Book review: Tip Off, by Filip Bondy

Tip Off isn't a bad book, but it's hard to get excited about.  In fact, a one-word review would simply be "meh".  Filip Bondy presents us with the equivalent of watching a player take a 17' jump shot when he could have dunked on three guys - it's just as effective and may even be the right play, but leaves the audience slightly underwhelmed.

This is a shame, because Bondy chose a fascinating topic: the 1984 NBA draft, which saw Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon, Sam Perkins, Charles Barkley and John Stockton arrive in professional basketball.  It also provided the backdrop for the most high-profile draft blunder in history, when Portland selected Kentucky center Sam Bowie instead of Jordan with the second overall pick.

It's a succinct read which touches on the leadup to the draft, what each team was thinking when making their selections and also a brief look at how each player fared.  There's little coming together of the players - of every player drafted, the book may as well be about the six guys listed above.  Nobody - well, nobody except the most hardened basketball-philes - wants to know Chicago's thinking behind taking NBL legend Butch Hays with a seventh-round pick, or the reasons that Indiana chose Charlotte legend Stuart Gray.

Bondy writes to get the facts out rather than to entertain.  It is well-researched and the author has obviously researched and interviewed broadly, which all serves a purpose but at times upsets the book's flow.  Each chapter focuses on one aspect of the draft process, be it Chicago or Houston allegedly tanking (leading to the institution of the draft lottery in 1985), the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics or Sam Perkins' background in upstate New York.  The result is that there are minimal shared experiences which takes away from the Draft's inherent maturation storyline.

The information is all there, but given the storied nature of that draft, the reader is left feeling as if they're in some way short changed and that perhaps a writer with a greater sense of the event may have made Tip Off  more enjoyable.  As it is, it's intriguing at times (did you know that Philadelphia offered Dr. J or Andrew Toney and the no. 5 pick for the no. 3 pick so they could take Jordan?) but labours with an invasive flatness.

A perfectly average read.

Kobe vs. Jordan - a tale of two flu games

Kobe Bryant has played a careerlong game of one-upmanship with the NBA's greatest. This is most pronounced with Michael Jordan, the player with whom he is most often compared. It's no secret that Kobe wants to be the greatest ever and that he's almost painfully aware that to be so considered, he has to surmount Jordan in achievement and legacy.

There is no end of comparison. Their careers cross over on many levels, from skills, to gifts, desire and even career achievement. Despite his stated protests, by so patently aiming to dethrone the NBA's all-time greatest, Kobe actively invites the Jordan comparison. And he can't ever hope to win. This futile struggle, perhaps more than any other, is the core of his narrative. He will never be as universally respected and admired as Jordan; his presence in the internet era (where naysayers proliferate) and the simple fact that he is so often compared to his motivation underlines that.

Bryant is certainly admirable: his desire to be the best and to work hard to achieve is laudable; his blatant pursuit of the title “Greatest Ever” even lays bare an honesty not normally associated with pro ballers, least of all the enigmatic Bryant and calculating Jordan. However, that honesty works against him: Jordan never felt the need to publicly state his ambition/case for being the best baller ever; it was unstated and dignified.

It is telling that Kobe has felt – and at times appears to service – that need.

Book review: Sacred Hoops, by Phil Jackson

Phil Jackson is one of the greatest and the most respected coaches in the modern era. Jackson is famous for being the man who moulded the Chicago Bulls from being almost solely reliant upon Michael Jordan, into a NBA championship force as a team (with a lot of help from Jordan as well). Following from this he was able to control the egos of Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal as he coached the Los Angeles Lakers to championships as well.

Cover Image Courtesy of bookdepository.co.uk

Jackson is also described as being not your a-typical personality of professional sports and someone a little 'left of centre'. Although this may be true one must recognise the following: 1) That in the egotistical world of professional sport it is hardly difficult to be considered different; and 2) having read this book I wonder how much of the perception of Jackson is objective and not down to his own self prophecy.

Sacred Hoops purports to be a description of the spiritual journey that Phil Jackson has gone on during his life and career in basketball and also the spiritual journey he sought to lead the unstoppable Chicago Bulls on as they won six championships in the 1990's. At best it is a philosophical reflection as rarely could it be said that Jackson describes his research or reflection as looking beyond his self for the divine.

In reality as I read through the book it felt more like a cobbled together series of quotes from Christianity, Buddhism, and Native American tribal culture that speak to the events in Jacksons career with the benefit of hindsight. This probably is not a 100% true statement, Jackson no doubt is widely read and has been for a great proportion of his life, but it appears too cute in places during this read that these single quotations from religious texts can speak wholly to the scenarios described by Jackson without reference to the greater contexts of the religious texts themselves. One could even go as far to say that it is disrespectful to practitioners of each of these religions that Jackson seemingly cherry picks bits and pieces that suit him and his story.

For those of us who grew up through the 1990's and loved Basketball and the Chicago Bulls for a period will get some satisfaction from reading back through the history of these great seasons where basketball glory rained heavily on the Windy City. Jackson does provide an honest insiders view of what he believed made the Chicago Bulls tick during this period and what helped them to be one of the most successful teams in history.

But it is not a great read. Particularly so if you reflect back (with greater hindsight) that if Jackson truly led this team (and its individuals) on a spiritual journey to betterment should they have obtained some more permanent value? Why is it then that most have seemed to continues living as ego-maniacs post their playing days?  One star.

By Ben Roberts

Giving it a red hot go

by Balanced Sports columnist Ben Roberts

ESPN.com recently ran a story about Boston Red Sox third baseman Kevin Youklis, who they described as the definition of the 'blue collar athlete'. Youklis is a hitter not taken to niceties, he has a job to do every game and will give his all every time he steps up to the plate.¹ Working hard to make the pitcher work even harder and get himself on base, Youklis may not put up the performances that win awards, but he can be relied upon to get himself on base a high proportion of the time. Getting players on base is something my own San Francisco Giants appear destined to continue to fail at while they remain dedicated to sticking with the highly paid and under-motivated.

Despite being an Australian and therefore morally (and spiritually) bound to never allow Americanisms to enter my vernacular, I have to defer to Uncle Sam in this instance as I reckon their word for the type of player Youklis is just about perfect. Youklis is a 'Gamer'. A gamer relishes competition and the heat of the moment when they need to be relied upon. They 'have a crack' or give it a 'red hot go' always and this is their strength.

On one of the few televised games of Major League Baseball that enter the Australian airwaves I was able to watch Youklis and his Red Sox play against the New York Yankees that included another player who works hard at bat and maybe (at least to my untrained eye) meets the definition of a gamer, Nick Swisher.² Swisher like Youklis makes the pitchers work to his strengths and does not tire of doing the un-dramatic such as drawing walks.

I remember watching the NBA during the Michael Jordan era and being surprised that among the flashy skills of players like Jordan, Karl Malone, Scottie Pippen, or Tim Hardaway here was this white guy³ making all-star teams and holding his own. This white guy was Chris Mullin, and he was a gamer too. Mullin's gamer effort was as much about his work on the practice court as it was in game play. In honouring his elevation to the Hall of Fame Grantland.com called Mullin a dying breed, a rarity not blessed with natural athleticism who made the grade. Mullins drive to succeed and develop his skills took him to the top of his sport.

Jumping across to the most notable of the world games leagues the EPL and we find gamers there too. Unlucky not to secure all the major individual awards for last years Premier League, Scott Parker proved to be a larger than life character for West Ham as they fought to retain their place in the top flight. Parker routinely was the only reason why the Hammers managed to secure points throughout the season because he was always up for the fight and was willing to grab his team mates by the scruff of the neck to do likewise. Unfortunately it was all in vain⁴.

Newcastle's⁵ Joey Barton is another player always up for the fight, though he is an example of erring on the side of going over the top, and probably the aging Phil Neville. Both players were potential targets of both North London clubs who need hardening up this year if they stand any chance of finishing above 5^th and 6^th in the league.

You may begin to get the feeling that the definition of a gamer is restricted short on natural talent or natural athleticism but gets the most out of what they do have. This is not true. Moving to our third continent we find a phenomenal gamer who has both the huge amount of natural talent, and athletic capability.

Chris Judd in 2011 continues to prove that he is the best player Australian football has currently, and will finish up at the very least in the top ten of all time. All followers know how amazing his skills are and his athleticism and strength are amazing, but his insatiable desire for the contest is what drags him to be a cut above the rest. West Coast won a premiership because of him, and Carlton stand a chance of winning one in the near future for the same reason. Take him out of either team and they may still be a chance, but I reckon he almost doubles the chance of any team he plays in.

