Hats off to the media clowns — to the folks at CBS and ESPN — for making this NCAA tournament such an enjoyable experience. Thank you Bobby Knight for picking Pittsburgh to win it all.

tThank you Hubert Davis for one day picking Western Kentucky to upset UCLA in the round of 16, the next day saying that “Western Kentucky will give UCLA a tough game but the Bruins will go to the Final Four” and 24 hours later declaring that “UCLA will have a very tough time with Western Kentucky and then will lose to Xavier in the Elite 8.” Bases seem to be covered. Davis must be one of those guys that fills out 12 brackets and then brags excessively when he picks one improbable upset. I hate those guys. And by the way, Davis was 0-for-3.

Thank you Andy Katz for suggesting that Butler didn’t deserve a seven seed because of their membership in the Horizon League. In case you didn’t know, every Division I coach participates in a conference lottery prior to each season. Butler, unfortunately, got stuck in the Horizon League this year. And heaven forbid, they played a great non-conference schedule to accommodate.

Thanks Bobby, Hubert and Andy for giving me hope that I might be able to succeed in this field one day. And thanks Dick Vitale for moving your hands so much when you talk I swear you might hit the cameraman.

But we listen to these guys religiously. You listen to them so much that they fill out your bracket. How many times had you seen UCLA play prior to the Elite 8? Hardly at all, I’d imagine. So you turned to Digger Phelps, Jay Bilas and the like for so-called expert analysis about a team that plays late (10:10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time) and a team that is a member of a conference that doesn’t contract with ESPN (based out of Bristol, Conn.). Of course, these guys know more than the average fan, but to pretend that they have seen every game of every team is ridiculous — yet we treat them as such. And to allow them the prestige of filling out your bracket is perhaps a prestige that they don’t deserve. Digger is in bed well before 10. I promise.

The media circus surrounding the Road to the Final Four is growing at a faster rate than consumers can manage — and new media only allows for an unlimited amount of coverage. From podcasts, to streaming live video of practice from San Antonio to constant coverage from said experts to live blogging … there’s as much content as ever, to the point that it is repetitive as ever. How many times can you articulately say that Memphis’ backcourt is pretty good?

And thank YOU, Los Angeles Times, for reporting this story in today’s Los Angeles Times. Thanks for forgetting that we fans have feelings too, that we fans build (quick and diluted) relationships with these athletes, that we fans might rather not have to swallow a story about a source “that preferred anonymity” about a player we learned to “Love” and trust. It’s like the middle school relationship where the girl tells her 9 million friends not to tell ANYONE about the guy she has a crush on, yet that “friend” goes and tells 9 million other people. Thanks for this. Thanks for reporting inaccuracies, as said by Ben Howland today at his press conference.

This edition of Weekend Rumbings is a bit belated, I realize. I had to, just had to, let this weekend’s happenings settle–like a good piece of cheesecake–because any sort of premature analysis would quickly turn into sentimentality in lieu of one of the biggest shockers in sports history.

You’ll note that I not only predicted a Patriots triumph, but hoped for one. In actuality, I didn’t just hope for a triumph, I hoped for an embarrassment on the part of the Giants. This was the next best thing. My reason for hoping for a Patriots ‘W’ was that I desperately wanted Spygate allegations to hide in the midst of history; well, this type of victory — one that included gameplan execution to perfection and a quarterback who defied every bit of negative press — did just that.

No one gave this group a chance, and you could tell that it didn’t bother Eli Manning or the rest of the Giants team. But we also learned that a recordbook can sometimes get in the way of reality, demonstrated by the media leading up to Sunday’s game. Hindsight is 20/20, and I’ll be the first to admit that I fell in this trap too, but why were the Giants such an underdog in the first place? New England had barely escaped in games since Thanksgiving, they barely beat the Giants in December, and only squeaked by a San Diego team that was missing their franchise player in the AFC Championship. Or how about the pass to Jacksonville’s Ernest Wilford in the Divisional Playoffs that was dropped? If one more guy gets to Manning on that last drive and wraps him up, or if Manning’s pass, god forbid, didn’t stick to David Tyree’s helmet, we’d sit here and praise the Patriots — at least I would have.

