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I’ve long been a proponent of paying college athletes for their services. Hell, it’s the one thing I agree with Rand Paul on. This archaic notion that “they’re getting their education for free and that’s enough” is simply myopic, and dare I say toxic. Often those making the argument are simply jealous they were not afforded the opportunity to go to college, and are resentful that many of these athletes at the start. Why else would someone write “The players should be grateful for this type of publicity the players received by the NCAA and not ask for cash.”

But that publicity is worth real world value, it has a price tag. Why should student athletes not capitalize on the “publicity” they are providing for the university and the athletic programs? Why should the institution be the only beneficiary of said publicity? I’ve written about these issues before; check out “It’s in the Game” from February this year.

This may finally be changing. Thus “name, image, likeness” (NIL) deals are the new business of college sports with news out today that the tide is turning. Alabama’s Nick Saban revealed that his new starting QB Bryce Young is already approaching a million dollars in signed endorsement deals. Beyond the staggering life-changing number number is what this represents is the momentous shift this. For decades, the NCAA has made billions off the backs of their athletes, isn’t about time these students get a recognizable cut of the money pie many of these universities have been feasting upon?

Young isn’t the only one making big money deals. Rival Auburn QB Bo Nix signed a sweet deal with tea drink maker Milos Tea. Arkansas wideout Trey Knox and his dog signed with PetSmart. HBCU star Hercy Miller signed with his dad Master P’s No Limit label for $2 million. Likely the most successful of the bunch, are Fresno State’s Cavinder twins parlaying their three million TikTok followers into real world cash.

The future for the deals seems to be bright.

That is not to say that I do not have concerns. Along with any endorsement deal is a complex contract filled with requirements and benchmarks the signee must meet in order to uphold the contract. What if Young or Nix gets injured? Do they still get paid? What if Knox gets benched after a few poor games? Is he still cashing those PetSmart checks? God forbid, what if one of these athletes gets arrested or cited for drunk driving? What does that mean for other athletes’ ability to earn money from NILs in the future?

There is sure to be a settling period, as company’s start to rationalize the money they’re doling out for some of these names. While it seems as if there’s no ceiling right now, you have to imagine that more staid numbers will shake out. Not every college quarterback is going to make Bo Nix money, nor would we expect the the starting wide receiver for Montana State to pull in six-figures to endorse his local Waffle House.

But what does this mean for the non-revenue sports? Are the ladies on the field hockey team afforded the same opportunity? How about the men and women on crew? The train just as diligently and far more physically taxing sport than anyone on the baseball team. Are they just left out in the cold?

And my biggest concern is the role of the institution in this new economy. We can assume Alabama has an inherent advantage based on name association alone, Saban noted this talking about the Crimson Tide’s “brand” during the SEC Media Day. But what about my alma mater Ball State? Because they’re a mid-major in the MAC with far less name recognition, do their athletes fall even further behind now that there’s yet another differentiator between them and the athletes at U of A?

Does Alabama use this in recruiting? “Come to Tuscaloosa. We have NIL deals waiting for you. Look at Young. Dude hasn’t even started a game and he’s already worth a cool milly.” Sorry, but that does raise questions and concerns from me.

I’m not saying don’t show them money. Please do. But let’s not do so without caution and introspection.

The 2020/2021 Tokyo Olympics began last week, and here we are nearly four days in, and I have spent a single second thinking about them. Oh sure, I have seen the scores and the occasional medal update, but in terms of interest, these games have fallen flatter for me than a fat uncle’s belly flop in the backyard pool.

It’s not as if there isn’t plenty going on, the Olympics are a constant buzz of activities. But in the malaise of the pandemic, I’m just not that interested in it. 

Maybe it’s because these Olympics were delayed. The decision was difficult, but simply had to be made. There was no way to run the games safely in the midst of the pandemic in 2020 when thousands were dying on a daily basis around the globe. One year later, any anticipation for those games seem to have worn off.

