If I were to field a team in the MLB right now...

So if I were to field the best team in baseball, here would be my choices (in this batting order and with a DH - I'm an American League guy):

1. Jose Reyes, SS - Mets
2. Jacoby Ellsbury, CF - Red Sox
3. Adrian Gonzalez, 1B - Red Sox
4. Jose Bautista, RF - Jays
5. Ryan Braun, LF - Brewers
6. Joey Votto, DH - Reds
7. Alex Rodriguez, 3B - Yankees
8. Dustin Pedroia, 2B - Red Sox
9. Carlos Ruiz, C - Phillies

Starting Pitcher - Roy Halladay, Phillies (this might be a "choosing with my heart" choice)
Relievers - Mike Adams, Rangers; Tyler Clippard, Nationals
Closer - Brian Wilson, Giants

What says the baseball junkies?

Parity in Sports - Good for the Game?

So for those of you who haven't been following the Copa America (for shame!), a brief recap:

This past weekend, Brazil and Argentina got bounced in the quarterfinals by Paraguay and Uruguay, respectively.  Moreover, Peru beat Colombia and Venezuela defeated Chile.  In all the quarterfinal matches, the underdog beat the favorite.  To put it in context, it'd be like if someone predicted that VCU and Butler would join UConn and Kentucky in the Final Four of 2011.

As Jonathan Wilson points out, this could mean that either the traditional powers in South American futbol, Argentina and Brazil, are playing worse of late or that the field is catching up to the giants.  I would say that it's a case of the latter; globalization has a way of exporting not merely sports, but sports technique and know-how, the extent to which, it is improbable that giants remain giants for long.  We've seen this in many other sports that have been 'traditionally' dominated by a handful of countries, including hockey, baseball, and basketball.  Stated simply, all else being equal (which, truth be told, often ain't), modern communications and technologies make it such that successful programs and traits are more easily learnt and copied (or at least, the chances are greater that someone will successfully copy the successful).  Then again, it might just be a cyclical thing, and Brazil and Argentina may rule South American futbol, yet again.

Regardless, I know this much for sure: less people around the world will be watching the semifinals of Copa America than had Brazil and Argentina survived.  For example, whatever fleeting interest there may have been in Copa America in places like Canada and the USA will most likely lessen without the marquee names in the tournament.  As the son of Uruguayan parents, I couldn't care less.  I'll be watching Uruguay v. Peru come hell or high water.  I'll probably loose sleep thinking about the game, actually.

Still, it raises for me the following question: is parity good for a sport?  And if so, good for whom and under what criteria?

One clear example where parity is king and everyone is grateful for it is in the NFL.  In football, most teams have a chance to be in the playoffs within a five to seven year span (roughly - I certainly don't have the numbers).  The general consensus is that this is 'good' for the game because

1. It gives fans in most cities the feeling that their teams have a shot at the playoffs and a run at the Super Bowl; and
2. The NFL is so strong as a league and product that people will watch on TV (and companies will pay for airtime and sponsorship) regardless of whether the teams in the playoffs and Super Bowl are from small or smaller markets.  Thus, money will still be made if Pittsburgh plays Green Bay for the championship, as it happened in 2011.

What's interesting is that even in the NFL, there are marquee teams with histories of winning (e.g. Steelers, Cowboys, and Packers, to name only three); thus, it's not entirely true that all teams have realistic chances at winning, because despite favorable perennial conditions that would seem to suggest otherwise (e.g. revenue sharing, absurdly lucrative national television deals, etc), some teams just have crappy management (e.g. Detroit Lions).

But I digress: it seems that when the 'good' of parity is exulted, it's done so on two parallel and differentiated lines of argument:

1. Ability of the existence of parity to maintain hope for fans in most markets; and
2. Ability for parity to not interfere (and perhaps assist, though not necessarily) in the ability of a league or sport to make money.
• (There's actually a sub-point here, but feel free to skip to the next paragraph: often, sport X is strong enough in popularity that regardless of who participates, there will be interest in a given match.  This baseline interest in sport X, usually from fans of the sport and not necessarily of the teams in competition, is such that the monetary value of the sport doesn't diminish regardless of who plays.  This is the case with the NFL, for example.  This is usually what's meant by (or what I mean by) "parity not interfering in the ability of a sport to make money".  Technically, the ability a sport or league to make money need not be tied to the ability to draw in a neutral observer, but in reality, I'm not sure how these two points come apart.  End o' digression.) 

