Category Archives: Sports

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 4

STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 4
WRITTEN COMPLETELY BY AARON SORKIN TOTALLY ALONE AND UNDER GREAT DURESS
RELIVE THE EXCITING INAUGURAL SEASON!
PILOT | EPISODE 2 | EPISODE 3

LOGLINE: Once the nation’s best and most respected baseball GM, Sandy Alderson has been reduced to trying to revive a moribund franchise is the depths of deepest, darkest Queens. Along with his sharp-witted and adoring protégés, he fights off the seemingly endless series of controversies and crises that beset him while trying to run a sports team in the country’s most bustling metropolis, and still look fantastic while doing it. Can the pressures of such an important job crush this singularly talented and gifted individual genius?

ACT I

The front office. PAUL DEPODESTA and J.P. RICCIARDI sit in cubicles, their backs to one another, hunched over computers.

DEPODESTA: Have you seen this video…

RICCIARDI: Yes.

DEPODESTA: I didn’t even describe it to you.

RICCIARDI: Whatever it is, I’ve seen it.

DEPODESTA: What does it feel like to know everything?

RICCIARDI: Surprisingly good.

MACKENZIE CARLIN rushes over to their cubes, looking perturbed.

CARLIN: Do you guys know what’s up with Sandy? He seems out of sorts, not himself.

RICCIARDI: Maybe it’s because our second baseman publicly declared he’s a Wiccan?

DEPODESTA: Please. He handled that without a sweat, just like when our closer converted to Druidism. This about Billy.

RICCIARDI: Of course!

CARLIN: Who’s Billy?

DEPODESTA: Billy Beane. Used to be Sandy’s most trusted protégé. They were as thick as thieves. Then he took the Oakland front office out right from under him. Billy won’t admit it and neither will Sandy, but it’s the worst kept secret in baseball. To make matters worse, there’s this new movie coming out, all about Billy. Word is, this film takes all the innovations Sandy came up with and tries to pitch them as Billy’s. Now the A’s are coming here tomorrow and even Sandy can’t pretend this isn’t a big deal.

CARLIN: Oh, I thought he was upset because someone told Einhorn about him meeting with Grant Linwood.

RICCIARDI: Yeah, I heard someone did that. I figured it was someone kind of close to Einhorn. Like, someone who Einhorn just hired two weeks ago.

CARLIN: Funny, I figured it was someone who knew where Sandy was at the time, someone who’s worked with him for years, someone who was standing right next to him when he said where he planned to go.

RICCIARDI: Funny how someone who wasn’t there when it happened knows exactly what everyone else was doing.

DEPODESTA: Can you guys provide me a map so I can follow along with all these pronouns?

ALDERSON wanders over, scowling.

ALDERSON: Any reason you three are standing around gabbing when we start the biggest series of the year tomorrow?

DEPODESTA: Since when is Oakland the biggest series of the year?

ALDERSON: Since it’s the next one we play.

CARLIN: These two think you’re on edge because Billy Beane is coming to town.

ALDERSON: Nonsense. It’ll be great to see Billy. Like getting the old band back together.

RICCIARDI: Really? I always thought he got on your nerves.

ALDERSON: Only when he tells that damn story about finding an all-star shortstop at a Panera Bread for the 8 millionth time. Even I have my limits. Hey, why are we worrying about someone from another team? How about you guys worry about your own jobs for a minute?

ALDERSON storms off, leaving his assistants to stare quizzically at one another. Camera follows ALDERSON into his dimly lit office, where he pulls a large decanter of scotch and a tumbler from an oaken liquor cabinet. He pours himself a belt, drinks it in one gulp, pours another, and collapses into his desk chair, grasping his aching head.

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 4

Why LeBronenfreude Is Okay


As much as I wanted the Mavericks beat the Heat, I also dreaded it, because I knew it would bring out the holiest of the holier-than-thous in the sportswriting racket, ready to leap all over LeBron James because he had not earned it yet. I’m assuming such people dislike him in large part because of the way he left Cleveland, which brings up a thorny sports-related issue I’ve discussed on this site before: If you think an athlete did something that makes them a bad human being, saying that a loss on the playing field/court is “just deserts” for that offense implies that a win would have redeemed the offender.

LeBron James is nowhere near as awful as some of the examples I’ve cited in the past. Really, his only “crime” was to turn his back on the established narrative of his career. If you want, you can add toying with Cleveland’s emotions to the list, plus rubbing salt in the city’s collective wound by celebrating his move to Miami like a 45-year-old creep who just divorced a woman his age and snared a trophy wife. All crummy behavior, to be sure, but not as bad as guys like Ben Roethlisberger or Michael Vick, whose failures to win championships were seen by some sportswriters as “payback” for their off-the-field deeds, an attitude that suggested winning would have forgiven them their trespasses.

So in the immediate aftermath, I cringed at the thought of such pieces on LeBron. I even considered feeling sorry for a 26-year-old billionaire who had so many expectations resting on his shoulders. Not to mention that obsessing over what he did or did not do during the Finals served to diminish what the Mavericks accomplished. By concentrating on LeBron’s “failures,” you essentially say that Miami lost the series more than Dallas won it, which seems extremely unfair to everyone involved. Then there was the narrative of the Mavs being a “team-oriented” squad while the Heat were a “superstar” one, which is usually sportswriter code for “we’re rooting for the white guy.”

