Another installment in the book reviews about my current reading.
Today: Surprised by Joy by C.S. Lewis.
I am always enthralled by my latest good book, but I am sure this is by far my favorite.
After a rash of sports books, I hardly know how to review a regular book—especially one as good as this.
In a mix of autobiography and a case on how he came to his Christian faith, C.S. Lewis shows some of his best writing in Surprised by Joy. He tells a good story, making us really see what it was like to grow up in his shoes (or, as he so vividly describes, his pants that buttoned at the knee, leaving him with red marks on his leg every night). Better yet, he helps us see the Joy that surprised him so well.
Lewis's technique starts with giving a basic telling of his life, which goes from his childhood through his schooling to the war through his time in academia. In the midst, he gives humorous accounts of different situations he faced, such as poor teachers or the discovery of a great new book, and insights into regular parts of growing up, such as understanding his father.
But Lewis also uses the simple telling of his life story to set up a platform for what he sees as the reason for his life: the discovery of God. In the first chapter, he introduces "Joy," that state where he gets a glimpse of God through something on this earth, although he doesn't know quite what he's feeling or where it's pointing him to.
Lewis carries this theme throughout the book as God uses friendships, literature, aesthetic settings, and other experiences to challenge Lewis's thinking and give him more glimpses of Joy. Eventually, it all clicks for Lewis. Titling one of his chapters "checkmate," Lewis is clear on how God methodically cleaned out his pawns, bishop, and queen until Lewis recognized the King.
The path there is a beautiful one, and Lewis does a great job capturing the human existence as he explains his journey. The reader sees how Lewis's views were shaped by customs and events similar to ones we all face, and the reader can identify with many parts of Lewis's story.
All the way, Lewis weaves the story around the theme that is Joy, providing a compelling centerpiece that all who can understand will see their narratives circle around as well. His passages on Joy, although few, are exhilarating, and you can find yourself excitedly anticipating the next mention, to see how Lewis will tie it in with the human experience we all have.
Lewis not only tells a good story in an interesting way but also clearly explains his philosophical path to God in an understandable way. You don't have to get deep concepts to see his different views throughout the book, and he connects them and shows the progression without boring the reader. Yet he also gives enough of a glimpse of the rabbit holes he ran through that readers can venture further if they wish.
Lewis is a great writer, and he always gives a good explanation. The book is good throughout, with passages of sheer brilliance. For even those who are not Lewis fans, there's a nice story, spots that encourage thought, and a tantalizing description of that feeling we all have but can't quite pin down until we're surprised by God.
His story, albeit about a dowdy Englishman, is funny, well-written, deep, resolving, and uplifting.
3.31.2010
Big Duke
A couple good Sports Illustrated columns on Final Four member Duke: Andy Staples talks about the Duke big men, and Stewart Mandel on not hating the Blue Devils.
March book reviews, part 2
The next installment in a series of book reviews on my current reading.
Today: The Yankee Years by Joe Torre and Tom Verducci.
Yesterday I said I would be reviewing two New York Yankees-related books, with the good one first. That leaves the lousy one for today.
And this one was truly lousy. You'd think that if one of the most successful managers in baseball, who was in charge of one of the most storied franchises in the game for over a decade, would get together with an elite sportswriter, you'd get a great book. Nope. It's terrible.
The problem, I think, starts with Tom Verducci, who obviously did most of the writing (with the "by Joe Torre" part due to his supplying quotes and background). I always thought Verducci was a great writer, but when I think back to his Sports Illustrated pieces, they all have the same qualities: magazine-length writing, great sources, and a couple good flourishes.
This book is written the same way. But the problem is, it's a book, not a magazine article. So, rather than getting a sweeping story of Torre's time with the Yankees, we get a bunch of individual storylines mashed together with horrid transitions (or a nice horizontal line off to the left of the page that's meant to indicate that we should not expect any kind of transition, or that the sections before and after the line will not be connected even remotely).
