Basketball is not one of my favorite sports. Generally speaking, the season is too long, teams don’t really play defense, scoring is too easy, and, when games are close at the end, the losing team constantly fouls the winning team to try and preserve clock time — what could be the most exciting part of the game is reduced to abject drudgery.
The NCAA Men’s Division I Basketball Championship, also known as “March Madness”, can be very exciting due to it’s single-elimination format, however, the way they play the last few minutes of close games mars an otherwise enjoyable experience.
I know that strategy works once in a while, but that doesn’t make it fun to watch.
As the NCAA tournament got closer this year, I began to wonder just how long, on average, the last two minutes of a game actually takes to play, and if the closeness of the score matters. So, during the tournament, I got out my trusty stopwatch (last seen during Super Bowl XLIV) and timed the last two minutes of as many games as I could.
Seen on a recently closed Boston sports bar located about three blocks from my apartment:
While I agree with the sentiment, I just wish whoever wrote it could spell.
When I walk by it almost every morning, I get a little embarrassed, and my OCD makes me twitch and begs me to stop and correct them. However, I know that as soon as I whip out a Sharpie and begin the correction I’d hear the “bwoop bwoop” from an NYPD cruiser, and then I’d have to explain/convince them that I was just correcting a fellow Yankees’ or Jets’ fan’s horrible spelling. They’d probably let me off with a warning out of loyalty to the teams or, more likely, because they’d think I was crazy.
I can’t be the only one who really wants to correct them, can I?
I guess this is what I have to look forward to seeing every time I open my door for the next two weeks:
Good thing I’m not a Jets fan.
If the Steelers win the Super Bowl, do you think he’ll leave it up for a while afterwards?
In mid-January, the Wall Street Journal analyzed the actual amount of play time of the average football game. They added up the amount of time the ball was actually alive and in play in four different games, and it averaged out to about 11 minutes. They concluded that the average game broadcast on TV shows 17 minutes of replays and 67 minutes of players standing around. With the biggest game of the year coming up, I decided to do my own analysis of the actual play time. Here are the results:
According to Newsday’s Neil Best (who has been following this for some time), the Tiger Woods story has graced the cover of the New York Post for 20 consecutive days. That’s one more than the old record held by 9/11.
To commemorate this historic event, I’ve compiled the 20 consecutive covers below. Enjoy.
For the past several weeks, ESPN has been holding a “contest” to find the greatest sports highlight of all time. It concluded last night with Mike Eruzione’s “Miracle on Ice” goal winning the prize. The problem, in my opinion, is that it shouldn’t have been in the running in the first place.
My problem is in the definition of a highlight, or more specifically, a sports highlight. Typically, each game or sporting event will have one or two moments that define the game. In this year’s Super Bowl, that moment was clearly the play where Eli Manning escaped a sack and threw the ball to David Tyree, who somehow managed to catch the ball with his helmet. What makes that play a great highlight is that if you take that play out of the Super Bowl, and put it into any game, even a pre-season game, it’s still a great play and a great highlight. A great highlight should be able to stand on it’s own without the urgency or need of the back story of the game it occurs in.
Eruzione’s goal was a nice play, but had it happened in any other game, it would be have been forgotten as just another goal. Take away the socio-political plot lines of a USA vs. Soviet hockey game, and that goal is just a goal.
Just a quick note to say that everyone at JMDC headquarters couldn’t be happier.
One of the fish in the tank seems to be a New England fan. The other fish are leaving him alone right now. He might die of disappointment.
Looks like the cafeteria at work made Super Bowl cookies with the logos of the Giants and Patriots. Is it a big surprise that most of the Giants cookies were bought, while a lot of the Patriots weren’t?
I find it interesting because, due to the sizes of the logos, the Patriots cookies are a better value since you get more cookie goodness for the same price.
There are about 32 college football bowl games, and they’re all sponsored by corporations. I’ve always felt that the corporate sponsorship missed the boat on them by not tying in more closely with the name and themes of the game. Below are a list of bowl games I’d like to see: