Sitting in the sports bar, watching the human drama of being mauled on occasion.
And those were the point guards who never caught a break – except maybe of a bone.
Yes, the Milwaukee Bucks won four-straight to take the NBA crown, but it was an uphill battle, and we’re not talking about just the not-so-sunny Phoenix Suns.
A blue collar, small market vs. a team that has been in the upper echelon but for almost decades could never quite make it to what Milwaukee just did. And also, the Suns are home to a bigtime retirement location and as such a big tourist area, and that means money or you wouldn’t be living there. But I do feel for players like Chris Paul, who now must try a 17th time for a title. He says retirement is not an option.
Yes, money makes the NBA world, all around the world, go “round. So who you gonna pick with your foul calls? The team with a bit more star power, or a foreseen need to build to such levels again. (Note that it had been 50 years since an NBA title in Brew Town. Most NBA execs were not in the work force yet. So no cred).
You could see the difference when That Big Greek Guy picked up a slowly rolling, inbounded ball uncontested in the backcourt – he was the only player in that half of the floor — but was called for travelling for taking an extra step. Compare that to all the times he was the victim of a new and arguably more brutal form of Hack a Shaq, where there was no attempt to make a blocked shot whatsoever, just virtually tackle him and most of his upper body, starting with the length of his arms I must allow, and send him to the line to make him beat you from there and give the southwestern fans a reason to count. (More later on another end of that practice, this time in Madison).
Also blatantly, I have never liked it when moving picks are allowed, you know the ones where the picker moves slightly to the side as a defender fights through it, then hook him a bit with an elbow. It’s even worse when a seven-footer out at the three-point line gets completely stood up by an elbows up and leaning-forward picker. Again, no call, but you can’t say no blood. Just like that high school hockey winger from Hudson who suffered from the exact same situation, but this time with only two ticks left on the clock and the game in hand, so that was pure bush.
When Bucks shooting guard Khris Middleton, who is said to be the Rodney Dangerfield of basketball for his lack of respect from the officials, drove the lane very late in a crucial Game 5, he was simply mauled by not one but two defenders. First, an arm was wrapped all the way around his lower back like an eager guy trying to get too much from his prom date. Then another joined the rough dance and together they raked him along both arms near the elbow, and there was body contact too. What, no free throws, very much less a non-shooting foul?
There’s more, but you get it. Just like a Buck gets a bloody nose.
Let’s call it what it is, based on observations from the smack ‘em up 70s in the NBA and most badly affecting the Bucks. You ever notice that while being a somewhat awkward plodder who couldn’t move his feet quickly, Larry Bird never fouled out? There was a reason for that, as the NBA as an organization knew that if their big stars from big markets were sitting on the bench, TV ratings go down, as television was reaching new heights of popularity. Switch the channel. I doubt there ever was a memo, but the refs knew who signs their paychecks, even if they are not nearly as big as the stars that were being coddled. So its lucky center Bob Lanier had such a big body that he could take a few hits. As far as much thinner counterpart on the other side of the lane, Mickey Johnson, I pity the fool. Why didn’t he find a personnel-based way out of Milwaukee, to a team where he could play small forward? But that was before the era when players moved much, except to the trainer’s room (and yes they did not have exactly an office).
Drop this down to the high school level. Hudson fielded teams that had a new athleticism, and not just the bull-in-a-china-shop blundering forward into the lane by the big girls. But Hudson was new to the state tournament thing (notice I did not say thang) and had no street credit or rep built up at all. Milwaukee was the unofficial sponsor of these tourneys held in rival Madison, and it showed bigtime.
And I as a sports reporter back in those days was kinda naively brash at pointing it out. Much like the thing that got going, in reverse, with that Big Bad Buck at the free throw line. When Hudson put on its feared full-court press, the Southeast Siders struggled. But it seemed no one could count, even though this was a call that is not shirked, and the discrepancy was even more unavoidably obvious. I thought it was original when from my perch beneath the Hudson basket, I started to count, and took care not to go too fast, unlike the Buck’s opponents. And in some cases it’s so clear you don’t need a stop watch. One, Two. Three … Seven. Eight. Nine … Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen … And only then did the opposition cross midcourt, an obvious foul of what is, what’s it called? The ten-second rule. An even at that point the ref a few feet away flashed me a cheesy smile. And this is not a separated instance.
Then on to ice hockey, another sport where there is a certain amount of being subjective. A Hudson skater had a breakaway with the puck and a defender approached from DIRECTLY BEHIND. There is no mistaking angles here, except to the point where the skates could not be right one in back of the other, in tandem, and cause an obvious trip. So what to do? Make like football and tackle him. Just short of a full arm-tackle. Reach around but do not grab, and take him to the ice. And again, no call as the players continued sliding on their hips toward the goalie, still intermingled. And on, and on, and on …
At what point does this become a matter of good vs. evil? Again, this time at the state level, once it finally came to the final blow, it was softened because the state title was won. The Hudson parents, known for their typical wealth, still remained gracious. Maybe that’s because they often have had wealth on their side. Or maybe that fact is how they got there.
Morality plays aside, why is all this important? It’s only a game right? So what if Milwaukee needs to again cry in its collective beer? Sorta that way. But as gladiators knew, what we let slide as far as justice in the sports arena, and who we let it slide for, trickles down to the culture and economics and politics as a whole. Look what happened with Gangsta Rap and its various perils and parallels?
Now we move to a whole different breed of favoritism. And more brashness on my part. I again will not be asked to sing the Star Spangled Banner before games.
I will now take you back to my hometown, where “your breeding” meant just about everything, and even caused parents to apologize to their wannabee athletes about not being of the desired socio-economic strata, although there was that off-chance that prior to senior year they would catch a big windfall. Thus move straight outa the bench, bypass the off-guard position and become the sole person for whom a decidedly non-productive offense is designed. Thus a roundball cager — and not a maker of cages in a local factory – -but the caper of being son of a town bigshot comes back from preseason injury and without even practicing is inserted into the starting lineup. And makes one basket all season. And being neither tall or quick, ain’t no defender either. Thus an oblong ball quarterback, and sophomore son of the man who coached what sport? … Is the season-long starter for an offense that manages one touchdown in a season.
Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel didn’t need to visit Merrill to see that Glory Days and Allentown were no longer. Many of the splinter factories had turned to dust. But maybe there would now be other industries, which were “discouraged” back in the day.
More soon on these themes and boatloads of other Bucks blather from the Deer District.