The book is really Verducci's take on all things baseball within the last decade and a half, with baseball's biggest centerpiece—the Yankees—providing a nice hook and an excuse to write an excessively long book (about 500 pages). You can tell he wrote several Sports Illustrated articles out of the content he has in the book, and he had no qualms dropping them in there among his bland telling of the franchise under Torre's reign.
The chapters are hastily divided and thwatched together with no apparent thought. Verducci employs terrible writing techniques, such as rhetorical questions—"What was it about Jeter that enabled him to succeed in clutch situations?"—then proceeds to answer them, like a cub reporter filing his first softball report.
It's no wonder all the reviewers of the book were focused on pulling random quotes and facts out then blowing them up for sensational story lines; there's no story here, and the details Torre and Yankees players reveal are the only interesting parts.
The magazine-style brevity to Verducci's storylines, which hiccup around within chapters and are awakened hundreds of pages later to be beat unreadable again, are just one of the ways Verducci shows he's not made for a full-length book. His two other aforementioned strengths—great sources and a couple good flourishes—also show up in the book, but they're ill-suited for a project of this magnitude.
Verducci overuses his sources, especially guys such as David Cone, who is quoted on nearly every other page. You can tell Verducci used Cone as a major source for everything, including non-Yankees material. It's as if Verducci humored the guy in the retirement home then felt he had to use everything he said. Now, Cone was extremely important to the Yankees' franchise and their string of championships, but couldn't a great writer like Verducci get a wider variety of sources?
Verducci's moments of good writing also doom him, because you can see what the book could have been. He has paragraphs of brilliance, with great storytelling and details. But most of the book is blandly written. He botches scintillating sports moments; he explains ideas and opinions until they're left to a whimperless death; he skips around on details and event descriptions that could have been organized far better.
By overrelying on quotes, Verducci misses the great storytelling that could have powered this book. Although he interviewed many good sources, they were all also mainly baseball players, which means when you quote them at length, you're going to have something that sounds as riveting as the news conference players give after their 152 games a year.
When it comes time to recount a great moment of Yankees history, such as the 2003 American League Championship Series, Verducci does a great job. It's just too bad he tells how it's going to end, and all the attitudes that went with it ending, before he has a chance to wind through the great narrative.
It's like an amateur tried to write the story, with no clue how to get good information, how to organize the information that he had, or how to dress up drab details enough to carry the reader.
Verducci does have strong moments. His chapter on steroids has a bit of a narrative, smooth writing, and good insight. Similar writing pops up elsewhere in the book. His use of statistics, and chronicling why the Yankees suffered during the Moneyball era despite having plenty of money, is top-notch. But a slow, unpowerful beginning kills the book before it can begin and sets the tone for all that the book really is.
I really think all these problems are Verducci's fault, because he had a willing subject to work with. Torre is very candid throughout the book, sharing not only juicy details but also his team concepts. While a manager, Torre was open with the media and easy to work with, and he even had some keen observations buried in the 15-line paragraph quotes Verducci chose to run.
Where the writing failed is in showing who Torre is. Over and over, Verducci tells us about Torre wanting this or liking this, or having the team be honest and blah blah blah blah blah. Show us this man. Give us some physical description. Reveal what he looked like during these great moments in Yankees history. Get inside his head, but not in block quotes. Where is his childhood? How much did you talk to his wife? His old teammates? Writers who have covered him?
The book lacks because it has been treated as an encyclopedia to hold Yankees details, not a story to show Yankees lore.
For those needing to brush up on their Yankees history, or to get inside the game of baseball via a great Verducci essay, this book is fine. But if you want a story, if you want the mystique that is New York, you will not find it here.
Today: The Yankee Years by Joe Torre and Tom Verducci.
Yesterday I said I would be reviewing two New York Yankees-related books, with the good one first. That leaves the lousy one for today.
And this one was truly lousy. You'd think that if one of the most successful managers in baseball, who was in charge of one of the most storied franchises in the game for over a decade, would get together with an elite sportswriter, you'd get a great book. Nope. It's terrible.
