Sunday, April 12, 2015

On Badger Pride

Badgerland is deflated. Forlorn. How does one deal with this loss?

Seemingly by reasserting their pride. Take a look at Twitter, through chats that you may have had with Wisconsin alumni, or at the top of your Facebook news feed. There’s an overwhelming outpouring of the word pride or proud. It has become the default and required assertion. But why?

Pride defined states “a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired”. Let’s give the benefit of the doubt and say that most people aren’t prideful right now because of their own achievements. I loathe the idea of “we did it!” The fan in almost all circumstances has done nothing, outside of a new age belief that some sort of spiritual energy exists, that it can be good or bad, and that these good vibes can sway people and events consciously or unconsciously. I’m not opposed to that idea; mindfulness of this sort has been shown to be beneficial. This is personal however, and the notion that mindfulness of the self can sway events in the world is due skepticism, more so considering the Badger loss (what, you helped them get this far by supporting the players in thought and the university through mass consumption of their trademarked goods and you’re proud of it?).

For the second, it’s possible that one might be content with second best, proud that the Badger players made it to the national championship round at all. Here, the proud Badger isn’t wrong in their pride. In a tournament where one must win six games in a row against presumably increasingly challenging opponents, five isn’t bad at all. It’s quite good actually! Part of me wants to say no one wants to be second best, but that’s a very negative view of the whole affair which I will put aside and let other backseat pundits (like myself) play with.

Continuing with the definition however presents us a conundrum. How does one feel “a deep pleasure” in this sort of circumstance? To my understanding pleasure is difficult to merit in this circumstance. The Badger team with which Badger fans identify have failed while at the cusp of greatness. How can one be pleased with that?

Often the phrasing of these cries of pride are hedged with “but I’m still…” The language seems internally combative, as if there is reason to not be prideful in this circumstance. It suggests that the Badger fan isn’t always proud of achievement, but in this particular circumstance they’re proud despite lack of achievement. This would negate our definition or pride, and it’s possible that the definition above is inadequate, but for the sake of my play here, I’ll remain with this definition despite this possible contradiction in Badger pride.

Moreover, the “but I’m still…” suggests there are people who will lose their fandom and identity attachment at the moment of failure and hardship. Do these people actually exist? The much maligned bandwagon fan that only ever associates with winners? I haven’t ever met such a person. It would be incredibly awkward for one to explain themselves in way that would allow them to get away with such a thing given the social stigma of such a betrayal of the credo of fandom, the marriage contract among teams and supporters that “thou shall support one team through thick and thin.” Whether the merits of this sort of fandom have any value is up for debate, but not hear. I’ll briefly say that this seems to fall in line with a lot of other Western normative values, which we may not need and do at times hurt people who find themselves drawn to other ways of non-normative fandom.

For the final part of the definition, the prideful Badger fan may hold narrativization of the events and actors on the basketball court includes that the play displays positive qualities they wish to remain associated with. This possible reason for pride merits further analysis if we’re to be quite literal about it. The Badger basketball players are doing things on the court of semiotic merit. Repeated success of passes, post moves, shooting stances, these all might be functional for the purpose of success at the sport, but may connote ideas and emotional reactions that go beyond “basketball, yeaaaaah!” My ability to informatively speculate about whether Frank Kaminsky’s post game reads tenacious or gritty is based solely on limited experiences viewing the sport with others or listening to commentators who are paid to divine meaning out of spectacle (which is to say, their bias is noticed). These connotations, social constructed, would benefit from research and analysis of a more formal sort.

Suffice it for now that it’s possible that Badger fans are proud to associate their identities with a collective that displays positive characteristics publicly through sport. Moreover, they display them well, openly, and often, all of which bears admiration. Yet, the timing of this assertion of pride is once again significant. The Badger players have been doing this all season and in seasons past, so why state the pride so openly just now. Also, I’d wager that other programs do very similar stuff, and thus is Badger pride not unique, yet stating “proud Badger” instead of just “proud” delimits the pride to just those qualities which might be understood by watching the Badgers. This is an act of fooling oneself into believing that they’re part of a particular community that upholds just values. “Badger pride” suggests that other teams and their fans lack the values that are being attributed to the Badger teams, and if the values that the Badgers convey are good and just, what does this leave fans of other teams?

