Archive for the ‘Sports figures’ Category
Grace Under Pressure as Skater Ilia Malinin Stumbles, Then Immediately Congratulates Winner
The tough moments are the ones that often define us. Figure skater Ilia Malinin, United States men’s champion (multiple years), is finding that out today.
There has only rarely been a bigger favorite to win a gold medal than this year’s hopeful, Malinin. He’d not lost a competition in a few years, he’s only twenty-one, he has an arsenal of seven quadruple jumps (including the quad Axel, a jump only he can do), and he mostly skates cleanly with fine edges, great footwork and competent spins. (I’m kind of with the late Dick Button on spins these days. It’s not Malinin’s fault or any other competitor’s fault as they have to go for multiple positions in each spin to get the best amount of points plus grade of execution and such, but a straight line and tight rotation in a spin are a lot easier to see if you’re doing the same spin for twenty seconds rather than five or six different positions in that same amount of seconds.)
Here’s the thing, though. Everyone has off nights. You can be sick, you can be worn to flinders with nerves, you can feel great walking out there to compete (I know this as a former competitive musician) and then, for whatever reason, nothing works right…and we all know this is possible. We’ve had bad competitions before. Rarely, if we’re exceptionally good — and Malinin is that, without a doubt — but it does happen because we’re human. Human equals fallible, mortal, and capable of both the highest highs and lowest lows (along with everything in between).
When Malinin stepped onto the ice, he looked calm and ready to go. But within a minute, he’d “popped” a jump (meaning his body didn’t let him rotate properly; it’s an involuntary thing), then took a hard fall. He got up and did his best thereafter, but he looked shaky and he knew it. To his credit, he gave it his all (not that I’d expect anything less of the U.S.’s pre-eminent skater), but when the judging panel was done, he’d fallen from first place into eighth place, and way out of medal contention.
This was unexpected, to put it mildly.
Most people, when facing the ashes of their immediate hopes and dreams, are not able to do what Malinin did next, though. After his scores, he immediately congratulated the winner, Mikhail Shaidorov of Kazakhstan, gave him a hug, talked for a moment…and only then walked away to face the hard questions from the media.
What Malinin did showed grace under pressure. It showed sportsmanship. It showed class.
What I know from past competitions is, the worst day I’ve ever had as a musician is not what defines me. The best day, as wonderful as it was, also does not define me. It’s all the work I’ve put in to get to the point to be in that position that defines me, and being able to go on when your hopes have been dashed and your life has become something you didn’t want it to be is the name of the game.
So, while I’ve battled numerous health issues, I’m still standing. While I am not currently playing in any bands or orchestras, I continue to compose music. While my three novels are still out of print (I really am working on getting them back out there, but so many other things are going on it’s hard to focus), I continue to write. And while my pace slowed a lot last year, I didn’t stop.
I say all this because Malinin is only twenty-one, as I said before. This may be the first really big defeat he’s ever had. He’s shown class, grace, and sportsmanship, which is more important than just about anything in defeat. But now he has to show himself some of that class, grace, and sportsmanship, too.
I hope he has a good sports psychologist or counselor to talk with, too. I know counseling, over time, has helped me greatly.
You see, you can’t always do everything you want with your gifts. Life gets in the way. Health gets in the way. In Malinin’s case, perhaps the condition of the ice got in the way, or the skate blades got in the way (as the team medal podium Malinin and Team USA stood on messed with a lot of their skates, and those are hard to break in; this also affected the other team medal winners), or his nerves got in the way (as he said he thought he had mental errors, also a very good thing to say right off the bat). He didn’t need to say those were the things, if they were, but these are all considerations for him — just as the condition of my reeds, how well the keys were working, whether or not I’d pulled a muscle so standing while soloing was hard, etc. — as they were considerations for me.
All you can do, as a human being as well as a competitor, is to give yourself the best chance to win. After that, it’s up to things beyond our control.
And after that, it’s up to us as to what we do about it. Will we let it fuel us and keep us going, even if it’s not in the way we wanted? Or will we let it bother us so much that we start looking at ourselves as failures?
I hope in Malinin’s case that he can look at it as a learning experience. Then let it go. This one competition, as important as it was, does not define him. And cannot define him.
Only what he does, what he continues to do, and what he has done overall will define him. And the rest of that book has yet to be written.
