A-Rod, Steroids, and The Eddy Curry Lineage

In the 2007 – 2008 NBA season, Eddy Curry epitomized my biggest fan dilemma, as he was my least favorite NBA big man and he was playing for my least favorite coach alongside my least favorite point guard on my most favorite NBA team. On any given play, I found myself rooting for Eddy Curry to miss a shot and then rooting for David Lee to hit Marbury with a stray elbow as he put back the resulting offensive board for a score. This added complication ruined the experience of watching the Knicks play, so much so that I briefly considered pretending I liked the Charlotte Bobcats. Things got so bad that I even tried to postulate that Walter “Dub R Dub N” Herrmann was the most exciting player in the NBA.

As many of you probably know, a few years ago the “Eddy Curry Line” was established by Matt Buser, a former Y! fantasy sports writer who currently runs busersports.com, as a measure of futility. The standard: a player must average more turnovers than assists, steals, and blocks combined. In order to qualify, a player must have appeared in at least half of his team's games and averaged at least 20 minutes of playing time.

As a direct result of being forced to watch the ’07 – ’08 Knicks play, I transmuted Buser's idea of the Eddy Curry Line so that it became a way for me to determine my amount of dislike for a given player. Among friends, I called it The Eddy Curry Lineage—I don't know why, it just felt natural, maybe because The Lineage was a descendant of The Line.  Anyway, when a player is under The Eddy Curry Lineage, I root against them even if they are on my favorite team. If Barry Bonds ever becomes a Yankee, for example, I would root against him. Barry Bonds is below The Eddy Curry Lineage.

I understand that the timing of this post isn’t perfect, given the recent events that Curry has gone through in his personal life, but my intent is not to slander Curry. I’m not sure that rooting against Curry was ever productive, but it certainly isn’t productive now, as so much has changed with the Knicks in the last year: Thomas is gone, Marbury is gone-ish, and Curry is injured, out of shape, and probably heartbroken.

But I was reminded of The Eddy Curry Lineage when the A-Rod / steroids story broke. Given my status as a Yankee fan, I've tried to keep A-Rod above The Eddy Curry Lineage. And I have, barely. I cheer for him, defend him, and generally tolerate him. To my mind, there is no denying that he is an incredible baseball player and saying otherwise is folly.  At the same time, my feelings for him have alternated between ambivalence and mild dislike. Perhaps what has saved him for me is that I find his complete inability to control how he is perceived to be uniquely interesting.

To help me deal with A-Rod being on my favorite team, I developed a theory about it. Essentially, I decided that A-Rod had “chancha,” which I defined as a strange sort of melancholy in which an incredibly successful person who has everything feels sad because he is terrified that at some point his amazing luck will run out and things will start to suck. I suggested that A-Rod had an inability to enjoy the good times of his life because he was constantly obsessing about where or when the guillotine of ills would drop. This affliction is a subtle emptiness and brings with it a self-centeredness mixed with insecurity that makes the afflicted pretty annoying to be around.

(I have no idea if any of this is true. These are just some of the mental hoops I jump through and rationalizations I make in order make rooting for the Yankees possible.)

So while the recent steroids news about A-Rod has certainly injected an element of uncertainty into my already fragile A-Rod fandom, the silver lining of it all is that perhaps A-Rod will finally be able to shake his self-absorbed chancha affliction—he no longer has to fear the worst because baseball-wise, steroids are pretty much as bad as it gets—and become someone to root for unreservedly.

Alex Rodriguez and Steroids

This story is only about 15 seconds old, but I'm dreading it no matter what direction it takes. Here is why: I'm a Yanks fan and have always found Alex to be a good ballplayer who is mildly annoying. And so it is going to be really annoying when every story about the Yanks for the next six months is going to have some sort of ARod Steriods angle to it. Think Brett Favre saga of last August only more negative.

Q: If you had to wear a sports jersey...

...which player's jersey would you choose?

A week ago, I set out to perform a scientific study: I noted every sports jersey I saw, as well as the race of the person wearing the jersey.

Hypothesis: The majority of sports fans who deign to wear a sports jersey select, subconsciously or not, a jersey of a player of their own race.

Here is the data:

9/2 Payton Manning worn by African-American male
9/3 Jeremy Shockey worn by African-American male
9/3 Donovan Jamal McNabb worn by Asian-American male
9/5 Kurt Warner worn by African-American male
9/7 Dominique Wilkins worn by African-American male
9/8 Michael Owen worn by Caucasian male
9/9 LeBron James worn by Caucasian male
9/9 Stephan Marbury worn by African-American male
9/9 Kobe Bryant worn by African-American female
9/9 Jose Reyes worn by Caucasian male
9/10 Alex Rodriguez worn by Caucasian male
9/10 Alex Rodriguez worn by Caucasian male
9/10 Alex Rodriguez worn by Caucasian male
9/10 "Rothman" Yankee jersey worn by Caucasian male

Result: Nine of thirteen jersey wearers, or 69%, chose to wear jerseys of players not of their own race. As the scientists like to say, it seems there is no correlation between athlete race and jersey wearer race. If I better understood the definition of correlated, I could tell you if athlete race being different than jersey wearer race is correlated.