The problem, I think, starts with Tom Verducci, who obviously did most of the writing (with the "by Joe Torre" part due to his supplying quotes and background). I always thought Verducci was a great writer, but when I think back to his Sports Illustrated pieces, they all have the same qualities: magazine-length writing, great sources, and a couple good flourishes.
This book is written the same way. But the problem is, it's a book, not a magazine article. So, rather than getting a sweeping story of Torre's time with the Yankees, we get a bunch of individual storylines mashed together with horrid transitions (or a nice horizontal line off to the left of the page that's meant to indicate that we should not expect any kind of transition, or that the sections before and after the line will not be connected even remotely).
The book is really Verducci's take on all things baseball within the last decade and a half, with baseball's biggest centerpiece—the Yankees—providing a nice hook and an excuse to write an excessively long book (about 500 pages). You can tell he wrote several Sports Illustrated articles out of the content he has in the book, and he had no qualms dropping them in there among his bland telling of the franchise under Torre's reign.
The chapters are hastily divided and thwatched together with no apparent thought. Verducci employs terrible writing techniques, such as rhetorical questions—"What was it about Jeter that enabled him to succeed in clutch situations?"—then proceeds to answer them, like a cub reporter filing his first softball report.
It's no wonder all the reviewers of the book were focused on pulling random quotes and facts out then blowing them up for sensational story lines; there's no story here, and the details Torre and Yankees players reveal are the only interesting parts.
The magazine-style brevity to Verducci's storylines, which hiccup around within chapters and are awakened hundreds of pages later to be beat unreadable again, are just one of the ways Verducci shows he's not made for a full-length book. His two other aforementioned strengths—great sources and a couple good flourishes—also show up in the book, but they're ill-suited for a project of this magnitude.
Verducci overuses his sources, especially guys such as David Cone, who is quoted on nearly every other page. You can tell Verducci used Cone as a major source for everything, including non-Yankees material. It's as if Verducci humored the guy in the retirement home then felt he had to use everything he said. Now, Cone was extremely important to the Yankees' franchise and their string of championships, but couldn't a great writer like Verducci get a wider variety of sources?
Verducci's moments of good writing also doom him, because you can see what the book could have been. He has paragraphs of brilliance, with great storytelling and details. But most of the book is blandly written. He botches scintillating sports moments; he explains ideas and opinions until they're left to a whimperless death; he skips around on details and event descriptions that could have been organized far better.
By overrelying on quotes, Verducci misses the great storytelling that could have powered this book. Although he interviewed many good sources, they were all also mainly baseball players, which means when you quote them at length, you're going to have something that sounds as riveting as the news conference players give after their 152 games a year.
When it comes time to recount a great moment of Yankees history, such as the 2003 American League Championship Series, Verducci does a great job. It's just too bad he tells how it's going to end, and all the attitudes that went with it ending, before he has a chance to wind through the great narrative.
It's like an amateur tried to write the story, with no clue how to get good information, how to organize the information that he had, or how to dress up drab details enough to carry the reader.
Verducci does have strong moments. His chapter on steroids has a bit of a narrative, smooth writing, and good insight. Similar writing pops up elsewhere in the book. His use of statistics, and chronicling why the Yankees suffered during the Moneyball era despite having plenty of money, is top-notch. But a slow, unpowerful beginning kills the book before it can begin and sets the tone for all that the book really is.
I really think all these problems are Verducci's fault, because he had a willing subject to work with. Torre is very candid throughout the book, sharing not only juicy details but also his team concepts. While a manager, Torre was open with the media and easy to work with, and he even had some keen observations buried in the 15-line paragraph quotes Verducci chose to run.
Where the writing failed is in showing who Torre is. Over and over, Verducci tells us about Torre wanting this or liking this, or having the team be honest and blah blah blah blah blah. Show us this man. Give us some physical description. Reveal what he looked like during these great moments in Yankees history. Get inside his head, but not in block quotes. Where is his childhood? How much did you talk to his wife? His old teammates? Writers who have covered him?