Random Thoughts on Recent Sporting Events
Folks, I am dealing with a sinus infection that is actually a secondary infection to something else. I suspect it was the flu (though I did get the flu shot, they “guessed wrong” and the strain we got wasn’t the one they’d tried to inoculate us against), but I will never be sure as I tested negative for it by the time I got into the doctor’s office. (For what it’s worth, I also tested negative for Covid.)
Anyway, while my attention span continues to be splintered, I did have a few thoughts yesterday, mostly while watching sports. During troubled times, like the times we’re going through right now in the United States, there’s a type of purity in sport that calls to me, possibly because it’s meritocratic to a large degree. (There are some games thrown off by bad officiating, mind you. That’s why I said “to a large degree” in the first place. But I digress.)
So, the first thing I watched over this weekend was a surprising Milwaukee Bucks team, with a healthier Giannis Antetokounmpo, beat the Los Angeles Lakers in Los Angeles on Friday night. The Bucks are under .500 (meaning they’ve lost more than they’ve won), mostly because Giannis was out for ten games or so. When Giannis plays, the Bucks are world-beaters. When he doesn’t, they struggle. A lot.
That said, this year’s Bucks team has shown improvement from everyone except Giannis (as Giannis is already All-World, what more can you do there but sustain your excellence? Which Giannis is doing, of course), and guard Ryan Rollins has been particularly good offensively and with assists. No one saw his huge improvement coming, though he played well in more limited playing time last year. Plus forward Kyle Kuzma has played substantially improved defense and seems much more comfortable and confident than he was last year after he was traded from the Washington Wizards for forward Khris Middleton. (There was more to the trade than these two guys, but they were the “main two” in the trade. I say this for sports’ fans completists, who will know full well that I’m not discussing that whole trade. But I digress again, and time is short.) Making this improvement even more surprising is that Kuzma has mostly played in the second unit, being the first or second guy off the bench (along with long-time Bucks excellent sixth man, Bobby Portis). So instead of starting, he’s coming in to spell others, and while he has played well also while filling in for Giannis, he really seems to have taken to the sixth (or seventh) man role. Further, Kuzma has been completely unselfish in his play, which I also think very few people would’ve expected.
A slight digression: Kuzma wasn’t selfish last year, I don’t think. But he had growing pains from being traded by a bad Washington Wizards team after having been by far the best player on that team. He only intermittently fit in with last year’s crop of Bucks players and seemed more than a bit uncomfortable. But all of that is gone now, and he’s been a standout of the Bucks season thus far.
Then, I watched the Green Bay Packers lose to the Chicago Bears after the Packers had led nearly all game. But as they’ve been doing lately, the Packers fell apart in the fourth quarter, and lost their fifth consecutive game. (This means they “backed in” to the playoffs, as other teams had to lose for them to advance due to their own problems.) This was partly because four or five of the best players on the team (besides Jordan Love, the quarterback, Malik Willis, the backup QB, and the wide receiving crew) were injured, including excellent defender Micah Parsons, who had season-ending surgery several weeks ago.
There’s talk now that Matt LaFleur, the head coach of the Packers, will be fired. I don’t think he should be. I think the team was trying to overcome a lot of unexpected injuries. I don’t think coaches should be fired when big-name players like Micah Parsons are too injured to play (and made a huge difference before his injury, granted). I also don’t think coaches should be fired when their excellent tight end, Tucker Kraft, was on the football equivalent of the disabled list in baseball (OK, they call it the “Injured List” now, but you know what I mean.) Too many front-line players were hurt, and if the Packers had trailed from the start, rallying only to fall short in the last few minutes, I think fans would be happier than what happened.
See, when it goes the other way — when you are leading the whole game, only to be caught at the end (there also was some abysmal play by the kicker, Brandon McManus; McManus is usually reliable and dependable, but he missed two field goals and worse than that, also missed an extra point and didn’t come close to making any of those three things) — fans get expectations. We can’t help it. We see how well the Packers are playing, or whatever team it is, and we start jumping to endings. “Wow, the Packers as the seventh seed are about to knock off the two-seeded Bears? Impressive!”
Then it doesn’t happen.
(Another digression: It reminds me of how I have to get my books back out there. I haven’t been up to rewriting blurbs. Some days lately, I have only been barely able to do the equivalent of trading water, though I did finish up a big edit a week and a half ago, and am working on another now.)