Note: This is merely a preliminary report. I will continue to collect data throughout the football season.

Note: For the purpose of this study, Derek Jeter will be considered African-American, even though statistically speaking he is, at most, 50% African-American.

A: And to answer the question I pose in the title, I think I would wear a Jose Reyes jersey. Or maybe an old Rickey Henderson Yankee jersey. I can also see myself wearing an Igawa jersey. For football, I'd wear a Brandon Jacobs jersey (I hope his knee is okay) or an Eli jersey (I hope his shoulder is okay). For the record, I also like the 5'6" Darren Sproles, but I would not buy his jersey yet. (Is there a such thing as a Tiger Woods jersey? I feel myself strangely compelled to love him. I watched two hours of golf today just to see him win...I can't think of another athlete that I would give that amount of time to). Musa would wear a Barry Sanders jersey. And Anson would wear a Vince Young jersey.

A-Rod Has Chancha

There is a word in Spanish, la chancha, that has a secondary definition that doesn't have an equivalent in English. The word is street jargon and translates to roughly mean "impossible luck" or "greedy luck" or "lucky pig." The closest single-word English equivalent might be "moxie" or "clutch."

But none of the above definitions do chancha justice.

It also means the slightly more melancholic feeling that, "I am happy with my life because I am a lucky bastard, but if ever my luck takes a day off--nay, a minute off--I might suddenly find my life pursuits unsatifying." Chancha is, to some degree, seen as an affliction, something to guard against, as in "me gusta suerte pero no me gusta el vacio sutil de la chancha" (I like good luck but not the subtle emptiness of chancha).

Or, "no deseo ser A-Rod, porque el tiene la chancha" (I wouldn't want to be A-Rod, because he has la chancha.")

Here is an example to illustrate how it could be used:
Man #1: Goooooaaaaaal!!! (Goal.)
Man #2: Que suerte! (You were lucky to score on that play, punk.)
Man#1: Si, yo tengo suerte. (Yes, I have luck on my side.)
Man#2: No, tu tienes chancha. (No, you have chancha.)
Man #1: No! No es verdad! (No.)
Man #2: No te preocupes. La chancha es un sombrero. (No worries, mate. La chancha is a wide-brimmed hat.)

This last response by Man #2 (the sombrero one) is a common expression which is intended to indicate that la chancha can be taken off like a hat, which is an oblique reference to the fallibility of someone who has chancha; a person's luck can change quickly.

After a blizzard but before the plows come

I spent the last eight days on Vieques, a small island (21 miles long and 3 miles wide) off the coast of Puerto Rico. I was away from home long enough to forget which direction to turn my torso to reach the wall-mounted toilet paper roll of my home shitter.

Until recently, 60% of Vieques was owned by the U.S. military, which used it as testing grounds for bombs, missiles, and other weapons. When, in 1999, a Vieques native named David Sanes was killed by a bomb dropped by a military jet (it fell 1½ miles away from its designated target) during bombing exercises, the residents of Vieques suddenly had considerably more leverage in their battle to kick the U.S. military off the island. The Navy finally left Vieques in 2003 and the lands previously owned by the Navy were turned into an ecological preserve.

In a few years, I’m guessing that the 40% of the island that isn't ecologically preserved will experience the effects of land speculation, over-development, and resort-ism (if that be a word), but in its current state, the recently-opened-to-the-public beaches are beautiful and unpopulated. I found it oddly pleasing to be on pristine beaches without anyone else around; it was like skiing down the middle of a Manhattan street after a blizzard but before the plows come.

Of course Vieques does have its share of problems: unemployment is around the 50% mark. 70% of its inhabitants live below the poverty line. When you rent a car, you are instructed to leave the car empty, unlocked, the windows rolled down, and the glove compartment open to prevent smash-and-grab theft. These statistics are easy to forget when swimming in the Mosquito Bay at night, a bioluminescent bay whose water particles glow like millions of miniature fireflies anytime the water is disturbed. As you swim, you can pick out the neon-yellow glowing outline of darting fish and shrimp.

Apropos of nothing, my sister, who is working for the Foreign Service in Equatorial Guinea, has started taking a French class on the side. Here is an excerpt from one of her e-mails:

"Back in French class, too, and this time the teacher is excellent. The professor is Guinean, as is most of the class. We work off of photocopies of what I can guess is an Alliance Francaise book. Anyway, this past week we have been working on verbs and nouns having to do with food. When asked to name fruit the class came up with mango, papaya and banana. There were pictures of apples and pears in the workbook and most of the class didn't know what they were. The professor explained that they are exotic fruit from Europe."

