Book review: Let me tell you a story, by Red Auerbach and John Feinstein

John Feinstein has made a career of being a "thinking man's" sportswriter.  He shot to prominence with the oustanding 1986 Season on the Brink, which detailed a season spent with Bob Knight and the Indiana Hoosiers.  Some of his other works have been critically acclaimed as well, but have on occasion - eg. The Punch - tended to be too po-faced and serious for their own good.

Let me tell you a story, a collection of tales Feinstein could have knocked out in his sleep is the perfect antithesis to such overbearing seriousness.  It describes his invitation to lunch with Red Auerbach, the former President of the Boston Celtics and acknowledged King of Boston basketball.  What the casual fan probably fails to realise is Red's assocation with Washington D.C. hoops as well.  He was an alumni of George Washington University, his wife and children (and him, during the offseason) lived there and he maintained connections with several of the city's basketball aristocracy.

The book begins with Auerbach growing older and more aware of his mortality.  He therefore decided to invest time in his closest friends, which manifested as a regular lunch with the likes of his brother Zang, secret service agents and The Best High School hoops coach of all, Morgan Wootten.  Feinstein - who was working as a columnist for the Washington Post - smelled a story, managed to get an invitation and became a regular lunch guest.  He then proceeds to describe what the lunch became for him and his compatriots.

courtesy: betterworldbooks.com

The book is named because even though there were upwards of a dozen regular diners, these were Red's lunches. He had the central seat, so he could hold court and opine about almost every issue - starting most of his stories with the words "Let me tell you about...".  The bill was also Red's, until the Celtics got wind of the events and insisted the team paid.  Red talks candidly (as if  he could speak any other way) about his time with the Celtics, the owners he worked for and even of his lack of malice at being replaced as Celtics President during the short-lived Rick Pitino era.

What impresses you so much is Red's reasoning - there were always completely logical reasons for every decision he made.  When he explains those reasons - even why he lit his trademark cigar when the Celtics had secured victory - he makes absolute sense.  (If you're wondering, he lit the cigars when the Celtics were up by a heap as a subconscious signal that his team was relaxed and not seeking to rub the victory in their opponents faces).  His tales stand in stark contrast to those of another Celtic great, Bill Russell.  As Auerbach became more acutely aware of his ageing, he became more congnizant of the importance of spending time with his friends; in stark contrast Russell became more and more arrogant, distant and spiky.

Throughout, you can't help liking Red.  It's obvious that Feinstein - and the entire Lunch crew - absolutely adored him.  He was fair, friendly and fun to be around, which in turn makes the book an easy read.  It is occasionally slightly stained by Feinstein's own opinions - what little he thinks of Rick Pitino is obvious, and his memorable description of Scottie Pippen as Scottie "I've got a headache when it matters most" Pippen are fine examples of unwanted editorialisation.

It's lightweight, but really enjoyable read.

Reposted from Books with Balls, a now sadly mostly-disregarded affiliate.

Breaking down Forbes' Top 100 highest earning athletes

Forbes is perhaps the highest profile business magazine in the world. It certainly boasts as much clout as any, and an effective part of this has simply been their willingness to create reams of lists: the Best Paid Actors, the most overperforming stocks for 1955.  The internet loves this stuff.  These aggregations are easy on the eye - and almost as easy on the brain.  But because it's easily digestible information, a interweb culture raised on instant gratification laps it up.

The following chart has its origins in one of Forbes' more popular lists.  It was released yesterday and estimates the net income for those highest earning athletes.  Typically, players in sports with broad appeal played by Average Joe do better in endorsements: those with the most lucrative sponsorship are usually golfers, tennis players, footballers and basketballers.  The best in motorsport earn as much or more in endorsements as they do in prize money or salary.  Players who form part of an extensive rotation - ie. baseballers and NFL players - can earn as little (!) as $100,000 for the year in endorsement deals.

The chart is broken down where an athlete's endorsement income is plotted against his earnings from salary or prize money.  Minimum qualifying income for 2011-12 was $16.6 million (US) for the year.  Athletes are coloured according to their sport.  As always, we recommend clicking on the chart to enlarge it.