The book lacks because it has been treated as an encyclopedia to hold Yankees details, not a story to show Yankees lore.
For those needing to brush up on their Yankees history, or to get inside the game of baseball via a great Verducci essay, this book is fine. But if you want a story, if you want the mystique that is New York, you will not find it here.
3.30.2010
March book reviews, part 1
The latest in a continuing series of book reviews of my current reading.
Today: A-Rod by Selena Roberts.
Earlier this month, I sampled two New York Yankees-centered books, and as the time comes to finally write my thoughts about them before March is gone (and they are no longer "March book reviews"), I will start with the good one first.
"Good" may actually be an understatement.
Selena Roberts' A-Rod is in the uppermost class of sports tomes, a well-researched book that not only breaks news but also tells a compelling story.
What is most well-known about the book by now, of course, was the case it laid for Alex Rodriguez's use of steroids, a story that Sports Illustrated scribe Roberts broke while writing the book. That vaulted the book to new levels of popularity and spawned numerous stories, but Roberts should be lauded for keeping the book's story intact once it was published. Steroids is just one storyline in the multi-faceted package that is her telling of the story of Rodriguez's life.
In the book, Roberts explains that the point of her taking on the project was to get to the bottom of a sudden aberration in A-Rod's life: His suddenly inconsistent, tabloid-courting public persona. A-Rod had always been a public figure, and always seem to attract trouble and distractions, but during the past couple years his life had suddenly erupted into a publicity extravaganza as he estranged his family, posed for cameras, started dating Madonna, and became increasingly erratic in his team commitments and public appearances.
Roberts decided to dig behind the image that was A-Rod and figure out who Alex Rodriguez was, and she explains in the book that there is a difference: A-Rod is the carefully sculpted image that is rich, famous, manipulated, and manicured; Alex is the person who knew how to play baseball and became obsessed with pleasing people but still had a human side.
Throughout the book, Roberts calls Rodriguez "Alex," and that is no coincidence. Rather than jumping on the bandwagon of criticism and pigeonholing that would be so easy after exposing him as a huge fraud and empty individual, she instead gives Rodriguez the benefit of the doubt. She doesn't prey on his faults but instead tries to explain them. She shows his family background and uses his friends' supporting voices. You can easily see how Alex became A-Rod, and you can even feel it's not Alex's fault. You can even hope Alex will return to being Alex.
But A-Rod is the title of the book, for that is what Alex Rodriguez has become. From his high school days to his current ego-bloated self, Roberts show a slow transition from a person-pleasing, talented youngster to the image-obsessed man who wants to break records, have the perfect body, be the best, and gather adoration. The problem was always the same: Rodriguez saw what he wanted to be (often from the mouths of ill-intentioned friends and advisors), and he chased it even if he could never become what was on the other end.
The result was the reputation that sticks to A-Rod more than his great baseball numbers or his kind moments; he is known as a fraud, as an empty person putting on a show he is desperately trying to support.
It's a terrible trap, and Roberts' exploration of how key choices along the line in choosing advisors and lifestyle attitudes can derail a life. From Rodriguez's father leaving him as a child to a money- and power-hungry agent (Scott Boras), A-Rod could never get enough to complete that perfect image, and all his tries along the line only humiliated him more. No one ever told Rodriguez that he could just be Rodriguez; years later, that Alex doesn't even exist anymore.
Ironically, A-Rod's need for self-gratification was what led to his biggest collapse. When he moved to New York, all the factors that had been contributing to him becoming a more controlling, self-centered, fraudulent person were basically put on Big Apple steroids. He courted the intellect, the fashion, the popularity of the city, and within a few years, his family was in shambles as he was chasing pseudo religions and 50-year-old pop stars. His alarming emergence into total tabloid buffoonery started Roberts' investigation, and she was totally shocked when she started hearing whiffs of steroids.
Through careful reporting, Roberts found there was more than suspicion; A-Rod was one of the biggest users. So, in an attempt to write a story about A-Rod and his strange image quest, Roberts unearthed the biggest emblem of who this A-Rod was: In a desire to please, Rodriguez lived off of steroids because of the great pressure he felt to please people and be the best.
