NBA Draft, Rugby . . . and Other Random Thoughts

Tonight is the night several dozen young men officially part ways with their respective academic institutions so they can earn a degree – their NBA.

The NBA Draft is not the spectacle of the NFL Draft, but still marks a commencement of sorts – from the college to the court. Who knows how many of the top picks will live up to their pre-draft hype. Some notable first-round picks in recent years have made the transition from collegiate “Who’s Who” to professional “Who’s He?” with amazing quickness. Stay tuned.

“Invictus.” I finally got to see the film, “Invictus,” starring Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon. It’s about how the remarkable World Cup triumph of South Africa’s rugby team in 1995 helped to solidify Nelson Mandela’s leadership in that nation.

Rugby has a World Cup? Who knew? I barely knew that soccer had one, but now I know rugby has its own international competition every four years. If you’re interested, the next one is being held in 2011. That should be enough time for you to recover from the excitement of this year’s soccer World Cup.

Watching the film, I didn’t have the foggiest notion about the rules of the game. Most of the match, it seemed, was similar to American football when the ball is fumbled and the players jump onto a pile, wrestling for the ball. Except in rugby, if the ball squirts out, you can grab it and run, throw it to someone else, or even kick it to try for a score.

And rugby guys, from what I could surmise, don’t even wear pads. Our football players are such wimps!

By the way, Nelson Mandela does have a strong resemblance to Morgan Freeman.

And the Cup goes on. Speaking of soccer, I have formulated a six-word phrase that I think summarizes the problem with soccer. If you’ll pardon the romantic metaphor, soccer is basically – too much foreplay, not enough sex.

And do you know why, when a team does score, the announcer proceeds to scream, “Gooooooooooooooaaaaaaaalllllllllll!” for what seems 15 minutes? It’s because he knows it will be a really long time before he has to shout it again.

Candidate for the Hall? Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Jamie Moyer, who must be about 80 years old, is slowly inching toward the 300-career victory mark. Now in his 25th Major League season, Moyer recorded his first victory in 1986 when he was with the Chicago Cubs. He now has 266 wins, to go with 201 losses.

Because 300 wins has traditionally been the threshold for Hall of Fame pitchers, pundits are starting to discuss whether Moyer should be considered for the Hall. He did have 20-win seasons in 2001 and 2003 with Seattle, but has averaged less than 11 wins per year over his career.

Maybe the sacred 300 mark needs to be reconsidered. What if a guy one day lives to be 320, entered the majors at age 21 and pitches for 300 years, winning one game each year. Does that mean that he will qualify for the enshrinement in Cooperstown, based on career victories?

At his current pace, Moyer probably will deserve to be elected into the Hall of Fame – for being the first pitcher to retire from baseball and immediately collect his first Social Security check!

The Great un-American Game

Was it Willie Nelson who sang, “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be soccer players”? Maybe not, but with apologies to poet Robert Frost, “something there is (in America) that doesn’t love…a soccer game.”

Yes, the networks and ESPN are casting faux enthusiasm toward the World Cup, but it’s the same treatment they give figure skating in the Winter Olympics. “Yeah, we gotta cover it, but I’ll sure be glad when it’s over.”

The American psyche, forged in the melting pot of blended cultures, is unquestionably unique. But despite the European, African, Latino and Asian mix that makes up our society, somehow soccer got lost in the translation.

Ask the average U.S. sports fan about soccer and the reply is, “I don’t get it.” All that running up and down, back and forth with deft footwork; great stamina and athleticism for sure – but so much effort with so little outcome. You watch a 90-minute soccer game, and lather into a frenzy for what? 1-0? (And it’s “nil,” not zero or zip.) Or, as the U.S. team did on Sunday, crow victoriously over a 1-1 tie with England? In soccer, an offensive spectacle is 3-1. Woo-hoo!

These days, people complain baseball, “the Great American Pastime,” is too slow and lacking in action. Yet it’s not uncommon to see scores of 6-5, 8-6, and sometimes even double-digits. Still, compared to “upstarts” football and basketball, which have surpassed it in popularity in recent decades, baseball is “boring.” If that’s the case, no wonder we can’t get revved up about soccer.

To me, watching a soccer game is akin to going out to buy a new car and settling instead for new wiper blades. Or buying tickets months in advance to see your favorite band in concert, then one day before the event having it canceled because the lead singer has a hangnail. Much ado about nothing!

Perhaps over time, with the influx of people into the United States from soccer-crazed lands, soccer will soar in acceptance. Here in Chattanooga, for instance, with an influx of Germans because of the new Volkswagen plant, maybe some of their devotion for the original “football” will rub off. But don’t count on it.

No, in America, football will always be synonymous with “pigskins,” first downs, blitzes and sacks. And we don’t need the vuvuzelas, those raucous-sounding plastic horns that soccer zealots are using to try and destroy one another’s eardrums. The traditional bell chime, to remind the defense that it’s third down and they need to stop to opposing offense, is just fine with us.

Why settle for “Gooooooooooooaaaaaalllllllll!” when you can shout, “TOUCHDOWN!”?