These rhetorical questions are misleading, I know. There’s no reason that fandom, pride, and the attributes associated with identity need to be so dichotomous. But when we live in a world where people can struggle to find their way out of false dichotomies (gender, sexuality, for example), I feel assuaged in my somewhat snide condemnation.

Ultimately, pride in specifically the Badgers and at this particular time leads to questions. The statement of pride doesn’t easily match up with the dictionary definition upon examination. So let me cut the word play and get to what we probably know is going on here. Pride is the word that has been chosen by the community of fans to show solidarity among themselves as they attempt to cope with defeat and loss. Combined with the above analysis, pride suggests that their efforts as fans have merit regardless of the outcome, because they supported a team that displays values that the community believes are worthy of displaying. Socially manufactured pride is all the value they can muster after they lost out on intrinsic joy garnered from witnessing success by those within your imagined community. Pride is as much an attempt to focus on the potential good as it is defiance of the idea that their time could have been better spent elsewhere.

Pride is a misstatement of the experience of being a fan. I believe that the statement of pride in the Badgers could be reoriented towards the joy of times spent among friends and family, communing among each other regardless of quality of play or achievement. It would be a more accurate description of the true value that has been gained from the play of the Badger teams. Their efforts and the success they achieved gave cause for us to join together, share good food, drinks, and time all among one another.

So for this, thank you Badger players. You’ve given us something to talk about as we go about our daily tasks. You’ve provided an impetus for friends to get together and laugh and cheer. It’s arbitrary, in my eyes, that it’s the Badgers that have done this. Since the verb “thank” looks for an object to part thanks onto, I’ll thank you.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Smash Bros

Mr. Rocktober wanted a thorough write-up of a video game tournament last weekend. Unfortunately, it was not the wildly interesting event he may have been hoping for. It was really casual and well-run. So instead, I will narrate the tale of one hapless dork present that evening.

Three people walked into the Smash Bros tournament venue. Two dudes, one girl. All three had man-purses (cool!) which contained their video game equipment. They were playing Pokemon on their 3DS while waiting for the tournament to begin. Not too unusual a sight, yet.

Once the tournament began is when one of them, "Joe", started to shine. He ripped off his purple hoodie to reveal a Smash Bros Comic-Con shirt. He was eager to tell people that, yes, he was at THE Comic-Con that had an early preview of the newest Smash Bros game. If his spiky anime-style hair did not set off alarms, this should have. But hey, maybe that was an exciting event for the guy. He didn't go too overboard. He wasn't on anybody's bad side so far.

Then his name got called for the tournament. His girlfriend was only there to watch him play. The other guy competed but was not noteworthy. Joe was a Little Mac player, one of several there. However, he stood out. Whenever he would get his power meter full, he would perform his KO Punch. If he hit it, he would yell out
"GOTCHA!"

OK. One time, it may have been exciting. Maybe it was the game-winning move the first time, I don't remember. But he did this around 10 more times. He probably had been doing this his whole Smash 4 life ("We've been playing the game for the last 6 hours" he said, seemingly a boast of his dedication to training). This was his trademark now.

I didn't even play him, but man. The last thing you want to hear after getting hit by that move is GOTCHA! Yeah, you got me, you clever guy! You hit the B button when you were near me! Saying GOTCHA! really endears you to everyone here!

At the time, no one said anything, but in my mind I had the pieces to the puzzle: Man-purse, peacocking a free handout t-shirt, GOTCHA!. I didn't like this doofus.

Unfortunately, someone must've GOTCHA'd him at some point because he took 4th place to no prize. His morning training session was for naught. I was relieved to hear after the event that I was not the only one that noticed his peculiar behavior.

He really wasn't that bad, but hey! GOTCHA!

