March Madness draws to a close tonight with the marquee matchup: Illinois v. UNC. (I chose these two in the final game in my bracket last month, but, then again, so did most of America.) As for my rooting inclination, it’s an easy call — When in doubt, go ACC, and particularly when Carolina Pride is involved. Update: As y’all know, it was Carolina…booyah.
Category: Sports
Bush League.
Amidst the quality (and all-natural to boot) college hoops, I haven’t been following the story very closely. But apparently, Congress was shocked to discover on Thursday that Mark McGwire probably used steroids and that MLB is drowning in juicers. Wow, you think? For his part, Bud Selig feigns equal amazement at the flagrant cheating that has characterized baseball for the past decade…but, really, should we expect any less from the leadership of the GOP pastime? Ho-hum.
In the Mouth of Madness.
Greetings from a friend’s laptop — March Madness in Santa Clara continues apace…my bracket remained in decent shape until last night’s 2OT Wake-WV thriller, which knocked out one of my Final Four. (That and the Vermont-Syracuse match-up have probably been the two best Games of the Tourney so far.) Otherwise, my weekend’s been split between pick-up basketball games and convalescing. The good news is I think I’ve finally turned the corner on my recent flu (thanks to plenty of rest and liberal application of Jamba Coldbusters)…hopefully, tonight’s Red Eye flight back East won’t precipitate a relapse.
One Step Beyond — Madness 2005.
“Tell me, ‘friend,’ when did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for Madness?” Why, in Mid-March, of course…another year has gone round, and it’s time once again for The Big Dance. I’ll admit, I’ve been following this year’s college scene even less than usual, so I expect my picks to be highly suspect. Still, ya never know…
Inflated Currency.
Hmmm. A million dollars sure doesn’t go as far as used to. (And you’d think with that kinda cash Clint could have invested in a few more lights around the set.) At any rate, I’m willing to bet I might have thought more of Million Dollar Baby if I had seen it before the hype machine kicked in (and before I knew the twist, since I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.) But, well, MDB was a harmless helping of manipulative schlock, I guess. But even if I hadn’t seen Aliens of the Deep just beforehand, this film would have come off as a woefully two-dimensional enterprise.
At this late date, you probably know the story. Grizzled archetypal trainer Clint Eastwood and his grizzled archetypal sidekick Morgan Freeman run a dark and dilapidated boxing facility, without benefit of loyal title contenders or fluorescent lighting. Into this duo’s endless Who’s More Grizzled repartee steps Hillary Swank, a plucky, gosh-darned-don’t-that-girl-have-heart boxer-wannabe from the wrong side of the tracks, who’s burdened with the scariest, goofiest redneck family this side of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (And don’t even get me started on Cletus, or Forrest, or Danger, or whatever that gimpy kid’s name was.) Soon enough, plucky Swank has even managed to thaw the heart of frosty ole Clint, and together they make that long-awaited title run, until…ack!
Like I said, MDB was ok enough as a hammy diversion, but I’d say its emotional resonance wasn’t too far removed from the Touched By an Angel melodrama of last week’s The Jacket. It’s a by-the-numbers boxing movie that turns into a by-the numbers Lifetime movie-of-the-week. Sure, the acting is polished across the board, but I thought the characters were for the most part shallow and cartoonish. (In fact, Morgan Freeman is barely even playing a character — he’s a Shawshank voiceover tinged with a touch of Bagger Vance.) And the plot barely holds together — I’m sorry, but, Evander Holyfield’s ear notwithstanding, you’re just not going to get away with that many sucker punches in a title fight.
I’m probably being a bit too hard on this flick — it made for a reasonably engaging two hours, sure. Perhaps it even works as an homage to the Hollywood of yore — at times this felt like a Karl Malden vehicle from 50 years ago. But, simply put, this was in no way the best film of last year — I’ll take Eternal Sunshine, The Aviator, Sideways, The Incredibles and a host of others over MDB any day of the week and twice on Sunday. This isn’t even the best Clint film in recent years – Mystic River was much more well-realized, and obviously Unforgiven is head-and-shoulders above this drek. How MDB won the Oscar bout is beyond me…Call McCain — the fix was in.
Give them the $@% ball.
With Spring right around the corner, Hollywood serves up a twin helping of lousy little league coaches: First, Billy Bob Thornton turns on the Bad Santa in Richard Linklater’s Bad News Bears remake, and then Will Ferrell channels Mike Ditka (and Victory) in the full trailer for Kicking and Screaming.
Original Sin.
TNT announcer and former 3-point specialist Steve Kerr traces the Knicks’ current mediocrity back to the Ewing trade in 2000. Ah well, at least we (barely) beat Kobe and his Sidekick Lakers last night.
Trading Day.
Trades galore today in the NBA, with C-Webb off to Philly, ‘Toine back in Boston(?!), Baron in Golden State, Big Dog to N’Orleans, Van Horn in Dallas, and the Knicks…well, they picked up Malik Rose, Mo Taylor, and a couple of picks, which, well, probably isn’t going to get the job done. But, then again, we didn’t give up much either (Nazr, Vin Baker, and Moochie). I’m just glad I’m not writing the checks.
Pats and Bats.
Well, there may have been no nipple sightings during this year’s somewhat sloppy Superbowl (McCartney, you tease) — nor, as Seth Stevenson points out, were there much in the way of memorable ads — but we did get another look at Batman Begins, which included what appears to be our first glimpse of The Scarecrow, as well as a disaster-movie moment from War of the Worlds. I was hoping for more, but ah well.
Isiahed.
After what looks to be a season-killing losing streak (9 of 10 games) for the Knicks, Lenny Wilkens gets the boot. (Ok, ok, he “resigned”…yeah, right.) For now, Knicks stalwart Herb Williams is in charge, but both Larry Brown and Phil Jackson are already waiting in the wings, and it seems clear Herb’s tenure will be a short one.
I dunno. Sure, there were several mental mistakes made in recent games by the coaching staff…but let’s face it: The Knicks are a bad (and badly-constructed) team. Without a single front-line player who merits a double-team in the post, our offense is basically reduced to hoping two of our three perimeter shooters (Marbury, Crawford, Houston) have a good game. That’s not going to win a championship, no matter who’s coaching. It wouldn’t even get us in the playoffs if the Atlantic Division wasn’t so terrible across the board. To my mind, Lenny was made the scapegoat for an unwinnable situation.