It's this dual criteria that has led some sports pundits to argue that whether parity is good depends upon the sport and, in particular, depends on the ability of a league or sport to make money regardless of who is playing in a given match.  Bill Simmons, for example, recently argued that the NBA needs the big markets with big players to play in the big games in order to generate the revenue that is integral to the existence and popularity of basketball as a whole.  In this way, the second argument articulated above, namely of parity not interfering with a league or sport's ability to make money, supersedes the first (positive) argument in favor of parity, namely drumming up the hopes of most fans in most markets prior to the beginning of a season or tournament.

One should note that those who place greater weight in the second argument don't necessarily hold money and revenue-generation as the ultimate end or goal of sports (although there are certainly some people who view sports merely as a business), but rather as a means of the survival of a given sport.  That is, parity can have the effect of reducing a sport's means of revenue generation, which in turn affects the sport's ability to grow and sustain itself, i.e. sustain the quality of play.

And there, perhaps, is the more 'pure' or 'intrinsic' counter-argument to the 'good' of parity: watering down the quality of a given sport. 

If there is a threshold of quality, X, such that there are enough players to distribute among a set number of teams, all the better.  You end up with a quality product and a diffusion of interests among the different fans of the different teams.  Conceivably, the stronger the product, the greater the likelihood that any given match will be enticing to neutral observers, and the greater likelihood the sport or league makes money.  Everyone wins.  Or more specifically, (most) everyone's conception of good prevails (more on this in a moment).

However, it's not entirely clear that the higher the quality of the sport, the greater the likelihood to make money.  Even in football, were the NFL to cut 12 teams and reduce the league to 20 teams, the quality of the product would likely increase but it's not entirely clear that the popularity would increase and thereby generate more money.

Let's set aside the 'good' of making money via sports.  I think that the more interesting question about parity, and whether you think it's a prima facie good thing to have or not, is dependent upon an antecedent question: namely, what is the point of sports?

This is a big question that many have written about.  All I'll say is that the question of the good of parity is tied to the question of what is the point of sports.  There seems to be, at least, two reasons why people follow sports, i.e. as fans: to identify as part of a group (or team) or for the love of the activity itself.  For most fans, it is a combination of both reasons, i.e. a sense of belonging and the love the activity itself.  But sometimes these two reasons are in tension - what's good for the sport may mean that there are fewer teams and fewer teams with whom to identify on a deep, personal level.  (Often, people will root for teams from their local cities, though certainly not always.  The pull of belonging, and belonging to a team that represents you and your city, is strong and not to be ignored.)

Sometimes, parity in a sport or league means that the quality of play is diminished to accommodate a greater number of teams.  Whether that's okay, and in fact desirable, may depend on whether you follow sports for the love of the sport or the love of the team, and what happens when these two reasons cannot coexist.

To finish, I'll return to the Copa America.  I want Uruguay to win.  Uruguay tends to play a physical style of futbol premised on defense and counter-attacking.  I happen to like this style of play regardless of the sport.  I like watching good and stingy defense in hockey, basketball and football, as well.  But there's no deying that Lionel Messi is amazing and that as a neutral observer, I wish he was still in the tournament along with his Argentinean teammates.  Just not at the cost of seeing Uruguay go out of the Copa America.  So what does parity mean in the context of sporting competition between countries?  I guess it depends on how much stock you put in nationalism and patriotism.  But maybe that gets off the topic of parity altogether.

Vamos Uruguay!  (Sorry, I couldn't help myself.)

