Just a Bunch of Josh Howard Talkin'

I suppose I could see the Josh Howard video (you know the one) as an Artest-like, "enough is enough" moment for me as a advocate. Like you can only defend, or love, or deny, so much when you're not bound to someone by blood or marriage—or hell, even know him at all.

Then I got going with the whole "like I actually give a fuck" thing, the same emotion I felt when, behind the scenes, bloggers were debating the validity—and worth in posting—the supposed Beasley/Chalmers photo. The court of public opinion is of interest to me, but insofar as I'm first and foremost someone who enjoys the league, Beasley puffing or Howard not being a patriot just wouldn't bother me that much.

But then I started to think it through: There's the question of context. Howard is definitely emotional about his politics, and a lot smarter than his rashness sometimes lets on. Everything in digital form eventually finds its way onto the web. And Obama's name is in there, which pretty much requires someone step in and untangle the web of meaning. If there's one thing I've learned from this political season, it's that you can never assume, or expect, too little.

So here are the official FreeDarko Talking Points on the Latest Josh Howard Matter:

-There was humor to it. It was uttered in front of a video camera before a flag football game, in a mood best described as "goofy"

-I am not suprised that some African-Americans have some animosity toward the United States of America. Are you?

-Millions of dollars doesn't change certain feelings, at least in people who cared deeply about them beforehand. If Howard had been angry, and wasn't now, we'd call him a sell-out.

-There are some things that you say among your own, that you wouldn't necessarily say in mixed, or more formal, company. Are we all non-stop liars and deceivers, hiding our true selves and living under frost?

-No shit Obama's support in the black community benefits from widespread frustration therein. Rage, even. That doesn't mean, though, that Obama himself is made of black rage. That's what we call a syllogism, and it's faulty.

-Yes, for athletes and celebrities there's no such thing as private anymore. Everything in a digital format will eventually find its way onto the interwebs. Josh Howard forgot that, and it's only going to add to his woes.

-But it's not like other athletes don't say, or feel things like this. And while you can say that they should keep it to themselves, and leave it out of the workplace, is the problem Howard's mouth or his attitudes?

-So ridicule Howard if you will, or praise him. Call him a buffoon, a throwback, or an inadvertent combination of the two. It's up to you whether this is an embarrassing gaffe or a damning utterance, a gotcha moment or some loaded shit-talking. All I know is that, if this surprises you at all, you don't know much about this country. Or about Josh Howard's inability to reconcile straight talk and public relations.

-Howard needs to sit down with Barkley. If Barkley would even be possible these days. Maybe John Thompson, for this more subtle age.

-Bottom line: Josh Howard is that player who speaks up. If you bitch about the post-MJ blandness of LeBron and, more recently, Melo, then stand up and think about this situation all its sloppy, inflammatory imperfection.

Profiles in Psychology

What the hell is going on with Vince Young? He's gone from AWOL to suicide threat to potential early retiree in the span of 72 hours...all over a bum knee and getting booed at home? Not to mention that his mom is currently playing PR-guy, which is never a good thing (cf. Vince Carter). This is the type of behavior one might expect at mid-season under the pressure of building a rep in the NFL and turning his playoff-caliber squad into a truly elite team, but after one game? I'm lost.

There are certain parallels with Vince's story and the Culpepper tragedy. Two unconventional athletes, brimming with pride, often "going it alone" and never having been truly embraced by their home fans (despite giving the fans every reason for full embrace). In a way, it's the only "f*ck you" these two guys have got left--to deprive us of their tremendous athleticism as if to say, "You all put the pressure on me. You've knocked my personal life. I've taken the knife to my body multiple times for you + a thousand hits to my torso by various linebackers. Now you still aren't thankful? Then fine, I quit." (Oddly, I suppose suicide is the extreme version of this sentiment).
























The threat of retirement/self-questioning of whether one is "built" for this ("this" = the NFL, life as an athlete/celebrity/etc) is a brilliant strategy, with one caveat: It humanizes Vince to the point where we feel discomfort. I think ultimately we don't want our athletes to be flawed/human. Sure, it's funny to see Matt Leinart beer-bonging it up with ASU girls, but it was otherworldly to see him almost lead the Cardinals to victory over the Bears in the "They are who we thought they were" game. I've spun this song and dance many times before: The dunk contest was the highlight of last NBA season, because Dwight Howard was--in no uncertain terms--doing things that I could never in my life do. Same goes for Michael Jordan. Same goes for watching a flubby guy like Charles Barkley outrebound guys who had seven inches on him. Same goes for the Warriors beating the Mavericks in the first round of the playoffs...