Maybe it’s because the Japanese public never really supported the games? Public opinion prior to the games was tepid at best, to which the IOC largely shrugged off. Now that the games are in full swing, the attitude towards them has definitely soured as any positive coverage has been limited, and the economic boon promised by the IOC to possible hosts has largely gone unrealized. The Japanese are nothing if not practical and decidedly austere. Self-promotion and rah-rah enthusiasm are not traditional Japanese values.

Maybe it’s because we’re still in the pandemic, despite some folks here in the States acting like COVID doesn’t exist as they run pell mell towards normalcy, whether it actually returns or not. But it’s hard to separate these Olympics from the times we live in. In fact, a number of people associated with the Games have already come up sick, belying the concerns in the run-up to games regarding the safety of the the participating athletes, the tourists coming to Games, and the Japanese public at large.

I had planned on possibly returning to Japan this summer, but the travel restrictions on entering the country eliminated that possibility. Limiting tourism during the games was absolutely the correct move, but in taking away the spectators from the stands, have the Games also taken away a reason to tune in? Seeing the flags, costumes and pageantry of the crowds, the family members of athletes going crazy, or whatever this craziness of the opening of the 2008 Beijijng Games was provides incentive to watch. You want to be a part of this. 

But a pandemic games? Not so much.

I’m not the only social scientist who’s noticed by the way. I’d suggest about 8-10 months from now, you’ll see more than a few academic articles concerning this very issue.

It’s not often that the media coverage preceding a sporting event outstrips the media of the sporting event itself, but here we are.

By now nearly everyone in the sports world is aware of the incendiary comments in leaked audio made by ESPN reporter Rachel Nichols about fellow reporter Maria Taylor earning her position as host of the networks 2020 NBA Finals coverage as ESPN was “feeling pressure” to promote diversity. 

Nichols is white. Taylor is Black.

Late Tuesday afternoon, it was announced that Nichols had been removed from her job as the ESPN lead sideline reporter during the 2021 NBA Finals between the Milwaukee Bucks and the Phoenix Suns as the firestorm surrounding ESPN’s handling of the situation exploded onto the pages of The New York Times, with the paper of record chronicling the network’s disastrous history of relations with its numerous Black employees and on-air talent.

But I loathe to give any attention to Nichols complaints of tokenism or write a missive about ESPN’s racism or disgusting practices. Instead I would rather focus on two aspects of this story that have especially irked me.

According to the Times exposé, “Nichols said she reached out to Taylor to apologize through texts and phone calls. “Maria has chosen not to respond to these offers, which is completely fair and a decision I respect,” Nichols said.” 

How infuriating.

Even as the transgressor of a hideous comment, in an act of ultimate Karenhood, Nichols places the onus of forgiveness upon the aggrieved Black woman she blatantly slandered with her words. It’s not enough that Taylor has work hard for what she’s accomplished, nay, as a Black woman she has had to work even harder o attain the success she’s due; she now, according to Nichols, has to make a decision to offer this privileged white woman forgiveness, as if Taylor has to provide her attacker clemency? If she refuses, which she damn well should, Nichols has provided the narrative that it’s on her (Taylor). Nothing says victimhood like committing a sinful act and blaming those you’ve wronged if they chose not to forgive you. 

The blatant audacity.

Worse, Taylor, who has used her prestige as a rising star within the company has done nothing but give back to her fellow Black female reporters. After being named the host of the network’s flagship show concerning the NBA, NBA Countdown. Taylor gave Malika Andrews a bigger platform on the show, one that has seen Andrews thrive in her new spotlight. She pressured her bosses for LaChina Robinson as an analyst, leading to ESPN to promote her.

In addition, Taylor has “become increasingly comfortable with expressing her views within the company” per the Times story this weekend. She spoke out publicly as ESPN failed to have a single Black female voice on the network’s game coverage of the NCAA women’s Final Four. She spoke out about George Floyd, social justice, and the Black Lives Matter movement. 

She is doing exactly what the conservative white power structure asks BIPOC individuals to do: lift yourselves up by your bootstraps. Work within the system, champion each other. “Don’t depend on us to make in-roads for you, that’s on you.”

Oh, but don’t do too much.

Don’t ruffle too many feathers.

Shut and dribble.