Finally, I got a chance to watch the men’s United States figure skating championships (oh, the miracles of modern television and streaming!), and was impressed with the top five skaters. Ilia Malinin won, of course, as was expected. (He does jumps no one else in the world can do, has excellent footwork and spins also, and basically is the best figure skater in the world.) Andrew Torgashev came in second (repeating his finish from last year’s nationals), Maxim Naumov third, Jacob Sanchez fourth, and Tomoki Hiwatashi came in fifth. All four of these men skated very well, though not perfectly (Sanchez probably came closest to perfection in his program, followed by Torgashev). Naumov was particularly impressive as he lost his parents (who were also his figure skating coaches) last year in the plane crash with the U.S. Army helicopter (it was unfortunately the helicopter operator’s fault, which doesn’t help anyone concerned). He was the sentimental favorite for an Olympic spot partly due to that, and partly due to the fact that he’s been on the cusp of figure skating excellence for at least four or five years.
Still, there were other great stories. Torgashev had two very fine performances in a row in his short and long programs and brought the crowd to its feet. Jacob Sanchez, only eighteen years of age, skated the program of his life and was visibly overjoyed at his performance, also earning a standing ovation. Takahashi finished only two points behind Sanchez in a strong fifth place, and both he and Sanchez were about two points behind Naumov’s third-place finish. (Seriously, if skating were more like a horse race, these three would’ve led to a photo finish or the equivalent. These guys did it different ways, but all skated the best they possibly could under the circumstances in my opinion.)
The lone disappointment, for me at least, was the performance of popular figure skater Jason Brown. Brown has the best overall skating skills in the world due to his phenomenal spins, excellent footwork, good, deep edges to his skating, and usually has competent-to-better jumps that look fantastic because of his overall approach to the sport.
But Saturday night wasn’t his night. He “popped” one jump (something happens when skaters jump and the body won’t let them rotate; that’s the best way I can explain this), turning a triple into a single. He nearly fell three times and did fall a fourth. (Granted, he did it balletically and if anyone can fall beautifully, it’s Jason Brown.) Most of his triple jumps were underrotated to my eye (and, unfortunately for him, also to the figure skating judges in the arena from what I could tell), though he did do a few good combo jumps with a triple and a double (and may have done one triple-triple). He had a good attitude about his skate, and didn’t show anything other than calmness and maturity, something I know I found very hard to do when I was competing in music contests (yes, even when I was in my early thirties, as Jason Brown now is). I can only applaud Brown for taking it in stride, as he’s had a great career in the sport and probably wanted to go out on a high note (as it’s generally assumed that this will be his last competitive year in figure skating), as did everyone who’s watched him over the years.
Now it’s up to the United States Olympic Committee (USOC) to pick the teams to represent the United States. Because Brown has been so reliable, there is thought he’d be placed on the team despite his performance yesterday evening as the third skater behind Malinin (a no-brainer) and Torgashev (second year in a row as silver medalist, also a no-brainer). But if it were up to me, Naumov makes the team instead of Brown, and both Sanchez and Hiwatashi go as first and second alternates, taken to Milan to observe and be ready in case anyone gets injured. Only after those five men are placed should Jason Brown be given any consideration, even with his long years in the sport and his overall popularity, mostly because figure skating is a sport where stars are often fleeting. For all I know, this could be Sanchez’s only chance despite his young age. Hiwatashi skated so well (as I said, both he and Sanchez were right up there with Naumov and all three had similar scores, with Naumov edging them both out — sorry about the pun there), he also deserves to go as an alternate.
Mind you, I don’t like having to type out those words because Jason Brown is a friendly, honest, kind-hearted person and has been a particularly distinctive and elegant skater for probably the last fifteen years if not a bit more. He broke onto the scene relatively early, and he’s stayed relevant now into his thirty-first year of life, which is almost unheard of in men’s skating these days due to the rigors of all those triple jumps (and, if you’re Malinin or the others I discussed in the top five, at least one quad jump, though Malinin has been known to have up to seven or so quads in his program). Those jumps are hard on the back, harder still on the knees, and probably are harder every year you skate due to past injuries and such.
So, as an “older performer” myself (though I am, ahem, a bit older than Brown’s thirty-one), I don’t like having to say stuff like this. I love Brown’s skating and wish he’d had the performance of his life, so he could go out on a high note as he deserved.