Depriving Fans of Fantasizing: The NBA and NFL Lockouts

Last season, after Chris Bosh took his talents to South Beach, the Raptors sold the fans the following:

• The Raptors would play an up-tempo game premised on fast break points.
• Finally, Andrea Bargnani would step out of the shadow of Bosh and lead the team to glorious victory.
• There will be learning curves for the various players, but the Raptors would challenge for a playoff spot.

Oh, dear friends, I drank the kool-aid.  Specifically, I believed all this crap in the lead up to the season.  During the summer and well into training camp, I believed the Raptors would be fine without Bosh.  That Bosh is overrated.  Our beloved home team would be fine.

Well, maybe Bosh is/was overrated, but the man's still an all-star.  And after the first game or two, it became painfully obvious that the Raptors wouldn't play an up-tempo game and get fast break points (because you need to defend to play that style... and, well... yeah).  Bargnani put up 20 points per game but was his usual self on defense and the boards, which wouldn't have been all that bad had Reggie Evans not gotten hurt (again) so early in the season and could have made up for Bargs' shortcomings (or so I'm still telling myself).

I'd like to think I'm a somewhat rational person.  And really, I didn't buy what the Raptors were selling pre-season on the basis of rationality.  I bought it because I wanted it to be true.  I bought it on emotion.  I wanted it to be true that the Raptors wouldn't suck.  This is what's known in Toronto as "the Leafs Syndrome" or "being a Leafs fan".

And this is why the lockouts in the NFL and the NBA blow.  

The summertime (or off-season, more precisely) is when fans dream.  When even the crappiest teams have hope for a brighter future.  When Bills and Browns fans tell themselves that probability dictates that they can't lose forever.  When Leafs fans convince themselves that having 10 defense men and only one legitimate top six forward will lead to the Stanley Cup (well, I guess if Brian Burkes starts flipping some of these blueliners for forwards, it might work).  When Blue Jays fans tell themselves that Bautista is the key to the post-season.  It's when Raptors fans dream of some team looking at Bargnani and his 20 ppg and thinking, "yeah, we can get him to play defense".

But you can't do that when there's a work stoppage.  There are no trade rumors.  There are no trades or free agent signings.  There's no fantasy.

Man, Raptors fans (me included, by the way) are getting excited this summer about Jonas Valanciunas because he dominated an international under-20 basketball tournament.  And that's great, it really is, but projecting what he will be in three or four years time in the NBA is pretty low on the fantasizing totem pole.

So dear ridiculously rich athletes and even more ridiculously rich owners: get back to throwing footballs (highly likely) and back to shooting baskets (less likely).  We, your loyal fans, need to dream.

Particularly fans in Toronto.  It's all we got.

So why is should there be an asterisk next to baseball's steroid era?

So today, Roger Clemens begins his trial for perjury and obstruction of Congress.  Clearly he shouldn't have lied under oath (some might argue he shouldn't have testified at all).  Regardless, as per many descriptions of Clemens, the dude's full of ego and felt like the Teflon Don (and how did that all work out for Gotti?), and now it seems like he's going to get his comeuppance.  Here's the link to ESPN's story.

Apart from the stupidity of lying to Congress, many talking sports heads keep stating that those players who succeeded during the Steroid Era (circa 1995-2005) because of drug enhancements, including Clemens, should not be included into the Cooperstown or if they are inducted, they should have an asterisk next to their names and accomplishments.

Why?

You can't call them cheaters.  A cheater, borrowing from the many dictionary definitions of the word, is someone who breaks rules and attempts to deceive others that he or she broke the rules in question.  Merely breaking rules is not enough to call someone a cheater (e.g. when a persons gets a two minute minor in hockey for elbowing, he broke the rules but is not labelled a cheater).  Merely trying to deceive others regarding one's actions is not cheating.  It seems like there is a two-part test to cheating: rule breaking and attempted deception.

Until 2005, if I understand correctly, there were no rules banning the substances such as the variety of steroids.  It's why persons like Alex Rodriguez, among others on the Mitchell Report, have not been suspended.  Precisely because there were no rules in the first place to break.  Whatever you want to call those on the Mitchell Report, I don't think the word "cheater" applies.