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Written Tribute to Larry Sanders

I started watching basketball the year that Larry Sanders was drafted. Looking back at that roster, it’s hard to believe that the Bucks were even 9th in the conference. Keyon Dooling played meaningful minutes. I’d already decided to watch the Bucks and make them my team, which ended up being a rough time to hop on the creaking Bucks wagon. Sanders became a player of interest for me as he and I both arrived on the scene at the same time, albeit in a much different capacity. I hadn’t yet learned enough about the game to dissect a bad player, but I noticed that Sanders got very little play time, and when he did, he either shot long range 2 point shots that never went in or dropped the ball when passed to him around the basket. At the very least I knew enough to know that Sanders wasn’t very good. I wanted to make a connection between Larry and me, between our ventures and hopeful success, but I couldn’t. Despite the self-created connection I wished to make, I didn’t become attached. He wasn’t a lovable loser. He just struggled and it was hard to watch.

His second season shapes up to be mostly the same in my memory. The Bucks didn’t run a real center that year, working Drew Gooden to the bone at the 5. A lot of his time on the court resulted in flagrant fouls, earning him a reputation as a hothead. He seemed to hold the team back more than anything else. My opinion was entrenched against Larry, having without intention become emotionally invested in the Bucks without investing in any particular player. I called for his dismissal, although at the time I didn’t understand options like buyouts or anything like that. I believed that he sucked irrevocably, he was a bust and the team should have found a better player for that roster spot.

The next season was his pleasant turnaround. Larry finally came through and developed an NBA caliber skill, earning him the nickname LARRY SANDERS among bloggers and fans. It came late in that season, just in time to help the Bucks earn the right to get stomped by the Heat in 4 games, but that didn’t matter all that much to me. I had heard from Ted Davis that “the long arms of Larry are the law of the lane” and that was fun enough. He still got plenty of flagrant fouls and he might have been a net negative with his improving-but-still-bad offensive skills, but Larry, more than any other player in the league, again felt like the guy that I wanted to see be a leader and a star. The Bucks’ choice to sign him for big money to him lead me to believe that he was finding his way. It was silly for me to believe it, but with this found and substantiated investment, his success after such a period of not-success helped me feel that I might find success too, on my path in my own way.

I don’t need to rehash what all happened to Larry in 2013. I drafted him early on my first ever fantasy basketball team with confidence, but really, fuck fantasy sports. They don’t matter. People mocked him for problems, but I felt bad that so many people I read online or knew in my life turned on him. If someone started giving me millions of dollars, I’d probably party a bit too. Larry should have been more mature, sure. I know people who get shitfaced and do things they regret. I still do things that I regret. We’re just not on the same stage that Larry is, that all professional players are. Some might say that with limelight comes responsibility, but so help me I’m going to see Larry as a human being, not a role model, a piece on a game board, or whatever. I’ve never met Larry, probably never will, but through the course of watching him, then despising him, then embracing him, I was a fixture on the Sanders bandwagon. I greatly anticipated his return to this season, excited to see him help lead the Bucks out of the gutter into something more beautiful than it had been in the past few decades combined.

Now, Larry is gone from the team. Reports from Yahoo make it sound like he’s out of the league because he can’t quit smoking weed. I’m pretty sure that’s wrong, but even if that’s the case, marijuana should be legal. Even if the States haven’t caught up yet, the NBA should fix its’ shit. I’ve also been told rumors that he might have cancer. I certainly hope that’s not the case. I’ve had friends mock him, and I’ve jokingly said I’ll be holding a candlelight vigil, but I actually feel a little bad to be saying shit like that. With ridiculously little insight into his life, I find myself a fan of Larry Sanders the person. As talk of the buyout dragged on, I hoped against common sense that Larry would find his way back on the court. I selfishly want him to be covered and discussed so I can continue to chart his life and see his ups and downs compared to mine, rooting for him to improve as a player and grow as a person, validating my fandom to the world. Yet outside of a stray future follow-up, that some journalist might wonder what is going on with Larry and get in touch, he’s out of sight and out of mind.


I’ll hazard that the buyout is what’s best for Larry and leave it at that. I suspect that my affinity for the man will wane with him off the Bucks and out of sports chatter. My faith that he flourishes is fixed at this point though. Larry, know that you’ve got fans and we wish you the absolute best.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

ESPN Comments' Moving Tribute to Stuart Scott

""You ain't gotta go home, but you got to get the heck up outta here"

Well we wish you didn't have to go home Stuart........and you certainly didn't need to get the heck up outta here."