Copyright Balanced Sports

The list is relatively easily broken down.  The two highest earners were both boxers who pulled in relatively minimal endorsement deals - considering the world's most highly paid athlete was Floyd Mayweather, who is currently serving a prison sentence for threatening his ex.  You can see the obvious trends - those most marketable NFL/MLB stars earn up to eight figures in endorsements (Peyton Manning and Derek Jeter respectively), but generally the highest paid players in those sports earn comparative peanuts by selling their name.

The list comprised four boxers, one sprinter (Usain Bolt), five golfers, eight motorsport aces (4x NASCAR, 3x Formula 1 and Valentino Rossi), five tennis players, ten footballers, 13 basketballers, 30 NFL players, 22 baseballers and two Indian cricketers.  It almost goes without saying that the three outliers - top red, and far-right greens - were Tiger Woods, Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao.

Only two women made the list, tennis players Maria Sharapova and Li Na, who came in at 26th and 81st on the list, respectively.  Both only earned a small fraction of their total endorsement value in prize money, making them typical for their sport.

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: Basketball Junkie, by Chris Herren and Bill Reynolds

Oh to be young, rich and talented.

Over the past twenty years the NBA has a remarkable success rate at weeding out drug addicts. In the mid-eighties, the league instituted a three-strikes policy aimed at ridding the league of the American popular image of '70s pro basketball: that of overpaid and over-coked players who cared more about fighting than defense. Several of the league's top talents fell victim to nose candy in the 1980s: David "Skywalker" Thompson and Walter "The Greyhound" Davis managed to sustain effective NBA careers. However, guys like Chris Washburn, Richard Dumas and Roy Tarpley - I could name a dozen more off the top of my head - couldn't, and found themselves banished to eternal European ball.

Of all of these players, the one common denominator was talent. Each of them, from Thompson, who could have been the best player in the game, to Washburn, who was drafted third in 1986, was supremely gifted and capable of multiple All-Star games. Many were unable to control their habit, let alone sufficiently enough to function at NBA levels.

The same could be said of Chris Herren, one of the best ballers ever to come out of New England. His memoir "Basketball Junkie" portrays the life of an athlete blessed with talent, but cursed with addiction.

http://www.basketballjunkie.net/where-to-buy/

Herren was born to be a basketball star, and followed his brother as one of the greatest players in the history of Durfee High School, a storied Massachusetts basketball programme. At sixteen, he was so good - and messed up by "maturing" in small, working class Fall River - he was the subject of the best-seller "Fall River Dreams". The book, by journalist Bill Reynolds (with whom Herren collaborated in writing Basketball Junkie), reported the licence afforded teen athletes in a town where basketball is king.

Chris Herren managed to play two NBA seasons around the the time of the last NBA lockout. I use the verb "managed" because he did played while fighting, and eventually succumbing to, addiction to alcohol and opiates (including oxycontin and heroin). That he had the talent to play basketball was for a time perhaps his one saving grace, even though it was no longer a game for him: it was expectation, pressure and success. At his leve, playing basketball - in Denver, Boston, Italy, Turkey, China or Iran - meant he had the money to buy the drugs he needed to function.

There are two striking features of Herren's memoir: how easy it is to slip from "partying" to addiction; and secondly, simply, how functionally dependent he (and by extension, other addicts) became on opiates. What started as "Hey, I'd like to party with you" turned into mailing packages of Oxycontin to hotels he would be staying at on road trips so he could sustain his NBA form - and pay cheque. Herren wasn't addicted to getting high, but his body so craved the gear that he was completely unable to function without it. Graphic descriptions of withdrawal symptoms and his fear of both those symptoms and his future make for compelling and memorable reading.

His yearlong spell as a Celtic is effectively a haze, as it was for him at the time. He writes about how he could obtain drugs in almost any setting, from deepest, darkest China and Iran to flying into Providence airport, finding a dealer and then flying out again. The lengths he went to in order to score - like driving around Fall River with a needle in his arm and his baby daughter in the back seat.

