PAC-10 Tourney Recap

By now, its clear that my ability to prognosticate is lacking to say the least. Although I guess I did pick SC to get to the finals, which actually happened.

Oregon was clearly the class of the tournament and we’ll see how that affects their play in the big tourney. They will either be able to build on this enormous momentum or peter out early with an inevitable cold shooting streak that will likely follow their recent trend of red-hot perimeter game. Not sure which way I’m going on this one.

The tournament though is always great. This year there were a number of great teams playing and we were able to move around Staples Center to catch the game from different angles and gain different perspectives.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the entire weekend was during the SC-WSU semifinal match-up. Thanks to my buddy Luke, we were able to get into Premier level seats, complete with great viewing perspectives (see pic), and seat service of refreshments. I sat on the aisle and Francis was sitting one seat in. Next to him was a cute early-20 something woman followed by an enormous man, probably in his late 50’s.

Francis, always easily distracted from the action on the court to other surrounding stimuli, wanted to strike up a conversation with the woman to his right. After a few minutes of huddling about the approach, he made his move. The conversation as retold to me by Francis went something like this:

Francis: You must be a pretty big basketball fan.

Woman: Not really.

Francis: Do you go to USC?

Woman: No.

Francis: How about your Dad?

Woman: That’s not my dad, that’s my boyfriend.

(having overhead this, I cringed in my seat.)

Francis: Oh.

(end scene)

Once this story was relayed to me, we spent the rest of the second half (in different seats, by the way) trying to make sense of this bizarre transaction. I even tried to take a picture of the strangely paired couple from our seats halfway across the arena with my 300mm zoom lens, but to no avail. After extensive deliberation, the only logical conclusions about this odd couple we came up with were A) he was her boss and she is attracted to his mind and power, B) they met somewhere somehow and she was attracted to his enormous wallet, C) she was a paid escort that he purchased to make himself look good in front of fellow SC alums (not that far-fetched for an SC chump). We agree that one of the three options must be true and the thought that Jabba the Hut was wealthy remained constant throughout our analysis. (Believe me, the Jabba call is not too much of a stretch. Dude was big. He was one of those guys that fits snugly into stadium seats as if he were poured into it. Francis also pointed out that the guy even wore suspenders since no belts were big enough to wrap around his globe-like body.)

We also wondered whether the woman was bummed by Francis' assumption. I'm sure if the guy were really her boyfriend, she would probably feel odd. For a professional though this must come with the territory. The call about him being her Dad was made funnier since she was Latina (probably) and the guy looked like Rick Majerus or a fatter version of Viccini from Princess Bride for you non-college hoops readers out there.

Unfortunately, when UCLA loses in the opening round of their conference tournament, you have time to contemplate such issues.

Los Angeles, baby. Los Angeles.

Frank White R.I.P.

I just learned that today marks the 10-year anniversary of the death of Notorious B.I.G.. I can't believe its already been a decade and being in LA right now, the site of his demise, seems poignant.

During college, nobody's music got the party started like Biggie did. I vividly remember UCLA in the mid-1990's with DJ Dave spinning his tunes at numerous apartment parties and everyone dancing and having a good time with "Hypnotize", "Big Poppa", or "Juicy" pumping through the speakers.

Later living in NY, it was clear to me what a popular figure Biggie was. 125th Street in Harlem was a block away from my apartment and street vendors would be selling Biggie pictures and t-shirts, even though this was about eights years after his passing. The hyperbole about Notorious B.I.G.'s impact (an Tupac's obviously) on hip-hop has been written about numerous times, but his tunes and arguably his passing mark the end of the Golden Age of hip-hop. I would assert that the Golden Age started around 1989 (give or take a year or two) and lasted until 1997, the year Christopher Wallace died. This era includes the entire Tribe Called Quest collection and the Native Tongues movement and the rise in number of great more independent-style artists (Del, Souls of Mischief, Pharcyde immediately come to mind). While this point can be argued (and has by both academics and pop culture critics alike), the loss of Biggie is tragic. If you've ever seen footage of Biggie's funeral in Brooklyn, the entire community came out and mourned his death like he was the President. Pretty moving stuff.

So on this weekend, since I will be with many of the people that I grooved with to his tunes, I will toast his honor whether its "in the back of the club, drinking Moet", or having a "t-bone steak, cheese eggs, and Welch's grape."

I Hate Sports

This extended weekend is off to a horrible start. The purpose of this trip was to get together with a handful of the old college mates to bask in the glory of a UCLA repeat run to a Pac-10 tournament championship. Unfortunately, UCLA played like crap. Four friends that intended to come to LA on Friday for the games have already cancelled their trip. I am now the lone visitor to LA from the Bay Area. not so good times.

Now I guess I'll have to find a way to enjoy the 70 degree weather, visit with the LA locals, and watch some good basketball at a great gym in downtown LA. Life is rough.

The loss to CAL was so depressing that I couldn't even partake in one of my favorite pastimes: heckling opposing school band members. (I'm such a bully.) For a later game, We snuck down to five rows off the floor and were this close (see pic) from the University of Washington band, yet I had no desire to make even one "nerd" comment. Now that's saying something.

Early Sightings: 1/2 Star rated

Writing this blog is much more fun from the road. I am writing from LA and will be here for the next four days. In my less than 24 hours here, I have already had two sightings. Last night at Mexico City, a restaurant in Los Feliz, we saw the guy from Office Space. Unfortunately, not Ron Livingston or Jennifer Aniston, but the guy who created the Jumping to Conclusions mat....1/2 star sighting at best but funny that we even recognized him.

As I was getting picked up at the Burbank airport, we drove past two giant twins who happened to be the Lopez twins, the Stanford basketball freshmen twins, awaiting a ride curbside...again another 1/2 star sighting, but its quite a spectacle to see two, 7-foot tall, 18-year-old twins. It was so shocking that I didn't even get the chance to call them nerds.

Pac-10 Tourney Predictions

Still on the flight to Burbank, but want to jot down my predictions for this weekend’s PAC-10 tournament.

Cal over Oregon State—I saw the score of this one at halftime and CAL was pounding the Beavers, so I cheated on this one.

UW over ASU—Washington looked pretty good beating UCLA (despite the fact that the game was meaningless for the Bruins). I see them winning this one on momentum alone. And Arizona State is horrible.

QUARTERFINALS

Arizona over Oregon—this is a great matchup of two talented teams. I think AZ has more talent and size which should enable them to sneak past the Ducks.

UCLA over CAL—The boys are better at every position and our sweet backcourt of Collison and Afflalo should lead to a 20 point win.

USC over Stanford—Home game for the Trojans. The giant freshman Brook Lopez swatted away a ton of SC shots earlier in the year, but I see Nick Young and/or Lodrick Stewart going crazy scoring between 25-35 points to win by about 7.

Washington St. over UW—Wazzu’s defense is pretty stingy and I think they lock down UW to end their run at an at-large bid.

SEMIFINALS

UCLA over Arizona—The one thing I noticed about AZ this year is how they’re a bunch of pansies. You get physical with them and they wilt like chamberlain (I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds like a good rap lyric….ok decent rap lyric). Bruins roll on. DC tools Shakur once again. AZ fans and coach piss and moan about the refs, you know, the usual.

USC over WSU—This is actually a bit of a reach, but I sense something here. SC has some athletes and again the hometown mojo could be enough to win a tight one…OT even.

FINALS

UCLA over USC—In a game that will mean much much more to SC, the Bruins will come from behind and win a close one against the crosstown chumps. I’ll admit I think SC has a good squad and will probably have them in the Sweet 16 when the brackets come out, but the Bruins have an experienced team that is battle-tested and refuses to fall victim to any pressure. One last test heading into the Big Dance can’t hurt.

Tourney MVP- Darren Collison (aka Tyus II)

For the Look

I’m slowly wrapping up my chiropractic and physical therapy for my lower back injury and I’m happy to say that I am probably at 80%. If I was in the NFL, I would be listed as probable, in MLB and NBA I would be taken off the disabled and inactive lists this weekend.

What struck me during this treatment process was that both the doctor and the physical therapist were in good shape which I found particularly comforting. A fat physical therapist or a hunched over chiropractor would have likely made any sane person immediately look for a new caretaker. But is this fair? Maybe the physical therapist knows the ins and outs of the human muscular structure, but has a glandular issue. Or the chiropractor recently had a car accident and had trouble standing up straight. Regardless of fairness, it’s safe to assume that their physical attributes would affect their business greatly.

I would assert that the same is true for a number of professions. Going to the barber and getting a stylist with an atrocious haircut or a having a dentist with yellow teeth would immediately make one question the aptitude of the individual. Again, there may be excuses for the atrocious haircut. Maybe only I viewed the haircut as awful but the rest of the world digs crooked Mohawks with a hint of a mullet. (A perfect example would be the football team at Hoover High from MTV’s Two-A-Days. It appears that the sweeping comb-over hairstyle is all the rage for males at Alabama high schools, and despite looking absolutely ridiculous, these dudes are the ones scoring the head cheerleaders, cool party chicks, and nerds that are only nerds because they wear glasses, but upon removal of their specs they turn into Rachel McAdams.)

So again, as always, appearances only tell half the story. Except for dentists. A dentist with a bad set of choppers is completely unacceptable. I acknowledge that this is a pretty elementary observation, but as I sit on a Southwest flight headed to Burbank, it felt worth noting.

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