But sometimes, as I’ve said before, we don’t get what we want. We have to be resilient, which Brown has been his entire career, and find ways to be content with our performances even if they don’t turn out the way we want. (At least we got up there and tried. That’s more than most people can do right there.)
What I think should be done with Jason Brown is something akin to what the Dodgers did with Clayton Kershaw in the All-Star game. Kershaw wasn’t pitching his best anymore, but was a great pitcher, and will be elected to the baseball Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility. He deserved to go to the game out of longevity. He came in and pitched at most one inning (it might’ve been less), and the crowd was able to give Kershaw one final ovation.
I don’t know how you do that in figure skating. (I’m a long-term fan, but this situation hasn’t come up before, as best I can tell.) Brown deserves something similar, but how does it happen without slighting Naumov, Sanchez, and Hiwatashi, who all easily out-skated Brown last night? (As did a few others, as Brown finished up in eighth place.)
They only have so many spots. I know that. And the USOC can do one of four things:
- Reward Jason Brown for his longevity and give him the chance to win a team medal.
- Give Sanchez the third spot as he’s eighteen, an up-and-comer, and that will give him needed experience for his next Olympic try (providing he stays healthy) in 2030.
- Give Hiwatashi the third spot due to his overall improvement, his long record of international competitions and overall competitiveness. Or…
- Just name the top three finishers, Malinin, Torgashev, and Naumov, with Sanchez and Hiwatashi being alternates, as I said in the first place. (These last two probably will get sent to the Four Continents championship, which is often what the runners-up to the Olympic team get assigned to…but there’s nothing wrong with that.)
Those are my thoughts. This blog went on a little longer than I’d expected, but I hope that readers enjoyed it anyway…may you have a great week, full of happiness and kindness and resilience, and don’t let the bastards grind you down. (Whoever the bastards may be.)
Tom Brady Cloned His Favorite Dog, and I Have Thoughts…
Folks, I’ve been wrestling with this issue for several days (in addition to trying to get rid of the most recent sinus infection, doing my best to make some progress in other areas, looking for apartments, etc.), and finally figured out now is the right time to start discussing it.
Tom Brady found a company that would clone his favorite dog, named Lua, partly because he’s got a lot of money, and partly because he adored his late dog. From what I’ve read, the company that did the cloning (Colossal Biosciences) did so starting from a blood sample from Lua taken before she passed. His new dog, Junie, is a clone of Lua. (Note that Brady is an investor in this company, too.)
But here’s the thing about clones: If you can’t duplicate the exact same nurturing environment, you probably won’t get the same personality as your former animal. They have the same DNA, yes, but just as identical twin human children can have radically different personalities, so can dogs, cats, parakeets, or in one case, a rare white bull.
(I don’t know for sure that parakeets have been cloned yet, but it appears that both dogs and cats have been. The white bull that was cloned turned out to be far meaner and much less friendly than the original bull, which disappointed the farmer who’d cloned him. But I digress.)
Even if you do duplicate the exact, same nurturing environment, there are still other factors that can play into personalities. There are so many different factors that go into making a person who they are, which also goes for every other animal on Earth. That’s why identical twins can have radically different personalities, even if raised by the same family. Nurture, nature, the type of environment…all of it matters, as do so many other factors that defy description.
But back to Brady’s dog for the moment.
Bluntly, a genetic duplicate is not the same dog. While it is an exact copy of the original, Junie can’t be Lua, just as Lua couldn’t be Junie. That’s why the owner of the white bull was disappointed in part; he wanted his original bull cloned because he was exceptionally mild-mannered and gentle. However, as I said earlier, the clone of that bull was meaner, very difficult to handle, and nothing like his progenitor.
Such situations have been raised by science fiction authors in the past, mind you. The one I’m the most familiar with is Lois McMaster Bujold’s cloned character Mark Vorkosigan, a younger clone of his brother, Miles. Mark had many things inflicted on him to make him an exact physical duplicate of Miles that didn’t need to happen (read the books BROTHERS IN ARMS and MIRROR DANCE for more information on that), as Miles was damaged in utero due to a failed assassination attempt on his parents, and that obviously didn’t happen to Mark. So, the original, Miles, was only four feet, nine inches because of what happened to him, whereas Mark was biologically retrofitted to look like Miles, but had far heavier bones and would’ve most likely been close to six feet tall (if not over it) had the awful people who illegally cloned him left him alone. (The torturous things done to Mark, if thought about too much, will make anyone sick.)