Looking back into history you find Michael Jordan, the greatest on the hardwood of all time and a serious gamer. Take the opportunity and watch his 'flu game' in the 1997 championship series against Utah. The only reason the Chicago Bulls won that game was Michael Jordan. Illness stripped him of his usually immense physical capacity, yet his drive to win dragged his team over the line. Even the greatest of skills and athleticism can get taken to the next level.

I love watching these players in any sport. They are the reason why we as spectators enjoy the contest. I wrote recently about my favourite cricketer of all time Allan Border, without him I would not have witnessed the great success of the Australian cricket team.

We owe these gamers the most respect in the games they play.

1 First time in my life I have ever used this phrase literally rather than figuratively.

2 Previously only notable to me for appearing in an episode of 'How I Met Your Mother'.

3 With a buzz-cut tribute to Dolph Lundgren.

4 Trouble is that no matter how great Parker was, Avram Grant was more than equally bad.

5 Just.

Dallas vs Miami - the NBA Finals rematch noone predicted (or wanted)

When Miami signed Chris Bosh and LeBron James in July last year, not only sports fans but the world sat up and took notice. The best player in the league changed teams of his own volition and took deserved heat (oww ... unintentional pun) for leaving his hometown club for beaches and booty. And rings.

When the Heat filled out their roster with a few role players - Mike Miller and Udonis Haslem - and a series of stiff big guys like Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Juwan Howard, Jamaal Magloire, Erick Dampier and Joel Anthony, they were the popular tip to make the NBA finals even though their squad wasn't originally built for this year. Their start was slow - what would you expect with three new major cogs? - but as the 2010-11 NBA regular season rounded to a close, the Heat had gathered speed to the point where they dominated East playoff opponents Philadelphia, Boston and Chicago.

Of Dallas, it seems only Jason Terry really believed the team was destined for the NBA finals. Their playoffs have been a symphony conducted by Dirk Nowitzki and with feature solos from Terry and mighty mite Jose Juan Barea. The squad, hard and veteran, have coped admirably with the loss of starting SF (and likely LeBron stopper) Caron "Tuff Juice" Butler. They ploughed through Portland, the Lakers and Oklahoma City on their way to the rematch.

Rematch, because the teams met in the 2006 Finals. Only four players remain from those squads - Nowitzki, Terry, Dwyane Wade and Haslem; but the hurt still encompasses the Mavericks organisation. Much of the backroom staff remains the same and it's an easy bet that Mark Cuban wants an NBA Championship so badly he can taste it. But it's not the popular rematch that league observers throught we were getting: before the playoffs started, most analysts predicted a Chicago/Los Angeles decider, harking back to the twentieth anniversary of their 1991 encounter, a series which launched "Michael Jordan ... oh ... spec-TACK-ular move", a rain of John Paxson threes and the last games in Magic's first Lakers stint.

Nobody wanted this finals match outside Florida and Texas because, quite simply, the Heat are the bad guys (see WWE Superstar Chris Bosh at 2:15 - so schlock it's funny) and Dallas, until the playoffs, were seen as the "same old" - a veteran squad with minimal personnel changes from an ultimately unsuccessful 2010 campaign. As rematches went, the ones people thought likely were Lakers/Bulls, Lakers/Celtics and perhaps even Bulls/Blazers. But not the Mavs and the Heat. That both clubs have managed to proceed to their current peak is testament that really, nothing beats experience - or all-timers playing out of their collective skins, as LeBron and Dirk have.

As much as the Heat are nigh-on unstoppable, the popular vote will swing to Dallas. For redemption (game six, 2006, the infamous game brought into question by disgraced referee Tim Donaghy), for popular star Nowitzki, who's dominated the Western Conference playoffs and cohort Jason Kidd who has toiled for seventeen years without a Championship. Finally, they'll be favoured just because they're not the Heat. The South Floridians became the league's arch-enemy so fast thanks to that gaudy opening ceremony and the kerfuffle surrounding "The Decision" that it would take another Kobe case to dethrone them. A ring would start the process, but only increase the target on their backs next year (if there is one).

