Goal: 1,380 miles - Miles to go: ZERO!

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Heroes aren't allowed to use asterisks


In college, my summers were defined by running insane amounts of miles and then watching obscene amounts the Tour de France. We'd watch each entire stage as uncut as possible -- not the prime-time coverage geared toward an American audience where they replace the legendary Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen with the Jar Jar Binks-esque comedy relief commentary of Bob Roll. We loved the tour. As cross-country runners I think we found some kinship with another under-appreciated sport that relies more on endurance and pain tolerance than being talented at playing with balls of various shapes and sizes. My first couple summers also happened to be the last of the Armstrong years (not the The Phantom Menance comeback years, but the original "I win everything every time" years).

Even then, we weren't naive. We knew cheating was rampant in sports like running and cycling. I think a part of us always knew that Lance was a cheat, but it was easy enough to bury that thought. To "turn it off, like a light switch". Instead, we chose to be inspired. It was hard not to be. It was an amazing story. A spectacular story of human achievement and triumph against incredible odds. His battles up Alp d'Huez, his ruthless determination in time trials, it was everything that's great about sports. Then you add in the impossible-to-ignore backstory of his battle with cancer and you have something that even Hollywood would scoff at as being wildly unrealistic. Way too good to be true. And I guess that turned out to be the case.

Lance's confession didn't really change anything for me. Maybe it did for some people, but after I heard all the damning evidence that stripped him of his Tour wins and banned him for life from everything except a handful of pumpkin pushes I was firmly in the "Yup, he really did cheat to win all that stuff" crowd. I just wasn't sure how I felt about it all. It was a little more complicated than when someone like Barry Bonds, or Floyd Landis got busted. Lance's victories transcended sports. In some ways he was a super hero. He'd raised millions of dollars in the war against cancer -- surely that's still worth something. And he'd inspired countless cancer patients, families and anyone-with-a-heart. You can't un-inspire people after the fact. Right?

The truth is that I still don't know. Surely some of the things that Lance did, despite the cheating, are still inherently good. But undoubtedly the story is ruined. It was too good to be true. I think we all wanted to believe in Lance because we wanted to believe that through some combination of hard work and perseverance we can all "beat cancer". But that's not reality. The story, that we all wanted so badly to believe, was a lie.

You can say that since everyone was cheating, it was a level playing field and Lance is still a champion. There might even be some truth to it. But it doesn't change the fact that our hero was a cheater, and a liar, and a jerk. The story is ruined. The athletic accomplishments are still impressive. But the story is ruined. Trying to rationalize why we should still admire, respect, or even care about Lance Armstrong is just a symptom of wanting to hold onto a fabrication. It would've been really cool if the Lance saga we all wanted to believe was true. But it's not.

So while the things Lance did on a bike are still unquestionably impressive. And he's still one of the greatest athletes of my lifetime, he's no longer a hero. Heroes aren't allowed to have asterisks next to their accomplishments. Or be ego-maniacal cheating bullies -- that's like rule number one in the hero handbook. My Livestrong band, that I didn't take off for years, not even for my wedding pictures, is now in the garbage. The worst part is thinking about all the careers he's ruined. Anyone who ever questioned his legitimacy was ruthlessly attacked and dragged through the mud. That's the stuff that is truly unforgivable. Lance's lies went beyond just cycling. He destroyed people off the bike in the same way he did in the Alps. And I don't see how anyone can still respect him after that. I certainly don't.

Monday, January 21, 2013

The Fire, explained


If there's one quality I want in my sports heroes, it's The Fire. I mentioned it in my (maybe) slightly over-critical critique of Manning and Fox following the Broncos playoff loss to Baltimore last week. How in the late 90s there was more to John Elway than just quarterback rating and completion percentage. He had The Fire. By it's very nature, I think The Fire can't be explained without seeing it. So here are a few clips that jumped to mind when I was trying to think of times I'd seen it.

1) Eddie Johnson scores vs the Colorado Rapids.
Context: Seattle was on a franchise record, nine game winless streak. We were desperate for a win. After going up 1-0 over Colorado, Johnson had a handful of questionable calls not go his way. It really felt like even the ref was going to do everything he could to keep Johnson from scoring. Yeah, that's a totally homer biased view, but I that's what it felt like in the stadium. In a season where we lost too many coin flips to count -- both figuratively and literally -- it was hard not to wonder if maybe we were going to get screwed yet again. But at the same time Eddie was playing with a inspiring intensity. Our pessimistic view of inevitable disappointment was contradicted by this unshakable feeling that a Johnson goal was inevitable. That nothing was going to stop him. 

Finally in the 64th minute the goal came. With an eff you jersey toss and crazed took on his face, there's no question. He had The Fire. The goal would end up being a game winning one.



2) Chris Wondolowski leads San Jose to an amazing comeback vs Portland
Context: Now, keep in mind these are two of my five most hated teams of any sport. But The Fire of Chris Wondolowski is undeniable here (and most of the season, really). San Jose was down 0-2 vs Portland in the 73rd minute. They'd had a handful of scoring opportunities but just hadn't quite put the ball in the net. After Wondolowski scored in the 73rd minute there seemed to be no way Portland would hold on to the win. I think that inevitability is a key feature of The Fire. Things don't always work out (for instance, Russel Wilson clearly had The Fire on Saturday and a Seattle comeback seemed inevitable, but we all know how that turned out). But seriously, just look at Wondo's body language after that first goal, and again after the second. He was going to do everything humanly possible, and maybe even a more, to bring his team back. I was actually shocked they only managed to tie it, if they'd had a couple extra minutes there's no doubt they would have won 3-2.


3) John Elway "The Dive"
Context: John Elway was 37 years old, 0-3 in the Super Bowl and finally had a chance at getting the monkey off his back in Super Bowl XXXII against the Green Bay Packers. This drive, and this play optimize what I'm talking.  When a player's desire to win overshadows everything else in the game. This was a key 3rd down play during a 92 yard touchdown drive. Elway needed to make the play with his feet and then his whole body as he dove for the first down. What 37 year old quarterback could you imagine doing that? Manning? Never. Maybe Favre toward the end, but odds are he'd opt for the game-ending interception instead. But seriously, just watch this play and look at Elway after he picks up the first down. That's what I'm talking about. I still get goosebumps watching this play.


My point here is that there's more to sports than the stat sheets and you need to see it to understand. That's not to say Tebow will end up being am amazing NFL quarterback because he has all these intangibles that overshadow a complete lack of fundamental talent. No, you need to be talented for sure. But not all goals are created equal. And some eight yard runs are a bigger deal than others. There's a reason sports (and The Bachelor) are the only thing left that's worth watching live. Because to really understand what happened, you need to see it and experience it. Even retrospectively it loses something.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Don't be a candy-ass


There is only one real Favinger house rule: don't be a candy-ass. It came about while we were playing Wits and Wagers (google it) and didn't want people to just sit on a big chip lead and ride it out to a slow but sure win. That's no fun for anyone and it's total candy-assery. So if you come to our place for any kind of board game night, New Years Eve party, or anything else. Remember, don't be a candy-ass.

There's plenty blame to go around for Denver's embarrassing performance against Baltimore yesterday. Manning only did "Manning-Things" for like a drive and a half and threw the back-breaking interception in overtime. Champ Bailey looked old, slow, and even older. Miller and Dumervil were a non-factor the entire game (some credit goes to Baltimore offensive line of course). Really, our entire secondary was absolutely pathetic. How do you give up a hail-mary with under a minute left in the game? That's the one and only thing you should be defending against! If there's ever a reason to play prevent defense it's when Joe Flacco has 55 seconds and no timeouts to go 70 yards for a touchdown. What. The. Hell. Was. Everyone. Thinking?

But that's okay. It happens. It shouldn't ever happen, but I can accept that players have horrible games sometimes (it's just too bad when 75% of the defense has an off day on the same day and that day happens to be the divisional round of the playoffs). So don't get me wrong, I blame all of them. But I also really blame John Fox and Peyton Manning for being candy-asses and breaking my one and only house rule.

With 1:21 left in the second quarter the Broncos faced a 4th and 8 from the Baltimore 34 and attempted and missed a 52 yard field goal. Baltimore took over and quickly marched down the field and set up a 32 yard touchdown pass to Torrey Smith. Under ideal conditions, I can understand trusting Prater with a 52 yard field goal. But when it's freakin' freezing, with a head wind, and a beat up field, why not just attempt a 4th and 8 from there? A conversion gives you a decent shot at setting up a touchdown and at the very least, a much more reasonable field goal. And on a failed 4th down attempt, at least you don't give Baltimore a free 10 yards like they did by botching the field goal. Maybe the numbers say kicking was the best bet. I don't know. But when you're a heavy favorite, playing at home, and Peyton Manning is your quarterback, grow some balls and go for the jugular.

However, the decision that really killed me was the choice run on 3rd and 7 with 2:00 left in the game. Most people disagree with me on this one I think. By running it, you can punt with 1:15 left and Baltimore out of timeouts. All you have to do is stop the big play. But it just felt wrong. It was a lot like something Elway faced in the 1997 playoffs. Similar circumstances, different decision. In the 1997 AFC Championship game, Denver faced a 3rd and 5 from their own 15 with 2:00 left in the game and Pittsburgh out of timeouts. I guess the key difference is that they were only up by three and a punt puts Pittsburgh a handful of completions out of field goal range. But still, a run brings the clock down to 1:15 and forces Kordell Stewart to win the game -- someone who'd already thrown three picks and lost a fumble. Not exactly a Joe Flacco going up against a secondary who'd been getting their asses kicked all day.

But you know what Elway did? He went outside of the playbook, designed a slant to Sharpe and threw a game clinching 18 yard completion. I don't know whether Fox or Manning made the final decision to run the clock rather than go for the win, but it was a candy-ass call. Seven yards wins you the game. Seven yards from victory formation, a couple kneels and a trip to the AFC Championship game. An incompletion gives Flacco an extra 40 seconds... so what? I'd think with one of the best quarterbacks to ever play the game, you'd have enough confidence to gain seven yards and seal the win. That's what John Elway did. And that's why Elway really is one of the best to ever play the game. The stat sheets don't show the fire: not just the willingness to takes risks, but the confidence that you can make the play and win you the game. Elway played to win. Manning and Fox played to not lose. There's more than a semantic difference there.

I re-watched Super Bowls XXXII and XXXIII last week. Old-Manning is a better pure passer than Old-Elway. There's no question about that. But Old-Elway had the fire that was completely absent from Old-Manning and candy-ass Fox yesterday. He was a man on a mission during those final two years. It's one of those things that you have to see to understand. It's why people are saying Manning chokes in the playoffs. Not because he's somehow responsible for the Denver defense giving up four million points to a shitty quarterback. But because he didn't do the things that you'd expect a first ballot hall of famer to do. Things like converting a 3rd and 7 to win a game. Or even trying to.