Per RJ Bell of pregame.com, Tim Donaghy's telephone buddy, Scott Foster, is nipping close at Donaghy's scandal-infected heels.
According to Bell, Foster refereed seven games which involved lopsided wagering during the 2006-07 period currently under investigation. In those seven games, the betting was enough to move the line by at least two points, and in all seven instances the big money in Las Vegas wound up winning.
As Bell points out, this could just be a statistical anomaly. In case you're wondering, though, the odds of it occurring 7-out-of-7 times?
Less than 1%.
(found via Deadspin).
Wednesday, July 16
SSS Hall of Fame
When I was just a little child,
Happiness was there awhile.
Then from me, yeah, it slipped one day.
Happiness, come back, I say.
'cause if you don't come, I've got to go
Lookin' for happiness.
Well, if you don't come,
I've got to go
Lookin', Lord, for happiness, happpiness.
—Bob Marley, I’m Hurting Inside
Weeks after the decision that peeled the Sonics from Seattle like an old bandage, the exposed wound lingers, a pain which demands acknowledgement.
Summer league results dribble out of Las Vegas and Orlando, but the reasons for following them have vanished. Free agent nomads wander the NBA summertime desert, but their camels will not rest at our tent, because Seattle’s oasis has dried up.
My inclination is still to check the websites devoted to basketball in an attempt to scour out possibilities for the future of the Seattle Sonics – a backup point guard here, a trade there, hey, now we’ve got something! – but that inclination dwindles with each day. The sheer triviality of pro sports – camouflaged for so long by the joy associated with following my favorite team – is now painfully obvious.
And so, the reader asks, what is the point of Supersonicsoul? A fair, if painful, question. Likewise, a difficult one to answer.
On the one hand, to quote Gertrude Stein, there is no there there. Stein’s witty rejoinder referred to Oakland, her hometown, but the thought is apropos of this site. A website devoted to a team that pulls up stakes and moves away is devoid of meaning. Following the Oklahoma City team makes us pathetic, and what else is there? (You, in the back, saying I should root for the Blazers? I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that).
However, news continues to trickle out of the possible Howard Schultz lawsuit, and the shred of hope that Schultz’ legal eagles will prevail remains.
Better still, David Stern’s stranglehold on the NBA continues to loosen, with some beginning to trumpet the possibility of King David abdicating his throne. Stern, the man responsible more than anyone for foisting Clay Bennett upon the good people of Seattle, is also responsible for the icy relations between his fiefdom and this region. His Nixonian defiance of events notwithstanding, the Tim Donaghy saga may finally bring his reign to a close, and with a new commissioner, anything Seattle-related is possible.
But those events are in the distant future. What of the present? What should this website offer its readers, other than odd stories on Jim Farmer’s singing career, Kendall Gill’s future as a pugilist, or Shawn Kemp’s offspring?
Well, we’re attempting to answer that question by offering a bridge between the ghosts of Sonics past and the ghosts of Sonics future.
When author Sherman Alexie testified on behalf of Sonic fans everywhere this past June, he stated that the players were more than mere athletes, they were modern-day versions of Greek gods. It was an enjoyable and hilarious ode to the joy of being a Sonic fan.
And the famed Seattle author is right – in the sense that the players give inspiration and hope to thousands. With that nugget of inspiration in mind, we’ve decided to create our own, ramshackle version of the Greek Pantheon – the Supersonicsoul Hall of Fame.
Beginning next week, we’ll present to you a member of the Hall, with a new member to be unveiled in each of the following weeks. More than just statistical charts, each piece will offer a tribute by our in-house artist, Rafael, as well as memories and anecdotes by Paul and myself (well, mostly myself; Paul’s busy completing his doctoral thesis on the cumulative effects of napping).
At present, the Hall is slated to hold a dozen or so members. Naturally, there will be debate as to who should have been excluded or included, but that’s the whole point of the project, really; it’s to remind all of us why we loved the Sonics in the first place. More than the games themselves, it is the recollection of the games and the people who played them which matters most. It’s the memory of Detlef’s haircut, Sam’s flat-footed threes, Kemp’s dunk at MSG, McKey’s nonchalance, Haywood’s brilliance, Shelton’s elbows – it’s all of that and much, much more.