He writes frankly about substance abuse beginning in his teen years to final, gut-wrenching, sobriety in 2008. This should-be joyous occasion, isn't so much celebrated as Championship victory but, in typical Herren matter-of-fact fashion, describes the rehab facility and every fearsome slip he made throughout.  You can sense some of the hallmarks of rehab in his words: ownership, reality and an almost total lack of astonishment at his past.

 The rehab process is depicted with the same grit and fear characterising the rest of the narrative. There is only one epiphany, the choice he describes as leading him to the choice he says all recovering addicts have to make in order to survive.  There's no trophy at the end of this longest season, only normalcy most take for granted.

This isn't a basketball book. Because Chris Herren scored more in back streets than in the NBA, it's an addict's memoir where the author is also good at basketball. There's little doubt in the reader's mind he would have been in a similar, but less fiscal, situation had basketball not taken him out of Fall River. The young Herren didn't dream of the Lakers, but Durfee High School and State championships.

To lose one's independence is a frightening thought; in fact, it may be the very concept people fear most. To become utterly dependent on a chemical is even more of a scary concept. Basketball Junkie tells how Chris Herren became totally dependent and later details the factors which allowed him to regain his life

Basketball Junkie is dirty, honest and frightening. Five stars.

For more book reviews, see our affiliate site, Books with Balls.

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

Shaquille O'Neal Retires: Olympus beckons for Big Aristotle

Shaquille O'Neal has retired and the NBA has lost one of it's born entertainers. The league, and the sporting landscape in general, will be poorer for his departure.

He entered the league with the inevitable comparisons to Wilt Chamberlain, succeeded Wilt in rings won while owning basketball in Los Angeles, won a ring with "Flash" and then turned into a role-player for hire. At times the most overwhelming inside the force the game has seen (remembering Chamberlain often favoured the fadeaway jumper to show he had skills as well as size), he played nineteen years in the league, won four Championships and took part in probably the best feud the NBA has ever seen that didn't involve Charles Oakley.

Even after his athleticism declined he remained a viable second option in Phoenix and Cleveland, before becoming an overstated but important part of the 2011 Celtics. The list of players assembled around him is notable for its extreme quality and without question, his enormous on-court presence added to each of their collective legacies. At times, even he seemed amazed by his remarkable mix of power and explosiveness. While his lithe early years showcased a more fluid offensive game (his first NBA bucket was a fadeaway jumper from 12 feet), he didn't have the breadth of experience that's shaped him into the statesman he is now.

Though his game was extraordinary and a thing of awesome power, the most appealing part ofabout Shaquille O'Neal wasn't necessarily those skills.It is his lighthearted nature. He was, and remains, a fun guy to be around. While others treated the NBA like a game of life and death, Shaq played in the league.

His early years in the league marked him one of the sport's rising cross-media stars. He rapped, did Shaq-Fu, acted (mostly terribly - have you seen Kazaam?) and won scoring titles. He went to the Los Angeles Lakers in 1996 to pursue those interests and after the demise of Jordan's Bulls, led the Lakers to three straight NBA Championships. In each Finals he was unstoppable despite the best efforts of designated "Shaq-stoppers" like Dale Davis, Dikembe Mutombo and (cough) Todd MacCulloch. As well as owning the lane at both ends, he had finally developed the inner steel to back his outer confidence leading his teams to destroy the title aspirations of many of the league's recent greats. No-one was stopping the Lakers during that time - not Allen Iverson, Reggie Miller, Chris Mullin, Jason Kidd, Dikembe Mutombo or Kenyon Martin.

He walks into the sunset boasting a more garrulous and accessible media profile than any athlete since Magic Johnson, all part of a man with myriad off-court interests. He has maintained a strong interest in law enforcement and in keeping with his multimedia empire announced his retirement through Tout, a new video-sharing form of Twitter. No-one gave pressers or interviews like Shaq. That his first target here is the notoriously intense Kevin Garnett - who responded well - says volumes about the way his teammates responded to his slightly alternative methods of communication in 2011. When he owned the NBA at the turn of this decade, Shaq played in the league.

