You hear the news and for five minutes you’re nothing but happy. Jason Collins came out Monday on the cover of Sports Illustrated; one of the big four American sports leagues has an openly gay active player for the first time. He wrote a brave, thoughtful essay for the magazine describing, among other things, what it’s like to be a closeted NBA player and why he’s decided to make his sexual orientation public now. Given everything we know about the role of sports in American life, and particularly in American masculinity, this is a huge deal. Assuming Collins, a free agent who spent time this season with the Celtics and Wizards, makes a roster next season, fans are about to watch an athlete whom they know to be gay play NBA basketball. Some will surely taunt him; some will cheer him. Either way, he’ll be out there. And simply by being out there, he’ll make it a little easier for another gay player to feel free to be himself, and a little easier for the world to accept him when he does. And eventually the taunters will start to perceive (dimly; let’s not kid ourselves about the taunters’ powers of cognition) that they should be ashamed of what they’re doing. And that’s how the world changes: one embarrassed moron at a time.
By Grantland Staff at
Travis Heying/Wichita Eagle/MCT via Getty Images
The national title game in riffs and GIFs.
All In
Brian Phillips: At some point during the White Hyperspace portion of the proceedings — between, say, Spike Albrecht's 19th consecutive falling-away 30-footer and the moment when Luke Hancock actually turned into a flock of doves — it hit me that life would be easier if this game weren't so much fun. If you hate the NCAA (and you do), then March Madness is always a time of intense cognitive dissonance. You love the product and despise the factory. You want to smash the whole corrupt system, but first maybe you'll just spend 90 straight couch-hours mainlining the event that makes the system possible. You're like an anti-cockfighting advocate who happened to walk past a cockfight one day and felt your brain go, "Yyyyeessssssss!"
So it's always kind of validating when the NCAA tournament ends with a clunker, or at least a game that's exciting but badly played. You get to cheer for some bumbly-heroic mid-major, and then after their floppy-haired 5-foot-11 shooting guard spends 40 minutes getting slaughtered by a basic zone defense, you get to think, "Well, it's just the NCAA." Last night, though? Last night doesn't leave you any outs. Last night was amazing, full stop, end of paragraph, fade to Northwestern Mutual commercial. Last night, watching the comebacks and the refusals to die, watching Trey Burke hurl himself around with the entire Upper Peninsula on his shoulders, watching about 900 high-pressure makes, you couldn't not wind up all-in. Which means the NCAA won again. At least the officiating sucked.
I didn't even know where it came from. Was there an official announcement? Did someone break the news? It turned out it was Richard Deitsch. But all I knew at the time was that one minute Twitter was bubbling along peacefully and the next it had turned fluorescent purple and started belching out smoke and then helicopters were circling and a CNN anchor was talking about "spent fuel rods" and underground pools and evacuation orders. And the thing that did this to Twitter was the news that noted March Madness–intensifier and screamer of screams Gus Johnson was being groomed to be Fox Sports's leading commentator during the 2018 World Cup.
Soccer fans were elated. Soccer fans were enraged. Soccer fans had opinions and they were airing those opinions in all caps.
On any given Sunday (or Monday, or Thursday), your NFL Run & Shootaround crew will be gathered around multiple televisions, making inappropriate jokes and generally regressing to the mean. Catch up on all the NFL action right here.
Everything, Everything
I don't know if something as unabashedly macro as the Super Bowl could ever be considered a microcosm for anything, but here's what I'd say: It seems almost stupidly fitting, after a season in which the NFL's commissioner displayed an uncharacteristic surplus of political ineptitude, that the league could not manage to keep its own power on. And it seems just as fitting that one of the more entertaining NFL seasons in recent memory climaxed near the goal line, with a quarterback who represents the possibilities of the future ultimately in charge of the game's result. The NFL is great, and the NFL is dysfunctional. It lives in the light, and it lives in the dark. — Michael Weinreb
It was a year that provided plenty of personalities, story lines, and moments, but the question is, which of those moments got their due and which did not? Could LeBron James actually be underrated? Could the Olympics? They just might be.
Underrated: LeBron James's Game 4 of the Eastern Conference semifinals at Indiana
Everyone remembers the 45-point evisceration of Boston on the road in an elimination game, and the ultra-efficient inside-out torching of the Thunder in the Finals. But Game 4 against the Pacers has sort of gotten lost in the shuffle, which can happen, I guess, when a game kicks off one of the greatest 15-game stretches in the entire history of a sport. Miami felt like it was on the verge of a franchise-altering crisis going into Game 4, down 2-1 to a feisty Indiana team and missing Chris Bosh. Dwyane Wade had shot 2-of-13 and snapped at Erik Spoelstra during a Game 3 blowout loss. It wasn't an elimination game, but in that moment it was hard to imagine Miami coming back from a 3-1 deficit against a Pacers club that clearly didn't fear them.