So, Mark and Miles are facially identical. Their personalities are radically different. They both learn over time to function as true brothers, partly because their mother, Cordelia, was raised in a society that understands how to deal with clones legally, honestly, and completely aboveboard. (Cordelia knows Mark didn’t ask for any of this, which is one of the reasons I love Cordelia so much as a character. But again, I digress.) Mark is quite a bit heavier than Miles is, again because he was not damaged in utero, and Mark learns to use his heavier frame (he frankly says he’s obese, for whatever it’s worth, whereas Miles is skinny and often looks emaciated due to various health woes) to his own advantage.
It’s because I know all of this is as true as Lois McMaster Bujold, a writer who has a strong grounding in science, could make it that I question Tom Brady’s reasoning here. It’s wonderful that he wanted Lua to somehow live on in a successor. But Junie is not Lua, and will not behave like Lua no matter what he wants unless he gets very, very lucky. (Think again about the farmer with his cloned white bull if you don’t believe me.)
We’ve known cloning animals is possible since Dolly the sheep got cloned in 1996. Sheep don’t show as obvious of personalities as a lot of animals (though they do have them), which may be why Dolly’s personality was never called into question. At that point, geneticists were happy to have finally cloned a sheep from an adult cell (as some other sheep had been cloned in a different way back in 1984), and as Dolly the clone was mild-mannered (as most sheep tend to be), that factor was not discussed much in media accounts.
What all of this amounts to, mind you, whether you’re talking about Junie, clone of Tom Brady’s beloved dog Lua, or the fictional Mark Vorkosigan, clone of Miles Vorkosigan, is that a genetic copy — a clone — may be identical from a genetic perspective, but it’s not going to be identical in every other way unless every other factor the original had been exposed to (or had happen to them) was replicated in full. Even then, it’s still unlikely, but theoretically possible, that you’ll get a dog or bull or parakeet or whatever that acts exactly like the original/originator.
Going back to Mark Vorkosigan’s story, he had some personality traits that were just like his progenitor’s, including high intelligence, adaptability, and being able to immerse himself in a role if need be. But he was far surlier, especially at first, as life dealt him a very bad hand (the retrofitting surgeries to cut him down from the height he should’ve had to the height Miles attained due to the damage in utero were nightmarish and horrific). Mark didn’t trust easily, to say the least, and he didn’t know why anyone would want to ever do anything nice for him. (Learning exactly who he is, and who he isn’t, is the main thrust of the novel MIRROR DANCE, which I highly recommend you read.) Over time, Mark becomes a financier and philanthropist (self-made), whereas Miles pursues the military and then later becomes an Imperial Auditor (using all of his skills for the best to solve various problems, roughly). Miles couldn’t do what Mark does, while Mark not only can’t do what Miles does, he has no interest in doing it either.
That’s because they’re both people. They can’t expect to be the same. They know they aren’t no matter how identical their DNA happens to be. Different experiences, different approaches to problems…which is very human and understandable.
Anyway, Tom Brady spent fifty thousand dollars to clone Lua. He got Junie out of it. I hope Junie will be a wonderful family pet, but I also hope that Brady and his family will realize Junie is not Lua, can never be Lua, doesn’t have Lua’s memories or experiences…only has Lua’s DNA, and as Junie matures more every year, her own personality and her own memories and her own experiences will shine through.
The upshot is, while I understand and sympathize with any pet lover who wants their beloved animal back, I think it’s better to go get an animal from the local shelter and adopt that animal than it is to clone your dog. You know full well that the new-to-you dog is not going to react in the same way as any of your other dogs, and you won’t be thrown off by how similar the cloned dog looks to the old…nor by behavior that you probably never saw out of your old dog either. The chance of confusion at how the cloned dog looks just like the old (but doesn’t act just like it) won’t apply, either, as you’ll be able to get to know your dog over time just as your dog is — warts and all, knocking the garbage over and all, chewing up shoes and all, and whatever other mischief the dog can come up with along with its more loveable cuddles, snuggles, and companionable walks.
So, what do you think about Tom Brady’s cloned dog? Or the thought of cloning in general? I’m interested to hear your thoughts.
My Favorite Baseball Team, the Milwaukee Brewers, Are on the Brink of Elimination
Folks, I’m still in a holding pattern with regard to my housing situation, but I can at least write about my favorite baseball team, the Milwaukee Brewers, even if it’s not what I had hoped to write.