Perhaps his background, growing up an Army brat watching his mother and stepfather work for everything they had gave him this unique viewpoint, a sense of perspective allowing him to understand life was bigger than the twenty-nine NBA cities he frequented. To play basketball, be a cross-media baron and basically to do what he wanted with life was fun - and fun things are to be enjoyed. So he did. This awareness contributed to his movement from being thought of as a young punk to being respected across the entire spectrum of the league. As a spokesman for the league in 2011, there are few who speak with the authority - and intelligence - that he does.

In a poll on ESPN today, 72% of respondents said the thing about Shaq they'd remember most outside basketball wasn't the feud or Blue Chips, it was his outgoing media style which prompted his self-appointed moniker "Big Aristotle" among many others. Critics may suggest that these outside activities took his focus away from the game but when a man has four NBA rings, it's a difficult game suggesting he didn't earn them.

Shaquille O'Neal leaves behind a trail of devastation unseen since Willis Reed's (very different) NBA tour of duty. He also leaves behind thousands of happy memories.

Image of Kazaam courtesy: fixingflicks.net

Image of Shaq dunking on David Robinson c1992 courtesy: bleacherreport.com

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

Book review: The Art of a Beautiful Game, by Chris Ballard

This review is a re-post of it's original entry from our sibling book review site, Books with Balls.

You may think that Dwight Howard's a monster rebounder because at 7 feet and one inch, 265 pounds and with steel springs for legs he's the NBA's most perfect physical specimen since Chamberlain.

But you're wrong.

Because Big Ben Wallace, the Pistons' 6'8 fireplug centre rebounds just as well, age and infirmity permitting. What Big Ben and D12 have in common is their uncanny ability to read direction, velocity and arc of the ball straight from the shooter's fingertips; analyse in a fraction of a second where the ball will impact on the hoop or backboard, and adjust their reactions to be where they need to be in order to pick up the loose ball. Kevin Love, the NBA's rebounding leader, uses the same principles and does it looking like a rec club baller, doing it for the love of the game. So much goes into the art of rebounding that Chris Ballard devotes an entire chapter to it in his book, The Art of a Beautiful Game.

When it comes to NBA journalism, Chrises seem to be everywhere. ESPN boast three of them: Messrs Sheridan (New York), Forsberg (Boston), Broussard (the key story-hound). Chris Ballard continues the tradition, though being a senior writer for Sports Illustrated. After covering the NBA for many years and through chats with players, formal and casual, he's pieced together a short-ish but beautifully crafted work about how certain players in the NBA are good at their jobs. Each chapter describes an aspect of the sport, from the high-profile shooters to the understated beauty of a perfectly-set screen. When it comes to a particular skill, who better to hear it from than the best? Ballard watches tape with LeBron, plays H-O-R-S-E game with Steve Kerr and his encounter with the World Free-Throw Shooting record holder, Dr. Tom Amberry. The "Big Kahuna of Free-Throw Shooting" set the record as a seventy-one year old in 1993, nailing 2750 straight free-throws before the gym in which he was shooting asked him to leave - they had to close for the night. And that's just the research he did especially for the book - also recorded are conversations he's had, professionally and privately, with the NBA's greatest. All go together to make an elegantly rounded picture.

Each chapter describes in detail the importance of biomechanics, athleticism, attitude and the ability to read play. Not just focusing on technical aspects, he describes taking a weeklong course at Coach David Thorpe's Florida training academy to see what devoted NBA stars get up to in their alleged down-time and a morning spent with a performance guru who works out players before draft day. And when Ballard's there, the reader is there: whether it's not kicking a leg out when shooting jumpers, out-thinking David Robinson in a battle for a rebound or trying to stop Chris Morris from getting arrested at the end of a long road trip.

What's most startling about his adventures and conversations is Ballard's writing style. As Howard is an artist on the boards, Ballard is with words. He writes so easily, fluidly and - there's no other word for it - beautifully, that the book is consumed within a matter of a few hours and leaves you slightly disappointed that it's finished; but therein lies more art, knowing when to finish.

The Art of a Beautiful Game by Chris Ballard scores footballs - an outstanding piece of literature.