And when Miami fell behind by 10 points in the first half of Game 4, looking a bit listless, it was tempting to start thinking about the consequences of a conference semifinals loss. Would they make a panic trade of one of the stars? Would they conclude James and Wade just couldn't coexist well enough to win a title? Would they fire Spoelstra before his extension — which was signed before the season — even kicked in?
Then LeBron and Wade went absolutely bananas, scoring 38 straight points for Miami in a second-half stretch for the ages. It wasn't just the production; it was the way it looked. Both were cutting actively off the ball and feeding each other for the sorts of semi-improv scores we all envisioned when they teamed up. Spoelstra began leaning on sets in which Miami cleared one side of the floor for LeBron and letting James go to work. He was dominant in those sets, which were rarely a major part of Miami's offense before, and they morphed into post-ups as the playoffs wore on — the post-ups for which Oklahoma City had no answer. It all just came together, at a startling speed. James finished with 40 points, 18 rebounds, and nine assists, numbers that no other player has ever put up in a postseason game since the mid-1980s. He hit post-up shots, jumpers, graceful floaters over Roy Hibbert in the lane — shots he just didn't quite have down even two or three seasons before. It was masterful, and the Heat needed every bit of it. — Zach Lowe
ZLATAN IBRAHIMOVIC IS SO OVERRATED I MEAN SURE HE'S WON NINE LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIPS AND BEEN SERIE A FOOTBALLER OF THE YEAR THREE TIMES BUT HE'S DEFINITELY NEVER SCORED FOUR GOALS FOR SWEDEN IN ONE MATCH AGAINST ENGLAND THE FOURTH OF WHICH WAS A MIND-ALTERING BICYCLE KICK FROM MILES OUTSIDE THE AREA BECAUSE IF HE DID SOMETHING THAT AMAZING WE'D HAVE TO ADMIT THAT MAYBE HE WASN'T A SPOILED LOSER AFTER ALL OH WAIT NO WHAT ARE YOU SAYING HE XXXXX//////FFFFF#SLKFJLGFKDJ)%($*)~~~~~///
I'm going to have to check IMDb really quick, but I'm pretty sure Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, Christopher Nolan, Brad Bird, Terrence Malick, and the Coen Brothers must have collaborated to make this commercial, because THERE IS NO OTHER WAY IT COULD POSSIBLY DELIGHT ME THIS MUCH.
Over the weekend, news broke that the New York Knicks were dragging their feet in matching the Houston Rockets' $25 million contract offer to point guard Jeremy Lin. As the nervous laughter of Knicks fans ("Ha, this is hilarious ... can you imagine? No, but really, guys. Sign him") turned into acts of hair-pulling and fist-shaking and full-blown Twitter meltdowns, our fearless leader, Bill Simmons, posed the question: If the Knicks, following the apparent financial advice of Carmelo Anthony, turn their backs on the most exciting, well-liked player to rock blue and orange since [insert beloved Knicks player Sprewell, Starks, Ewing ... Renaldo Balkman], would New York fans be wise to turn their backs on the team and become fans of the other New York franchise, the Brooklyn Nets? Simmons certainly thought so. We asked several members of the Grantland family, some of whom count themselves as Knicks supporters, for a verdict.
Note: Technically it's just "Wimbledon Shop," but technically Sherlock Holmes never said "Elementary, my dear Watson," either, and technically he never said it in a sweet checkered twill deerstalker cap that he picked up at the Wimbledon Shoppe for like £445 including VAT. This place just hauntingly cries out for the extra -pe, and I'm going with feel on this one. Here's some of the loot you can pillage at the 2012 Lawn Tennis Championships.
1. LeBron James: FEEL THE HEAT
LeBron James! Champion of the NBA! Champion of the late-night talk show circuit! And now — champion of Rankonia! Congratulations, LeBron. I know this means a lot to you. Rankonia Pal Chris Ryan has this week's top nomination:
Here's LeBron James doing the ceremonial David Letterman victory lap that comes with winning a major sports trophy. I love everything about this: Paul Shaffer throwing down some Power Station for the intro music; the genuine, beaming smile on LeBron's face when he walks, like he is genuinely chuffed to be getting a standing ovation; and of course his showing self-restraint by not going HULK SMASH when Letterman opens the interview by asking him if he's going to go back Cleveland. That, LeBron, is what we in the karma business call MARIO CHALMERS'S REVENGE.
Jesus Navas gets the top spot this week, thanks to a nomination from Triangle editor Chris Ryan. Says Ryan:
Really into this goal by Spain winger Jesus Navas against Croatia in Euro 2012. He goes FULL YOLO. Who cares if it's an open net? He absolutely roofs it. As he should! You don't get that many opportunities to play in front of an audience that big. Especially if you're Jesus Navas, who once suffered from anxiety issues that were so severe they prevented him from traveling extensively with the Spanish national team. It's great to see him so confidently smash the daylights out of the ball in front of an international audience. Also? He kind of looks like the kid from Real Genius.
So much amazing is happening in the NBA Playoffs this year, and Grantland is here to help you keep track of it all. Check this space for our takes on moments you might've missed, along with ones you will remember forever. (Click the links for full Shootarounds.)