As Bob Marley wrote, I’m hurting inside, because happiness has gone away. But if happiness don’t come my way, well, I’ve got to go lookin’ for happiness.
Happiness was there awhile.
Then from me, yeah, it slipped one day.
Happiness, come back, I say.
'cause if you don't come, I've got to go
Lookin' for happiness.
Well, if you don't come,
I've got to go
Lookin', Lord, for happiness, happpiness.
—Bob Marley, I’m Hurting Inside
Weeks after the decision that peeled the Sonics from Seattle like an old bandage, the exposed wound lingers, a pain which demands acknowledgement.
Summer league results dribble out of Las Vegas and Orlando, but the reasons for following them have vanished. Free agent nomads wander the NBA summertime desert, but their camels will not rest at our tent, because Seattle’s oasis has dried up.
My inclination is still to check the websites devoted to basketball in an attempt to scour out possibilities for the future of the Seattle Sonics – a backup point guard here, a trade there, hey, now we’ve got something! – but that inclination dwindles with each day. The sheer triviality of pro sports – camouflaged for so long by the joy associated with following my favorite team – is now painfully obvious.
And so, the reader asks, what is the point of Supersonicsoul? A fair, if painful, question. Likewise, a difficult one to answer.
On the one hand, to quote Gertrude Stein, there is no there there. Stein’s witty rejoinder referred to Oakland, her hometown, but the thought is apropos of this site. A website devoted to a team that pulls up stakes and moves away is devoid of meaning. Following the Oklahoma City team makes us pathetic, and what else is there? (You, in the back, saying I should root for the Blazers? I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that).
However, news continues to trickle out of the possible Howard Schultz lawsuit, and the shred of hope that Schultz’ legal eagles will prevail remains.
Better still, David Stern’s stranglehold on the NBA continues to loosen, with some beginning to trumpet the possibility of King David abdicating his throne. Stern, the man responsible more than anyone for foisting Clay Bennett upon the good people of Seattle, is also responsible for the icy relations between his fiefdom and this region. His Nixonian defiance of events notwithstanding, the Tim Donaghy saga may finally bring his reign to a close, and with a new commissioner, anything Seattle-related is possible.
But those events are in the distant future. What of the present? What should this website offer its readers, other than odd stories on Jim Farmer’s singing career, Kendall Gill’s future as a pugilist, or Shawn Kemp’s offspring?
Well, we’re attempting to answer that question by offering a bridge between the ghosts of Sonics past and the ghosts of Sonics future.
When author Sherman Alexie testified on behalf of Sonic fans everywhere this past June, he stated that the players were more than mere athletes, they were modern-day versions of Greek gods. It was an enjoyable and hilarious ode to the joy of being a Sonic fan.
And the famed Seattle author is right – in the sense that the players give inspiration and hope to thousands. With that nugget of inspiration in mind, we’ve decided to create our own, ramshackle version of the Greek Pantheon – the Supersonicsoul Hall of Fame.
Beginning next week, we’ll present to you a member of the Hall, with a new member to be unveiled in each of the following weeks. More than just statistical charts, each piece will offer a tribute by our in-house artist, Rafael, as well as memories and anecdotes by Paul and myself (well, mostly myself; Paul’s busy completing his doctoral thesis on the cumulative effects of napping).
At present, the Hall is slated to hold a dozen or so members. Naturally, there will be debate as to who should have been excluded or included, but that’s the whole point of the project, really; it’s to remind all of us why we loved the Sonics in the first place. More than the games themselves, it is the recollection of the games and the people who played them which matters most. It’s the memory of Detlef’s haircut, Sam’s flat-footed threes, Kemp’s dunk at MSG, McKey’s nonchalance, Haywood’s brilliance, Shelton’s elbows – it’s all of that and much, much more.
As Bob Marley wrote, I’m hurting inside, because happiness has gone away. But if happiness don’t come my way, well, I’ve got to go lookin’ for happiness.
Monday, July 14
Where Are They Now? Jim Farmer
We’ve covered plenty of former Sonics in our sporadic “Where Are They Now?” series. From Dana Barros’ off-court troubles, to Sam Perkins at a Barack Obama rally, to Sedale Threatt’s son’s success as a college football player, we’ve seen plenty.