When the steroid story broke, Rodriguez of course tried to take down Roberts, but her research was flawless, and she had many mainstream sources to corroborate her case. Near the end of the book, Roberts spends a little time explaining this and defending herself. She is respectful yet firm and complete in showing that the charges were ludicrous, and that the way Rodriguez treated her (even in an "apology") only reinforced the entire book she had just written. Still, Roberts is a class act for placing her justification in the back of the book. She could have easily gloated and led the first two chapters with her self-defense, but instead she does just a little bit of pumping up (for a story that was massive in relation) to emphasize her points. Then she lets it go.
And what are we left with? An amazing portrait of a baseball star. The pressures, the insecurities, the culture—an amazing glimpse of modern baseball, with all its painful moments, are laid out in excellent storytelling. Roberts never suffers from the disease some sports writers have where they gather press clips and tell the consensus version of a story; she instead is a real writer, with piles of interviews providing all those sacred details that make for a great narrative that literally shows you what the high school baseball diamond looked like, and what the extent of A-Rod's public appearance snafus felt like to those watching.
Roberts is a great reporter, and you can see it in this book. And for those wanting a brief treatment in the world of baseball, superstars, or the human condition, this book is the place to go. Full of great details and quotes, it covers the game well without getting off-track. It teaches implicitly, from steroids to fatherhood to selfishness. It makes you cringe and realize there are many parts of Rodriguez you have seen in yourself, or someone you love, that you'd like to eradicate.
Best yet, though, is that Roberts is not dive-bombing A-Rod. When the steroid scandals broke, she told it straight and made sure everyone knew what he was doing. Those details are still in the book. But when Roberts tells Alex's story, it's honest enough to make you realize this didn't have to end up this way. Things could have been different. Alex, the ever-pleasing Alex, could have done it all differently.
Which means he still can.
Alex Rodriguez is a very flawed human being, but he still has amazing talent (and not just hitting a baseball). The guy had an ability to engage people, to be kind, to be genuine, and when he was dragged from the pinnacle he was trying to hard to stay aloft, it created the perfect opportunity to do a rewrite.
A season has passed since the steroid story broke and the book was published, and A-Rod acted considerably different this year. You may remember that the past season ended with the New York Yankees winning a World Series championship. It was an ultimate redemption for the superstar who was trying so hard in so many failing ways to be that perfect being—but who only got that ultimate World Series crown when all he had was taken away.
Rodriguez approached last season a new way, with considerable less gaffes, a lot less fawning and publicity, and very good baseball. He fought injuries and never saw his numbers rise. Yet there were rumblings he was showing signs of being a better teammate, and he started hitting when his team actually needed hits. The image wasn't his primary focus; his public life was considerably less eventful. He answered questions politely yet never felt compelled to answer everything, solve everything, be everything.
This is why we root for our superstars: Yes, he's flawed, but he's living despite the flaws. (For an alternative to Rodriguez's willingness to face his problems and turn things around, see Woods, Tigers.) And he's no longer trying to hide those flaws, or excuse them, or make them go away through sheer power, social connections, or showmanship. The world already knows. Why not just play?
A-Rod is no Derek Jeter. But neither are most of us.
Today: A-Rod by Selena Roberts.
Earlier this month, I sampled two New York Yankees-centered books, and as the time comes to finally write my thoughts about them before March is gone (and they are no longer "March book reviews"), I will start with the good one first.
"Good" may actually be an understatement.
Selena Roberts' A-Rod is in the uppermost class of sports tomes, a well-researched book that not only breaks news but also tells a compelling story.
What is most well-known about the book by now, of course, was the case it laid for Alex Rodriguez's use of steroids, a story that Sports Illustrated scribe Roberts broke while writing the book. That vaulted the book to new levels of popularity and spawned numerous stories, but Roberts should be lauded for keeping the book's story intact once it was published. Steroids is just one storyline in the multi-faceted package that is her telling of the story of Rodriguez's life.
