Top 5 Point Guards in the NBA

(Someone other than Skip and Stephen A...)

March 5, 2012

Skip Bayless and Stephen A. Smith’s opinions sometimes grow tireless on the topic of NBA superstars, LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Kobe Bryant, etc…The hot topic over the course of the past few months is that of point guards. The league is a ball handling league. Sick of another opinion on the NBA...? Well, here’s another one.

Criteria

The criteria for this list bear no weight on age or team (although I may emphasize it). It is right now, one season, to win an NBA Championship. Ability to pass, improve teammates, score the basketball, rebound on both ends of the court, leadership, ‘clutch’ gene and defensive abilities all factor themselves into discussion. Let’s get started.

6. Steve Nash

I know I said I would only rank the top 5, but I want to give Steve Nash his due credit. At 38 years of age, Nash is still a tremendous passer and play maker on the offensive end of the court. He is a dangerous shooter, great teammate and good leader. It’s too bad he’s never had the opportunity to win an NBA Championship (and won’t again in Phoenix), but I feel the only thing holding him back from the top 5 is the fact that he is a liability on the defensive end of the court. It would be fun to see him go to the Lakers at the deadline to make something happen, but anyways moving on….

5. Tony Parker

I feel as though Tony Parker gets consistently disrespected on these lists of point guards. Parker right now, has an aging Spurs team in contention once again in the Western Conference behind his 20 points and 8 assists per game. Amazingly, not yet 30 years old, he has already been in the league for 10 NBA seasons and is a noted champion, winning 3 rings in 2003, 2005 and 2007. We shall also not forget the fact that he was a Finals MVP in 2007. This year, he is playing at an extremely high level, having arguably one of the best seasons of his career. Known as one of the quickest players in the league, Parker plays pestering defense and is a potent scorer. He is proven as a leader. Watch out for him and the Spurs come May and June. Yes, June.

4. Derrick Rose

The former MVP sits at number 4. Although it may seem idiotic to place an MVP this low at his own position, a ranking this low is meant only because of the players I see above him. Rose is a talented scorer, an amazing athlete and very skilled finishing around the basket, but he still doesn’t remain quite the shooter that some of his contemporaries on this list. A ranking this low may end up causing me to eat my words, but I will take the 3 above Rose on this list to win a championship. Once thing I do love about Rose is that he is fearless at the end of basketball games. Clutch gene.

3. Deron Williams

He has become almost irrelevant since moving to the Nets last season. In fact, without Stephen A. Smith’s loyal preaching for him every morning, we may have forgot he was even in the league - even though he goes for 20 a night. Now check last night (Sunday, March 4^th), Williams posts 57 points and proves the type of impact player he can still be in this league. He has always been a threat as a scorer. In Utah, he was a playmaker with the ball and the ability to pass and make decisions - also being a great leader. He was a perennial playoff contender in Utah, before being shipped off. Soon enough, he’ll be in either Brooklyn, or another basketball mecca and we will again remember his relevance as a top guard in the league. Imagine him in Chicago with that cast of role players.

2. Rajon Rondo

His performance on Sunday was historic. We are used to seeing Rondo fly around the court, snagging loose ball rebounds and finding open shooters, but Sunday afternoon against the Knicks, he once again secured his place as one of the most complete point guards in the NBA. He posted a career-high 17 rebounds along with 18 points and 20 assists. He was only the 3^rd player in NBA history to post a line like that (15-15-20). Rondo is quick, elusive and has proved himself as a swift decision maker. He won a title in Boston already in 2008 and has now become the heir-apparent leader of an aging Celtics team. He is the second best quarterback in New England (my apologies to the Patriots backup – Ryan Mallet?) With his improved jump shot and ever expanding repertoire, Rondo will be an anchor at the position for years to come. He is only 26….

1. Chris Paul

As much as I wanted to go elsewhere with my top guy at the one slot, Paul is indeed the best point guard in the league. He can score the ball at will (19.2 per game), is a strong defender (2x All-Defensive Team) and a tenacious leader. He wants the ball. He wants to win. Ever since his trade to LA, Paul has been the undisputed leader of a youthful Clippers organization. We saw what he was able to do in New Orleans with that supporting cast and it is exciting to think what he will accomplish in the next 5 years around other All-Star caliber players. Although he seems so much older (…to me at least…), he is the same age as Rajon Rondo. His accomplishments thus far are extensive, but the thoughts of what his future can bring are endless.