Humanization--the reminder that these guys actually have moms and didn't fall off of some magical tree--is bad for athletes. It's bad for sports. It kills our suspension of disbelief that is the joy of watching contests of seemingly supernatural ability (indulge me). Yet we keep asking for more and more access to these people, 25-hour news coverage, up to the minute internet reports, the whereabouts of Vince F'ing Young after he goes missing for just a few hours. And in the end, the whole business of making these guys human by pulling them down to our level is a no-win.


















This is a topic I've become very interested in this election season, ever since Hilary was slanging shots of Whiskey in Deer Hunter country: Since when did we want our presidents to be "just like us?" I'm a tad too young to remember the buzz that surrounded the photo of Bill Clinton jogging into a McDonald's, but I'm told that this was a real "starter" for him, a glimpse into his psyche that gave him a real folksy appeal and made people think, "Hey, this guy gets the munchies just like me!" After Clinton, of course, we get 8 years of KING FOLK--the human hayseed who is SO MUCH LIKE US THAT HE CANT TIE HIS SHOES. And in the 2008 election, "just like us-ness" has become an issue on par with Iraq and the economy. Who is a hockey mom? Who can shotgun a beer? Who likes arugula? Who has too many homes? Who is bitter? Who likes guns? Who is a single mom? Who had a single mom? Who is from Scranton? I have literally heard a Palin supporter state that she likes Palin because she gives her the feeling that "anybody can become president." What? How is this a good thing?

Meanwhile, "Elitist" has become the new "Nazi" and this backwards-ass thinking is driving us into four more years of stupidity. Why the hell wouldn't you want someone who is BETTER than you more than someone who is exactly like you? Of course the common response is: "We need someone like us so they can understand OUR problems." That's a nice sentiment, but it's also a lie. It's a lie that Bill Maher far too unobjectively delved into a few days ago, but a lie nonetheless: Americans want someone exactly like them because they are arrogant. They don't like people to be above them. Many Americans like W. because they don't feel like they're being made to feel inferior when he governs. Apparently, Sarah Palin gives people the same feeling.

















I have no solution to this issue, but I can point to at least one part of the cause. If you know me well, I've probably referenced to you this article by Thomas De Zengotita:

Take how athletes now celebrate themselves after nearly every play. And by extension,
the way fans celebrate not just the team or the victory but themselves.
There's that same element, that same quality, to be found in the
way those exhilarated men position themselves, beefy faces alight with a
peculiar blend of exultation and hostility, tendons hulging in their necks,
fists pounding the air, bodies thrust forward as if to bulldoze past all compromise,
apparently frenzied, apparently berserk, bellowing in tones suggestive
of profound vindication, bellowing "Yeaauh! Yeaauh! Yeaauh!"
And each "Yeaauh" lilts above the preceding one, as if to reinforce it but
also to comment on it, even to parody it, and suddenly you realize that
this is also a performance, and a contest, a folk art—and oh-so-self-conscious
after all.

And, by further extension, all the high-fiving and hissed-yes-pointing
and thumbs-upping in the culture as a whole, in commercials, in our lives,
in the continuous play of expressions and gestures that signify degrees
of—what shall we call it.'—triumphal intensity. The alchemy at work
across this spectrum is, at bottom, the same. It precipitates a fusion of the
real and represented, a culture of performance that ultimately constitutes
a quality of being, a type of person—the mediated person. And, as we
shall see, this type of person doesn't have heroes.




The gist of the article is that we have become a performative culture, with access to Garage Band and Pro Tools, and 1000 TV channels, and more bandwidth than we could ever imagine. Thus, we don't have heroes or celebrities anymore because we ARE the heroes/celebrities. We are constantly on stage, or at least we know what it's like to be on stage at all times. The brilliance of this article is that it predates the YouTube/Reality TV explosion but perfectly describes the major affect of media on our generation:

Has it ever struck you, watching interviews with people in clips from the 1940s and 1950s, say, or even just looking at them in photographs, how stiff and unnatural they seem? Even prominent people, but especially regular folk, the way they lean into the mike and glance awkwardly around as they say whatever they have to say in semi-formal tones, almost as if reciting; and the way they raise their voices, as if they can't quite trust the technology to reach an absent audience.

But nowadays? Every man on the street, every girl on the suhway platform, interviewed ahout
the snowstorm or the transit strike—they are total pros, laughing in the right places, looking directly at the interviewer or into the camera, fluid, colloquial, comments and mannerisms pitched just right for the occasion, completely at ease.

Method actors all.

So, I believe there's some insight there--most people are now so used to being at least partial celebrities/important figures that they don't like relinquishing that status to others. I, on the other hand, accept my plebeian status. I like my quarterbacks unshakeable and I like my presidents to be superhuman Hawaiian-Kenyan-Kansan hybrids who went to Columbia and Harvard and inspire Stevie Wonder to make songs about them.

