Es Mas Macho, Dos

Sequels suck, and we have no intention of sucking, at least by no choice of our own.  But it was recently brought to our attention by our lawyers (and by lawyers we mean our respective fathers…how else could we afford to blog all the time? Thanks Dads!) that according to Title IX not pursuing a piece involving Women’s Coaches would leave us liable to lawsuits, and ever since that “undercover” fiasco at Cole Field House a little less than a decade ago lawsuits are something we generally try to avoid. Besides, since our previous piece on men’s head coaches was easily the most, if not only, widely read of ours, we figured we needed something to fill the dead time until March when every office in the country starts googling “St. Mary’s”.

We tried to lure back the esteemed guest panel of our gay brother, straight sister, and wife, but there’s still some bad feelings since we made them look at one too many pictures of Phil Martelli (Coincidentally, one seems to be one too many.) So until we are able to procure shirtless pictures of Anthony Grant to entice them back, we are going to have to rely solely on the services of a bi-curious family friend and the Gen-X lesbian that works at our local café. She promised not to spit in my frappucino any more if I let her chime in. Enjoy. 

C. Vivian Stringer

Bill Clinton, Cokie Roberts, Howard Stern. Those are the names of just a handful of luminaries insulted, alienated, and hurt during the illustrious career of one Don Imus, who spent 20 plus years on the radio making 50 year old Vanderbilt grads laugh while confusing everyone else (Unless you too are fond of Boo Radley references.) Despite op eds, protests, and refusals among some of Washington and Manhattan’s media and political elite, Imus ranted unabated. That is until he fucked with C. Vivian Stringer, who took 5 syllables and submarined Imus’ career with the force and air of inevitability usually reserved for French fiction. Stringer also makes the list for the C initial in her name, an indication, generally, of bad assedness. CCH Pounder, George C. Scott, Cee-Lo, even the Odwallla Strawberry C Monster…only C. Thomas Howell undermines the credibility of this crew. 

*         Gen-X lesbian – I like a woman who can kick my ass. This woman could kick Russell Crowe’s ass. 

*         Bi-curious family friend – Who is this? I don’t know this girl. I would totally make out with Angelina Jolie.   

Van Chancellor

Chancellor continues the long standing SEC tradition of basketball coaches that bear an uncanny resemblance to alcoholic southern lawyers trying to fight through the DTs to win one last case and bring healing to a racially divided small town. Of course that situation isn’t entirely different from what he’s got to deal with in the post-Pokey environment at LSU, but as long as he can avoid contracting the vapors and excessive parasol shopping the Lady Tigers should be in fine shape. 

*         Gen-X lesbian – He looks like my dad. I fucking hate my dad. Every woman adores a Fascist/The boot in the face, the brute/Brute heart of a brute like you.

*         Bi-curious family friend – Have you seen Bound? What about the uncut version of Wild Things?

Janell Jones

Few women can pull off the Black Jack Dealer at an Indian Casino look at get away with it. Jones is one of those few. She may smoke GPCs like a chimney when she’s off her shift, but that doesn’t mean she wants you blowing that smoke in her face Grandma, she doesn’t care what church group you came with. And she isn’t rescheduling her shift the night Ron White is in town, your induced labor be damned.

We’d imagine it ain’t easy coaching at a school with both high academic standards and beach proximity, which is why we totally understand the power of an authoritative perm. 

*         Bi-curious family friend – Me and my friend Thalia were at this Handcuffs and Heinekens exchange and we were cuffed together and it just felt really special so we just started making out and all these guys were taking pictures and yelling and this dick Craig put the pictures up on his Facebook and why can’t he just respect the sanctity and intimacy of our connection? 

*         Gen-X lesbian – She looks like my first lover or my freshman Sociology prof. Wait a minute…that was the same person. 

Pat Summit 

How tough is this list? If we’d included her among the men on our previous post and done a legit ranking Summit would have landed at 2. Here? She’d clock in around 9. Though it bears pointing out that Summit looks about 10 billion times more intimidating on her SI cover…

Than Knight looked on his…even with Satanic tint…

*         Bi-curious family friend – Don’t get me wrong. Guys can satisfy me I guess. But it’s just not the same experience it is with a girl, they make hooking up in a Hooter’s urinal special. 