So there were a few reasons, initially, to not want to join in piling on LeBron. Until he opened his mouth, that is. Then I realized all the haterade was justified. Maybe even necessary. Because the truth is, he is one eminently hateable human being.

First, it was his postgame press conference response to questions about the hate that’s heaped on him, and how that makes him feel. Now, there’s no easy way to answer this. It’s the kind of question for which a million different responses can come across as whiny or insensitive. Luckily for us, LeBron left no room for ambiguity. He exposed his soul by giving the absolute most head-slappingly douchey answer possible.

All the people that was rooting on me to fail, at the end of the day they have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life that they had before they woke up today. They have the same personal problems they had today.

As bad as that looks in print, it was even worse when voiced. It was not an off-the-cuff remark spoken without thinking in a moment of weakness and frustration. The ease with which he said these words indicated they were thoroughly premeditated, a line he either rehearsed or believes in his heart of hearts.

Now, do people who actively root for the failure of others have problems? Yes, to varying degrees, depending on how deep and sincere those wishes are. And I suppose anyone’s life appears to be full of “personal problems” compared to someone who will never have to worry about money. But to actually say something like this out loud, that only people with crappy lives dislike you, that takes a colossal amount of ego and self delusion. About the same amount that would make you call yourself “King James” when you’ve yet to win anything, I guess.

Not long after this insanity, he tweeted that the Heat didn’t win because “The Greater Man upstairs know when it’s my time. Right now isn’t the time.” Amazingly, after years of comedians joking about athletes blaming God when they lose, someone actually went and did it. It wasn’t LeBron who failed to show up in the fourth quarter of every game this series, but God.

Also, note the use of the phrase “The Greater Man.” I’ve never heard that used to mean “God.” People usually say, “The Big Man Upstairs,” or something like that. The use of a comparative word (Greater) implies that LeBron thinks he’s on a plane comparable to The Almighty. You know, not quite as big as The Creator, just a few ticks below.

To top it all off, we find out on Monday that LeBron didn’t talk to ABC or ESPN because, according to Jack Ramsay, “James felt the network didn’t report “The Decision” accurately.” That goes beyond chrome-plated balls. That takes gonads made of pure adamantium.

How the holy hell could ESPN not have reported “The Decision” accurately?! They gave LeBron an hour-long infomercial and asked him exactly zero hard questions! ESPN could not have treated him more reverently. The network has LeBron in the same space in their pantheon as Brett Favre (pre-dick pics), someone whose every move will be obsessively followed but never questioned. What more could LeBron want from them? The Oprah soft-focus-lens treatment on every dunk?

I wonder if LeBron is trying to play The Heel, because I can’t think of another reason why he would say such inflammatory things otherwise. Well, except that maybe he’s still a spoiled child whose had nothing but sycophants and enablers in his life for so long that he has zero perspective.

LeBron has been told he’s The Best for so long that the words have no literal meaning to him. LeBron James is The Best. The Best is LeBron James. Everything else in his life must be redefined to fit into these parameters. Those who deny his Bestness do so only because they have personal problems. If he is denied a championship, it is because of an act of God. If “The Decision” makes him look like a creep in the eyes of some, it must be the faulty reportage of the network that carried it, even though said network gave him complete creative control.

If you believe this might be a form of mental illness, you’re free to reserve judgment. Otherwise, hate away.

Bud Selig Lays Down The Jeter Rules

In the wake of the tragic news that Derek Jeter has injured his calf, I declare a temporary suspension of play throughout Major League Baseball as a sign of respect and mourning, until such time as The Captain is able to play to the fullest of his gritty, gutty abilities. Without the game’s most beloved player, we at the MLB front offices figured there was just no point to playing any of these games. Everything seems kind of pointless without his bright, shining face to light the way. Why bother, really?

For those fans who want to keep track of Jeter’s medical progress–and really, what true baseball fan wouldn’t?–we have created a revolutionary Calf Cam. With the use of cutting edge nanotechnology, MLB has inserted a tiny subcutaneous HD camera in Jeter’s leg so that all fans can watch his muscles healing in real time. I’m sure it will be even more entertaining than the MLB Amateur Draft!

Once Jeter is ready to return to action, there will be a celebratory parade down Fifth Avenue, followed by a resumption of the regular season schedule at Yankee Stadium. Henceforth, all Yankee games shall be played in the Bronx until the legendary shortstop gets his eagerly anticipated 3000th hit. Opponents shall be compensated for loss of home games with complimentary “Jeter: Mr. 3000” t-shirts and a coupon for half off one order of fries at NYY Steak.

If Jeter is sitting on 2,999 hits, and a ball off of his bat is hit too close to the foul line to be called by an umpire’s naked eye, I shall allow a video review to take place. The import of such a moment would be far too great to allow human error to enter the equation. I mean, we’re not talking about a playoff game here!

All stadiums will be required to show Yankees game on an appropriately sized jumbtron visible to all patrons until this historic moment finally occurs. Failure to do so will result in serious fines and loss of draft picks.

With your help, we can get through this trying time. Huddle close with your loved ones and offer up a silent prayer that we can weather this storm. God help us all.