Bleacher Report - Articles by Darren Jones

Are You There, God? It's Me, Jazz Fan

Darren Jones — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 14:22:22 -0500

I don’t know how much more my delicate sports-fan psyche can take.

I knew getting attached to Carlos Boozer was dangerous. I know what everybody says: “Professional basketball players don’t care about you.” “They only care about themselves.” “Get too attached and they’ll break your heart every time.”

But that’s just in other cities, on other teams. It’s different here.

We put statues of players who didn’t even win championships in front of our arena. We’ve had the same coach for 20 years. Some of our players never even used agents.

How could this happen?

I believed him when he said he didn’t want to play for any other teams, and when he said he’d play as hard as he could to make the Jazz a contender again. Why wouldn’t I? He would never do anything to hurt me. He’s so nice, so smart. He went to Duke. He’s from Alaska.

Those people in Cleveland were just jealous. They don’t know the real Carlos like I do.

I gave him everything a fan could. I cheered for him. I spent a month’s salary to see him play. I bought his jersey for my kid. I stood by him even when his defense made Lamar Odom look like Hakeem Olajuwon.

I told myself “Of course he belongs on the Olympic team.”

Why? Why? Why?

Sure, I thought it was a little over the top when the Jazz marketed him and Deron as the “Next Stockton and Malone,” when deep down I knew the “Next Stockton and Bill Walton in the later stages of his career” would have been more appropriate.

But I didn’t say anything. I figured it was close enough.

How could I have been so naïve?

It did seem strange that an injury that can keep him out for three months can’t get diagnosed after seven MRIs and an exploratory surgery. But what do I know? I'm not a doctor. He’s just being cautious so he can be healthy in May and take us deep into the playoffs again.

Right?

Maybe he really doesn’t want to sign with Miami. Maybe he still wants to play for the Jazz and opting out is just a good business decision, like he said. That whole thing in Cleveland was just good business after all, and he’s a businessman.

Besides, who wants to live in Cleveland?

I did hear those rumors that Derek Fisher really just wanted out of Salt Lake City and played Larry Miller like one of those traveling salesmen who sells life insurance policies to old people, but it just doesn’t make sense.

Why would anyone want to play in Miami or L.A. when they can play in a great place like Utah for such a cool guy as Jerry Sloan?

Why would anyone want to leave when they can play for such great fans like me?

I’m so confused. I feel lost.

I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Deron. At least I know he’ll never leave me.

Tennis' Era of Greatness Gives Us Two Jordans, Two Tigers

Darren Jones — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 14:41:16 -0500

Ruth. Gretzky. Ali. Montana. Phelps. Jordan. Woods.

In sports, we love nothing more than Greatness. We can’t measure it or define it, yet we all know it when we see it. The Great athletes combine superior physical and psychological abilities to do super-human things with ease and style.

They seem to go through their careers immune to serious injuries and oblivious to distractions of fame or personal life. They bring new elements to their sport that define and elevate the way it is played. Most importantly, they win, but they don’t just win—they dominate. Their closest competitors rarely even come close.

Greatness is the rarest thing in any sport, coming around maybe once in a generation—sometimes less. Consider that it’s been 10 years since Michael Jordan won his last championship, and 12 years since Tiger Woods won his first major, yet we still wonder when we will see the “next M.J.” and when someone will emerge to challenge Tiger as the world’s best golfer.

History tells us that neither will happen soon.

I’ve often wondered what the NBA would have been like in the 1990s if there had been two “Jordans” fiercely competing for those six titles, or what the PGA would look like now if there were two “Tigers” with equal focus, drive, and skill. Would each of their accomplishments be leveled out and diminished—a Greatness zero-sum game?

Would one of them succumb with their Greatness neutralized and unfulfilled? Or would each be pushed by the other to even more sublime levels of competition and performance?

For those of you with similar musings, I offer you men’s Tennis. Specifically, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.

Federer is Tennis’ undisputed generational Great. The sport’s Jordan or Tiger. To understand his Greatness, you have to look at more than just his 13 major championships and consider the total impact he has had on the game, from his revolutionary style of play to his unprecedented success across the schizophrenia of Tennis’ three unique playing surfaces—grass, hard court, and clay.

Federer began winning majors at Wimbledon in 2003. In stark contrast to the powerful serve and volley “blast and smash” play of Pete Sampras, Boris Becker and others that had dominated the game for 20 years, Federer won with a finesse style, outmaneuvering opponents with backcourt control and error-less precision.

Now, just five-and-a-half short years since Federer started winning, there is not a single serve and volley player among the top ranked players. The style of play of the entire field changed just to try to compete with Federer.

Federer’s wins have all come on grass at Wimbledon and on hard courts at the Australian and U.S. Opens, but Federer developed his game to compete in all four major tournaments, including the French Open, played on clay.

Clay-court tennis requires adjustments to every aspect of the game. Players must use completely different techniques based on the way the ball spins and bounces and the player's feet slide across the surface when hitting each shot.

The pace of play is drastically slower and shots and strategies that work well on grass or hard courts will get you killed on clay. Winning on both surfaces is something few players ever do, and most don’t even try. In the past 30 years, only Agassi and Borg have won both the French Open and Wimbledon.

By 2005, Federer was close to becoming the top player on clay, reaching the finals at the French Open. A win there would put him on a clear course to have 16, 17, 18 majors by now. But something happened that slowed him down.

Something that Jordan, Tiger or most any other great never encountered. It wasn’t injury, issues in his personal life or loss of interest. It was another Great. An 18-year old, left-handed Spaniard named Rafael Nadal.

Nadal emerged in 2005, smothering his opponents with pure strength, stamina and athleticism, a style entirely different from Federer’s finesse and control. When he beat Federer at the French in 2005, few saw him as anything more than next European clay court phenom.