Predictions: Going with the head rather than heart here - Dirk and JJ Barea dominate just enough offensively for designated Wade and LeBron stoppers to do the same (just enough) to get the Mavericks through in seven.

Thanks to Bill Simmons for spec-TACK-ular phrasing & Chicagonow.com for the photo.

NBA: Never Been Altered

Ben Roberts

I potentially risk the ire of Balanced Sports' editor-in-chief with the following reflection. Having been on paternity leave recently an old flame has been reignited. Probably it has been since the Chicago Bulls collected their first 1990s 'three-peat' when I last engaged with Basketball and watched the NBA consistently.

Not only have I been taken in by the current play-off series' but I also decided to borrow a couple of DVDs from my brother (who has maintained the fire for the hoops over many years) containing two of Michael Jordan's great performances: 1995 just out of retirement against the New York Knicks, scoring 50 plus points, followed by a flu-ridden Jordan in the 1997 NBA finals helping the Bulls to victory over the Jazz in Salt Lake City (see image).

The combination of the current play-offs with the trip into history led me to surmise that really the game of Basketball hasn't changed all that much, thus the title. Don't read into this negatively or positively, I certainly haven't made a judgement call, nor will I probably be able to back it up with expert opinion. But is it not surprising that someone can make such an observation 18 years since there last serious viewing of the game?

Watching a current match compared to these now 15 years old matches only three things stood out to me as clearly indicating a difference: The sepia toned film of the older matches, the fashions of players differed (though only slightly, spectators differed dramatically) and finally the logos of teams adorning the court. Noticeably none of this reflects the actual gameplay despite some rule changes having occurred.

While I may be mistaken, if it's true, what does this say about the game? Is the controlled environment – constant climate, consistent court, combined with the smaller number of competitors limiting the amount of variation. Minimal adjustment to rules over history? Again let me say that this is no means a negative, just an observation. Most other sports to watch bear little to no resemblance to past matches, certainly Australian football has changed markedly even since the mid 2000s and continues to change season by season and does not have the aforementioned characteristics.

Potentially this observation extends to other USA sporting pursuits where statistics play such an important part of analysis. Few sports with cultural centres outside the United States ever feel free to compare statistics half a century even a century apart, yet this is common place in Basketball and other US sports. Two sports that I have the longest history of following, Cricket and Australian Football, you cannot compare generations with great success given the changes in gameplay, but they do not exist in the heavily controlled environments that characterise Basketball and other USA centric games.

Many have been drawn once again to the NBA this year. I have heard more “water-cooler discussions” on it this year than I probably have in the last 10. How should this be viewed?

To look at it negatively; does this mean that despite my interest being pricked to continue watching this year's play-offs (and supporting the Bulls again), the fact that I cannot see any marked change potentially means that I'll tire of the sport like I did previously. Positively a generational consistency exists. If its true, you can genuinely ask the questions of whether Wilt Chamberlain could have cut it today, or Kobe Bryant in yesteryear; would the Celtics of the 1960s, Lakers of the 1980s and Bulls of the 1990s be successful at any point in history?

Image courtesy: argumentking.blogspot.com

Handbags at ten paces

Sledging has been a part of the game of cricket since the early days of the sport. The earliest superstar, Dr. W.G. Grace was apparently a proponent of what latterly Steve Waugh's termed "mental disintegration". The term "sledging" was coined in the late 1960s in honor of Aussie fast bowler Graham Corling, who during a team barbecue made several lewd remarks and was deemed by teammates "as subtle as a sledgehammer", when then evolved into "Percy Sledge". Later "sledging" has been applied to any term of abuse in reference to a sports match and the more creative sledgers have won plaudits for their creativity and humour. Sometimes, however, talking crap backfires: just ask Glenn McGrath.

In his book "Loose Balls", former NBA star Jayson Williams says that trash-talk in basketball circles never involves family, partners or girlfriends because it's just too dangerous. There's a line in the sand that players respect and generally any discussion is limited to "Y'all can't stop me", "Who's guarding me?" and the like. Their reasons are simple - it's just not worth it because trouble always follows personal remarks.

In cricket it's different. Sledging as we now know it started off as casual comments about a player's technique or the state of the scoreboard but over the past twenty years as players think the stakes have risen, it's morphed into "say what you can to make the batsman lose concentration". All nations take part in it, probably equally. Supposed men of faith like Matthew Hayden have been serial offenders which doesn't sit well with those of us who ostensibly hold the same faith and belief systems.