Troy Klongerbo aka TKCPIII

Philadelphia Eagle Robert Griffin III: Why the Eagles should trade up for RG3

A year ago, the Eagles had the most advantageous quarterback scenario in the NFL. They had an MVP caliber player in the resurgence of Michael Vick alongside a player viewed by many as a future annual Pro Bowler in the embryonic Kevin Kolb. Andy Reid has been credited many times with his ability to mold quarterbacks. I mean, some critics of Donovan McNabb claim that he was no more than a worn out napkin without the presence of Andy Reid and his ‘run and gun’ offense. Other critics (me included) view McNabb as an undervalued asset for the majority of his career. But that’s beside the point. The NFL’s Miami Heat, err, Dream Team, ehh…definition of mediocrity, 8-8 Philadelphia Eagles need to take a long, hard and serious look at Robert Griffin III – a phenom that could change their city’s terrible (insert word of playoff blunders and mishaps here).

Having produced an electrifying career, filled with scrambling, deep bombs, big wins and NFL superstardom, Michael Vick is not the long term solution in Philadelphia, despite what his contract may state. Vick, who will turn 32 this summer, battled through a 2011-2012 season where he had extreme difficulties staying on the field for the Eagles. His reckless style leads him to be a target for defenses, more or less a tackling dummy with a $100 bill stapled to his forehead. The argument stands – Michael Vick’s two years in prison makes him only 30 in NFL years. I see it a bit differently. I see a 32 year old quarterback, especially one who takes as many hits as him, as a 32 year old quarterback. Vick has strong years ahead, no doubt about that, but the Eagles need a 10 year future, not a 3 year future. In the same precarious position, the Colts are going to take Andrew Luck, which is why the Eagles should take a leap and go with Robert Griffin III.

Let’s commence the argument with a discussion of pure dimensions. Robert Griffin is taller (6’2”), bigger (223 lbs) and almost as fast as Vick. His 40 yard dash time of 4.41 made him the second faster quarterback in history. The fastest (?) – Yeah, Mike Vick. But Griffin remains ultra-uber-mega talented. There is a chance that no one in the NFL has ever quite seen a talent like Robert enter the league at the quarterback position. He is mature and has his senses about him. He handles the media well and is always well-spoken. He was a scholar athlete at Baylor and is going back for a Master’s degree in Communication (in an era where many NFL players don’t finish undergrad degrees). Griffin played for a Baylor program that has been the pooper scooper of the Big 12 for some time. He was recruited throughout the country my major programs, but was only given the chance to play quarterback by coach Art Briles, whom he followed in his commitment from Houston to Baylor. At Baylor, he transformed the program, whereas by his final season he led the Bears to a 10 win season and a bowl victory over Washington –in the process put up gaudy statistics. In comparison, Griffin saw 4 years of action to Vick’s 2 at Virginia Tech. Griffin posted a completion percentage north of 70% in 2011, where Michael Vick never eclipsed 60% at Virginia Tech (and has only done it once in the NFL – during 2010 where he made only 12 starts). Vick entered the NFL as a 21 year old (20 when drafted), while Griffin enters the league as a 22 year old veteran. The second best quarterback in Vick’s class was Drew Brees –taken with the first overall pick (of the 2^nd round). The second best quarterback in Griffin’s class, is… well, Griffin. He is behind a fellow quarterback from Stanford named Andrew Luck, who is the slam dunk first overall pick (and slam dunk hall of famer in the minds of some). The pressure isn’t on Griffin. He has the chance to be the exception. He has the chance to be the one who was snubbed.

This has been a lot of Vick vs. Griffin, with a lot of points made against Mr. Vick himself. It wasn’t my intent. Michael Vick has had to overcome a lot to get where he is in his professional career and what he accomplished in a year and a half in Philly was fun to watch, but when thinking Super Bowls and longevity of a franchise, the answer lies in Griffin. Under Andy Reid (which dear god, Philly must keep him at the helm), Griffin can flourish. He could be the best in the league. He seems almost like a perfect puzzle put together of the best quarterbacks in the NFL today. If anything, he is an Aaron Rodgers type who is more elusive, faster overall and with more experience coming out of college.

Griffin will be a star. The only thing holding him back from greatness is his bountiful list of gifts outside of football. Griffin has the intelligence of a Manning (bit of a stretch), the accuracy of a Brees (again, a tad of a stretch) and the speed and agility of a Vick (close, but same story). The fun part lies in the fact that he is one player. One quarterback. Anyone in the league would be lucky to have him on their roster. He should be like Ricky Williams (from a draft position, not a NFL career), where as any team should sell the ship for him. Trade everything.

Eagles, I know you have assembled a “dream team” of talent – but instead of using it to try and finish above .500, use it to acquire Griffin. We already know you met with Griffin. He was a nice guy right? Send Asomugha, Jackson, draft picks, whatever. The Rams are sitting by the phone. So do it. The worst case scenario for  picking in the number 2 slot, is that you might be stuck with Andrew Luck…

Troy Klongerbo Griffin III

Super Bowl XLVI – What will you remember?

