Rockin’ Steady

Two items here. Once upon a time, a long time ago, I thought I was going to become a sportswriter. I interned at Sports Illustrated and thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life there. Ultimately, I chose a different path, but I think that my heart’s still very much in the field, even if I have no interest in writing about sports for a living right now. I keep up with events in the industry through a few sources, and I read with the critical eye of someone who once spent hours contemplating, with a college student’s leisure time and Confucius’ level of concentration, what good sportswriting meant.

I’ve developed two major, well, crushes on sportswriters whom I’d have killed to be, once upon a time. The first is Gary Smith, whose success has been well-documented and whose collection of sportswriting you should purchase immediately. The second is Selena Roberts, the New York Times columnist, who is rumored to be ESPN bound.

For a sports section routinely (and I believe inaccurately) lambasted as New York’s worst, the Times easily has New York’s greatest sportswriting talent. Since this is a Knicks blog, I give you two glimpses at what good sportswriting looks like. The first is from The Allan Houston Game. Big Lead was good enough to link it from his post:

There was the deafening noise, and still Alonzo Mourning’s baritone voice was able to cut through a vibrating Miami Arena as he cried out: ”One stop. One stop.” One surreal instant later, Allan Houston put down a forceful dribble, curled around Dan Majerle as tightly as a stripe on a candy cane and discovered a shaft of light.

With a clear view of the basket, Houston planted a foot on the free-throw line, tilted forward and tossed destiny up in the air. As his 10-foot jumper licked the front of the rim, bounced up and hung as if filled with helium, there dangled Jeff Van Gundy’s job as the Knicks’ head coach, Patrick Ewing’s future and the path of the franchise.

Then, gravity brought down the Heat and devastated Coach Pat Riley as Houston’s shot touched the backboard and fell softly into the net with just eight-tenths of a second left. The lead, Game 5, and another dramatic series with their loathed rival belonged to the Knicks in an unfathomable 78-77 victory that eliminated the Heat for the second time in three years. The Knicks advanced to the second round of the playoffs and will play the Hawks in a four-of-seven-game series to begin Tuesday in Atlanta.

Shiiiiiit. Go on, read the rest. I’ll still be here.

More importantly, as a columnist, Ms. Roberts was the witty voice of reason in a Jim Dolan universe gone mad. She was to the smoldering remains of Madison Square Garden what Upton Sinclair was to the meatpacking industry. This is one of my favorites:

AS a sucker for classic stars, and given his premium channel access, the son of the Cablevision czar must find himself curled up in front of his in-home theater at night, mesmerized by the genius of Mickey Rooney and friends when faced with a crisis.

Orphanage closing? Pal got the blues? ”Hey, let’s put on a show.”

Using the same problem-solving technique, James L. Dolan applied his TV know-how to living color yesterday, deciding the best way to cure the curdling image of the Knicks franchise was to trot out a throwback icon yesterday.

Introducing . . . Isiah Thomas, new president of basketball operations. To create the illusion of change by casting off the stilted Scott Layden, to juice up fans with an artificial shakeup, Dolan proudly unveiled Thomas as the leader who would guide the Knicks to the playoffs this year, with a championship soon to come.

…

Not as hands on, he maneuvers differently around the Rangers, but is so taken with Sather’s glory days in Edmonton, he allows his resident Yoda to impede progress by rewarding Mark Messier with ice time for star services rendered years ago.

Reflecting the state of both teams’ malaise in time-lapse style, Dolan begins each night happily upright in his seat. By halftime, he is usually distracted by the pretty lights and celebrity sightings. By the end, he appears sleepy and ready for a warm glass of milk. Some people wonder if he truly understands the intricacies of what he is watching.

So in walked Isiah, wearing a sharp navy suit, pinstriped shirt and perfectly knotted tie. Naturally glowing, all but backlit before the camera lights even hit him, Thomas had the look of a classic star. Problem solved. Let the show begin.

Too… damn… talented. She works hard to do actual reporting as well, rather than sitting on her couch like Mike Lupica, who apparently didn’t even watch Allan Houston play before drafting his epitaph this fall:

Let’s just say that Isiah Thomas didn’t act as happy as Christmas morning to see Allan Houston back wearing No. 20.

The coach of the Knicks is probably thinking:

I’ve got much younger guys who can’t cover anybody.

Clever, except that Houston didn’t wear No. 20 at all during his aborted comeback. Jared Jeffries wears 20 now; Houston wore 7. Not only does Lupica sit on his couch rather than report from games, the shit he watches on his couch isn’t even the games. It’s probably Everybody Loves Raymond repeats.

Anyway, back to the subject of people with talent. I hope that, assuming she goes to ESPN, Selena actually writes. Anything else would be a crime against journalism to dwarf the Worldwide Leader’s many other crimes against journalism.

Although, maybe SI could grab her to replace Rick Reilly first.

Another media thought: Really, ESPN? Not one of your purported experts thinks that the Knicks will make the playoffs? Come back to this page in a few months, as this will look like a murderer’s row of jackasses.