But let's be honest - mostly it's just boys being boys. Or at least it should be. With England wicketkeeper Matt Prior reportedly suggesting to Peter Siddle "let's go - let's take it outside", the boundary between "gamesmanship" to "handbags at ten paces" was crossed. What Siddle did to entice the invitation was pepper the hapless 'keeper with short lifters and then dismiss him. If the Victorian tearaway stayed true to form would have also have given the Englishman a send off coloured by expletives, which if he did so was probably pretty dumb given Prior was dismissed by Siddle's good luck rather than good management.

Prior's response - essentially encouraging a fight, in which I have no doubt the bigger and stronger Siddle would triumph - has all the elegance and cleverness of a schoolyard "So's your Mum". Never the most startling riposte, but again perhaps Glenn McGrath or AFL player Adam Selwood would disagree. The Australians have attempted to regain their swagger this Test by aiming a series of barbs at the Old Enemy, who as expected have responded in kind. Perhaps, given Australia's performance in this match it has worked, but even so they have appeared not as the gum-chewing, self-confident larrikins of the Chappell, Taylor & Waugh eras but as petulant, self-aggrandising children; children on both sides of the match who Daddy Match Referee will be dealing with sternly because they look ridiculous and by extension, the game is reflected upon poorly.

It takes on even more of ludicrous stance when chief among the talkers has been Michael Clarke, whose form thus far has wobbled between horrible and below par. By involving himself but failing to back it up with runs, Clarke negates his own authority and further erodes his position as heir apparent to the Australian captaincy. As has been pointed out repeatedly, very few positions are as visible in Australia as that of the cricket captain, so for him to make himself look foolish in this manner doesn't bode well for his future leadership prospects. While Border and Waugh led the side they engaged in verbal stoushes with their opponents but almost always from a position of strength, or knowing they were going to be able to add strength to their words with runs. The simple reason Michael Jordan was the biggest trash-talker of all was that he was the best player that basketball had seen and so always backed his words with points or wins.

Clarke, again, seems to try to bully opposition simply because the big kids do it and so resembles a teen, who rather than being full of confidence is full of braggadocio and bluster. It would make his press conferences infinitely more palatable should he carry on this attitude post-match as well!

There's no excuse for getting personal in sledging Neither is there any excuse for name-calling as a) it rarely works and b) it makes the name caller look dumb. If you don't agree - and that's fine - then ask yourself this: hearing swearing is a very different thing to being sworn at, isn't it? With language and emotion like that directed at each other, there's no surprise each responds in the way they've been addressed. Of course it's coarse and disappointing and both sides obviously don't realise that they look very small doing so. It's a pity that the line never crossed in the NBA simply doesn't exist in cricket any more.

Brett Favre: A matter of definition

After watching “The Wrestler” last night, it occurred to me that the battle between what's best for you and what defines you as a person is something which most athletes fight against throughout their careers. In the movie this battle is unsubtly portrayed as Randy “The Ram” Robinson is forced to reconsider his future due to health problems – the drama that nearly won “The Wrestler” several Oscars comes as he tries to reintegrate into a society that replaces peer and fan accolades with normal human relationships.

I can't help but think this is partly what haunts Brett Favre. Once you could know with absolute certainty that he'd start 16+ games in the green and gold, but over the past few years he's been traded to New York (seriously, can you think of a larger paradigm shift than moving from Green Bay to New York City? I can't), retired, unretired, signed as a free agent with the Minnesota Vikings, flirted with retirement, held out and finally come back to the Vikings apparently re-energised and ready for a twentieth NFL season.

His consecutive streak of starts remains unbroken after Thursday's loss at New Orleans, but Favre continues to ride the Pro Football bus. The most decorated QB of the past two decades, Favre is perhaps one of the most complex men in the league no matter how simple and corn-fed he and his agent have made him out to be. His life took a new turn in 2010 as he became a grandfather, the only one in the pro football today.