After a festival of commercials and snacks leave, our memories retain legacies. Super Bowls produce legacies. For the NFL, more than any professional sport, a Super Bowl victory defines its players. It places them in the lexicon of all-time greats – of legends.

Visualize a legend. In our minds, legends are black and white. Legends appear as ghosts. They do not speak, they are noble and revered. We do not envision the living legends we watch today. We are, indeed, watching legends before our eyes, even though we don’t realize it. Tom Brady is amongst them. The Patriots quarterback is the stuff of legend. A 6^th round draft pick – over looked at every level of his career – couldn’t even garner the respect of his college coach. He is the quintessential blue collar quarterback, despite at times looking like a pretty boy with his Cali swag. He has dug his career out of the dirt, appearing about as physically talented as a mechanic at a local Jiffy Lube. He wins with his mind. He wins with his desire. He wins with his 'it'.

If anything, this Super Bowl feels anticlimactic. Rewind time and we’ve seen this before. A boring rematch. It is the first time in history two quarterbacks meet again in a Super Bowl. It is also, the first time that two Super Bowl champion coaches meet in the Super Bowl. Revert to 2007, a struggling Giants team, turned scorching hot, ran through a NFC – seemingly stuck in the mud – to a Super Bowl. The 2007 Giants, anchored by a strong pass rush and clutch quarterback play from an underrated leader, reached the Super Bowl as an underdog to...the Patriots. The 2007 ‘Rat Pack’ Pats, as they were called by my memory, were the Super Bowl favorites for months on end. The epitome of continuity in an NFL that preaches parity, the Patriots had been the standard of excellence. And the two teams meet again.

Now we’ve looked at Tom Brady, but let’s not forget this is a match-up of elite quarterbacks. Elite quarterbacks. Eli-te quarterbacks. I have understood reservations to place Eli in this select category, because despite his ring, he doesn’t match his statistics with the gaudy statistics we see in New Orleans, Green Bay, New England and the 1999-2010 Indianapolis Colts. With the most road playoff victories in history and his second visit to a Super Bowl in 4 years, Eli can be considered elite. Better than the top four? Probably not, but elite none the less. If he beats the Patriots again, he will have more Super Bowl wins than his Hall of Famer brother. Both of his Super Bowls would be won over the same team that has held Peyton back from arguably winning 3 or 4 rings. Eli would join and surpass many of the NFL’s greats.

But he won’t. The Giants cannot and will not win this game.

It was hard enough to beat the Patriots in 2007. The ’07 Pats were under the burden of perfection bearing down on their bodies. It took a record breaking Brady returning to normalcy to have an opportunity to win. It took adhesive help from David Tyree’s helmet and a Houdini act by Manning just to summon a winning drive, to win by a mere 3 points.  

It is near impossible to beat the Patriots twice in the same season. The Giants got the best of Brady and Co. in October. The Patriots haven’t lost since, winning ten straight contests. Belichick will not allow himself to be outsmarted, not again, not this Super Bowl. The ultra-competitor Tom Brady will pick through the Giants defense, Gronk or no-Gronk. The mesh-like Patriots defense will make enough stops to allow Brady to finish his unfinished business.

When the clock hits zeros, Tom Brady will not be an elite quarterback in this league. He will be a legend. 

Troy 'bobo' Klongerbo

Friday (Unassisted)

Can someone please find video of Pavel Datsyuk catching the flying puck on his stick during the All-star game? By now our readers know that we are big fans of #13 #dats here at Friday (Unassisted), and that play reaffirmed our faith that he is the most talented healthy hockey player on the planet and therefore universe. I'll ask Bryz for confirmation on the latter just to make sure. I couldn't quite believe the play when I saw it: the puck dropping from some fifteen feet above the ice (I don't know, and it probably doesn't either, what it was doing up there) when Datsyuk brought his stick up to meet it and calmly eased the disc back to its rightful place on the ice. Now, know that the play separated from its context is not all that difficult. But to do it in a game setting, albeit an all-star game, is downright preposterous. Above all, Datsyuk's smoothness in executing the difficult plays separates him from a litany of other very talented players. Alex Ovechkin flails at flying pucks like a child might swipe at a fly: swinging tirelessly, hoping to smack the fly just so he can show it off to his friends. Datsyuk on the other hand, reaches up and plucks the wings off the same fly in mid-flight and leaves his admirers in awe.
Enough about him, let's take a look at some other things.