*         Gen-X lesbian – Who’s the chick in the second SI cover? She looks like my landlord’s partner. 

Brenda Frese

The problem with coaching in the culture of homely is that even when you’re pretty, you’re pretty screwed by time. Take Brenda Frese. She’s better looking than you think she is. But all those ’06 overtime games, impending twins, and Talbot’s pant suits can’t not catch up with a person. It’s not that she’s not still attractive, she is. But she’s a little weathered now, and while weathered works on ships, jeans and men’s college basketball coaches, it doesn’t always work on women. Except Estelle Getty.

*         Gen-X lesbian – You know, I don’t mean to rain on the older generation’s parade but wearing bad pantsuits doesn’t automatically make you a lesbian. It takes a little something called social activism, as well as a lot of labial piercings and comfortable shoes.

*         Bi-curious family friend – Is this Pour Some Sugar on Me? Shut the fuck up and give me a boost to the table. I looooove Fat Tuesday’s! 

Chris Ratcliff

We like to think of ourselves as a fairly college sports savvy duo, but even we have to admit being slightly naïve about the Univesity of Arkansas at Monticello and their Gulf South Conference. It is a Division II Conference we know, and we’re pretty sure their web page is at GeoCities. It also appears their basketball coaches moonlight as Wedding DJs. 

*         Bi-curious family friend – Why won’t this Larry Eustachy guy leave me the fuck alone?!?  

*         Gen-X lesbian – I hate to be politically incorrect, but personally I’m not into the gender reassignment thing. No amount of hormone therapy and resulting facial hair is going to hide the fact that you were born without a Y chromosome. 

Stacy Johnson-Klein

For those who have ever harbored a secret desire to jump on the hot “large” girl, Johnson-Klein blows the doors off of any Lane Bryant catalog model. In fact she blows the doors off most catalog models period, with the obvious exception of Victoria’s Secret and Chico’s, whose models do have a certain frumpy charm. Unfortunately she’s no longer coaching, though she does still have contact with her former school Fresno State, most recently last week when a California judes “reduced” her wrongful termination judgement from $19 million to $6.6 million. Hell hath no fury like a smoking hot full-figured gal. 

*         Bi-curious family friend – Can I tell you a story? But you can’t tell anyone o.k.? My friend Natalie’s mom…I always thought she was looking at me but I couldn’t ever say anything right…one night we were at her parent’s cabin in Tahoe having a girls night, and Mrs. Shullman and I had been drinking all this Charles Shaw and she started to brush my hair and stroke me and I knew where her hand was going but I didn’t stop her, I couldn’t stop her, because I could feel this rush of desire pulsating through my…

*         Gen-X lesbian – What are you doing?! Don’t cut over to me, jerkoff! Let her finish the story! 

Kim Mulkey-Robertson

The truth about any remotely attractive woman in sports is that they’re almost always only attractive in that particular plane of reference. Nearly any girl wearing a skirt on the golf course is immediately hot given that you’re usually surrounded by middle managers who wear socks with sandals and cart-riding bariatric surgery candidates, but the same girl wouldn’t merit so much as a Red Bull and vodka from you at 11 pm. Put it this way – would you take Maria Sharapova over any of the girls in “Friday Night Lights”? We didn’t think so. Still Baylor head coach Mulkey-Robertson does something for us. It may be the tight sweater but more likely it’s her dead-on resemblance to Ferris Bueller’s mom.

*         Gen-X lesbian –  You know if you’re not doing anything later tonight I’d love to hear the end of your Tahoe story. I have this great book of Neruda poems and Henry and June on D.V.D.

*         Bi-curious family friend – I’m off the Cheesecake Factory at 10:00…do you own a video camera?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Honorable Mention : Quien Es Mas Macho?

1. Bobby Cremins Division

 ?

or…

 ?

2. Big Country Division

 ?

or…

  ?

3. Pug-Ugly Cosby Sweater Division

 ?

or…

  ?