In the book, Roberts explains that the point of her taking on the project was to get to the bottom of a sudden aberration in A-Rod's life: His suddenly inconsistent, tabloid-courting public persona. A-Rod had always been a public figure, and always seem to attract trouble and distractions, but during the past couple years his life had suddenly erupted into a publicity extravaganza as he estranged his family, posed for cameras, started dating Madonna, and became increasingly erratic in his team commitments and public appearances.
Roberts decided to dig behind the image that was A-Rod and figure out who Alex Rodriguez was, and she explains in the book that there is a difference: A-Rod is the carefully sculpted image that is rich, famous, manipulated, and manicured; Alex is the person who knew how to play baseball and became obsessed with pleasing people but still had a human side.
Throughout the book, Roberts calls Rodriguez "Alex," and that is no coincidence. Rather than jumping on the bandwagon of criticism and pigeonholing that would be so easy after exposing him as a huge fraud and empty individual, she instead gives Rodriguez the benefit of the doubt. She doesn't prey on his faults but instead tries to explain them. She shows his family background and uses his friends' supporting voices. You can easily see how Alex became A-Rod, and you can even feel it's not Alex's fault. You can even hope Alex will return to being Alex.
But A-Rod is the title of the book, for that is what Alex Rodriguez has become. From his high school days to his current ego-bloated self, Roberts show a slow transition from a person-pleasing, talented youngster to the image-obsessed man who wants to break records, have the perfect body, be the best, and gather adoration. The problem was always the same: Rodriguez saw what he wanted to be (often from the mouths of ill-intentioned friends and advisors), and he chased it even if he could never become what was on the other end.
The result was the reputation that sticks to A-Rod more than his great baseball numbers or his kind moments; he is known as a fraud, as an empty person putting on a show he is desperately trying to support.
It's a terrible trap, and Roberts' exploration of how key choices along the line in choosing advisors and lifestyle attitudes can derail a life. From Rodriguez's father leaving him as a child to a money- and power-hungry agent (Scott Boras), A-Rod could never get enough to complete that perfect image, and all his tries along the line only humiliated him more. No one ever told Rodriguez that he could just be Rodriguez; years later, that Alex doesn't even exist anymore.
Ironically, A-Rod's need for self-gratification was what led to his biggest collapse. When he moved to New York, all the factors that had been contributing to him becoming a more controlling, self-centered, fraudulent person were basically put on Big Apple steroids. He courted the intellect, the fashion, the popularity of the city, and within a few years, his family was in shambles as he was chasing pseudo religions and 50-year-old pop stars. His alarming emergence into total tabloid buffoonery started Roberts' investigation, and she was totally shocked when she started hearing whiffs of steroids.
Through careful reporting, Roberts found there was more than suspicion; A-Rod was one of the biggest users. So, in an attempt to write a story about A-Rod and his strange image quest, Roberts unearthed the biggest emblem of who this A-Rod was: In a desire to please, Rodriguez lived off of steroids because of the great pressure he felt to please people and be the best.
When the steroid story broke, Rodriguez of course tried to take down Roberts, but her research was flawless, and she had many mainstream sources to corroborate her case. Near the end of the book, Roberts spends a little time explaining this and defending herself. She is respectful yet firm and complete in showing that the charges were ludicrous, and that the way Rodriguez treated her (even in an "apology") only reinforced the entire book she had just written. Still, Roberts is a class act for placing her justification in the back of the book. She could have easily gloated and led the first two chapters with her self-defense, but instead she does just a little bit of pumping up (for a story that was massive in relation) to emphasize her points. Then she lets it go.
And what are we left with? An amazing portrait of a baseball star. The pressures, the insecurities, the culture—an amazing glimpse of modern baseball, with all its painful moments, are laid out in excellent storytelling. Roberts never suffers from the disease some sports writers have where they gather press clips and tell the consensus version of a story; she instead is a real writer, with piles of interviews providing all those sacred details that make for a great narrative that literally shows you what the high school baseball diamond looked like, and what the extent of A-Rod's public appearance snafus felt like to those watching.
