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.

I sit here at Charlotte International Airport in awe of this cultural phenomenon called Nascar, not because of its mere existence, but the prevalence of this existence. You would not believe how many shops and restaurants are dedicated to this sport (can we call it that?) … I seriously witnessed a man on his cell phone saying, probably to his wife, that “he is going to go buy a $69.99 Nascar jacket” and requested permission to do so. This man could not wait to pay $70 to have “Busch Light” etched across his back
Now, if I were to ask the gentleman sitting beside me if Nascar is indeed a sport, he’d laugh. Well, a few minutes in Charlotte’s airport made me really thankful for the sporting culture I wake up to every morning in the Midwest.

In the Midwest, there are games … and as the title of this blog suggests, we enjoy games, we enjoy competition, to the point that games become much more to us than simple diversions. In this Nascar culture, you’d be nuts to call Nascar a “game,” and any attempts to do so or even put it on the same “playing” (more on “play” in a bit) field is an attempt to justify Nascar’s existence. Imagine that you were to say “I’m going to the game” referring to a Nascar race. No one would know what you’re talking about.

This guy, or the next, could do this.

Step back for a moment and look at Nascar for what it really is: loads of corporate sponsorship, people that love repetitive activity and well, people that apparently enjoy the concept of acquiring a sunburn. For those that are at least half-sane, but enjoy the former, they sit on their couch watching non-athletes count on others (their pit crew) and equipment (their cars) to determine their success.

“Well, drivers risk their lives!” This mere fact does not determine athlete status. I could ask the guy that served me a muffin this morning to do what (insert driver here) does. You shouldn’t be given credit a. for being a risk-hungry person; and b. success based on others.

Somewhere along the line, some heavy brainwashing occurred in this region, and we can probably trace that to corporate sponsorship and heavy marketing. We watch sports to see incredible accomplishments or team feats; not to see one guy get the credit, and sit in a car for gosh sake, because of a machine or a crew that knows how to change a tire. Maybe the crew should be considered athletes–their pulse is beating beyond a resting rate.

I seriously heard this argument once: “Nascar drivers have to sit in a car for 4-5 hours making split second decisions in 100-degree plus heat.” I don’t think simply being a little warm is a qualifier for sport. Also, I make split second decisions everyday when I drive a car on the freeway, albeit not at 200 mph speeds. I’m not that crazy. I also don’t think “crazy” is a qualifier, either.

Nascar enthusiasts would tell you that golf isn’t a sport, and they couldn’t be more wrong. The hand-eye coordination, strength and strategy makes Nascar look like Monopoly in comparison.

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.

Eddie Sutton telling you “it’s not about getting to 800″ is like Barry Bonds telling you he’s never lied.

Sutton’s San Francisco men’s basketball team lost (again), a 79-57 defeat to no. 24 St. Mary’s on Saturday, leaving the elder Sutton (still) one win shy of 800.

Sutton’s position is a temporary post, but the mere fact that Sutton, a recovering alcoholic who’s resignation was forced upon him at Oklahoma State, accepted the interim position I take issue with:

1. Oh how many times do we hear it … my performance wouldn’t have been possible without my teammates … the most important thing was getting the win, my numbers are only a small part to the puzzle … I show up in the stat sheet but how about so-and-so hustling and bustling after loose balls every possession … Why then is this about two wins (that apparently, are tough to come by) to add to a resume already established? A resume where 800 wins is bolded and a DUI charge and a two-car accident that he helped create is in the fine print? I wish Sutton could tell me something like the above and do so convincingly. He could start by not being at the helm of an interim program with no direction, but at a program where two wins is as likely as Rasheed Wallace getting a technical after a no call.

2. I’m all for second chances, but this type of second chance is absurd. This second chance is about a record book, not about “working with young men.” This second chance is about clearing his name from a could-be-worse automobile accident on his behalf. This second chance is about Eddie Sutton. Not the game of basketball. Not the young men he claims to be invested in. And certainly not San Francisco basketball. At least Bobby Knight had a purpose when he took the Texas Tech job.