“What are you talking about, Barb?” you might be asking.
The Brewers are in the National League Championship Series (NLCS for short) against the “best team money can buy,” the Los Angeles Dodgers. The Dodgers have a huge payroll that’s almost four times as much as what the Brewers can afford (Milwaukee is the smallest “market” in major league baseball, though if you add in the entirety of the state of Wisconsin, it’s comparable to a few others even if nowhere near the Dodgers), and in particular, their pitchers are very highly paid because they’re all proven winners.
That being said, you still have to perform. You have to do what got you here, or you’ll lose. That’s true for any team at any time, regardless of how much (or little) they’re getting paid.
So, the Brewers had the best overall record in MLB this past year. They beat the Dodgers six times and lost none. That had Brewers fans optimistic that this may finally be the year the Brewers go back to the World Series (the team hasn’t been there since 1982; I was very young then but still a huge fan and did attend a World Series game), even though the playoffs can be a “whole different animal.”
But it appears our optimism was misplaced. The Dodgers have steamrolled over the Brewers, and with the exception of game one (where the Brewers had loaded the bases in the ninth inning, only not to score the tying run), they have dominated every game they’ve been in.
Bluntly, the Dodgers have looked like the champions they are and have been for many years. The Brewers batters have looked more like chumps than champs, though most of the pitchers have been excellent and have done exactly what they’ve needed to do to give the slumping Brewers hitters a chance to tie or win the games.
I hate to write words like that, mind you. These guys try hard, and I know no professional athlete wants to end their season in a huge slump. No one wants to have a season that started with “Win one for Ueck!” (Bob Uecker, our longtime radio announcer, also a comedian and TV actor, passed away at the beginning of 2025) end in such ignominity.
But the facts don’t lie.
Now, if I were a sports psychologist, I’d tell the Brewers hitters one thing, and the Brewers pitchers another, but it would amount to the same thing. “Control what you can control” is the overall message, but I’d say to the pitchers that they did everything they could and controlled what they definitely could control. But the pitchers can’t bat for the hitters (with the exception of someone like Shohei Ohtani, Dodgers superstar, pitchers no longer bat), and they can’t control those at-bats or what the hitters do whatsoever. I’d tell the hitters that all they can control is how they approach the at-bat. (Some of the players have had long at-bats that have helped to tire the pitcher out over time, and those are considered successful at-bats or at least not failures even if they don’t result in a hit or walk.) Are they going up there confident in their abilities, confident in what they’ve shown all year long? Or are they going up there expecting to be beaten? (The latter is almost impossible for a professional athlete, mind. You don’t go into that field if you are that defeatist because the odds are very long to get to “the show,” as MLB is called, at all.)
See, if you put it that way, the athlete knows he’s doing his best. (No women, not even female umps, yet in MLB, though there are some female executives and coaches.) He can focus on the process of hitting, rather than dwell on the outcomes they’ve seen. Every day is a new day, and providing you’ve maximized your odds and done what you can to play your best, you have nothing to apologize for.
Anyway, the fact is that the Brewers must now win four games in a row against a Dodgers team that suddenly seems like the best team ever (AKA the 1927 New York Yankees, which featured both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, among other superstars). This seems like too big of a bridge to cross, at least from what I’ve seen out of the Brewers in this series. Yet, I still have hope that the Brewers can win at least one game, so their fans won’t feel awful, and so they, themselves, won’t feel awful.
Last year, I said to my friends and family that I felt the wrong team went on in the playoffs when the New York Mets won against the Brewers (a last-ditch homer by Pete Alonso, the slugging first baseman of the Mets, was the killing blow). This time, I can’t say that, because the Brewers have simply not been on the same level as the Dodgers during this series.
I will note, for the record, that there have been two teams in the 2000s that have forced a Game 7 after starting a seven-game series down three games to none. Those teams were the 2004 Boston Red Sox, who won Game 7 and advanced to the World Series, and the 2020 Houston Astros, who battled back from that three-game deficit but lost in the decisive Game 7. I will also note for the record that my favorite ever team, the 1982 Brewers, were down two games to none against the then-California Angels in a five-game series and won the final three games to advance to the World Series that year. (The Brewers lost. But they played hard and well and the city of Milwaukee and the state of Wisconsin celebrated them then and continues to appreciate them now. They were the equivalent of this year’s “Average Joes” in having a blue-collar, anything for the team outlook.)