This leads to a few conclusions:

a) Wins and wins only matter in a “dominance” discussion. Find me a media outlet reporting skepticism about the Patriots’ dominance (before Sunday, of course) and untouchable-ness, and I’ll find you a drug-free Macauley Culkin. Deal?
b) Reality hides in the shadows of a recordbook.
c) Breaking up perfection is as fulfilling, from a fan’s perspective, as achieving it.

I just have to mention Tom Coughlin. Have you ever seen him grin from ear to ear? This spectacle was a sign that he changed his ways. He instilled confidence in his quarterback and prepared one of the greatest gameplans in recent memory. Brady was on the ground after 23 plays, from every which direction. You have to wonder why the Pats’ previous opponents didn’t show up with such precision and determination with that very goal in mind.

In any case, my prediction as well as the predication of the other 12352356346 media outlets across America was dead wrong.

And that’s why Sunday was so enjoyable.

The day is here. Super Bowl XLII. A day where people across America are reminded that the sky is the limit in terms of their consumption habits. A day where people across America forget about the matchup, history and well, the game of football in the midst of excess. This year, it seemed, would be different. The matchup mattered (Could the Giants pass rush apply enough pressure on Tom Brady?), history was a focus (Celtics or Patriots?) and Eli Manning was portrayed, justifiably so, as nothing short of God (What other quarterback has ever won three playoff games on the road, one of which in sub-zero weather?).

We were so close to caring about this game. Four days of the weeklong coverage focused on the Giants pass rush and secondary as well as Brady’s “probable” status. Three days, however, focused on Spygate, the ever-so-timely tale of Bill Belichick’s possible involvement in a videotaping scandal. Again, we were so close … Again, our media attempts to prove the unprovable in lieu of one of the greatest Super Bowl games of all-time.

If you think about it from a grassroots perspective, it is odd that football is the chosen sport — or religion — in houses across America on this very day. Baseball is America’s game (Please don’t tell me it’s too boring), but the World Series doesn’t get nearly the attention. Soccer’s World Cup is thrilling, many would say (Excuse me, this is America.) Basketball can be slow (Who wants to watch the playoffs for four-straight months, anyway?). Hockey? I don’t even know — it just doesn’t fit.

So we are left with football, a game that should seem barbaric but is entertaining and captivating. A game that is played by 300-pound men. A game that more resembles war than sport. Maybe that’s why American’s tune in in excessive numbers.

Barbaric or not, here’s my prediction for Glendale’s Super Bowl XVII.
New England 27
New York Giants 17

Well, here we are, (almost). Super XVII. For the first time in recent memory, however, this particular Super Bowl seems to be more about the game of football, the matchup between the Patriots and Giants, preparation, and what every Super Bowl is really supposed to be about.

I have the utmost respect for the Patriots and what they represent, and envy the way they carry themselves. They have ran over the worst and the best (Giants, Washington, Dallas, Jacksonville, San Diego 2x), and done so in the midst of a scandal that provided little distraction.

Tomorrow, I hope that New England trounces New York. I hope it’s one of those games where you are tempted to turn off the television eight minutes in due to a 21-0 score. Keep in mind that this type of yearning goes beyond my typical intuition, but here’s why: I want their to be conversations about how the Patriots did smething that no other NFL team has ever done (i.e. perfect). I want their to be praise for Brady, and how he’s possibly the greatest quarterback to ever take the field. Or how about the cohesion, focus and unselfishness that Patriots football represents.

If the Patriots blow out the Giants, then the latest Spygate mess will hopefully hide in the shadows of a perfect, as in undefeated, as in 19-0, season. I was enjoying this week of coverage of the big game, until today, when a republican senator had to (Giants fan?) inquire about the possible dstruction of tapes by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and his staff. Right now? Really? 48 hours before a game in which the general public cares more about the game than Tom Petty’s halftime performance.