Then in 2006, he did the unexpected making the finals of Wimbledon, where he lost to Federer. The same thing would happen again in 2007: Nadal beat Federer in the French, Federer beat Nadal at Wimbledon. For the first time anybody could remember, the two best players were the two best players regardless of what surface they were playing on.

The lines of clay and grass court specialization had gotten blurry.

In 2008, Nadal beat Federer in the French and Wimbledon, the first player since Bjorn Borg in 1980 to win both in the same year. Nadal also won the gold-medal at the Olympics in China that year. We were seeing Greatness. Again.

Tennis, it appeared, was giving us the rarest, most unlikely phenomenon in the sports cosmos: two Greats at the same time. Two Jordans, two Tigers competing against each other with equal talent and determination.

Neither showing any indication that they would be pushed aside. Both proving that they would elevate their play to the highest possible limit to win.

At 22, Nadal is only getting better. At 27, Federer still has several good years left, and proved he is playing with the same dominance as at any time in his career by winning the U.S. Open last year and the semi-finals in Australia on Monday night.

Realistically, these two could compete against each other for another five years, or more. They are currently on a collision course to face each other again in the Australian Open finals this coming Sunday.

Nearly everyone who watched the Wimbledon final last year agreed it was one of the greatest matches ever played. If you watched, you saw how special the next few years of this rivalry will be. If you didn’t, it's time you start watching.

BCS Listened, America: New Formula to Be Used Beginning Next Year (Humor)

Darren Jones — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 22:42:52 -0500

Recently, a national survey was conducted to measure the American public's attitudes and perceptions toward the NCAA Bowl Championship Series (BCS), the system used to determine a national champion at college football’s highest level, known as the NCAA Division I-A Bowl Championship Football Division Bowl Football Series.

The findings of the study are insightful and timely, as the BCS routinely comes under fire this time each year from traditionalists who believe that the NCAA should determine its champion based on methods similar to those used in every other sport. Methods which include having the teams play against each other to see who wins and...actually, that’s it, that’s the only other method.

Among the study’s findings was the surprising revelation that statistically “every single person in America" thinks the current BCS system is a bad system. Asked how they would describe it, responses included the following:

• “Extremely ridiculous" (48 percent)

• "Idiotic/misguided" (16 percent)

• "Downright un-American" (10 percent)

• “I just stopped paying attention years ago” (eight percent)

• “Seriously messed up" (seven percent)

• "Evil, pure evil" (six percent)

• Other (five percent)

When asked if they had considered alternative solutions or ways to improve the system, an overwhelming nine out of 10 said that they and some buddies had come up with "at least one" better solution at some point in the last two weeks without really thinking about it. The survey had a margin of error of +/- three percent.

In response to the report, BCS officials made a rare acknowledgement of public concerns and immediately announced that beginning after the 2009 season, there will be a new formula in place to determine the BCS champion. They are confident this will "remove any questions about fairness and equity," and "restore the game of college football to its long history of honor."

The new formula is as follows:

• In 2009, USC and Oklahoma will play in the BCS championship game.

• In 2010, Florida and Ohio State will play in the BCS championship game.

• In 2011, Notre Dame and LSU will play in the BCS championship game, the winner to share a piece of the championship with USC.

• In 2012, Boise State and Florida will play in the BCS championship game, with Florida being named BCS champion regardless of outcome.

• This formula will be repeated every four years, and reevaluated after five years.

A statement from the BCS offices read: "All of the athletic directors, university presidents, coaches and boosters from the teams involved, have agreed to and embrace this new system.”

It went on to say: “We believe that this new system will remove any confusion or controversy with regard to how the true college football champion is selected and hope to continue to strengthen those traditions that really matter to college football."

BCS Good Enough for Some but Not Good Enough for Football

Darren Jones — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 12:00:10 -0500

I'm a Ute.

I'm not delusional about the way college football works: big programs = big $ = big coaches/recruits = big wins = more big $, and so on.

Nor am I delusional about where Utah fits in this milieu.

I understand that when it comes to college football, there are a lot people who believe that it will never be possible that a team like Utah can—for one year, or even one night—play at the same level as Florida, Oklahoma, Texas, LSU, Ohio State or USC.

I also understand that there are a lot of powerful people and institutions with a strong interest in making sure it stays that way.

What I don't understand is: Why is that good enough for a sport as great as college football?

Why is it good enough that tradition, reputation, power, and money preclude all-but a small handful of teams from ever being given honest championship consideration?

Why is it good enough that the system is so fearful of exposing its glamour teams to outside competition that they have devised a convoluted plan with the only logical purpose of protecting those interests at the expense of legitimate competition?

Why is it good enough that, while there are 116 teams, the financial disparity created by the current system means that probably only 12 have any real chance of ever being a National Champion?

Why is it good enough that the word Champion means something completely different in DI college football than in any other sport, on any other level other, with a few exceptions like ice skating or gymnastics?

Why is it good enough that the opinion or bias of a single individual, or one math function programmed into a computer, can overturn or dismiss clear results on the field that are watched by the whole country?

Fortunately for me, and I would hope for other Ute fans, I don't need the artificial validation of pre-programmed, subjective voters or arbitrary formulas to reach my own conclusion that the Utes would beat any team in the country this year, because I saw what they did to precious 'Bama, Pride of the SEC, in the Sugar Bowl last week.

While some—like Nick Saban, like Barry Switzer, like the BCS folks—cling to relics of past glory as sufficient proof of today's greatness, I can't help but think that last Friday in the Superdome, Bear Bryant himself would have had tipped his houndstooth hat to a worthy competitor and said: "I don't know where the hell Utah is, but they sure as hell should be playing for a championship."