All-Star Player Draft
I was only needling my Sharks fan friend when I told him that Logan Couture would be the last pick in the All-Star player draft, but I was still right. Not my first correct prediction, nor my boldest (I correctly predicted that Santonio Holmes would win MVP of the Super Bowl three years back. I will always brag about that), but it was an educated prediction. Couture plays for the very good, but consistently anonymous San Jose Sharks. I say anonymous in the sense that if you asked a general sports who's not necessarily a hockey fan to try and name every team in the NHL, he would undoubtedly struggle to name the Sharks. In other words, the Sharks don't receive the kind of national exposure that they probably deserve. A humble Couture took his status as last pick quite well explaining, "He's a young guy," and as a young guy he must acquiesce to the veterans. I like the player draft, I do. But I think there's something to the notion that the school yard style draft embarrasses those who get picked in later rounds. Although Couture, and Phil Kessel last year, handled the selection admirably, they day will surely come when someone won't. The NHL couldn't handle such an occurrence whilst they're on the national sports radar for the weekend. My solution is similar to Don Cherry's, who believes that the captains should resort to the old sticks in the middle way of picking teams: goalies' sticks first, followed by defensemen's, and then concluding with the forwards'. I agree that goalies should be selected separately, but why not let the forward and d-men sticks stay intermingled? So what if one team has nine d-men and the other has three. I'd like to see how some of the games most talented forwards would fare on the blue line. The dangle-fest that is the All-Star game would only become more danglier as Marian Gaborik gets walked routinely for Team Nash while playing the point. Plus d-men, I know from experience, love going forward. In regular games coaches might chastise them, calling out "You're not f-ing Bobby Orr!" (I've heard that one before). Here though, they can go forward all they want, and get this, not back check just to get back at all those lazy forwards. I'm emailing a link to Gary Bettman right now.

Pay to Watch Players
Recently Sports Illustrated's Michael Farber asserted that the league lacks "pay to watch" players. Farber called the dearth of these stars "a looming crisis." Certainly with Sidney Crosby injured and Alex Ovechkin tamed, there is a vacuum of star power growing the league. Evgeni Malkin has been playing on another level recently (see last week's post), but he lacks his countryman Ovechkin's flair. Jonathon Toews is the consummate team captain: he scores, kills penalties, wins faceoffs, and works to milk every drop of talent out of his Chicago teammates. But Toews lacks the obvious talent. He produces consistently but his goals are rarely of the highlight variety. And then there's Pavel Datsyuk. Farber sums up Pavel's plight as a "pay to watch" player superbly: "No hockey connoisseur can get enough of the Red Wings center, who, like Lucy's ballet music or sweetbreads, requires a more refined pallet." In other words, the average fan, let alone the casual sports fan, cannot appreciate the smooth Russian.
I think the problem lies not in a dearth of uber-talented players, but rather in the league's inability to market those players. For five years now the NHL has seemed to put all of its eggs in the Crosby-Ovechkin basket while also relying on the success of national teams such as the Red Wings, Flyers, Blackhawks, and the Stanley Cup champion Bruins. Now, with Crosby out and Ovechkin struggling through a comparatively mediocre season, the NHL has lost some of its star power on the national sports level. Penguins and Capitals highlights are no longer featured on Sportscenter, and their road games don't produce the kind of attendance they have in recent years. I'd like to see the NHL work to market some of the other young players who are taking their games to new heights such as Steven Stamkos in Tampa Bay, Claude Giroux in Philadelphia, John Tavares in New York, and the aforementioned Couture in San Jose. These players have the talent to carry the NHL while appeasing Mr. Farber's concern.
The question still remains though: Who would you pay to see live? For me, I'm traveling to the Le Centre Bell this Saturday to watch the Capitals take on the Habs (The rare environment that you'd pay to see). I'm hoping Ovechkin does something crazy.

I'll leave you with this cheese from our boy.

 

We'll talk again when I return from the Mecca of hockey.

That's Friday (Unassisted)

Friday (Unassisted)

 I wish I wasn't as lazy as I am, but that would take effort to change so I don't think I'll do it. In short, I apologize to my "readers" for going on a bit of a hiatus over break. So what did we miss?