"he was and is an inspiration to us all. i know that i have not been the best father, son, brother, and husband but by watching this man deliver his speech it has cemented my resolve for fighting this thing we call addiction. everyday i am here is another day i thank the Lord for being alive. i may have missed a lot of things in the past 12 years but in no way am i laying down and not fighting. you have my respect and love stuart scott and i cannot wait to meet you once i crossover to the other side. and to his daughters you have an incredible father that loved you and we as an audience felt that through him. rip stuart scott"

"Anyone Else Remember Him in ESPN NBA 2K5? His commentary before the game made the game really fun and more realistic. R.I.P"

"stuart's last stop before bristol was orlando, florida where he was the weekend sports anchor at WESH TV. i loved his brash style, my mom did not. i lost my mom in 1992. today, i lost stuart."

"The phrase "BOOYAH!" Now needs to be retired. RIP Stu"

"I never knew Stuart's bad side of the pillow. Always Cool " Boo-Yah ". Gone but not forgotten, R.I.P. Stu...."

"Sad....I'm going back to bed"

"Rip man you was the best on espns"

"cancer is a fearsome killer!"

"the tv american lost the best man the god arrange a good place to you rip..."

"Race is so weird to me, they talk so much about how he was "black" and "african american." Never once growing up did I watch him and say "Oh look, that dudes black." This guy was entertaining as hell, I alway enjoyed watching him do sportscenter. Sad day to his family, friends and his fans."

"You will be miss..."

"RIH"

"I coined a phrase years back trying to convey a msg. to a friend....."Touch lives and create memories, change lives and leave a legacy." Safe to say Stuart achieved the latter."

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Watching the Bucks by Myself

I got home from work and had time on my hands, won by passing my defense and finishing my master’s degree. My girlfriend was busy writing, trying to finish up her first semester of graduate school, so it seemed prudent to give her space. I could be sitting in a different room, chilling with headphones on, making not a peep, but I know that I’m still a distraction to her while she writes, so I need to get out. Timing was that the Bucks were playing.

I contacted some friends about meeting up for the Bucks-Suns, but no one was available. My brother messaged me about watching it, but he lives a two hour drive north of me, so it’s not like I was going to meet up with him. He said to just go to the Laurel Tavern, a pub nearby my apartment, and watch the game by myself. I scoffed at the thought; who goes to a bar on their lonesome and do I want to be that type of person? This was judgmental of me, I know. I wavered in this judgment. I really didn’t feel like doing much else other than watching basketball, and this was only going to happen if I’d go to that bar. Maybe this is the expected change, post-thesis – I’m now the guy who goes to bars alone.

It took me a bit to come around on watching the Bucks alone, so I only show up to the Laurel as the second half started. One of the televisions already had the game on, a real shocker in Madison. Madison loves sports, with many residents defining themselves on their sports fandom, but speech and silly shirts show the state’s loyalties.
The assumption is they suck, they will suck, and sucky teams aren’t worth investment. Or maybe they see Bucks basketball as a Black thing, while Wisconsin is so damn White… anyway, I digress. Something to discuss in a different way, or a different post. I was able to just get a beer, find a table near the Bucks-playing TV and just watch the game.

Posted up at a high table by myself, I felt subversive and self-conscious. Not only was I alone, I was watching the Bucks. Of course I had my friends and my brother on the line, messaging them as the game progressed, but it’s not the same. Nobody knows if you’re actually messaging someone or just frantically checking your phone, lonely and hoping for contact. I didn’t feel lonely. I felt anxious. The thought that others might perceive me as lonely is a bother.

I worry too much.

The game came down to the wire. I messaged my friends while peering at the screen, all of us guessing how the Bucks would mess up the final play and lose the game to the Suns. I think I called a five-second violation on the inbound. A friend foresaw Jerryd Bayless bricking a shot. Another predicted a Khris Middleton shot rimming out of the cylinder. My brother was confident the Bucks would get it through the hoop, even though he didn’t say how. I expected the worst and hoped for the best. I can’t say how my friends feel about the team, but I do break down into the sort of fan who says “we did it!” despite all evidence against my contributions to the team. The thoughts that held true for the past few years of Bucks fandom – should they lose first to get better later? – are nowhere in sight now, huh?

