http://www.statecollege.com/news/local-news/twohour-graham-spanier-interview-offers-new-insight,1430650/
Dear Ken,
I watched the interview of the Penn State president-- a capable person in an extremely awkward situation. I found the ex-president was very cautious, very circumspect. He seemed very bureaucratic to me and monotonal, kind of sensitive seeming and a bit holier-than-thou. He did express regret about Jerry Sandusky's crimes but indicated almost zero in the way of personal culpability. Unfortunately, I wanted to hear about his own personal experience of being abused-- but when I tried to get back to the interview it made me go to the beginning. To tell you the truth, this guy seemed like an apologist. "I never ordered a soldier to kill a Jew-- it was their immediate supervisors who did that!" He keeps referring to the volume of emails that come across his desk-- but I noticed very little detail in his responses. Maybe he knew nothing, but I sense he feels some guilt for his lack of assertiveness in the situation. I may sound like a Monday morning quarterback, we all like to think we would have done better.
But, all in all, Penn State came off very poorly in this situation. I think these characters are very committed to protecting their jobs-- and Joe Paterno stayed too long. Should Joe have left by 1998-- when it sounds like the shit started to hit the wall? Yes, he should have. Would Sandusky have committed these crimes regardless of Joe's situation-- possibly-- but Joe made things worse by casting his huge shadow over the Happy Valley football program. A guy with too much power can create problems. And remember Mack Brown would have continued if it was his choice. So Mack's lack of judgment is reminiscent of Joe's hubris. Thanks for sharing this interview.
John
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
Baseball in the Fifties
Baseball is not an improvisational game. The players' actions are guided along well-defined boundaries. You cannot hit the ball until the pitcher delivers it you. You have to run within the baselines and you go from first base to second base to third and home plate. No other options exist. Basketball and football are different. Basketball involves improvisation every time down the court. Football games, dense with planned and scripted plays, have constant adjustments as the offensive plan encounters an unpredictable defense. Think Johnny Manziel being chased out of the pocket and looking downfield for new opportunities or deciding to run if that's the best choice. Baseball gives you no similar freedom.
Ted Williams, considered by many to be the best hitter of all-time, fit well into the careful science of the game of baseball. He studied hitting in all of its intricacy and programmed his body to function as a refined baseball hitting machine. Watching Ken Burns' extensive study of baseball last night, I got a kick out of Mickey Mantle's comment on his conversation with Ted Williams in an All-Star game clubhouse and the results of Ted explaining all the things Mantle could do to improve his swing. Mantle said "I went 0 for 30 after the All-Star game." Apparently, Mantle approached hitting in a more instinctive way, less formulaic way. Mantle's swing was compact, a killing machine of twitch muscle and violent beauty. Williams's swing had more poetry maybe, a loose-gaited stroke, with great extension and rhythm. Williams discussed his last bat in the Ken Burns video, a home run at the end of the 1960 season, and revealed his ability to create in the moment. Jack Fisher, the Baltimore Orioles pitcher had put a fastball past him. Williams surmised Fisher figured he could put another fastball past the 42 year old batter. Williams waited on the fastball and blasted it into the Red Sox bullpen. The other stories related to Wiliams' last at bat, 1) the small crowd of 10,000 fans on hand that day or 2) the slugger's stubborn refusal to tip his hat for the standing ovation, pale in comparison to William's ability to stay focused and relaxed enough to engineer a great at-bat on his very last chance at the plate. Even the scientific hitter has to respond to the reality of the moment.
Two other episodes portrayed in the Fifties chapter of Burns' baseball masterpiece had much to offer about individual performance and the ability of a single play and a single player to determine the fate of an entire franchise. Willie Mays playing for the then New York Giants made the great over-the-shoulder catch against Vic Wertz, Cleveland Indians, in Game Two of the 1954 World Series and the Giants swept the series. Maybe the catch convinced Cleveland the series was over. Apparently Willie had the habit, probably unconscious, of thumping his glove as he pursued a fly ball whenever he anticipated making the catch.The Burns' video shows Willie thumping his glove on the way to making possibly the greatest catch in history. Catching an outfield fly ball while running full speed may be the closest thing baseball gets to an improvisational moment. The outfielder must move his body with balletic skill to get his body moving with sufficient speed and grace to make the play-- much like a basketball player driving to the basket around, over and through the opposing players.
The other most impressive play from the Fifties though had to be the Sandy Amoros catch, the gem that propelled the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers to a World Series victory and a world championship over the New York Yankees, their nemesis. Amoros raced towards the left field foul line to chase down a line shot hit by Yoga Berra, a sure double that would have spoiled Johnny Podres' shutout and probably turned the tide against the Dodgers. Sandy's long, brilliant run to make the catch elevated the Brooklyn team into believers and got the Yankee curse off their backs. Sandy moved with an improvisational beauty on the play, creating an opportunity where none seemed to exist. He helped the franchise with that catch as much as the other more famous Dodgers-- Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, Gil Hodges and others. Maybe without that catch you don't get the championships claimed by Los Angeles in the decades to follow. I believe a single play can alter the entire trajectory of an organization-- and the lack of a defining play can hinder the less fortunate franchise.