So, it is theoretically possible that the Brewers can still win a game or two and make things feel less awful for themselves and their fans. It’s even theoretically possible that they can still advance to the World Series…but if they’re going to do that, they need to win later today. And as big of a fan as I am, I can’t be sure of that.
Still. The Brewers should focus on winning game 4. Do that, and then you can focus on winning game 5.
I hope they can do that. I’d feel a whole lot better about things if they did, even if they still lose this series and even if the Dodgers still advance to the World Series.
My reasoning for that is simple. The rallying cry “Win it for Ueck!” won’t work next year. So if they really do want to win it for Bob Uecker, the time is now.
Damian Lillard Deserved Better from the Milwaukee Bucks
Folks, as I’ve said in a few comments elsewhere on the internet, I have rarely been as disappointed in the Milwaukee Bucks as I am right now.
Why? Well, they waived star point guard Damian Lillard in order to use an esoteric “stretch” provision in the collective bargaining agreement between the NBA and the NBA Players Association. This allowed them to divide the two years of Lillard’s salary over the next five years’ worth of time.
That would not have been my choice, ever.
I don’t care what financial obstacles the Bucks had in trying to keep Giannis Antetokounmpo around another few years. The fact is, Lillard did everything asked of him in the last two years, including coming back from having a blood clot in his calf as quickly as he possibly could (something that often takes players completely out of a season even if Game 1 of the new season has just been played). Lillard had this happen approximately 2/3 of the way through the season. He was back before the playoffs started, which is a credit to not only his toughness and team spirit, but his overall physical fitness.
Lillard was praised by former Bucks center Brook Lopez due to Lillard’s unselfish play, too, earlier this year (long before the blood clot issue). Coming to the Bucks, Lillard had always been the number one option. He’d have to change his game to a degree in order to work with Giannis.
Lillard did that, which is almost unheard of from a man of his caliber in the NBA.
Look. Lillard will be in the Basketball Hall of Fame someday. He’d be in there right now if he had for some reason decided to retire. We were lucky to have him for two full years in Milwaukee, as he was and remains a classy individual who works hard and is a family man. He was never all about himself. He was always about the team. He also worked hard on his defense, to the point that he made several excellent defensive stops during the season — something no one would’ve believed (except maybe Lillard himself) before they happened.
In my opinion, no one in the NBA should treat someone the way Lillard was treated in being waived. He wasn’t told by the Bucks front office as far as I know. (I’m no insider, of course.) He wasn’t clued in by Giannis, who probably had to know about all this nonsense (as part of the reason for Lillard being waived was to get a younger center for the Bucks, and the Bucks couldn’t do that unless some of Lillard’s salary was deferred). The Bucks didn’t go to the NBA as far as I know and say, “You know, we might have to waive Lillard, which will make us look terrible, like ingrates, like cheapskates, in order to sign someone else.” (Yes, they did go to the NBA and request “salary relief” from them, which was not granted. But did they really put it all on the line the way I just did? If so, shame on you, NBA!)
Lillard should’ve at minimum been told by the Bucks front office that he was about to be waived. In addition, because Giannis is known around Milwaukee and Wisconsin for being a good person, Giannis should’ve contacted Lillard and told him he wished him well and that this should not have been the end of Lillard’s career with the Bucks.
For Lillard to come back from the blood clot issue, only to have an Achilles tendon tear in the playoffs, was exceptionally difficult to watch as a Bucks fan (and probably even worse as a Bucks player). To see someone play with such heart get waived all because of money really ticks me off.
I hope Lillard knows that at least some of the Bucks fans out there are not happy with this move. (Not that we can do much about it, but still.)
I also hope that Lillard will, when he is healthy, come back with whatever new team he signs with, and scores fifty-plus points against the Bucks. (And I have never said that before, except in one comment I made a few minutes ago prompting this blog, ever, as I am a Bucks fan.)
In short: Damian Lillard is a good person, did his absolute best for the Bucks and their fans, and absolutely, positively, did not deserve this terrible treatment from the Milwaukee Bucks.
As for the Bucks GM, as for Giannis himself…if they really did not do anything to clue Lillard and/or Lillard’s agent that something like this was about to happen, I have news for them.
Karma is a mother, sometimes.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 