But we hadn’t seen it all. Not by a long shot. For slipping through the cracks was one Jim Farmer.
When I say Jim Farmer, your first reaction as a Sonic fan is most likely, “You mean the guy who used to pitch for the White Sox?”
No, dear reader, not Ed Farmer, the erstwhile hurler of the Pale Hose, I mean Jim Farmer, as in the fellow who put up 5.3 points per game in his five NBA seasons. The Jim Farmer who we lauded for a surprising dunk more than 15 years ago.
What is Farmer up to these days? Teaching youngsters his patented, 180-degree hand clap? Tutoring bench filler on the proper way to retrieve missed jumpers at a shootaround? Has he gone into, ugh, farming?
None of these. Rather, Jim Farmer has gone into ... singing.
No, I’m not kidding. In fact, check out www.jimfarmer.com if you don’t believe me.
Back? Were you as mesmerized by those beautiful baby blues as the author was? Did you feel the urge to purchase Farmer’s latest CD “Baby Come On”? Does his new “hit” single, “She Is,” make you want to jump up and dance?
Honestly, had you asked me yesterday, “Pete, out of all the former greats to wear the green and gold, which former Sonic would you say is most likely to record an album?” my response probably would have ranged to Derrick McKey or Sam Perkins.
But Jim Farmer? A singer? Only Danny Fortson going to work as David Stern’s personal assistant would top that one.
But we hadn’t seen it all. Not by a long shot. For slipping through the cracks was one Jim Farmer.
When I say Jim Farmer, your first reaction as a Sonic fan is most likely, “You mean the guy who used to pitch for the White Sox?”
No, dear reader, not Ed Farmer, the erstwhile hurler of the Pale Hose, I mean Jim Farmer, as in the fellow who put up 5.3 points per game in his five NBA seasons. The Jim Farmer who we lauded for a surprising dunk more than 15 years ago.
What is Farmer up to these days? Teaching youngsters his patented, 180-degree hand clap? Tutoring bench filler on the proper way to retrieve missed jumpers at a shootaround? Has he gone into, ugh, farming?
None of these. Rather, Jim Farmer has gone into ... singing.
No, I’m not kidding. In fact, check out www.jimfarmer.com if you don’t believe me.
Back? Were you as mesmerized by those beautiful baby blues as the author was? Did you feel the urge to purchase Farmer’s latest CD “Baby Come On”? Does his new “hit” single, “She Is,” make you want to jump up and dance?
Honestly, had you asked me yesterday, “Pete, out of all the former greats to wear the green and gold, which former Sonic would you say is most likely to record an album?” my response probably would have ranged to Derrick McKey or Sam Perkins.
But Jim Farmer? A singer? Only Danny Fortson going to work as David Stern’s personal assistant would top that one.
Thursday, July 10
Uni Watch Contest
I suppose I should take the high road here, but, what the hell, David Stern and Clay Bennett had no trouble acting like spoiled children, so why can't I?Paul Lucas, author of the wonderful Uni Watch blog and associated espn.com site, has issued a call to his readers to help design a logo/uniform for the new Oklahoma City team. With that in mind, perhaps a few designs from inspired Seattle Sonics fans are in order? After all, while our ideas might not fly with the NBA's marketing department, I'm sure our informed and talented readers are certainly capable of coming up with some, well, interesting designs for what Clay Bennett's team should be wearing this year. You can email Lucas via the site, or, if you like, submit them to us via the email at the top of the page (robotmonster AT gmail.com). If SuperSonicSoul Editor Paul checks his email, you might even see your design on our site!
As always, keep it classy, please. No cursing, no references to bestiality, no tornadoes, etc.
Basically, try not to act as if you were from Oklahoma City.
Wednesday, July 9
Check's In The Mail
Under the product description, I’m surprised the words “Hardly used” were missing.
KC Still the Voice of the Sonics
There are times when you wonder if your faith in someone is justified, if the adulation you express is rational, or purely emotional.