There was significantly more footage of Willie Mays than a player like Sandy Amoros. Mays' movements down the base paths had the quality of young colt, a freedom of movement even within the great restrictions of the prescribed boundaries. Much has been said about Mays' joy for the game and Burns' video emphasizes Willie Mays' preternatural understanding of the entire field of play. Maybe this awareness freed him to move with greater confidence, comfort and relaxation.
Ted Williams, considered by many to be the best hitter of all-time, fit well into the careful science of the game of baseball. He studied hitting in all of its intricacy and programmed his body to function as a refined baseball hitting machine. Watching Ken Burns' extensive study of baseball last night, I got a kick out of Mickey Mantle's comment on his conversation with Ted Williams in an All-Star game clubhouse and the results of Ted explaining all the things Mantle could do to improve his swing. Mantle said "I went 0 for 30 after the All-Star game." Apparently, Mantle approached hitting in a more instinctive way, less formulaic way. Mantle's swing was compact, a killing machine of twitch muscle and violent beauty. Williams's swing had more poetry maybe, a loose-gaited stroke, with great extension and rhythm. Williams discussed his last bat in the Ken Burns video, a home run at the end of the 1960 season, and revealed his ability to create in the moment. Jack Fisher, the Baltimore Orioles pitcher had put a fastball past him. Williams surmised Fisher figured he could put another fastball past the 42 year old batter. Williams waited on the fastball and blasted it into the Red Sox bullpen. The other stories related to Wiliams' last at bat, 1) the small crowd of 10,000 fans on hand that day or 2) the slugger's stubborn refusal to tip his hat for the standing ovation, pale in comparison to William's ability to stay focused and relaxed enough to engineer a great at-bat on his very last chance at the plate. Even the scientific hitter has to respond to the reality of the moment.
Two other episodes portrayed in the Fifties chapter of Burns' baseball masterpiece had much to offer about individual performance and the ability of a single play and a single player to determine the fate of an entire franchise. Willie Mays playing for the then New York Giants made the great over-the-shoulder catch against Vic Wertz, Cleveland Indians, in Game Two of the 1954 World Series and the Giants swept the series. Maybe the catch convinced Cleveland the series was over. Apparently Willie had the habit, probably unconscious, of thumping his glove as he pursued a fly ball whenever he anticipated making the catch.The Burns' video shows Willie thumping his glove on the way to making possibly the greatest catch in history. Catching an outfield fly ball while running full speed may be the closest thing baseball gets to an improvisational moment. The outfielder must move his body with balletic skill to get his body moving with sufficient speed and grace to make the play-- much like a basketball player driving to the basket around, over and through the opposing players.
The other most impressive play from the Fifties though had to be the Sandy Amoros catch, the gem that propelled the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers to a World Series victory and a world championship over the New York Yankees, their nemesis. Amoros raced towards the left field foul line to chase down a line shot hit by Yoga Berra, a sure double that would have spoiled Johnny Podres' shutout and probably turned the tide against the Dodgers. Sandy's long, brilliant run to make the catch elevated the Brooklyn team into believers and got the Yankee curse off their backs. Sandy moved with an improvisational beauty on the play, creating an opportunity where none seemed to exist. He helped the franchise with that catch as much as the other more famous Dodgers-- Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, Gil Hodges and others. Maybe without that catch you don't get the championships claimed by Los Angeles in the decades to follow. I believe a single play can alter the entire trajectory of an organization-- and the lack of a defining play can hinder the less fortunate franchise.
There was significantly more footage of Willie Mays than a player like Sandy Amoros. Mays' movements down the base paths had the quality of young colt, a freedom of movement even within the great restrictions of the prescribed boundaries. Much has been said about Mays' joy for the game and Burns' video emphasizes Willie Mays' preternatural understanding of the entire field of play. Maybe this awareness freed him to move with greater confidence, comfort and relaxation.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Mack Brown-- a Tale of Two Eras
Mack Brown's first era lasted from 1998-2009.
Mack Brown brought Texas to the Promised Land-- under the winged feet of Vince Young in 2005. Confetti fell down from the rafters as Vince spread his arms wide in the cool air of a southern California night. Texas football had been brought back, revived from the post-Darrell Royal malaise-- and Mack Brown was the master at the control switch.
Mack Brown always had the gift for recruitment. He convinced Ricky Williams to stay for a senior season. Ricky won the Heisman in 1998 made Mack a winner in that very first season.