The World Junior Tournament
The US bowed out early in the tournament, losing to Finland, the Czech Republic, and Canada before restoring its collective pride in a shellacking of Latvia. The important thing to take from our nation's effort is that we will remain in the top tournament next year. And also, that no one South of the border, that is the Canadian-US border, really cares. The latter fact is a sad truth, because the tournament provides some of the most exciting, intense games in hockey at any level. Mix national pride with youthful exuberance and you get the most compelling of competitions. No match up epitomized this sentiment more than the Canada-Russia semi-final. If you don't know the history of this, the most intriguing and unique of hockey rivalries, here's a primer. In 1972 Canada and the Soviet Union scheduled an eight game "Summit Series" where the two hockey powers played four games in each respective nation. Long story short, watch "Cold War on Ice," the excellent documentary aired on The Outdoor Life Network Versus NBC Sports Network over break. Canada won the series 4-3-1 in a dramatic game eight in Moscow. At any rate, a rivalry was born. My dad during a recent rendition of "O, Canada" remarked that although the song goes "We stand on guard for thee," Canada really has no threat of invasion unless Matt Stone and Trey Parker take over the country, or rather Sheila Broflovski (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0SDrqa-eTXU&feature=related). For the last forty years it seems Canadian hockey players, however, have taken the lyric literally when they play the Russians in hockey. Have no doubts about it, the games are entirely Nationalistic. The old-school, lunch pale, ill-humored Canadians vs the free-flowing, systematic, Red Army-groomed Soviets. Seventy-two was a wake up call, eighty-seven a revelation, and eleven and twelve was Hannibal marching over the alps and toying with the Roman Empire: invading, winning, but teasing the empire more than toppling it. In the 2011 final, Canada took a 3-0 lead into the third period in a quasi-home game in Canada's estranged son of a city (Buffalo). Then the Russians finally fought off the vodka hangover to score five consecutive goals to claim the gold as the crowd stood in silence, a sign of respect in Japan, a sign of utter disbelief in Canada. Too stunned to riot, the Canadian patrons walked tails tucked between the legs back across the border and to their heartland. They bunkered down in Alberta, awaiting  the 2012 rematch. The Russians reveled like the Romans themselves, imbibing all the way to getting kicked off their flight home.
Flash-forward to January 3 and the Canadians had their chance at redemption. There's home-ice advantage, and then there's the Scotiabank Saddledome when Team Canada is playing. The building transformed into an amorphous blob of red. A very, very, very loud and patriotic amorphous blob. Then for fifty minutes the previously dormant Russians (they needed overtime to beat the Czechs in the quarters while Canada blitzed their through their group) proceeded to erupt, scoring six goals to Canada's one. The sixth goal said it all for the host hockey nation: Their defenseman took a penalty then figuratively and literally laid down his arms, sulking with his head down while the Russians breached the Canadian goaltender once again. With a little more than ten minutes left, disbelief stood hand in hand with silence again. The "Sea of red" suddenly calm, the slew of flags once waving in pride draped over the sullen spectators; fallen soldiers of sorts.
That goal changed the game like no goal I've ever seen. The Russians prematurely swindling the vodka on the bench: surely a five goal lead would prove insurmountable with ten minutes left. The Canadians oddly inspired: they might lose, but they wouldn't be embarrassed. They scored less than two minutes later. 6-2. They scored twenty some seconds after that. 6-3. Two minutes later they scored again. 6-4. The Russians resembled a confused young boy in a game of rock, paper, scissors who keeps throwing out paper against rock... and loses. The Canadians had seen the game and decided to take it into their own hands, grinding the Russians down more and more, proving that they indeed had the power in the match-up. 6-5 with almost six minutes remaining. The Russians were rattled like no team before them. They forgot how to play the game essentially, throwing pucks aimlessly off the glass, touching the Canadians without checking them, wilting in the fox hole immediately following a bayonet charge of their own. This was the equivalent of a football team going three and out on one play, punting on first down, taking the full drive from the opposing offense, and then punting again.
And the crowd rose from the dead. The resurrection of the Canadian team turned the gentle sea into a wintry gale. The flags flew again before the eulogies ended. There was no one watching present or at home (myself included) who thought Russia would hold on.
Then in a bit of brilliant insanity the Russian coach, utterly, palpably, visibly restless at this point, changed his goalie, who despite the five goals against had been nothing short of tremendous. Andrei Makarov walked into Game 7 of the ALCS against the Yankees, bases loaded with no outs in the ninth with a one run lead.
Then in an ironic twist of sorts, with time suddenly an ally, the Canadians seemed to grow more complacent. Not entirely complacent, but enough to allow the Russians to breathe a little bit: the proverbial heel on their throat eased to let a few gulps of air in. Near death, not dead.
Makarov proved to be Russia's savior. A genius in the like of "Stonewall" Jackson, Makarov stood strong in net, perhaps too naive to grasp the situation, as his teammates played desperate often reckless hockey in front of him. With help from two of his best friends, Makarov held on as Canada launched a final two minute fury of an attack, throwing everything at the net. The rage built to a deafening roar inside the arena until it finally burst into deafening silence. Fifty-six to twenty-four shots on goal in favor of Canada, forty-three to sixteen in the final two periods, twenty-one to six in the third period (I wanna know who was keeping track by the way. It felt like more. Not less). 6-5 final to Russia. The Russians did it again, and one wonders how they even mustered the energy to celebrate as they mauled their hero in goal. 