There are times when you grow frustrated with the double-speak coming from the mouths of politicians and celebrities, when the "stay-on-message" mantra of our age becomes anethma to your ears.
Then there are other times.
Thank you, Kevin Calabro, for giving voice, once again, to Sonic fans. Thank you, Jim Moore, for giving him a platform. Calabro, for so long more than a broadcaster to those of us in the Northwest, has not gone with a whimper, but with a bang. Generals may fade away, but great play-by-play broadcasters, apparently, do not adhere to that notion.
To wit:
The NBA? "A league run by a commissioner that disrespected [Seattle] and the region."
The Sonics' new arena proposal to Olympia? "A nebulous, vague plan for some building in Renton, which didn't excite anybody."
City officials? "I was enraged that our council members would sit up there and titter and laugh nervously and congratulate themselves over being part of a 41-year history being sold."
There is much than just those snippets, so I urge you to read the whole article. Thanks again to both Calabro and Moore for showing that frustration, embarassment and anger are not emotions just limited to fans and bloggers.
There are times when you grow frustrated with the double-speak coming from the mouths of politicians and celebrities, when the "stay-on-message" mantra of our age becomes anethma to your ears.
Then there are other times.
Thank you, Kevin Calabro, for giving voice, once again, to Sonic fans. Thank you, Jim Moore, for giving him a platform. Calabro, for so long more than a broadcaster to those of us in the Northwest, has not gone with a whimper, but with a bang. Generals may fade away, but great play-by-play broadcasters, apparently, do not adhere to that notion.
To wit:
The NBA? "A league run by a commissioner that disrespected [Seattle] and the region."
The Sonics' new arena proposal to Olympia? "A nebulous, vague plan for some building in Renton, which didn't excite anybody."
City officials? "I was enraged that our council members would sit up there and titter and laugh nervously and congratulate themselves over being part of a 41-year history being sold."
There is much than just those snippets, so I urge you to read the whole article. Thanks again to both Calabro and Moore for showing that frustration, embarassment and anger are not emotions just limited to fans and bloggers.
Tuesday, July 8
The Fiddler
Well, I suppose I could cover the summer league game that took place in Orlando yesterday, but, honestly, does anyone here have any interest in how Oklahoma City did last night?I thought not.
So, instead, let's focus on Vincent "The Fiddler" Askew's new role as the General Manager of the LA Push of the ABA. Askew has been coaching now for nearly a decade, including a three-year stint in Italy, one year with the Albany Patroons, and a couple of seasons as a high school coach (seasons which were marred first by the use of ineligible players then by recruiting violations; it appears he learned more than a few tricks from his time working with John Calipari at Memphis).
Wait, what's that? You say Askew isn't the new GM of the LA Push? That he accepted a role as the coach of the Kentucky Mavericks only two days after taking the LA Push job?
Well, good for Vinnie. You had to know he wanted to put the foul taste of last year's job with Albany out of his mouth, and what better way to do it than to be the head coach of ...
Now, wait a minute. You're telling me that Askew dumped the Wildcats after four days and decided to take the LA job after all? That he claims he resigned, but the Kentucky front office claim he was fired? After four days? But why, Vincent, why?
“It’s not that I’m greedy or anything,” Askew said to the Bowling Green Daily News. “But it was just one of those things where it needed to be a bit more, I have a family, a house and kids to think about also.”
Ah, the children, it's always about the children, isn't it?
Monday, July 7
Quick Hits
A quick review of what city various websites are associating with the Sonics as of July 7, 2008:
ESPN: Seattle
SI: Seattle
HoopsHype: Seattle
NBA.com: Seattle
Yahoo: Seattle
And, finally, please be sure to finish chewing your food before reading this story, because it’ll be tough to swallow. I’ve never been divorced, but I’m guessing that this is the equivalent of seeing your wife riding around in a Jaguar XJS while you’re at home washing the Dodge Stratus.
ESPN: Seattle
SI: Seattle
HoopsHype: Seattle
NBA.com: Seattle
Yahoo: Seattle
And, finally, please be sure to finish chewing your food before reading this story, because it’ll be tough to swallow. I’ve never been divorced, but I’m guessing that this is the equivalent of seeing your wife riding around in a Jaguar XJS while you’re at home washing the Dodge Stratus.