It’s damned if you do, damned if you don’t. And that’s point. Within the white power structure and it’s unholy alliance with white supremacy and systemic racism, BIPOC people are expected go do all the work in lifting the community and campaign for the unseen and unheard voices themselves, just don’t step on anyone’s toes. 

That’s what led ultimately to this latest brouhaha. Taylor started swinging a bigger stick, pressing ESPN for a more inclusive show, which in turn led to pushback and “instigated an internal tug of war” (Draper, 2021), and will likely lead to Taylor leaving the network in three weeks when her contract is up.

And while I should note, that this shit is exhausting, we must keep a well-worn axiom in the forefront of our minds in the fight for racial equality. 

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Every so often an athlete connects so viscerally with the public they virtually supersede their own talent, rising above their inequities in the sport to so grab hold of the public conscious they are in held in regard far above their station. 

Think of the Cult of Tebow a decade ago. Though an otherworldly star as a Florida Gator, as a talent, Tebow was mediocre at best on the professional level despite his prodigious athleticism. But as a pro-style quarterback, he was remarkably poor at even the most basic of fundamentals. He couldn’t pass, the game moved to fast for him to read defenses, and by some accounts, he provided little effort to tamp down Tebowmania to the detriment of his team, despite his aww shucks demeanor in his public persona. Buying into your own hype is often a precursor to a hard fall from grace.

But still, the Cult of Tebow still has its devotees; witness him be given opportunities unlikely to be given to a one -hit wonder of middling talent and one playoff win. Somehow Tebow has a job and Kaepernick doesn’t. Even if he fails spectacularly in Jacksonville playing for his old coach in switching to the tight end position, it’s highly unlikely he’ll receive any criticism from his fans. It’ll be blamed on the position change, his time away from the game, his age — any number from a myriad of ready-made excuses, but none regarding the fact that he’s just not very good. I’m sure there’s some interesting scholarship using cognitive dissonance theory to explain this blind devotion, but that’s a research study for another day. 

I would argue that we are in the midst of just such a disconnect between talent and value with Nate “The American Ninja” Diaz, a fighter so beloved and so captivating to MMA fans that think he actually won his UFC 263 fight with a single punch despite being clearly dominated for the bulk of the bout.

https://twitter.com/espn/status/1403921246333571074

Edwards himself noted that he was “lazy” and “complacent” in the last round thinking that his performance of the first four rounds was enough to secure the victory. It was, but he was still caught by surprise when Diaz followed up a slap to the side of Edward’s head with a heat-seeking straight jab that caught him reeling.

As Edwards stumbled around the octagon like a new born antelope on the Serengeti, Diaz showboated to the delight of the crowd, pointing and laughing at the wobbly Edwards. Unlike the predators who would devour the helpless fawn in its disorientation, Diaz couldn’t help but taunt Edwards as he stumbled about, eventually throwing a flurry of shots, but failing to capitalize and put the welterweight contender away.

After the fight and learning of the losing decision, Diaz remained unfazed to the cheers of those in attendance and no doubt to the millions of fight fans tuned into ESPN+ for the fight by inviting everyone watching to a party at his house. He just lost a fight that would most likely put him in line for a shot at the welterweight title versus Kamaru Usman and he’s inviting everyone to his crib for booze and weed?

Can you imagine Tom Brady celebrating with Gisele and all his celebrity friends after losing a Super Bowl? Or Tiger Woods hosting a kegger after losing the Masters by two stokes on the 18th?

What’s fascinating to me academically is the passionate devotion of his fanbase. Diaz is a fantastic fighter, don’t get me wrong, but his career has been in large part underwhelming. His career record is 20-13. He’s never been the dominant fighter in his weight class. Yes, he’s had a number of signature wins, but the three title fights he’s had a lightweight, he’s lost, and lost badly. Remember what Benson Henderson did to him in 2012? 

But what he has accomplished is that connection with the fans. Diaz calls it the realness, and certainly fans identify with him and his brash tell it like it is persona. I don’t know if it’s his initial exposure as the season five winner of The Ultimate Fighter or just that America loves his kill or be killed attitude, but the love him just the same. 