You can, perhaps, make a moral argument against drug enhancements.  Although this is a *huge* issue that I won't get into here (and many have written on this subject), if there is no harm being caused by the drug, I don't understand how it is different from ingesting protein isolates or having newer, better equipment.  Regardless, assume all steroids and drugs are morally impermissible.  You still can't call Clemens and Co. cheaters.  They may have acted in a morally wrongful manner, or have been pressured, directly or indirectly, to take drugs.  Still, they're not cheaters.  If they didn't cheat, why shouldn't they be inducted into the Hall of Fame, or why should they have the dreaded asterisk?

Is it a matter of sportsmanship?  Well, some people (Jose Canseco, among others) claim that the majority of ball players were on something nefarious during that era.  If so, can it be unsportsmanlike?

So again, why the outrage toward the Steroid Era?  Why should they have an asterisk next to their feats?

TSN examines Self-Head Punchers... er... "violence" in sports...

Just wanted to draw attention to a series of articles and segments this week on TSN and TSN.ca looking at "violence" in sports, and in particular, concussions.

In particular, I found the following paragraph by David Naylor gets at the (or one of the) heart(s) of the matter:

"There is now hard evidence that suggests all of those blows that thrill us as we watch from our couches have come at a price for the athletes participating, and that price can be steep, indeed."

Here's the link to the TSN webpage.

- Diego

Self-Head Punchers - Is it morally permissible to watch (and enjoy watching) sports that cause "severe" brain damage?

Let's pretend we're Judith Jarvis Thomson for a moment (merely in spirit, not in body or experience, of course):

Imagine you enjoy watching people punch themselves in the head.  Repeatedly.  About 40 to 60 times in a three hour period, once a week.  Those who successfully recite the alphabet after three hours of self-head punching are lavished with gifts.  And imagine that this exercise, namely punching yourself in the head and watching others punch themselves in the head, was social acceptable in your historically situated time and place.

Now imagine that people who have the honor and privilege to freely participate in this exercise have transparent skulls.  (Why?  Well why does Thomson asks us to imagine that we are magically hooked up to a violinist to make a point about abortion?  Just read on, will you?)  The great thing about the transparent skull is that you can see the individual self-head puncher's brain.  Each punch the person delivers to his head is not sufficiently strong so as to incapacitate him.  However, after the second hour, you notice a tiny, tiny bruise forming on one of the participant's brain (though not all of them, at least, not that you can tell).  At first, just a small purple-blue-black mark.  So small, in fact, that you dismiss it as totally unimportant.

Now every week, you watch your favorite self-head punchers with greater zeal than the week before.  But every week that you watch, you notice that the bruise keeps growing.  And growing.  And growing.  Just to wrap things up, assume that the human body in our thought experiment is the same, and functions in the same way, as our actual human bodies.  Thus, safe to say, the long-term effects of brain bruises on the brains of our participants is not good for their long-term health.

Clearly I have (at least) two sports in mind with this thought experiment: football and boxing.  And let me be frank - I love watching both sports.  The question of whether it is morally permissible to watch football and boxing, and enjoy it, is very important to me (e.g. I'm still waiting for Mayweather to accept a fight against Pacquiao - epic!)

With regard to the thought experiment, the question is would it be acceptable to watch this activity, self-head punching, whereby a person bruises his brain even though it is (i) voluntary and (ii) he or she receives gifts.  The reason it's important to specify the voluntariness and compensation vis-a-vis the activity in question is to remove two of the easier objections against the activity itself, namely, it being involuntary with no compensation.  I'm granting these two conditions in order to get the argument of whether it is permissible to watch the self-head punchers off the ground.  In turn, this eliminates drawing the analogy to college football or amateur boxing.  Having said that, one could very well question the voluntariness of sports (e.g. sports are often a means to better socioeconomic status, as in the case of black youth in Florida, among other places, or question what it means to volunteer for an activity in which you may not understand the repercussions) and whether there is any amount of compensation that can make up for harming oneself.