Scribes
I'll attempt to avoid being too maudlin with this post (Lord knows there has been more than enough anguish to go around this past week), but allow me to offer a few words of praise from a website that has been forced to hand out kind words as often as the Bush Administration hands out art endowments.
Sonic fans are quite lucky to live in a city with three major dailies. Luckier still, we've been blessed for the past couple of years with writers who have never stopped investigating the neverending Sonics-to-Oklahoma story. Unlike The Oklahoman, which forces its writers to check objectivity at the door, in Seattle we have writers who rarely miss a chance to explore a story from all angles, even angles that are detrimental to the city in which they reside.
While some Sonic supporters have castigated these writers (Percy Allen at the Times, Gary Washburn at the PI, Eric Williams at the TNT) for not being all-out supporters of the team while it was in Seattle, those, like me, who appreciate a free press have not. The three main beat writers have also been supported by people like Jayda Evans, Jim Brunner, and Greg Johns, who dug into this story and illustrated it for their readers. I, for one, am appreciative of their efforts.
In many cities, those paragraphs of praise would be the end of it. But a complimentary story on the media in Seattle would not be complete without offering thanks to the man who has provided more memories than anyone in Sonic history — longtime play-by-play man Kevin Calabro.
Calabro gives his devoted listeners a rare combination: a love of the game teamed with a fantastic voice and a unique style. For more than an entire generation, it was KC who taught us to "get on that magic carpet and ride" and to "get on up for the downstroke." Bob Blackburn may have been the Abraham of Sonic broadcasters, but Calabro was the Moses.
While still attending college, I travelled up to Seattle for Christmas break one year, and with friends in tow, attempted to get to a Sonics game. Like all early-20s endeavors we were long on intentions and short on execution. Having missed the opening tip, we were driving in a frenzy through Seattle looking for a bar to watch the game. Calabro kept us up to date on the car radio, as he has for so many others over the past decades. At one point, Shawn Kemp rose up and threw down what must have been an especially memorable dunk.
"Oh, Reignman!" Calabro intoned, "Nobody do the voodoo like you do!" It was a singular moment that drew a massive cheer from our overcrowded car, and it was a moment that stays with me to this day. A great broadcaster is more than just a voice on the radio or television, he is a friend sitting alongside you, a representative for you at the game.
Thanks, KC, Percy, Gary, Eric, and all the rest. You've made being a Sonic fan more enjoyable. I hope there's more to come.
Sonic fans are quite lucky to live in a city with three major dailies. Luckier still, we've been blessed for the past couple of years with writers who have never stopped investigating the neverending Sonics-to-Oklahoma story. Unlike The Oklahoman, which forces its writers to check objectivity at the door, in Seattle we have writers who rarely miss a chance to explore a story from all angles, even angles that are detrimental to the city in which they reside.
While some Sonic supporters have castigated these writers (Percy Allen at the Times, Gary Washburn at the PI, Eric Williams at the TNT) for not being all-out supporters of the team while it was in Seattle, those, like me, who appreciate a free press have not. The three main beat writers have also been supported by people like Jayda Evans, Jim Brunner, and Greg Johns, who dug into this story and illustrated it for their readers. I, for one, am appreciative of their efforts.
In many cities, those paragraphs of praise would be the end of it. But a complimentary story on the media in Seattle would not be complete without offering thanks to the man who has provided more memories than anyone in Sonic history — longtime play-by-play man Kevin Calabro.
Calabro gives his devoted listeners a rare combination: a love of the game teamed with a fantastic voice and a unique style. For more than an entire generation, it was KC who taught us to "get on that magic carpet and ride" and to "get on up for the downstroke." Bob Blackburn may have been the Abraham of Sonic broadcasters, but Calabro was the Moses.
While still attending college, I travelled up to Seattle for Christmas break one year, and with friends in tow, attempted to get to a Sonics game. Like all early-20s endeavors we were long on intentions and short on execution. Having missed the opening tip, we were driving in a frenzy through Seattle looking for a bar to watch the game. Calabro kept us up to date on the car radio, as he has for so many others over the past decades. At one point, Shawn Kemp rose up and threw down what must have been an especially memorable dunk.