What is certain is that he is a box office draw and that shows no likelihood of waning anytime soon. He’s certainly paid like it. If anything the Edwards fight only served to burgeon his popularity and I can only imagine what a Nate-Conor III match would do in terms of a pay-per-view buy-rate.

The American Ninja is not disappearing from the conscience of the MMA world in the foreseeable future.

I make no apologies as a fan of my particular teams, despite my ability to separate myself as an academic with my subject of inquiry. But even for a quantitative researcher such as myself, it is sometimes difficult to separate my fandom from my analysis.

Which leads me to Wednesday’s announcement of Indianapolis Colts quarterback Phillip Rivers’ retirement.

I was not one of the skeptical fans and media pundits who wondered aloud if Rivers had much left in the tank. There were some who questioned if the Colts made a “risky move” in going after Old Man Rivers instead of a younger more athletic Cam Newton, who ended up in New England. Rivers only signed a one-year deal at a rather reasonable rate, and considering the struggles of the team under Jacoby Brissett after the “stunning” retirement of Andrew Luck, the move made financial sense and would clearly be an improvement at the position.

And while no one was fooling themselves thinking the Rivers signing was anything other than a temporary stopgap delaying the inevitable, any improvement upon Brissett’s numbers would have been a boon to the 2020-2021 season’s prospects. 

Which is exactly what Rivers brought to the Colts. Yes, he had an immediate impact on the offense, throwing for 4,169 yards, 24 touchdowns and 11 interceptions completing 68% of his passes. Yes, he got better as the season went along, leading the Horseshoe to an 11-5 record and nearly winning the division. 

But in my observation, he made the team better beyond his term, something not a lot of aging quarterbacks are apt to do with a new team after a lengthy run with their original team. Psst… I’m looking at you Brett Favre with MInnesota and Donovan McNabb with Washington.

Instead, Rivers has set the Colts on a solid path moving forward. Sure, they will miss his offensive production, but greatly improved a deficit receiving corps by bringing along wideouts such as Michael Pittman, Jr. and Zach Pascal, both of whom look like future stars at the position. He helped improve a running game that suffered with the loss of starting RB Marlon Mack, but rebounded quickly with possible offensive rookie of the year Jonathan Taylor and a burgeoning Nyheim Hines. This team will continue to be an improving offensive power even without Rivers behind center.

But what I found most disappointing was the lack of fanfare for River’s announcement. Oddly timed with Inauguration Day, it seems as if Uncle Phil attempted to avoid the fanfare of the announcement, though he’s never been one to toot his own horn. While a prolific trash-talker (sans curse words, natch), you never heard Rivers tout himself as an all-time great, never heard him complain about a lack of respect or renown, and never attempted to be the center of attention at the expense of teammates. By all measures, he was a lockerroom leader and genuine good guy and teammate.

Philip Rivers is a sure-fire Hall of Famer, and I for one will miss his presence in the game.

Can we take note of how amazing it is that the UFC Fight Island 7 on was broadcast on network TV this weekend? The combat sports league returned to Abu Dhabi for yet another stellar event in the carefully managed environment of the Flash Forum on Yas Island.

Despite some early missteps (one writer calling the UFC reckless) in a return to action from the initial mass cancelations and season suspensions, the UFC has found a virtual gold mine in producing shows in United Arab Emirates. The isolated nature of the venue has allowed many of the international fighters to bypass travel restrictions, create a virtual bubble to maintain a rigorous testing program (again, criticized) and isolate fighters from COVID-19 infections, all in an effort to maintain some semblance of normalcy within the sports world. 

Of course making millions of dollars in live events despite not having anything the way of paid attendance doesn’t hurt. In fact, the creation of the endeavor even provided the UFC with a backslapping “gee, aren’t we great” mini-docuseries for ESPN+ 

Despite the legitimate criticisms of the UFC and Trump acolyte Dana White, the cards for the Fight Island shows have been nothing short of spectacular. Rafael Fiziev pulling out video game moves against Mark Diakiese. Cory Sandhagen nearly decapitating Marlon Moraes with a spinning heel kick. Guram Kutateladze and Mateusz Gamrot in an absolute barnburner.