I’d be remiss to mention the cultural impact of this game (which was supposed to be the focus of this post, but I got sidetracked). No other sporting event draws such an attention than the Super Bowl, and no other event draws people that don’t know the spectacle that is on display (Was that a kickoff or a field goal?). Nowhere else in mainstream American culture is there a combination of such an intense, real event (football) with fake, conspicuous images driven to excess (advertising). Every social class participates in some way, and the advertising provides a sense that goods and services, no matter the price, are available to anyone watching.

…To be continued.

The month of January reminded me of why sports were ever sports in the first place, and what sports aren’t supposed to be about.

During January, odds that a random story a. was negative; or b. was sensationalized were better than the odds that the state of Massachusetts gets a title in some way, shape or form in 2008.

There was Kelly Tilghman, the Golf Channel anchor who used the word “lynch” in a description of Woods’ dominance on the tour. No one argues that Tilghman’s choice of words is beyond sensitive, but the over-reporting and overwhelming attempt to create a stir across the widest stretch of humanity is, well, a reflection of how sports have changed.

To bring Jim Brown onto ESPN to discuss Tilghman’s error is almost like bringing an archbishop onto the show to talk about Rick Majerus’ pro-choice views. The criticism from Brown was not only directed at Tilghman but at Woods, who dismissed the anchor’s words by saying that it’s a “non-issue.” ESPN searched for an individual that would create an issue out of well, a non-issue.

OK, if Woods had taken offense, fine, permission granted to milk the story for what it’s worth. Nonetheless, ESPN and media outlets across the country kept going, and going, and going–to the point that they began to question Woods’ “non-involvement” in social issues.

Sports are no longer about matchups, preparation, hard work, athlete vs. athlete. In this case, it’s no longer about Woods as a golfer. It’s not about Woods’ incredible talent, it’s about what he’s not doing–participating in social issue discussion–simply because he dismissed some sensitive words as a non- issue. Woods gets it. It’s about golf. It’s about striving to improve and be the very best that he can be, even though he happens to be the best in the world at what he does. Woods was criticized for neglecting his responsibility as a black athlete. Woods’ responsibility is to play golf. Our responsibility is to admire him. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then there’s Rick Majerus, as mentioned above, head coach at St. Louis University who was spotted at a Hillary Clinton–who, gasp, supports pro-choice–rally. The jesuit school takes issue, and as soon as this story broke, some in fact very good investigative reporting by Sports Illustrated’s S.L. Price was revealed: a Majerus that frequently was naked in front of his team, that had a foul mouth, that was perhaps mentally ill but consumed with the game of basketball.

I have no issue with knowing the facts about either (Woods or Majerus), but my greatest fear is that these types of stories take precedent (or sell) over the true beauty of sport. Sure, part of the increased exposure to these types of stories is the so-called “new media” and widespread availability of such ready-made content, but again, it’s not so much about the game anymore, it’s about who spotted who bumping into who after practice. It’s a he said, she said battle to see what “reporter” can attempt to prove the unprovable.

There is nothing wrong with a debate between sports enthusiasts–in fact, that’s a big part of why these games were ever games in the first place–but I hope, that one day, we can argue about Ted Williams’s .406 season compared to Joe Dimaggio’s 56-game hitting streak and banter about which one is better, and do so without being reminded that T.O. missed practice and will be fined. Or if we fast forward, how about comparing this year’s Patriots to the great Celtics teams of all-time … not a debate by any means revolutionary, but one that should be talked about much more frequently but isn’t because of our current landscape.

It really is ironic how one word spoken on air–for two seconds–provoked such quality, deep, earth-shattering revelations. And the time that networks, talk-show hosts devote to such matters … perhaps you forgot that the Super Bowl is this weekend.

The season finale of Spygate is finally upon us. Belichick is a cheater, if you hadn’t already heard.