"Oh, Reignman!" Calabro intoned, "Nobody do the voodoo like you do!" It was a singular moment that drew a massive cheer from our overcrowded car, and it was a moment that stays with me to this day. A great broadcaster is more than just a voice on the radio or television, he is a friend sitting alongside you, a representative for you at the game.
Thanks, KC, Percy, Gary, Eric, and all the rest. You've made being a Sonic fan more enjoyable. I hope there's more to come.
Thursday, July 3
Hypocrisis
Part and parcel with yesterday’s settlement is an assumption that no expansion teams are in the NBA’s foreseeable future.
Meaning, of course, any team bearing a Seattle Sonics’ jersey in the future will be doing so because another city’s NBA dreams have gone up in flames.
Leading yours truly to wonder: Is it worth it? After spending the past few days (well, months, really) bemoaning our fate and dispensing venom in every direction at the evil which is relocation, are we ready to be the league leaders in hypocrisy?
Color it however you like, but taking a team from another city makes us no better than the good people of Oklahoma City, and makes Steve Ballmer no better than Clay Bennett.
(Well, actually, Ballmer has yet to buy a team in another city, start the relocation process before the ink had dried on the contract, call himself a man possessed to not relocate, and then indulge in lascivious emails with the league commissioner. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as low as Bennett.).
As I was saying, do we want to prey upon the bones of another city’s misfortune? Personally, I’m leaning to the “No” side of that question, and it’s not that difficult to see why.
I’ve utilized the divorce analogy before for this situation; with Seattle as the mother, PBC as the father, and Sonic fans as the child. Well, to carry that metaphor to its logical conclusion, luring a team here from another city is the equivalent of your recently divorced mom wearing a halter top to your t-ball game, hoping her cleavage is enough to convince your friend’s dad to abandon his wife.
It’s all well and good for you to have a new dad, but what about your friend, who now has to hope that his mom is as good at flirting as your mom?
Okay, it’s a messy analogy and we’re beginning to paddle into some unseemly, oedipal waters at this point, but I think my point is clear: after enduring the past year and a half of turmoil and heartache, do we really want to be the ones causing that same pain to another group of people?
I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t want to be a party to that. And that is why, to my way of thinking, the only solutions to this whole sorry situation are either a victorious Howard Schultz lawsuit or an expansion team.
Any other answer is just too hypocritical for me to swallow.
Meaning, of course, any team bearing a Seattle Sonics’ jersey in the future will be doing so because another city’s NBA dreams have gone up in flames.
Leading yours truly to wonder: Is it worth it? After spending the past few days (well, months, really) bemoaning our fate and dispensing venom in every direction at the evil which is relocation, are we ready to be the league leaders in hypocrisy?
Color it however you like, but taking a team from another city makes us no better than the good people of Oklahoma City, and makes Steve Ballmer no better than Clay Bennett.
(Well, actually, Ballmer has yet to buy a team in another city, start the relocation process before the ink had dried on the contract, call himself a man possessed to not relocate, and then indulge in lascivious emails with the league commissioner. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as low as Bennett.).
As I was saying, do we want to prey upon the bones of another city’s misfortune? Personally, I’m leaning to the “No” side of that question, and it’s not that difficult to see why.
I’ve utilized the divorce analogy before for this situation; with Seattle as the mother, PBC as the father, and Sonic fans as the child. Well, to carry that metaphor to its logical conclusion, luring a team here from another city is the equivalent of your recently divorced mom wearing a halter top to your t-ball game, hoping her cleavage is enough to convince your friend’s dad to abandon his wife.
It’s all well and good for you to have a new dad, but what about your friend, who now has to hope that his mom is as good at flirting as your mom?
Okay, it’s a messy analogy and we’re beginning to paddle into some unseemly, oedipal waters at this point, but I think my point is clear: after enduring the past year and a half of turmoil and heartache, do we really want to be the ones causing that same pain to another group of people?
I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t want to be a party to that. And that is why, to my way of thinking, the only solutions to this whole sorry situation are either a victorious Howard Schultz lawsuit or an expansion team.
Any other answer is just too hypocritical for me to swallow.
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