There can only be two reasons for his continued NFL existence – he still loves the game as much as ever, or that he's scared of the future. Sure the money is nice, but for a man who's made more money than Gordon Gekko – to continue the movie theme – surely it can't be the determining factor. And nothing in sports is as cut and dried as it seems, especially with Brett. The guess here is that his decision to go around again stems from both Column A and Column B. There can be no question that he loves the game, but I'd bet my last dollar that Favre's defined himself in his own brain, his own ego, as a quarterback. He's done this since high school football. It's fair to surmise he has minimal idea what his life will involve once he finally hangs up the helmet for good.

And to be fair, this doesn't just happen with pro athletes although they do form the most striking example of post-career blues. I once knew a therapist in Melbourne – call him Lal – who'd worked in the same area for nearly seventy years. He tried to retire and hand over control of his practice five separate times to his successors, moved down to his beach house and promptly returned in less than two months to demand reinstatement at the head of the clinic. At last count, he was 93 and had finally retired for the sixth time. It turned out he got bored easily. Can you imagine how bored one must get after nearly thirty years of adrenaline highs?

In sport though, the contrast can be even more stark. Anyone who retires from their local sports club can depart appreciated, but the level of adulation that John Public receives after fifteen years sterling service at Dumbarton FC could only be the most poor imitation of what pro athletes go through. When you get to the Pros, the volume is turned up to eleven: there's more money, there's more and prettier women, and the lifestyle involves greater excesses. The comedown off the NFL high – especially one that's lasted twenty years and four different cities – is something to be feared.

This problem of definition tends only to raise it's head later in an athlete's career. But should it occur earlier, these issues with self-definition can haunt an athlete's legacy forever. One of the more well-rounded athletes of recent times was basketball's David Robinson. Robinson retired in 2003 after winning his second NBA Championship with the San Antonio Spurs and has never looked back. That he had foundations and several business interests from an early age perhaps detracted from his NBA career – the main criticism of him while in the NBA was that basketball wasn't a matter of life and death to him – but it did make for an easier transition into retirement and normal life. To paraphrase, the road to retirement is paved with good intentions. Robinson will forever be labelled as never reaching his potential because the game just didn't mean enough to him. Several coaches have said that he was amongst the most talented players ever, but failed to live up to his potential. But should we as fans look down on him for those same reasons or celebrate a man who realised more and earlier than the rest of us that sport is an outlet, a means to an end?

With Brett Favre, it isn't the Liberatore Conundrum (http://balancedsports.blogspot.com/2010/07/liberatore-conundrum.html) all over again, not even close. Favre is an offensive player whose skill is delivering the ball rather than stopping an opponent. But I can't help but feel sad looking at a player and realising he knows everything there is to know about one sport but he's yet to discover that there's more to life. What becomes even more tragic is when onfield performance begins to suffer and the last limping seasons become defining memories. This isn't a major concern yet given the strength of his offensive line and his characteristic poise. To that end, Favre is coming off one of his best ever statistical seasons. But even after such a dominant season to find him having second thoughts about continuing makes me think his heart really isn't in it but he knows little else.

Does this reluctance to walk into the sunset show up as a black mark on his career? I don't think so. Firstly, his performance hasn't slipped that much and it's unlikely to slip much more (unless his offensive line stinks) because he plays predominantly from the pocket. Favre's singular strength has always been the combination of accuracy and head smarts and this means he could even play for another year or two yet. But when you think about a generation-defining player, usually the lasting memories you have tend to be those of their final moments. Michael Jordan, author of several of the greatest moments in basketball history: “The Shot”, “The Pass”, “The change-hands”, “The Shrug” finds these all superseded by one defining memory: of him at the foul line with arm extended. “The Other Shot” against Bryon Russell and the Utah Jazz has become Michael Jordan's piece de resistance, the final morsel to be savoured before retiring, not his early high-flying days or his nasty Washington Wizards coda. More than anything else though, Michael Jordan's had a curious off-field persona ever since his days with Chicago and all of this is masked by the happy, vibrant memories he gave us while playing for the Bulls.

Perhaps this is closer to the truth as to why Favre sat on the fence so long before coming back. One of his last acts in an outstanding potentially-final season was to throw the ball away under pressure in last year's NFC Championship game against the Saints. Perhaps, like MJ, he understands his own legacy and feels that his messy exits from Green Bay and the Jets could mean his off-field persona is forever marked somewhere between indecisive and spoiled. Perhaps he feels he needs a happy ending before finally walking into the sunset.

Perhaps.