When Gus Johnson calls a basketball game for CBS, he does so with a certain conversational, passionate tone that transcends time. You hear Gus, you remember what you were doing when Princeton upset defending-champion UCLA in 1996. It was Gus that called UCLA’s 17-point Sweet Sixteen turnaround in ‘06 over Gonzaga, Ohio State’s second-round OT triumph of Xavier a year ago and most recently, Kentucky’s much needed win of unbeaten Vanderbilt. Find me another play-by-play guy that fights back tears on a regular basis, that treats every basket like it’s a buzzer-beater in Game 7 of the NBA Finals, or that, prior to the game, arms his partner with a taser gun … you know, just in case it’s needed down the stretch.

Johnson’s company
Jim Nantz is quiet, subtle and generally, very informative. I’d disagree with those that say he’s boring, but I would say that he isn’t on the same level as Johnson. Nantz annually calls the Final Four (including the title game) along with Billy Packer (ever heard of Greg “Odom”?), who is genuinely awful and ultra critical. James Brown, in a move no one has quite figured out, stole Johnson’s job during last year’s regional semifinals and finals (in which I had to fight back tears). Brown’s staccato voice is more suited for an NFL studio. CBS learned their lesson after receiving hundreds upon hundreds of complaints, and Johnson will be back, sedatives packed and all, for the first four rounds of the 2008 NCAA tourney.

Here are some of Johnson’s most fulfilling calls:

Vanderbilt finally loses to Kentucky

Ohio St. stays alive on Row Lewis’ three

Ohio St. upsets top-seeded Illinois

Gonzaga upsets Florida

UCLA erases 17-point deficit

Princeton upsets UCLA

A while back in December, the acclaimed NBA blog TrueHoop wrote an entry about a relatively new development: the team reporter.

When you pick up say, the Star Tribune, and look for your local Minnesota Timberwolves coverage, you are guaranteed a game recap after each and every game, an injury update, and a general story about the state of the franchise. But what you don’t get is an inside look of practice, of the locker room and of the nuances of a professional sports organization.

Many teams, including the Phoenix Suns, have gone beyond providing uncut audio and video highlights and interviews. The Suns site has practice footage as well as locker room “access.” Not only are teams adapting to the new ways of 21st century sports reporting, they are adapting to what fans essentially crave: to see what the NBA is like behind the scenes, on demand.

In many ways, team reporters are a liaison between the team, its players and fans. The Seattle SuperSonics run a blog by team reporter Kevin Pelton, who spends an entire workday with the franchise that employs him, which gives him more access and probably more knowledge than the average beat reporter. Furthermore, this blog allows fans and fan sites to interact via a very informal forum … providing indirect access never-before-seen.

MLB, NHL and NFL teams also now employ team reporters, and you have to wonder if newspapers will keep up with such extensive, uncut, thorough coverage.

Heath Ledger was announced dead today. At around 3 p.m., I heard this on the radio. Having being someone that does not pretend to be a pop-culture expert or mere follower, I could not immediately identify Ledger’s influence or reason behind the on-air mention, and therefore did a Google search.

To put this timing in perspective, news results did not show up in my original Google search. After some more research, major newspapers weren’t even announcing this development as breaking news.

I proceeded to investigate, and clicked on the ever-so-reliable Wikipedia entry for Heath Ledger. Okay, Brokeback Mountain … The Patriot … The Monster’s Ball … etc. etc. Now at least I have a reference point. Then I noticed birth date … and now, the date of Ledger’s passing (April 4, 1979 - January 22, 2008). Scroll a little further down, and see a section describing Ledger’s death.

Before many news outlets had reported the story, a Wikipedia entry already documented today’s unfortunate occurrence. What this indicates is that someone dropped everything they were doing on this particular afternoon, and found it in them to update a Heath Ledger entry, simply, well because they can.

I do understand the Wikipedia foundation - the ability for anyone with knowledge about a particular subject  to contribute information - but at what point do you say, “Okay, as much as I’m tempted to run a 3.9 second fifty-yard-dash to the nearest computer, it might be a bit excessive.”

I do commend that single individual that apparently had a busy day. I’d contact you to say so, but nowhere on the site is there a byline.