But with this weekend’s action appearing in an afternoon slot on ABC in a first-ever broadcast on the alphabet network, the UFC did something I never imagined they would. If you had told me back in 1994 after UFC III (my first UFC ppv), or even a decade later in 2004 that the UFC would be on ABC’s Saturday afternoon sports broadcast, I would have laughed you out of the building. There was no way that MMA would rise to level of mainstream sports like college basketball or Major League Baseball and find a home on network television. 

Most kids under the age of 25 would never imagine what a pariah the sport once was. Most states wouldn’t even allow events to be held nor promoted within their borders.The growth of the sport, all of MMA really, not just the UFC, has been nothing short of incredible. In just two decades, it’s gone from John McCain’s “human cockfighting” to something beyond the definition of “reaching the mainstream.”

Not only has it reached network television on Disney’s dime, but the main event of Fight Island 7 was one of the most vicious beatdowns I have seen in my nearly 30 years of watching UFC. Holloway brutalized Kattar, epitomizing the beautiful violence of MMA, all while showing Kattar’s heart of lion and inhuman toughness. It was simply incredible.

For the squeamish, this was not the fight to see as Holloway systematically eviscerated Kattar with surgical precision, and yet, Kattar stayed on his feet again and again, despite the constant onslaught of significant strikes. In fact, Holloway smashed over a half dozen records including landing 445 strikes, of which 274 were to the head, and an unbelievable 746 total strikes attempted destroying the previous record of 541.

That this main event was the UFC’s debut on ABC makes this achievement all the more spectacular. It’s like watching Chinatown as your first introduction to the Jack Nicholson oeuvre. We got caviar expecting peanut butter and jelly; what an experience for an audience possibly unfamiliar with product.

As an admitted cage fight junkie, I certainly hope this is not the last.

Much the Doc On Sports blog over the past few months have been at the very least peripherally about life in the pandemic. In fact, nine blogs have been tagged with pandemic and with five with COVID-19 since February 17. This unwelcome and unsettling version of the new normal is seemingly being thrust upon us whether we’re ready for it or not. 

There are loads of us who are simply in disagreement about what a new standard of life in the time of COVID should be, and the world of sports is no different. How does our relationship with sports change in this new reality? What does it means for sports as a diversion from normal life, when it is swallowed by the pressures and realities of of the pandemic. Is is the same distraction it was or is it something else entirely?

That new reality has already come to K-League soccer as the league has returned to regular action. The first game of the new season, postponed from a February start date, saw Jeonbuk Motors defeat the Suwon Bluewings 1-0 in Jeonju, about an hour’s train ride southwest of Seoul.

The K-League is widely recognized as the top football league in Asia, so its return to action is a pretty big deal. The first game was streamed on YouTube and no fans were in attendance. The league feels comfortable returning to play since all 22 teams were tested for COVID-19 with zero positive results. Every player, coach, and official was had their temperature checked before stepping on the pitch, and the K-League is taking a very proactive approach to continuing play.

For example, there was no pre-match handshake, which of course makes perfect sense. Coaches and players who weren’t on the pitch playing were required to wear face masks. They were even advised against blowing their noses (!) during the game.

With no fans in attendance, recordings of chanting fans and cheering crowds were broadcast over the PA system. (What would Tom Brady think?) There were no hecklers, no high fives, and no raise-the-roofs. I can’t imagine how weird and deafening that silence would be, with no crowd to motivate, positively or negatively, would the game feel like a real game or would it just feel like a scrimmage? Sure, the fact that a score is kept, and the league sanctions it as such is important, but I wonder subconsciously if the player effort is the same. Would you try as hard, or be as competitive, without a rabid fanbase cheering your every move, even simulated ones? 

But what I found more interesting, and what I think is ultimately more prescient for the restart of American sports leagues, (if we get to that) was the rules against spitting and talking. Players were told not to talk and all conversations between players and officials were highly restricted. I can understand how you’d want to limit players unnecessarily haggling with referees, we know how heated these exchanges can be in football as players argue calls vociferously. Why else was the card system instituted, am I right? 