Makes me wonder if the exotic fruit of David Beckham will translate to the U.S. The knee-jerk reaction of the ESPeNis-types is to say anything that will create a Beckham backlash. End, tangent.

While on Vieques, I was without television and internet, and so all I know about Florida’s defeat of OSU is from what I’ve read online in the twenty hours since I’ve been home. What strikes me and my Rip Van Winkle perspective most is the rise of a new category of sport athlete: the Booed by his Own Ornery Fans athlete. My definition of the BOOF phenomena is as follows: an over-hyped player, who, though playing a high level, is not playing like an superstar, and the player’s fans, unsatisfied by his lack of perfection, boo him. The only way to shed the BOOF label is to do something that only a superstar can do. This usually means winning a championship.

Consider Florida quarterback Chris Leak, who was the top-ranked prep player coming into college. When he didn’t win four Heisman trophies, Gator fans grew impatient and wanted him benched for backup QB Tim Tebow. When, six days after the fact, I found how the Gators had won, I was sad to have missed Chris Leak calmly removing himself from the BOOF category by leading his team to a National Championship. BOOF removals of this magnitude only happen once every few years.

Another potential BOOF-label shedder, former-Gator-and-current-Bear-quarterback Rex Grossman, was booed by his own ornery fans as he warmed up for his first playoff game start—this after leading his team to a 13-3 record. He went out and played well in a close playoff win. The Bears play their next playoff game at home against the Saints. I wonder if Bears fans will boo him during next week’s pre-game warm-ups. Probably. Once applied, it usually takes winning it all to shed a BOOF label.

Alex Rodriquez is a BOOFer. Can you think of others?

Incidentally, I thought LeBron James, when he was coming into the NBA, was a strong BOOF candidate. He was so incredibly hyped that I had a hard time figuring out how he’d satisfy his fans. I thought he’d score 14 points a game on 37% shooting (sort of like Adam Morrison is doing now). Which would have been excellent stats for a 19-year-old in the NBA. But anyway, he went 21, 5.5, 6 and shot 42% and amazingly managed to duck BOOFdom. I'm hoping Barack Obama pulls a LeBron in '08.

Anyway, I find myself strangely compelled by these BOOFers; they are a collection of odd ducks, and they are somehow more human-seeming than other athletes. Current BOOFers are like a 1999 Vieques: They are being bombed like crazy by critics, but as long as they continue to fight for their cause, they might one day experience a pristine moment of athletic achievement.

Sinkhole Superstars: Drew Henson

Until A-Rod joined the Yanks, their 3B of the future was Drew Henson, the former Michigan QB. In NYC, there was contradictory pressure on the poor kid to be as good as A-Rod someday, and to do it now. Even A-Rod gets busted on non-stop for not being A-Rod enough. He won an MVP. He had a solid year last year. Of all players in baseball history at age 30, he is 1st all-time in both home runs and runs, 2nd in total bases and extra base hits, 3rd in RBIs, and 4th in hits. Leave him alone! Tangent. Sorry. So after some medium-hitting minor league years, Drew left the Yanks to join Big Tuna football, which may be the most pressure-filled football in the universe. His first NFL start was on Thanksgiving day. He threw for 34 yards in the first half and was pulled with the score tied 7-7. Last year he played in NFL Europe, but the Cowboys retained his rights. He was cut by the Cowboys on August 24th, 2006.

He briefly regained consciousness when he was picked up by the Vikes, but on Oct. 10th, 2006, Drew Henson left the professional sports world when he was cut by the Vikes. The time of cut was 4:37pm. He was 26 years old. He is survived by his pet fish Jake.

If I were a baseball team, I'd stash him in my minor leagues and pray for the pinocchio-muppet to become a real boy. The least-used parts of my soul, the wizened dusty parts, believe he will return to glory.

12/22/06 update:

source: http://www.twincities.com/mld/pioneerpress/16296513.htm

Quarterback Drew Henson is in his second tour on the Vikings' practice squad. He was with the team for two weeks early in the season, got cut and returned when Brooks Bollinger injured his shoulder. A former member of the Dallas Cowboys, Henson spent three seasons in the New York Yankees organization and played college football at Michigan. Here is Henson …

On how he views his role with the Vikings: "First off, it's better to be working than not. You end up practicing and keep working and throwing. Whether it's just four weeks, that's four weeks I might not have had. I'll see what this offseason brings. I like the atmosphere here. Everyone has been great to me. Right now, I'll do everything I can to help and try to get caught up on the fly on the philosophy here."

On whether he's done playing baseball: "Most definitely."

On whether he regrets giving baseball a try and not concentrating on football: "Honestly, I feel like I've been playing catch-up since the day I left school, no matter what sport it was. It's the path I chose. I had the fortunate problem of having multiple opportunities. It would have been simpler if I hadn't grown up playing baseball as much as I did. But I had some great experiences. I'm still young. Before it's all said and done, I think it will be a pretty good story to tell."