Mack recruited Vince Young. Mack always seemed uncomfortable on the sidelines but Vince reassured him that night-- never doubting even as the minutes ebbed away with Texas falling behind the mighty USC Trojans. Vince had done it before on many occasions and he did it again, brought Texas a last second victory, with the whole world watching. Texas had won its first national championship since 1970!
And after Vince, came Colt McCoy. Colt was like a young horse loosened from a small town football atmosphere and born ready for the big spotlight in Austin. Colt beat out Jevan Snead for the starting QB position. Over four years he averaged more than 10 victories per season. Something happened after Colt. The tide turned. Well the Tide, the Alabama Tide that is, knocked Colt out of the 2009 national championship football game and turned the tide of Texas football. Garrett Gilbert, a much heralded true freshman, came it as Colt's replacement and so began the long slide that brings us to the present moment-- the end of the Mack Brown Second Era.
The second era of Mack Brown goes from 2010-2013. Gilbert was no Vince Young, not another Colt McCoy. The mojo of Texas football disappeared with alarming rapidity. Was it anybody's fault? Maybe Mack Brown's fault? Had the game passed him by? Did he lack the talent for picking quarterbacks-- missing out at a time when RGIII and Johnny Manziel were graduating from Texas high schools? Maybe landing great quarterbacks includes an element of luck. Mack won twice, with Vince and Colt. He was due for a setback, according to the laws of the football gods. Mack never did anything grievous like Mike Shanahan, the Redskins coach, gambling a young RGIII's career by playing him injured in his very first year.
So give Mack Brown a measure of credit. He's a class act when the classiest act means looking out for the welfare of your players. But his second era has been a kind of slow torture for Texas fans. Very little to get excited about-- and football fandom is all about getting excited. The football fan has no match when it comes to visceral devotion to an object of adoration, the team... with the possible exception of the stock market maven and his love of hurtling numbers-- the tumble of digits when stocks go up and down. But an adrenaline driven audience has no tolerance for long, drawn out suffering. Adrenaline wants to fight or flight. If the fight results in victory, you keep the coach. If the fight results in defeat, it's time for the coach to fly. Very little room for grey in the black and white world of the win/loss column. Mack's second era showed too many losses. And the show must go on.
Mack Brown brought Texas to the Promised Land-- under the winged feet of Vince Young in 2005. Confetti fell down from the rafters as Vince spread his arms wide in the cool air of a southern California night. Texas football had been brought back, revived from the post-Darrell Royal malaise-- and Mack Brown was the master at the control switch.
Mack Brown always had the gift for recruitment. He convinced Ricky Williams to stay for a senior season. Ricky won the Heisman in 1998 made Mack a winner in that very first season.
Mack recruited Vince Young. Mack always seemed uncomfortable on the sidelines but Vince reassured him that night-- never doubting even as the minutes ebbed away with Texas falling behind the mighty USC Trojans. Vince had done it before on many occasions and he did it again, brought Texas a last second victory, with the whole world watching. Texas had won its first national championship since 1970!
And after Vince, came Colt McCoy. Colt was like a young horse loosened from a small town football atmosphere and born ready for the big spotlight in Austin. Colt beat out Jevan Snead for the starting QB position. Over four years he averaged more than 10 victories per season. Something happened after Colt. The tide turned. Well the Tide, the Alabama Tide that is, knocked Colt out of the 2009 national championship football game and turned the tide of Texas football. Garrett Gilbert, a much heralded true freshman, came it as Colt's replacement and so began the long slide that brings us to the present moment-- the end of the Mack Brown Second Era.
The second era of Mack Brown goes from 2010-2013. Gilbert was no Vince Young, not another Colt McCoy. The mojo of Texas football disappeared with alarming rapidity. Was it anybody's fault? Maybe Mack Brown's fault? Had the game passed him by? Did he lack the talent for picking quarterbacks-- missing out at a time when RGIII and Johnny Manziel were graduating from Texas high schools? Maybe landing great quarterbacks includes an element of luck. Mack won twice, with Vince and Colt. He was due for a setback, according to the laws of the football gods. Mack never did anything grievous like Mike Shanahan, the Redskins coach, gambling a young RGIII's career by playing him injured in his very first year.
So give Mack Brown a measure of credit. He's a class act when the classiest act means looking out for the welfare of your players. But his second era has been a kind of slow torture for Texas fans. Very little to get excited about-- and football fandom is all about getting excited. The football fan has no match when it comes to visceral devotion to an object of adoration, the team... with the possible exception of the stock market maven and his love of hurtling numbers-- the tumble of digits when stocks go up and down. But an adrenaline driven audience has no tolerance for long, drawn out suffering. Adrenaline wants to fight or flight. If the fight results in victory, you keep the coach. If the fight results in defeat, it's time for the coach to fly. Very little room for grey in the black and white world of the win/loss column. Mack's second era showed too many losses. And the show must go on.
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