In addition, the thought experiment does not necessarily extend to other contact sports, namely hockey and futbol, aka, soccer.  One could easily conceive of soccer without allowing players to head the ball, and maybe even hockey with no toleration of any kind of head shots.  In these cases, these sports could still be considered soccer and hockey.  However, removing the type of contact that is required in football may very well change the sport so fundamentally so that it is no longer football; boxing would be in a similar boat (e.g. what would boxing be if you only allowed body shots?)  Without getting caught up with this point, it seems at least intuitively plausible to argue that head contact is more fundamental to football and boxing but less so for hockey and almost not at all for futbol.

So then the self-head punchers, it seems, are most like professional football players and boxers.  The participate voluntarily in their activities and they're well compensated (at least in the NFL... 'poor' CFLers).  The only difference is that we can see the bruises on the brains of the self-head punchers but not the football players and boxers.

Since we're playing intuitionist-casuistry, it would seem that whether you can see someone's brain get bruised versus not being able to see a person's brain get bruised is not morally relevant.  In both cases, a person's brain is bruised and bruised brains are prima facie bad for one's health.

So I'll end the post with a final question (the one you all saw coming): are you okay with watching a self-head puncher bruise his brain knowing what are the likely long-term repercussions for him?  If not, how is watching football and boxing any different?

By the way, I really want to be wrong.  I really want to see if the Patriots can go for 19-0 next year.

Diego

What do the Raptors' need?

Okay, so if I'm reading things correctly, here's the Raptors' lineup for the 2011-2012 season:

Bigs - Bargnani, Amir Johnson, Davis
Wings - Demar Derozan, James Johnson, Kleiza (but who know's when he's back)
Guards - Calderon, Bayless, Barbosa

Free agent Raps include Reggie Evans, Dorsey, Weems, Ajinca, Julien Wright

I'd like to think I'm not delusional, so unless something huge happens, the Raptors will still be hard pressed to make the playoffs next year.  So what do the Raptors need to begin to compete next season?

Let's pretend that we're the GM and we can make some trades or sign free agents (and let's assume the trades or signings would have to be plausible, e.g. no there will be no Durant here next year, though one could dream).  Conventional wisdom would say they need a legit big and another rotation-worthy wing player (possibly even a starter, fingers-crossed).  Possibly also an upgrade at point guard (though I'm not as down on Calderon as many other in the blogsphere).  So who should Colangelo trade for?  Who should they target in free agency?  (Assuming the rules stay the same in the new CBA, which they won't, but no point in trying to predict the NBA future for our purposes today.)

Here's the list of free agents this summer.  Also, here's ESPN's trade machine.

First, in terms of centres, it might be best that the Raptors go after a free agent (seems to be some decent ones there that make sense).  High on that list are Chandler (not gonna happen), Nene, DeAndre Jordan, and Marc Gasol.  Raptorsrepublic argues that the Raptors should go after Gred Oden - I'm thinking he's a bit too injured, as in, he's always injured.  I think another name worth considering, and someone who might come at a relatively cheap price, is Samuel Dalembert.  He won't score, but he's solid defensively and gets rebounds and blocks.

As for the wing spot, how about the Raps go after Andre Iguodala for Bargnani, Kleiza and Alabi.  It would give Bargnani a fresh start, give the Raptors an athletic, defensive wing (which Casey would like) that could fly along side Derozan.  The 76ers would open up more playing time for Evan Turner and have Kleiza as a backup whenever he's ready to return.  Alabi just makes the deal work number wise.

What says you?

Diego

Sports Writers: Our Heros' Poets

I love reading about sports and in particular, about the great historical feats in sports.  Ken Dryden’s description of being a Montreal Canadiens in the 70s is enthralling, while Bill Simmon's argument in favor of Russell as a better player than Chamberlain is insightful and comical (if a little hysterical, but then again, that's partly what makes it comical).

Despite the many books written about sports, few are well written. Despite the fact that I am not an English major, nor a literary critic (and, let’s face it, I’m not particularly eloquent), I will say that for generations of sports fans who did not witness an important sporting event, a storyteller is critical in ensuring that the exploit in question is not forgotten.  And that, in-and-of-itself, is the standard (well, my standard) for a well-written historical sports book: not forgetting the stories and details *because* of the writing.