Under The Rug Of History

In 1957 my dad went to the University of San Francisco to play basketball. The Dons were coming off two consecutive National Championships, the last to cap off an undefeated season. USF was the Duke of its era, with a roster of blue-chip recruits from all corners of the country, one that soon found no need for the services of a 6’2” rebounder who would later be best known for making me weed the goddamn backyard. But USF was also a respected Jesuit institution with an academic and moral reputation, so much so that the esteemed basketball program was shut down by the administration in 1982 because of allegations ranging from recruiting improprieties (including star Quintin Dailey) to bogus jobs for players (mostly Quintin Dailey) to an alleged rape (pretty much just Quintin Dailey). That is what makes the school’s current situation all the more perplexing, and that is why the “celebration” marking Eddie Sutton’s 800th win has all the heat of Michael Vick’s next birthday party. Just over 20 years after its self-imposed Death Sentence, the program finds itself with a coach of questionable motivation, replacing one with reprehensible academic standards, orchestrated by an AD with a dubious resume and brokered by a couple of characters who give Sonny Vaccaro the creeps.  

That Sutton is the least culpable in this mess speaks more to the moral turpitude of the rest of the cast of characters than to his own decency. Though his initial pronouncement in the press that this is “the least amount of talent I’ve ever had to work with” sounds less like a motivational speech and more like an copout, the players themselves may actually benefit from Sutton’s guidance. Which isn’t saying a great deal, considering that outgoing coach Jessie Evans pulled the rare feat of abhorrent academic standards in the classroom and consistent mediocrity on the court (Apparently he didn’t read the second half of Bob Huggins’ book.) Still, whatever one thinks about Sutton’s presence on the Hill, he undeniably took the job for one reason only (actually two reasons – he was at 798 wins). He’s made it clear that he’s gone after this year, which would be a huge blow to recruiting if USF had been doing that with any amount of success, and frankly the idea of Eddie Sutton in San Francisco makes about as much sense as Dick Cheney in the Castro. Admittedly, though, there is a certain amount of symmetry for a coach with a vagabond reputation ending his career as a three month gun-for-hire.  

Orchestrating this transition was USF Athletic Director Debra Gore-Mann. Well, not entirely. It’s pretty apparent that Gore-Mann had a lot of help from the Pump Brothers, who run a sort of executive search business for head coaches, kind of like Robert Half International without the pesky background check. That the AD of a Division I school would rely on the services of the Kelly Girls of college hoops likely has less to do with their success and more with the fact that they also run an AAU program that is a pipeline for DI talent. Apparently the Pump Brothers also have a pipeline for brokering Final Four tickets for coaches, making them the Renaissance men of creepy recruiting gurus.  

For her part, Gore-Mann’s decision to make a change, an inevitability given that Evans had led the Dons to the middle of the pack in WCC standings as well as dead solid last in academics, was unquestionably the right one. What somewhat tempers the virtue of the decision, however, is not only the presence of the Pump Brothers, but the fact that she waited until the season started, as well as her own questionable background. Gore-Mann left the Stanford Athletic Department one step ahead of the executioner, where as an Associate AD she was charged with covering up an incident in which players entertained recruits at the New Century strip club in San Francisco. This is disappointing mostly because you would expect a school as well-heeled as Stanford to at least pony up for the O’Farrell Theater, particularly if they’re going to submit receipts (which they actually did before Gore-Mann allegedly destroyed them).  

There is a potential silver lining in all of this, and strangely it involves the WCC’s greatest success story on the other side of the Bay and a coach still searching for his first victory. In Moraga, Saint Mary’s coach Randy Bennett has done an exemplary job putting together a nationally competitive program while still staying in the good graces of the Admissions department. If the presence of Eric Musselman sniffing around at every Gaels’ home game tells us nothing else, however, it is that Bennett will soon be moving on to greener pastures. The most immediate vacancy is in Oregon State, which despite being in Corvallis is still the Pac-10. Hey, it worked for Ralph Miller. Should Bennett take the Beavers job (and yes we’re saying that because we like saying Beavers), that would leave winless interim Beavers (heh heh) head coach Kevin Mouton without a job. Mouton, coincidentally, is a USF alumnus. Mouton has the coaching experience and also seems to have the ethical fortitude. His first order of business after replacing Jay John was to kick C.J. Giles, the Beavers’ best player but biggest head case, off the team. Frankly we’d take him or Musselman over either Sutton or Evans. Musselman’s barking style is more naturally suited to college ball, and his social style is more suited to a city where you can walk home from bars. Whatever decision is ultimately made regarding the permanent head coach, it needs to be done quickly. Until then USF is a program in basketball purgatory.