Canada took their frustrations out on the upstart Finns, trouncing them 4-0 in the perennially anti-climactic third place game. The bronze decidedly not gold.
The Russians on the other hand sputtered into the final against Sweden, who needed a shootout to best Finland in the first semifinal, on E. Emotionally spent and physically drained and vice versa, the Russians skated in water as the opportunistic Swedes flew by them on the ice. In the game between the Ovs and the Ssons, the Ssons were blowing the Ovs away. The score board as it so often does hid the story. 0-0. Amidst the blur of yellow and blue of the Swedes, and the stagnant red and blue of the Russians stood the one Russian who was supposed to be standing: Makarov. He turned away every puck the Swedes through at him, nothing spectacular, but consistent to the point of brilliance. To his credit the Swedish goaltender stood his equal some one hundred ninety feet away, quelling the rare Russian attack that came his way with a flash of the pads.
The Russians had been extending their last breath for nearly four periods of hockey, and welcomed overtime the same way they entered the game: at 0-0. The Swedes, desperate for their country's first gold medal in thirty-one years, pushed on admirably. Their stoic nature showing no signs of caving to frustration despite a fifty to sixteen shots on goal advantage. The Russians bunkered in their defensive zone with nothing left but an unspoken will to get to the shootout. Makarov stayed strong, stopping seven more shots in ten minutes as his exhausted teammates managed a mere one.
It had to be Mika Zibanejad for Sweden. The forward of Iranian descent played the role of unlikely hero if only in greater context. The thought of an Iranian dominating a game of hockey between two powerhouses reads more like an Adam Sandler movie pitch than an historical event. Zibanejad had indeed been unstoppable (sans Makarov) for his mother's nation as he moved by Russian d-men like they were practice cones. After a near miss in overtime, or rather a near goal, Zibanejad skated back to the bench visibly spent. He had given the Russians everything he had, every dangle, wrist shot, and snapper, the tangibles and the intangibles. In a word, he was tired. Previously double-shifted, he took a few off, watching his teammates fight a familiarly unrewarding battle. Two minutes later, he was back, the forward turned d-men, waiting patiently on the blue line as his more energized teammates mucked it  up in the corners with the defiant Russians. His legs resting, his eyes watching, seeking that opportunity that he knew would come. And then it did. A Russian player at his own blue line, with Swedish forecheckers nowhere to be found, tragically relaxed as he tried to harmlessly chip the puck through the neutral zone. Zibanejad pounced and in a blink he was in on Makarov, a clash between the two best players as fate should have it. With a quick deke to the backhand it was over. Ray Ferraro called Makarov's effort "A heroic performance," but still a performance in loss. The Russians sat dejected on the bench. The Swedes threw sticks, helmets, and gloves in celebration on the ice. A just result, the epitome of this great tournament.
Russia Canada highlights
Sweden vs Russia final

NHL Midseason 
Enough about the kids. On to the adults and to some midseason awards, which are treated like off-season awards or preseason awards. That is, they don't matter.
Hart Trophy (MVP) Evgeni Malkin. As much as I'd love to give more love to Pavel Datsyuk, and he absolutely is the best player in the Crosby-less hockey world imho, the award is Malkin's to lose. While Claude Giroux, Jonathon Toews, and Henrik Lundqvist certainly have claims, Malkin has done more for his team. With a slew of injuries to key players, the Penguins essentially presented the big Russian with a perfect MVP opportunity: Amidst adversity, succeed. He has been unstoppable of late. One can pencil his name on the scoresheet multiple times for every game he plays. Malkins unflappable determination has been very, ahem, un-Russian (see Kovalev, Alex, Yashin, Alexei, etc.). He's routinely taken on one on fours... and scored or set up goals. As of this writing his 58 points leads the league as does his Crosby-like 1.41 points per game average.
Dark Horses: Zdeno Chara, Lundqvist
Vezina Trophy (Best Goalie) Henrik Lundqvist. His stats are there: 21-10-4 record, 1.93 gaa, and .936 Save percentage, 4 shutouts. His team is in first place. He does not give up bad goals. Simple as that. Thomas's sprawling, spectacular saves take the air out of teams' forwards. Lundqvist's consistency, on the other end of the spectrum, does the same. He cannot be phased in net. Claude Giroux perhaps spoke for all NHL forwards when he asked Lundqvist during the Winter Classic, "Can I have one tonight? Just one?" Most nights that's all you will get.
Dark Horses: Pekka Rinne, Marc-Andre Fleury, Jonathan Quick
Norris Trophy (Best Defenseman) Tough call. Hard not to like Nicklas Lidstrom here (he has won the award a few times before), but I think Zdeno Chara is the most important defenseman in the game. Chara's sheer size is a force, but now he's contributing more on the offensive end. His 27 points are good for ninth in the league among d-men, while his +28 number is superb given his toi/g of 24:59.
Dark Horses: Shea Weber, Kimmo Timonen
Calder Trophy (Rookie of the Year) Ryan Nugent-Hopkins was running away with this award until injury halted his campaign. He should return soon, and he does still lead the league in rookie scoring, but the Devils' Adam Henrique has assumed the role of front-runner. His 34 points trail RNH by one, and he's just getting going. Playing with Parise and Kovalchuk down the stretch should help the center's plight as the Devils attempt to return to prominence in the East.
Dark Horse: Matt Read, Jhonas Enroth, Sean Couturier