Guest Lecture: The best sermons are lived

We're taking a break from politics for a moment and getting back to the world's greatest sports league, with a closer look at a fascinating development in the history of a fascinating player. This special guest post comes courtesy of bona fide comic book geek Eli Gunn-Jones. But, as the title of this post indicates, we're still watching the convention, and if anything crazy jumps off, you know we're going to be all over it.

A few weeks ago, Kobe prepped for his thirteen-hour flight to Beijing by making an after-hours pit stop at a comic shop to foster his new graphic novel hobby. Boldly proclaiming that he is “into that dark shit,” Kobe allowed the flabbergasted store clerk to steer him towards Garth Ennis’ brilliant, twisted Preacher, new-age noir 100 Bullets, along with a collection of Alan Moore DC Universe tales, among others. If Kobe is the most intriguing figure in basketball, it's largely because of his highly polarizing persona, an all-encompassing public guise that often overshadows, or creeps into, our appreciation of his transcendent play. Condemnable man that chased affable Shaq-Fu out of town, or misunderstood hero who could no longer take The Big Aristotle’s obnoxious postulations? Baller who will never measure up to Jordan, or relentless worker who’s left an undeniable mark on the NBA? Sexual assault-prone scumbag, or repentant man who made one mistake? The sheer volume of controversy Kobe creates is breathtaking.



While the stanch comic connoisseurs among us could argue into eternity whether Kobe’s selections are FD or not (Dark Knight Strikes Again? What is that, post-irony?), the man’s choice in graphic novels is an eerily fitting representation of his duplicitous nature. Ennis’ modern day classic Preacher is rife with the sinister adult material that Kobe professes to enjoy; it follows Jessie Custer, a reverend grappling with his nonexistent faith in God when the spawn of an angel and demon happens to escape from Heaven and merge with his soul. The battle between ultimate good and pure evil within a human body fits Kobe almost too perfectly; part disarming gentlemen, part ruthless egomaniac, but the two opposites somehow manage to complement one another. Most of all, Preacher has a wicked, cynical sense of humor that Kobe must have developed, or at least undoubtedly learned to appreciate, after spending so many years in the unforgiving, harsh spotlight.



Meanwhile, the sheer brilliance that shines through in Alan Moore’s wide-ranging anthology of stories resonates with Kobe’s dizzying command over the basketball court. Kobe’s purchase contains lesser-known stuff: a few Superman yarns, a cutesy Green Lantern one-shot, the obscure Vigilante. No big names like Watchmen, but definitive proof of Moore's ability to impose his will upon the medium like no other. This trait is akin to Kobe's versitale hardwood talents: he fluidly transitions from team distributor to at-will scorer, from affable teammate to lone wolf with a vendetta. For the sake of argument, let's conjecture that Kobe feels a half-realized, hazy kinship with Moore for their common ability to implement the endless array of styles at their respective disposals.

But, per usual with No.-8-turned-24, the ultimate question is one of intent, and the answer makes all the difference. Why has Kobe turned to graphic literature? Does he fancy himself a real-life hero, valiantly coming to the rescue like Spidey swinging in on a webline? Is he drawn to the mature, shadowy material because he's a closet sophisticate with a taste for moral complexity? Or, as the detractors would surely argue, is it a reflection of his pitch-black heart? Or, maybe this is classic front-running, with Hollywood’s parade of blockbusters having piqued KB24's interest in the source material.

But regardless of the motivation, it leaves us all scrambling for an explanation, one that falls back on old assumptions as it reassess them. The comic store clerk’s account is so enthralling precisely because it is both unexpected and refreshing. The greatest flaw of Kobe’s personality, and many superstar athletes for that matter, is the constant aroma of fakery. The transparent press releases, the phony smile-filled interviews, the camera posturing with his adorable daughters—it all comes off as a giant façade. Nobody has a clue which of those characters, if any, is the real Kobe. Which is why, like that candid video of some Team USA players eating at Wendy’s, the notion of Kobe arguing the merits of his favorite Green Lantern or geeking out over Joss Whedon’s stint on Astonishing X-Men, however unlikely, is so appealing.



Baron and Nash’s beach love affair was exhilarating to behold, and these two PG’s are so popular both with casual fans and die-hards because they exude a rarely-witnessed candid sensibility. They are affable, off-kilter, and most importantly, relatable—unfortunately, the exception rather then the rule with hardwood professionals. A short anecdote: I once found myself face-to-face with BD and gushed that his dunk over Kirilenko in the playoffs was the happiest moment of my life. Hyperbole if there is ever an example of one, but Baron responded with a wide, bearded smile and an unsolicited hug.