John Hollinger Is A Useless Tool

Screw the flowery language, the references to Raymond Carver, solipsism, and obscure players from the 80’s. We’re taking a break from niceties today. You see we’ve had a chance to read ESPN’s latest look at college basketball’s NBA prospects and we’ve come to one irrefutable conclusion that can only be expressed through blunt colloquialisms: John Hollinger is a useless tool. 

Hollinger, one of ESPN’s head NBA writers apparently as a result of lost bet, is consistently ludicrous yet easily ignored because his nonsense is at least usually confined to the NBA. His ouvre revolves entirely around a statistical formula to quantify a player’s value, an amalgamation of statistics that Hollinger no doubt spent hours locked in his office devising. It is useful and only mildly annoying when it does things like conclude that LeBron James and Chris Paul are very, very good.  

We could live with the fact that Hollinger is trotted out as some sort of expert just because he has a statistical tool with a catchy nickname to support what most basketball fans have concluded by doing things like, oh I don’t know, watching basketball. But what really, truly peeves is that not only has Hollinger so obviously never played a game of basketball in his life, he lacks a basic understanding for the game, a feel for the things that could be picked up by spending more time using the ESPN press pass to actually observe the game in action rather than holing up in the media room perusing box scores. As anyone who has played or watched basketball for long enough knows, it is the one sport where a team and a player can be much more or less than the sum of its statistical parts, a game of nuance where one player’s toughness may be worth much more than another player’s ability to put up 20 then disappear in the 4^th quarter. It’s the kind of knowledge that prevents you from saying such blatantly nonsensical things like the most important piece of last year’s Golden State/Indiana trade, the trade that led one team to the playoffs for the first time since the Clinton administration and another to irrelevancy, was…wait for it…Ike Diogu. Sarunas Jasikevicius is still pissed. 

As much as we revile Hollinger when he’s writing about pro basketball, it’s a whole other thing when you step into our world, pal. You see, in his latest missive Hollinger has come to the rescue of NBA GMs everywhere, taking the guesswork out of scouting by concocting a formula to isolate the best pro prospects currently playing their college ball. He spent a lot of time on this baby, going back to the lab to refine it numerous times, no doubt sweating over beakers and test tubes like an 80’s movie montage over a Kenny Loggins or Oingo Boingo soundtrack, and has come to the inescapable conclusion that the best pro prospect in college is…Michael Beasley. 

So the first Hollingerism, using a complicated statistical calculation to conclude the glaringly obvious, certainly holds true. But this wouldn’t be a Hollinger calculation without the second Hollingerism, the completely random result that could have as easily been reached using the scientific method of my four year-old and a Magic Marker. Oklahoma’s Blake Griffin checks in second, a point I won’t argue because I love Griffin (though not enough to draft him second), with names such as Derrick Rose and O.J. Mayo not even appearing in his top 25 prospects. Of Mayo, Hollinger says, “Let’s just say he’s got a lot of work to do if he’s going to play point in the pros.” Of course anyone who has actually fucking seen Mayo play would know that, despite the preseason hype, Mayo is not a point guard. At best he will be a combo guard, and frankly from what we’ve seen he will be an offensive killer. God forbid we should ask Hollinger to put down the computer and watch the game he writes about. 

Hollinger spends a lot of time lauding his system for its efficacy in providing results that are as utterly random as the actual draft. When he first introduced this calculation in last year’s draft preview, he commented smugly that “at least this one doesn’t result in consecutive lottery picks being spent on Jared Jeffries, Melvin Ely and Marcus Haislip”, which would sound a lot better if he didn’t illustrate later in the very same article that he had Jeffries as the 7^th best prospect in the 2002 draft. He also oddly seems to think that his system is proven out by the fact that in the 2006 draft, by far the top player in his analysis was Tyrus Thomas. And although he is occasionally vindicated by players like Carlos Boozer, he is more often proven a complete ass by the likes of Michael Sweetney, Curtis Borchardt, Luke Jackson, Andre Emmett, et al. In other words, his infallible system produces results that are either painfully obvious or as completely arbitrary as the draft itself. In other other words, John Hollinger is a useless tool.