Certainly this would be a novel and rather interesting way to dampen these kinds of interactions, and perhaps lower the temperature. So much so that I wonder how this would work on the court or on the ice. Could this finally be the way to shut Chris Paul up? 

We can only hope.

On Monday, the NFL lost one the greatest coaches of all time in Don Shula at age 90. Best known as the winningest coach in NFL history, Shula was the long time coach of the Miami Dolphins, and led his teams to multiple Super Bowls, winning two back-to-back in 1972 and 1973. His ’72 team remains the lone undefeated champion in the history of the game. He won an NFL Championship with the Baltimore Colts in 1968, and reached Super Bowl III with the Colts and three others with the Dolphins, Super Bowls VI, XVII, and XIX.

I’ve seen Shula’s bust in Canton, and it’s easy to list his accomplishments as I just did. The man took six teams to the Super Bowl, including a stretch of three straight seasons in the early seventies. His 328 wins look insurmountable, but most likely only be surpassed by Bill Belichick (303) in a few years. If there were a Mount Rushmore of NFL coaches, his blocky visage would be there alongside Paul Brown, Bill Walsh, and Belichick, (yeah, I know I left off Lombardi and Landry.). 

But for me, what I find most remarkable about Shula is not the amount of games he won, though staggering, but how he won games with the talent he had. Certain coaches throughout history are well regarded for winning with less superior talent, getting the most out of the teams they had. Guys like Pete Carroll and Tom Coughlin come to mind, though admittedly, their approaches are as different as night and day.

Shula’s Dolphins in the ’70s were a run-first grind it out offense, the classic three yards and a cloud of dust. Names like Larry Csonka and Jim Kiick mowed D-linemen and linebackers down with violent aplomb, while quicksilver Mercury Morris ran around them elusively. This was no-nonsense football, with very little frills and not a lot of thrills, but it was winning football, and win they did — a lot.

But in 1983, a curly haired moptop from Pittsburgh fell remarkably into the Dolphins lap with the 27th pick in draft. Dan Marino wasn’t Shula’s first All-Pro HOF QB, in fact, five different quarterbacks took Shula’s Dolphins to the Super Bowl, but Marino was certainly the cream of the crop. With Dan the Man at the helm, the Dolphins went from a slug-it-out run-first football team, to the finesse, up-and-down the field, slinging the ball around the yard, up-tempo offense that revolutionized the ’80s. I saw it first hand years later as a Colts season ticket holder in 1999. In the midst of a QB Renaissance, with guys like Fouts, Montana, and Elway piling up numbers in the passing game, Shula’s teams were consistently among the best in that regard.

Shula was able to completely change his approach based on the talent he had on his team. He adapted to the roster, not the other way around. Plenty of coaches today are incapable of this flexibility, i.e. Jason Garrett and Jon Gruden, even generally highly regarded coaches like Mike Ditka and Steve Spurrier struggled with adapting their schemes to the talent they had. 

That Shula did, and did it multiple times in multiple eras, is a testament to his skill as a coach. It takes a great leader to change his style to fit those toolkit of those around him. Shula did that, and his approach should be the model for young coaches in the NFL today. 

A few look like they have paid attention; Sean McVeigh, Matt LeFleur, and Brian Flores have already shown a willingness to moderate their style and strategy. Only time will tell if they and the longevity and the success of Shula.

One of my part-time jobs in college was as a waiter in high-end restaurant at harness racing track in Anderson, Indiana. I knew next to nothing about horse racing when I started, but after a few weekends working the harness races, I truly began to appreciate the sport beyond just horses running around a track as a bunch of drunks gambled their children’s college funds away.

That summer, I remember placing my first bet on the Kentucky Derby on a beautiful gray horse out of California, Free House, who paid $5.80 for Show. A month later I hit a boxed exacta with Silver Charm on top that paid $11.20. The endorphin rush of hitting a $10 bet on Free House was exhilarating. It wasn’t a great deal of money, but to a poor college kid, it was quite the kicker. Plus, I’m a sucker for gray horses.