I picture a hypothetical encounter with the Kobe’s and LeBron’s of the League playing out quite differently. Maybe a forced guffaw and polite fist pound, ready to move on from this forgettable encounter the moment it begins. It doesn’t make them bad people; God knows they need to develop a filter in order to deal with hangers on, shoe execs, industry sharks and the like. But it sure as hell makes me curious what’s hiding under the tarpaulin that makes up their guise. Which, coincidentally, is a cause that falls in step with the loosely defined parameters of FD-ness. That's why Kobe's jaunt into the comic shop is more than mere trivia: It is a glimpse, however fleeting, into the true personality of an otherwise-enigmatic star.

Screw Carmelo Anthony, Praise Spencer Hawes

Accuse me of beating a dead horse, but this is still important and we still live in an age where Steve Nash wearing a "No War. Shoot for Peace" counts as a "political statement. Or in Shoals' words, "I like that Spencer Hawes is seen as 'political,' which is kind of like calling that guy in the Applebee's commercials a 'chef'"--this is a point to which I will return. Now, be quick to note that THIS IS NOT A POST ABOUT POLITICAL BASKETBALL PLAYERS but rather how low the friggin bar is set for these guys in terms of "being political" and how despite that, credit should be given to the few that actually say a damn thing about something as important as this year's election.

Henry already pointed to this great collection of Dr. J stories and noted the particular importance of this one, in which Dr. J promises to endorse a local political candidate in his hometown of Roosevelt provided that the politician promises to enact certain recreational programs. I'm seriously asking, not rhetorically, who is using their clout for this type of maneuvering these days?





















Now, the best advice any other sports writer/editor ever gave to me was to inform me before an interview session that athletes are extremely boring to talk to. Perhaps it's because they are so well-groomed with the media, perhaps it's because they have endorsements to protect, perhaps because they didn't go to/do anything in college, or perhaps they are simply way too focused on their athletic endeavor instead of anything else. As un-FD as it is for me to say this, ultimately I agree. Yet there is no reason for athletes' sheer boring-ness to translate into political apathy as well. It's like, just because you are dull, playin it safe, or whatever, doesn't mean you shouldn't eat your vegetables and take your vitamins.

The crux of what I'm talking about is Carmelo Anthony in this video below:





Ignore Hawes for a second and focus on Carmelo. I'm sure many of you aren't raising an eyebrow to Melo's ambivalence, but surely we can all agree that the worst worst worst most unforgiveable thing about this clip is Melo supplanting this ambivalence with a direct bite of Michael Jordan's famous "Republicans buy sneakers too." Sure, Melo was dealing with Elie S-bach. and perhaps wasn't really inclined to come up with something witty to say, but really guy, this is the best you can do? The same dude who has come under endless scrutiny for tossing his bronze medal into the Baltimore harbor (not to mention all the minor b.s.--DUIs, Stop Snitching, etc.). And you aren't gonna say ANYTHING?

The real issue here is not what Melo did, but what he didn't and what lots of NBA players DON'T do. That is, they don't do sh!t and they underestimate the power of doing sh!t. As Oprah can attest, the power of celebrity endorsement is collossal and the power of athlete celebrity endorsement is way larger than people (especially athletes). Now, I'm not sure what type of effect Carmelo, for example, would have by stating his political preference, but imagine the following:

Brett Favre endorsing John McCain in Wisconsin
Bear Bryant endorsing Barack Obama in Alabama


I would be willing to bet that the power of such seminal figures alone could flip these states on their head. I always thought Lance Armstrong made a huge mistake when, at the height of his popularity (and in the rough-and-tumble election year of 2004), he didn't stand up for John Kerry in Texas. If you aren't convinced, perhaps I can remind you of the Illinois Senate race of 2004 when, yes THIS HAPPENED, Mike Ditka was considering running on the republican ticket against Barack Obama. I am not kidding when I say that had Ditka run, this may have changed the course of history forever.



















So praise Spencer Hawes for giving a f*ck. I'm not calling the guy "political" by any means, but christ it is refreshing for an athlete to say *something*. Not to mention he gives pretty much the only practical reason (albeit a self-interested one) to vote for McCain: He's worried about his taxes, a point that Arenas has alluded to as well--except Arenas kind of undermined his point by also including a bunch of "echh" material about why voting doesn't matter. Now today, Baron Davis gives us something strong or at very least something really really actually definitively partisan to say, which yes--because the standard is so low for these guys--is darn impressive and something worth praising.

QUICK SUB-THOUGHT: I just had a thought about Carmelo's status as the perennial "bad son" from the famed 2003 draft class and the clear outcast of the Wade-LeBron- triumvirate. If 'Melo truly wanted to separate himself from King Lebjesus and the championship winner, Wade, he could completely reinvent himself as the Muhammad Ali of the NBA, willing to say what those bubble yum and gatorade- shilling stooges won't.