The Shootaround gang is here to break down all the story lines going into today's Game 1 of the NBA Finals between the Oklahoma City Thunder and Miami Heat.
Is This (Finally) LeBron's Year?
The 13 greatest NBA players of all time are Jordan, Russell, Kareem, Magic, Bird, Wilt, Duncan, Kobe, West, Oscar, Shaq, Moses and Hakeem in some order (you just read mine). Every one of those 13 guys captured at least one NBA championship. Eight prevailed in their first Finals. Four snagged rings during their second trips. Only West repeatedly fell short, losing seven Finals before finally winning with the '72 Lakers … and in his case, poor West only made the mistake of crossing paths with the Russell Dynasty. So if LeBron James loses his third straight Finals (2007, 2011 and, now, 2012), that would make him the unluckiest, least successful superstar since West.
Digging a little deeper, only seven other NBA players won at least three MVP awards: Russell, Jordan, Kareem, Bird, Magic, Wilt, and Moses. The first five won titles in their first Finals trip; Moses made it happen his second time (with the '83 Sixers). The career Finals record of those seven guys (not counting LeBron): 34-16. Oh, and only four players qualified for the 42 Club at least four times — you know, the club for any NBA player who averaged 42-plus combined points, rebounds and assists in a single postseason (13 playoff games or more). Here's that list:
So much amazing is happening, and the Shootaround crew is here to help you keep track of it all. You'll find takes on moments you might've missed from the previous night, along with ones you will remember forever.
Do You Guys Want to Run It Back?
This was a series that started with the Spurs being called "beautiful" and ended with the Thunder being called "grown-up." Nothing that happened in between made much sense, either, from Pop's language-poet responses to Craig Sager's questions (Q: "What do you need to reestablish the pick-and-roll?" A: "Volcanoes. Metal hooks") to the various positions and ambient-lighting conditions in which Stephen Jackson was able to make love to pressure. From Game 1 on, both teams' identities were in flux. Who was/who wasn't afraid to shoot? Were the Thunder a dribbling team or an assists-dazzled passing team? Tim Duncan's apparent age ranged from "24" to "geologic" at different moments.
So much amazing is happening, and the Shootaround crew is here to help you keep track of it all. You'll find takes on moments you might've missed from the previous night, along with ones you will remember forever.
When You Were Young
One of the narratives that's emerged in the Western Conference finals is that the Thunder are "growing up." Really, the question of the Thunder growing up — whether it's happening, when it will happen, what it might mean for Russell Westbrook's glasses — has been part of just about every conversation OKC has figured in since the Lakers series two years ago, maybe even before. And that's only natural; in a lot of ways, our modes of interpreting the NBA are still dominated by the '80s and early '90s, when, the story goes, the Pistons had to grow up to get past the Celtics and the Lakers and then the Bulls had to grow up to get past the Pistons. Watching young teams mature, toughen up, and dethrone the older teams that once kept them down is part of the expected order of the NBA. And the Thunder — a very young, very talented squad whose potential path to the Finals happens to run through the three franchises that won the West every year from 1999 to 2012 — are just the latest chapter in the story.
The only problem with this version of events? Through Game 5, it's not really happening. OKC has now beaten the Spurs three straight times, but the wins haven't fit the mold of NBA maturation — everyone knowing their roles, the superstars reliably taking over during important stretches, the team collectively showing mental toughness and taking care of all the little things. Instead, the Thunder have been winning in the most insane ways possible. They've totally changed identities, going from the team with the lowest assist total in the NBA to one that routinely dishes out 20-plus assists per game. (Westbrook had 12 on Monday night, despite playing the fourth quarter like he hadn't ever met Durant.) Apart from Durant's sublime fourth quarter in Game 4, the superstars have been erratic. Durant, Harden, and Westbrook were 18-for-42 in Game 3. Westbrook and Harden were 6-for-23 in Game 4. All three of them had ruthless-genius moments in Game 5 — the Westbrook Destroys the Universe dunk, the late Harden 3, Durant's little shiv of a got-his-own-rebound putback — but they also made inexplicable mistakes, missed big shots, turned over the ball, and passed to the wrong teammates. (Guys, meet Kevin. He's here to help!)
The Thunder have been winning these weird, frenetic games partly because they've been doing a few extremely big things right (the underrated "hit a dramatic 3 right when it seems like the Spurs are about to tie it" strategy), but also because they've been getting preposterously great contributions from unexpected sources — Kendick Perkins's offensive explosion in Game 4, Serge Ibaka's 11-for-11, Daequan Cook's eight points in four minutes Monday night. Instead of playing like a grown-up team, in other words, they're winning by harnessing some kind of childlike chaos. They're harrying the Spurs on defense and getting steals (fun!) instead of crashing the boards and getting rebounds (boring!). They're coming up huge in all the big moments their own maddening mistakes have created for them. They're doing what you're not supposed to be able to do in this league of playoff fouls, mental toughness, and murderous competitiveness. They're winning like kids.
— Brian Phillips