About a decade later when I moved to Louisville, (And yes, I say the correct way, Luhlvul), I fell in love with horse racing all over again. I have a warm spot for Derby Day, and there’s just nothing quite like race day at Churchill Downs. The hats, the sounds, the infield(!), even those disgusting mint juleps, (seriously, they’re not meant for human consumption); all of it is just simply intoxicating.

So when it was announced that the Derby would be postponed this year as all good things are in the pandemic, I felt a pang of regret. One reason was that the event was pushed to — egads, September? It just didn’t sound right.

But then came the news that instead of the time honored Run for the Roses, there would be a virtual derby, yes, a 3D simulation; Baudrillard would be so proud. And while I enjoy the simulacra and computer generated worlds as much as the next guy, yeah, I didn’t get tickets to that sad depressing excuse for a salve of No-Derby Blues. The Virtual Derby promised a dozen Triple Crown winners duking it out for win, place, show, and yes, there were odds.

There’s just something about watching the representation of a real world event presented as if it were truly competitive or, you know, real, that I just can’t quite swallow, but this is where the pandemic has led us. How long before FOXSports starts carrying live game sessions of Madden football games once relegated to Twitch and Mixer on their Sunday afternoon broadcasts? Does anyone really want to hear Joe Buck call that game?

Alas, this is where we’re at. So desperate are we for the Kentucky Derby, that we’ll actually watch a digital version of Secretariat and Affirmed run around a pixelated track of bits of code and programming. Secretariat won the race in case you were wondering. This feels like a weird harbinger of things to come.

In that case, I can’t wait for the puck to drop this fall in the NHL2K broadcasts on NBC.

When the NBA shut down, along with the rest of the sports world, many questioned whether we’d actually see the NBA back in action. And while I still question whether such a return to play is possible, the NBA certainly seems to think so.

In fact, the NBA recently announced a plan to return to the court and finish the 2019-2020 season, stating that the Association has not considered cancelling the season, reiterating the suspension of play was simply that, a suspension. How that will happen, or what the league will look like in that return is unknown at this time.

What we are sure of is that the league is struggling financially. You may remember just a few years ago, as many as 14 franchises were said to have lost money, for the non-math majors among us, that’s nearly half the league. Granted the Lakers and the Celtics are rolling in dough, but much like Major League Baseball, it’s the small market teams that struggle to remain competitive as large market teams hoard cash and talent to remain more competitive, even in down years. The NFL for its part has used the salary cap in a much more efficient way to spread those labor costs and the broadcast money coming amongst these teams with traditionally smaller fanbases and therefore possible revenue sources, though small market teams like the Green Bay Packers have national fanbases. 

But the NBA has no such parity. There are no Bucks fans outside of Milwaukee, no Thunder fans outside OKC. If you do happen to be in Nashville and see someone rocking a Bucks jersey, dollars to donuts, it’s a Giannis fan, meaning a fan of the player, not the team. Silver, who spoke to reporters on a conference call following the NBA’s board of governors discussion last Friday, said the league hasn’t considered canceling the remainder of the year, as it looks to salvage some of its lost revenue due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Commissioner Adam Silver stated in a conference call, “Our revenue, in essence, has dropped to zero. That’s having a huge financial impact on the team business and the arena business.”

So it was rather big news just this week, the NBA announced they would be delaying opening team facilities in preparation of continuing the current season. Considering these economic pressures, it seems as if the NBA is taking a rather strong stance on valuing player safety, a refreshing change from what we have seen from other institutions and entities. They could simply ignore the experts and pretend everything is back to normal, I mean, they have bills to pay right?  Restaurants and bars are opening, why not the NBA? 

Do I selfishly hope NBA basketball returns sometime soon? Absolutely. Do I want that to happen at players’ expense? Absolutely not. If the NBA were to do so, I would be first in line with a quickly written blog criticizing them for doing so.

But if the owners are dedicated to returning to play without sacrificing games, that means the 2020-2021 regular season is most assuredly pushed back as well, leaving in doubt an 82-game season to follow, what with the Summer Olympics in Tokyo postponed to next summer as well.

Whatever the league does decide to do, let’s hope they keep player safety and health at the forefront, and if they don’t, we as fans and the media must make sure we hold them accountable.