3. If Sutton wanted to coach again, no problem. But to accept an interim job at San Francisco is unfair. Coaches coach to leave a mark, to leave a legacy and above all, devote everything they have to a university for an extended period of time (of so they hope). Sutton went in with “two wins” written his chest and “get out” written on his back.

Two wins? That’s all I ask for.

4. Again, all for second chances, but how do you feel if you’re forced-out former USF coach Jessie Evans, who’s replacement was basically announced via ESPN before he had notified? And then you see who this replacement is … and it’s Eddie Sutton? You picture Evans: “I never drank and drive. I never cheated. And boy, I never accepted a position midway through a season, at age 70, for the sole purpose of self-gratification.”

5. How about the USF administration … hats off to them for creating a stir and media frenzy around their miserable program, and screwing a guy that you know, was honest. Too bad college basketball is a media conglomerate run by unethical individuals that forget about those that treat each other and

Sutton goes for the big win against Santa Clara tonight. (Insert sarcastic remark here.)

UCLA defeated Oregon last night 80-75, and during Kevin Love’s homecoming, the UCLA center made a strong case for National Player of the Year consideration.

Love scored 26 points, including 2-of-2 from deep, grabbed a freshman-record 18 boards (eight of them offensive), not to mention surviving increasing physical play and hacks let go by the officials as the game grew older.

Forget the boxscore for a moment. Where would UCLA be without Love’s interior presence? We’d be talking a lot more about swingman Josh Shipp’s recent struggles from the field, guard Russell Westbrook’s increasing carelessness or most recent injuries to Luc Richard Mbah a Moute or Lorenzo Mata-Real, both concussions.

Love’s footwork, ability to scrap and claw for offensive rebounds, get fouled, hustle after loose balls, step back from 25 feet, use a shot fake and carry this team on his back put him in elite company - perhaps ahead of Beasley, Gordon and Hansborough.

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.

There is nothing worse than following a team that doesn’t show up, doesn’t match up against your crosstown nemesis, and above all, doesn’t meet expectations.

Follow dismal season after dismal season with the restoration of pride and a new mindset, and all seems right in the world. Check out what’s going on at UCLA.

Karl Dorrell was dismissed from his head coaching duties in mid-December, and after a long, thorough, tedious search, UCLA alum Rick Neuheisel was introduced as head coach.

The introduction was long-awaited, emotional and exciting. Talk is cheap, but Neuheisel promised to get the job done, promised to work every hour of every day to be the best football team possible, promised to get going the minute he set foot off that podium. Bruin fans and supporters looked up with one eye open. “Okay, sounds familiar,” they thought, remembering Dorrell’s introduction seven years before after Bob Toledo was fired.

But any doubt is quickly disintegrating. Neuheisel secured top-notch assistant and defensive coordinator Dwayne Walker after turning down more money elsewhere, and yesterday, made an even bigger move: the hiring of Norm Chow, former Tennessee Titans offensive coordinator.

I don’t mention the fact that Chow called the shots during USC’s title runs in 2003 and 2004, or the fact that he’s coached three Heisman Trophy winners and six first-round draft picks simply because I am a supporter of Bruins football.

I mention it because teams should aim at the Bruin model when rebuilding. Neuheisel paid much more attention to recruiting his coaches than he did current recruits who may have chosen to walk after Dorrell’s firing. He went after the biggest assistant coaches, those that are proven and respected, because that’s what brings legitimacy to a program.

USC experienced their success because Pete Carroll assembled one of the best, if not the best, coaching staff in the nation. Since, much of the Trojans’ “struggles” have been blamed on USC’s depleted staff, and you wonder just how nervous Carroll is at this very moment.

Unfortunately, the media labels a program. Some are portrayed better than others, lucky or unlucky, but when you bring in two guys that are respected assistants, you are changing the whole culture. Coaches bring change. Players do not.