Roberts is a great reporter, and you can see it in this book. And for those wanting a brief treatment in the world of baseball, superstars, or the human condition, this book is the place to go. Full of great details and quotes, it covers the game well without getting off-track. It teaches implicitly, from steroids to fatherhood to selfishness. It makes you cringe and realize there are many parts of Rodriguez you have seen in yourself, or someone you love, that you'd like to eradicate.
Best yet, though, is that Roberts is not dive-bombing A-Rod. When the steroid scandals broke, she told it straight and made sure everyone knew what he was doing. Those details are still in the book. But when Roberts tells Alex's story, it's honest enough to make you realize this didn't have to end up this way. Things could have been different. Alex, the ever-pleasing Alex, could have done it all differently.
Which means he still can.
Alex Rodriguez is a very flawed human being, but he still has amazing talent (and not just hitting a baseball). The guy had an ability to engage people, to be kind, to be genuine, and when he was dragged from the pinnacle he was trying to hard to stay aloft, it created the perfect opportunity to do a rewrite.
A season has passed since the steroid story broke and the book was published, and A-Rod acted considerably different this year. You may remember that the past season ended with the New York Yankees winning a World Series championship. It was an ultimate redemption for the superstar who was trying so hard in so many failing ways to be that perfect being—but who only got that ultimate World Series crown when all he had was taken away.
Rodriguez approached last season a new way, with considerable less gaffes, a lot less fawning and publicity, and very good baseball. He fought injuries and never saw his numbers rise. Yet there were rumblings he was showing signs of being a better teammate, and he started hitting when his team actually needed hits. The image wasn't his primary focus; his public life was considerably less eventful. He answered questions politely yet never felt compelled to answer everything, solve everything, be everything.
This is why we root for our superstars: Yes, he's flawed, but he's living despite the flaws. (For an alternative to Rodriguez's willingness to face his problems and turn things around, see Woods, Tigers.) And he's no longer trying to hide those flaws, or excuse them, or make them go away through sheer power, social connections, or showmanship. The world already knows. Why not just play?
A-Rod is no Derek Jeter. But neither are most of us.
3.29.2010
Convergence reversed
With Internet use growing, many news organizations moved toward convergence, that is, they stopped being print-only or TV-only and tried to find ways to do everything, all available on the Web. But my conversation with an editor of new media for some Massachusetts weeklies, and this article on Poynter today about the Christian Science Monitor, point toward why this trend may be reversed soon: not many people take advantage of the videos online. They're a better place for runaway commenting. Even if they do get a bunch of views, it's nowhere near the cost it takes to develop them.
At least for now, it appears most viewers and readers are still separating their news consumption; they're either going to read it or watch it, and probably not at the same place. I wouldn't guess that this trend will continue, as most people will just end up using the Internet, but I would guess that this will lead to news organizations picking their poison and doing either one or the other. As niche markets rise on the Web, a news organization would do better to be known for its video or its articles than poorly try to do both.
At least for now, it appears most viewers and readers are still separating their news consumption; they're either going to read it or watch it, and probably not at the same place. I wouldn't guess that this trend will continue, as most people will just end up using the Internet, but I would guess that this will lead to news organizations picking their poison and doing either one or the other. As niche markets rise on the Web, a news organization would do better to be known for its video or its articles than poorly try to do both.
Clean energy? Ehh... Clean politics? Hmm!
This Boston Globe article today explores a special way to raise political funds that is currently being used in Maine. Basically, if the candidates can collect enough $5 donations, they get to use public money and don't have to worry about raising tons of cash, which eliminates the rich companies and individuals that try to sway political races each year. Great article; great idea.
3.28.2010
Baylor bedeviled
It's another Final Four for the Blue Devils after Duke's 78-71 win over Baylor today in the Elite Eight.
After a tight contest throughout, Duke's bigs made the difference late in the second half with some key offensive rebounds, which Nolan Smith and Jon Scheyer capitalized on with some timely 3-pointers to notch Duke the win.