Lot to look forward to this semester/season and I look forward to mindlessly providing my opinion every week. O, and if you haven't already, watch 24/7 in its entirety.
Friday (Unassisted)

Brock Lesnar Retires

Is Brock Lesnar retired, for real?

“This is the last time you’ll see me in the octagon,” said Lesnar after his bout with Alistair Overeem, which ended with a vicious kick to the liver in the first round in Las Vegas.

So it sounds like he is.

As a fighter, Brock has displayed moments of classlessness and childish behavior. He has disrespected opponents, laughed in their faces and flipped off UFC crowds. He is brash, cocky and appears confident. He has described himself as a tough son of a bitch. But on Friday night, for the second consecutive fight, he found himself being brutalized by an opponent he declared to the world he would beat. When asked about fear before his fight against Alistair, Brock said, “I don’t think I know what that is. I’ve been pretty fearless. I look at my son now who is two years old, and he has the same traits as I have, fearlessness. I have never feared a man.”

Nothing breeds fearlessness, like a man coining himself, as fearless.

Brock Lesnar is a bully. He is a man who claims Minnesota – although he was actually born and raised in South Dakota. He self admittedly graduated last in his class of 54 students in his hometown of Webster. Who knows how he made it through college at the University of Minnesota. Maybe he had a passion for the classroom we have yet to recognize. Right. He has wrestled professionally worldwide and has even tried out to be a Minnesota Viking (a venture that led to him being pushed around by NFL lineman and eventually, cut by the team).  

Brock has no problem standing over someone he is physically superior to. On SportsNation, he bullied Colin Cowherd into a corner and wouldn’t stop chirping in Colin’s ear (albeit, later is was revealed as a joke on Colin). Brock rubbed his victory in the face of his opponents Shane Carwin and most notably Frank Mir, when he got into a post fight skirmish. Now, after only 8 fights, and calling himself the best heavyweight in the world, he quits. He calls it. He says his days are over. He’s the bully on the playground who got put in his place, and never messed with anyone again.

Brock Lesnar is a self glamorized star. He is a great fighter, because he said he is a great fighter. When he smells blood, he fires through opponents in a way we have never seen a man fire through another man. But when that blood is his own, kiss adversity goodbye. Great fighters, legends of the sport like Royce Gracie, Don Frye and Ken Shamrock have found themselves bullied and beaten, only to come out the other end victorious champions of their sport. They have endured countless battles, and persevered through it all. Brock never did that.  

I have some sympathy for Brock. I wonder if he is a man, trapped in a body that he never wanted – that he is burdened with pressures of athletics as his only way to success. He displays nanoseconds of humbleness, humility and respect. He has an unbelievable work ethic and sculpts his body into a true fortress. He understands entertainment. He almost looks like a prisoner to the entertainment world. He doesn’t believe everything he says, but he knows he has to say it. As a fighter, and as an entertainer, he has to say it. The stronger the words and the cockier the personality, the larger the fighting purses grow. He doesn’t seem like a guy who ever wanted to enter the octagon. He is perfectly comfortable being the king of the hill, but who isn’t? Once he got knocked off, he didn’t have the resolve to climb back up. He also battled more than just world class fighters. He battled a disease that almost stole his life. He had sections of his colon removed and was rendered powerless against something less than a man – a disease.

If he has indeed, fought in the UFC for the final time, Brock’s career will be a more of a short story picture book than it will be a novel. That is, if we are willing to even call it a “career” at all. Brock fought 8 times in the UFC, registering a career record just over .500 at 5-3. Brock has stated in the past, “I’ve never had the chance to fight Joe Schmo and Tommy Tuna Can,” and he had fought the UFC’s top competition. He hasn’t had the chance to pad his record. Although this is fair, I guess, Brock had faced an old Randy Couture, a Heath Herring who hasn’t fought since Brock, and a Shane Carwin who arguably had already won their fight, if not without the assistance of a referee.

After losing to Alistair, he found another way to make it his platform as he stole the thunder, announcing his retirement. Maybe Brock Lesnar is a hero. Maybe not. Maybe he is a folklore character, similar to the likes of Paul Bunyan, who is more story than truth. Probably more true. He placed an imprint on the MMA world, probably more of an impact than he truly deserved. This is the way I feel he will be remembered:

He will be remembered for controversy he sparked and a mouth he ran. 