A great example: Seth Davis' When March Went Mad is a wonderful description of the 1979 National Championship in college basketball that featured Magic Johnson for the Michigan State Spartans versus Larry Bird and the Indiana State Sycamores.  In fact, it's about how Johnson and Bird entered college, about a pivotal turning point in the business of men's collegiate basketball, about race in late 1970s America, about the marketing of athletes, and so on.  I've read that book a while ago, but still the stories within the book, the little anecdotes, persist in my brain.  Davis is just a really great writer.

Other sports books I've read, the stories disappear.  I don't think it's necessarily because the exploits described were less enthralling or less important or less impressive.  Certainly, I could have been in a particular head space when I read Davis' book such that I was particularly receptive to his writing style and subject matter, or that *any* sports book would have left a lasting impression at that moment in time.  Perhaps, but I think that a large measure of its resonance is due to Davis' wonderful writing.  

Eduardo Galeano's Futbol a Sol y Sombra (Soccer in Sun and Shadow) is another great example.  What's interesting about this book is that Galeano retells the important historical moments of soccer in a very personal and romanticized manner.  The line between what actually occurred and what he remembers is blurred and as a reader, it is difficult to decipher where fact ends and fiction, or subjective recollection, begins.  But the truth is, it doesn't matter.  There's a certain texture to his words that leave an impression and helps solidify the stories in your brain.  

And it's not just written stories.  Other forms of story telling can be equally poignant.  Sports documentaries, for example, can have a similar effect.  One of my favorite sports documentary is When We Were Kings by Leon Gast.  It tells the story of the 1974 fight in Zaire between Ali and Foreman and to this day, that fight is probably one of the moments in sports that I wish I could have witnessed.  Songs can also have this type of emotional effect (e.g. "50 Mission Cap" by the Tragically Hip)

All of this reminds me of the following passage from Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling:

The poet cannot do what that other does, he can only admire, love and rejoice in the hero. Yet he too is happy, and not less so, for the hero is as it were his better nature, with which he is in love, rejoicing in the fact that this after all is not himself, that his love can be admiration. He is the genius of recollection, can do nothing except call to mind what has been done, do nothing but admire what has been done; he contributes nothing of his own, but is jealous of the intrusted treasure. He follows the option of his heart, but when he has found what he sought, he wanders before every man’s door with his song and with his oration, that all may admire the hero as he does, be proud of the hero as he is. This is his achievement, his humble work, this is his faithful service in the house of the hero. If he thus remains true to his love, he strives day and night against the cunning of oblivion which would trick him out of his hero, then he has completed his work, then he is gathered to the hero, who has loved him just as faithfully, for the poet is as it were the hero’s better nature, powerless it may be as a memory is, but also transfigured as a memory is. Hence no one shall be forgotten who was great, and though time tarries long, though a cloud of misunderstanding takes the hero away, his lover comes nevertheless, and the longer the time that has passed, the more faithfully will he cling to him.

The sports writer needs the athlete; the athlete needs the sports writer.

Diego

And so it begins...

I love sports.  I really love sports.

I love talking about sports, arguing about sports, even discussing the very notion of what constitutes a sport.

So this blog is intended as a means to discuss all types of sports by exploring them in a variety of ways: by philosophical argument, statistical analysis, and brute emotive reaction to current issues.  We can write about specific teams or sports, or wax more abstractly about broader themes related to sports.

But here's the thing: for this blog to work, I need everyone to post their thoughts and mastications on the subject matter at hand.  I'll write frequently because... well... it's my blog.  But I invite you to be an author on this blog.  If you're interested in writing, let me know and I'll add you to the roster.  Also, if you'd like, add your name to the email list to the left-hand side of this post.  You can even choose to "follow" this blog (again, click on the follow-thingy to the left).  This way, I hope to build a community of folks who are willing to share their love and analytic powers on the all-consuming, sometimes infuriating, but thoroughly fulfilling obsession that is sports.

Diego