Smith ended the game with 29 points, and Scheyer had 20. The other member of Duke's "big 3" in scoring, Kyle Singler, never found his mark after early foul trouble and finished 0-for-10.
But the Blue Devils survived without him. Thanks to the big-man resurgence that's taken place over the last two weeks, coinciding with the tournament, Duke's glasswork and defense has been enough to take down early-round cupcakes and would-be contenders. Brian Zoubek, who still turned in a great game despite constant foul trouble, continued his strong presence inside, and Duke's greatest X-factor asset, Lance Thomas, was again raking in the rebounds. (Unfortunately, when left open for shots, he was bricking them away or being blocked (2-for-9). This guy is supposed to rebound, not shoot; let's hope he doesn't have another look the rest of the tournament.) Brothers Miles and Mason Plumlee had two of their strongest games all season.
(Duke was helped by a late technical foul against Baylor, too, which gives credence to the cliche that it helps to have tournament experience for the nerves, emotions, etc.)
In this game, Duke fought a tough zone, but when forced to go back to its outside shooting (which it had mostly forsaken in the three games thus far), the Blue Devils turned it on without a hitch. Duke netted 11 of 23 shots beyond the arc, compared to 11 of 38 inside it.
Duke won both the rebounding and offensive rebounding battles by a margin of six (with the second-chance points accrued probably the deciding factor). Duke also went to the line 29 times (10 times more than Baylor), which got its offense going again in the second half. Baylor racked up seven blocks, most of them on inside shots when the Blue Devil big men were trying to create.
Duke now faces West Virginia on Saturday, with Michigan State and Butler in the other semifinal. My picks: Duke and Michigan State in the final. The Spartans ride a little farther that lucky streak that this tournament has been for them, but after getting to the national championship game for the second week in a row, the Blue Devils take the crown no one expected them to contend for...as the sleepers roared in the Final Four.
After a tight contest throughout, Duke's bigs made the difference late in the second half with some key offensive rebounds, which Nolan Smith and Jon Scheyer capitalized on with some timely 3-pointers to notch Duke the win.
Smith ended the game with 29 points, and Scheyer had 20. The other member of Duke's "big 3" in scoring, Kyle Singler, never found his mark after early foul trouble and finished 0-for-10.
But the Blue Devils survived without him. Thanks to the big-man resurgence that's taken place over the last two weeks, coinciding with the tournament, Duke's glasswork and defense has been enough to take down early-round cupcakes and would-be contenders. Brian Zoubek, who still turned in a great game despite constant foul trouble, continued his strong presence inside, and Duke's greatest X-factor asset, Lance Thomas, was again raking in the rebounds. (Unfortunately, when left open for shots, he was bricking them away or being blocked (2-for-9). This guy is supposed to rebound, not shoot; let's hope he doesn't have another look the rest of the tournament.) Brothers Miles and Mason Plumlee had two of their strongest games all season.
(Duke was helped by a late technical foul against Baylor, too, which gives credence to the cliche that it helps to have tournament experience for the nerves, emotions, etc.)
In this game, Duke fought a tough zone, but when forced to go back to its outside shooting (which it had mostly forsaken in the three games thus far), the Blue Devils turned it on without a hitch. Duke netted 11 of 23 shots beyond the arc, compared to 11 of 38 inside it.
Duke won both the rebounding and offensive rebounding battles by a margin of six (with the second-chance points accrued probably the deciding factor). Duke also went to the line 29 times (10 times more than Baylor), which got its offense going again in the second half. Baylor racked up seven blocks, most of them on inside shots when the Blue Devil big men were trying to create.
Duke now faces West Virginia on Saturday, with Michigan State and Butler in the other semifinal. My picks: Duke and Michigan State in the final. The Spartans ride a little farther that lucky streak that this tournament has been for them, but after getting to the national championship game for the second week in a row, the Blue Devils take the crown no one expected them to contend for...as the sleepers roared in the Final Four.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