Khris Middleton’s shot rimmed in. I cheered, hooted and hollered a bit, joined by other tavern patrons who tuned into the final play. Not many mind you, just three or four folks. It was gratifying to see others give a damn, even if it was just for a moment. Over our clamor I could hear others, however, each asking what the hell was going on. My self-consciousness returned, anxiety that slipped away during that moment I shared with those other patrons-turned-Bucks-fans. I’m still alone, watching a sports team that few people care for. I wish I were strong-willed, but I’m not. It’s hard for me to be defiant in my fandom, resolute to openly care about this team when others fail to see what I see. In broad scope, sports are silly. Basketball is silly. Fandom is silly. In the past I’ve mocked pride without accomplishment. Defiance is hypocrisy. I’m just a guy who looks lonely, unable to fully enjoy the good fortune of others because I think too much about what it all says about me.

I finished my beer quickly and left. During the short walk home, I vacillated between unwarranted joy and contemplative sorrow, unable to appreciate much at all: not my victory over academia or my teams’ victory over the Suns. I entered my apartment to my girlfriend’s cheer, her having said something like “how about them Bucks?” She was watching the score updates, knowing that it matters to me more than I care to say.

I smiled, moving quickly to the story of what went down in those last seconds of the game. My life has changed, but I have not. There is no revelation post-degree. Just more time to be problematically conscious of myself.

Monday, December 15, 2014

My History with Basketball Prior to Liking It

I liked Jordan as a kid, but who didn’t. My mother told me that I used to recite facts about Jordan to her – height, birthday, and favorite food – as if she’d find them fascinating. She said that she asked me to keep it to myself one time, and that my eyes welled up about to cry. Then she told me I could keep talking.

There was a Jordan poster on the wall immediately above my pillow for a few years. I would often push my pillow up the wall as I slept, damaging the bottom part of the poster. I eventually threw it out and replaced it with a drawing of Yoshi that a middle school friend made for me.

My brother, who I shared a room with, hung up a Shawn Kemp pennant and bought a Vin Baker collectible figure. These were hung on the wall with Sesame Street posters, a White Sox windsock, and a calendar. I have no idea what has come of any of these items.

I played a lot of NBA Jam as a kid. One time, when my American grandparents visited, I convinced my grandpa to play the game with me. I remember that he scored two points and I scored the rest. I think we won, but in NBA Jam, if you win, it’s always by the skin of your teeth.

We had a basketball hoop put in next to the driveway to the family home. Sometimes, when I was really bored, I would shoot around. Nobody ever told me my shot form sucked. To this day I really can’t hit a shot.

I played basketball for some youth league in 5th or 6th grade, mostly because my brother did and I usually did the thing he did at that age. I feared getting the ball because I couldn’t dribble or shoot well. My point total for the season: four. We managed to get 4th place overall. The parents of the other players wanted to get us trophies except for my mom. We didn’t win anything anyway and money was tight at that time. She backed out, but the rest of the parents chipped in extra to get me a trophy anyway. My trophy was a little different though; I got the “Most Improved Player” trophy.

My friend (and contributor) Nick and I played a lot of NBA Jam during the Bucks’ “Fear the Deer” season. Finding out that he actually watched the games, I too started watching. I didn’t want to be labeled a bandwagon fan, but I didn’t know how to avoid it. I told my brother this fear at Lucky’s on Regent one day. He told me the following story. He was listening to Milwaukee sports radio in the car during the Bucks postseason, and the radio host said that they had a poll up on their website asking whether listeners would rather hear stories about the Bucks’ postseason or the Brewers’ preseason. Listeners overwhelmingly voted for the Brewers.

That’s the day I started to like basketball.

Friday, December 5, 2014

ADVANCED STATS: Heat 75 Bucks 99

Should you pay attention to our advanced stats? Yes, you should pay attention to our Advanced Stats.