TROY KLONGERBO

Top Cheese (Friday, Unassisted)

Welcome to the second installment of Top Cheese or Friday, Unassisted. In my first post, I asked for our readers to vote for one of my two titles. While some of you had very nice things to say, no one mentioned the title. God knows I can't make a decent decision by myself, so please help me pick a title.
Onto the NHL where there are no shortage of talking points. Sadly, the more dominant ones seem to revolve around the continuing concussion problem. I'll get to that later, but why not start with the positives.

Minnesota Defensemen- Even after back to back losses to their future conference rivals in the Jets and the Blackhawks (shootout loss), the Wild still sit in first place in the West. Undoubtedly, their d-men have had a lot to do with the team's surprising success this season. The twenty-two year old Jared Spurgeon has been particularly impressive, logging well over twenty minutes of ice time while standing a mere 5' 9". As good as the Wild have been, Minnesota born defensemen have been just as impressive. Jake Gardiner, Justin Faulk, Ryan McDonagh, and Nick Leddy have all played significant minutes for the Leafs, Canes, Rangers, and Hawks respectfully. More impressive: McDonagh is the oldest of the group at 22, and three of their four teams are in playoff position. McDonagh is fourteenth in the league in time on ice per game, and the nineteen year old former UMD Bulldog Faulk is second on the Hurricanes. The twenty year old Leddy is sixth in scoring on the Blackhawks behind the likes of Toews, Kane, Hossa, Keith, and Sharp. Keep an eye out on these guys (ahem, kids) because the future is very bright. I wouldn't mind seceding from the United States so Minnesota could send a team to the Olympics. I'll take that back line (throw in Paul Martin, Matt Niskanen, Dustin Byfuglien, or Tom Gilbert to provide a veteran presence) in 2014.

Jason Garrison- Speaking of d-men with ties to Minnesota, how about former UMD Bulldog Jason Garrison? He's +11 for the first place Panthers, and leads all NHL defensemen with 9 goals including 5 on the powerplay.

24/7- Glad to see the return of the best show on television on Wednesday night. I was particularly excited, given that my beloved Philadelphia Flyers are one of the two teams on the show. Two things I took from episode:
1. Ilya Bryzgalov is one strange cat. His soliloquy on the Universe had me near tears laughing. Quote: "It's so humongous beeg." Also liked his take on tigers: "There are less than 500 species left. If you kill one in China, you get death penalty." Ah, goalies, the best ones are crazy. That bodes well for my Flyguys, I guess.
2. While Mac Miller's "Knock, knock" is certainly catchy (rookie d-man Kevin Marshall apparently enjoys it Knock, knock Flyers), I think it's quite blasphemous to have a Pittsburgh native sing the Flyers' victory song.

Concussions- Since I wrote last, the NHL has lost its best player (Sidney Crosby again), its leading goal scorer (Ottawa's Milan Michalek), and its leading point getter (Claude Giroux :( ) to concussions or concussion like systems. Just last night it was announced that the menacing Chris Pronger will miss the rest of the season due to post concussion syndrome. At 36, his injury could be career ending. Jeff Skinner, Joni Pitkanen, are others among the growing list of concussion victims. All of this reminds me of the time I had to get stitches in eighth grade. I cut myself above the eye (I won't tell you how), and was rushed to urgent care. The room was a cacophony of coughs, sneezes, sniffling, and crying; victims of the perennial flu epidemic. When a nurse finally came to treat me, she broke down crying. Apparently my stitches were a welcome distraction from treating the flu. That's how I feel about concussions right now. When Mikko Koivu went down with a mere "lower-body" injury this week I celebrated a bit inside, as cruel as that sounds.
The difficulty with concussions is that the NHL has done nearly all it can to curtail hits to the head. Yet concussions still happen. Ironically, Giroux, Crosby, and Michalek all went down from hits from their own teammates. According to Barry Melrose (some source, I know), the NHL has started implementing new helmets that are supposed to be more concussion proof. They also have researchers working on safer shoulder pads as well. All of this is good and all, but as long as hockey is played on ice surrounded by hard boards by 200 pound athletic men moving at twenty to thirty mph concussions will happen. Let's wish that these guys have speedy recoveries, and that they can continue to play at their highest level.

Goal of the Week

If I could rink with one player in the NHL, that player would be Claude Giroux. If Giroux didn't answer his phone, I would call Pavel Datsyuk. As he enters the zone he mesmerizes the entire defense while using his peripheral vision to watch the bench. He knows a forward is coming on, so he delays, delays, and then throws a no-look back hand pass across through the slot. Unreal.

That's all for this week. Get back to me on the name, and absolutely watch 24/7.
Friday, Unassisted