9911270105
DETROIT FREE PRESS
991127
Saturday, November 27, 1999
METRO FINAL
1B
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1999, Detroit Free Press
SEEING TODAY'S SPORTS THROUGH DIFFERENT I'S
FROM THE moment Latrell Sprewell came bounding onto the court last Saturday
night -- chin jutting, muscles taut, eyes locked in an I-dare-you glare -- he
was pumped. He was intense. He was all the things they tell you to be in
sports, but for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't about his team.
It was about himself.
When he cursed and taunted fans before the game, it was about himself. When he
refused to shake the hand of the opposing coach, Golden State's P. J.
Carlesimo -- whom Sprewell tried to strangle in 1997 -- it was about himself.
During the game, when his team scored, Sprewell glared at the Warriors' bench;
it was about himself. When he pounded his chest and flexed his muscles after a
basket, it was about himself.
He missed 11 of 17 shots. He turned over the ball three times. Because he is
paid $9 million a year to play basketball, you could say he did not earn his
money Saturday night.
"Do you think you behaved professionally?" he was asked after the game.
"I know I had fun," he said.
Well, as long as he had fun.
Welcome to the last days of the millennium, where the truth about sports now
lies in this sentence: "It's all about me." It's nice to win, but it's more
important to make a personal statement.
I'm not talking about salaries or contract negotiations. I'm talking about the
actual games. They have become soapboxes for players' boasts, brags and muscle
flexes. If Sprewell cared at all about his Knicks winning Saturday night, it
was only because he wanted to show up his old team. To make his statement.
Sprewell sees himself as do so many of today's athletes: some unique warrior
on a mountain, shouting for all the creatures below to give him his proper
respect, because, don't you know? It's all about him.
Players' 'statements' are a sad commentary
Football is just as bad as basketball. It's rare to see a game anymore in
which guys don't pop up after every play and point a finger, pound a fist, or,
more commonly, pound their own chest over and over, in a gesture that suggests
"I did it! That's right! Gimme my due!"
Remember that old expression, "There's no 'I' in team"?
To paraphrase Tina Turner, "What's team got to do with it?"
Robert Bailey, a defensive back for the Lions, is one of those guys who makes
his "statement" after a play. In a September game against Green Bay, he broke
up a pass and did a "slit your throat" gesture at the Packers, as if he alone
had just murdered their chances.
I'm sorry. I must have missed something. Isn't Bailey paid to knock down
passes? Does a painter pound his chest every time he finishes a house?
Never mind. Bailey sees the game as a chance to stamp his identity all over
your consciousness. And he's not alone. Last week, when the Packers played the
Lions again, Brett Favre had the better day. So, after a long pass, he ran 20
yards to Bailey's vicinity and made the throat-slitting gesture at him.
It's not about you. It's about me!
"I'm not that kind of player," Favre said afterward, "but I was today, I
guess."
Is that an apology?
This week, in response to Favre, Bailey and others, the NFL outlawed the
throat-cutting gesture. Big deal. It only means players will have to come up
with something else.
Between the dances, the flexes and the leaps into the stands, you wonder how
anyone has time to actually play the game anymore.
It's their world -- just check the videotape
Why are athletes like this today? In part, blame TV. The "SportsCenters" of
the world have become video bulletin boards for the players' egos. They make
their statement, post it and want the world to view it. TV has turned players
into Narcissus at the water's edge, so enthralled with their own image they
set their VCRs so that they can go home and watch themselves strut.
TV captures all this ridiculous posturing and posing, and replays it over and
over. And while most of America is disgusted, somewhere back home, the
player's friends and family are slapping hands and saying, "Look at him go!
That's our guy!"
And that's all the player cares about.
Did you know kids' sports video games now come complete with trash talk? It's
expected. You know that expression "It's your world"? It means one guy is
taking over. It is now a permanent part of the sports lexicon. Games are less
about a group of men banding together for a common goal than they are a
cockfight of egos.
So Sprewell curses at the fans and makes cartoon wrestling motions. And
Bailey, Favre and the Jets' Keyshawn Johnson (whose book, you recall, was
"Just Give Me the Damn Ball!") make the throat-slitting gesture.
And defensive linemen make a simple tackle, then pound their chests like
Tarzan. And hockey players do a celebration slide after a goal. And an NBA
forward shakes his head after a dunk to say, "You can't stop me, it's my
world."
And somewhere buried in all this is the notion of team sports. That a whole is
greater than the sum of the parts. That the humility that comes from being
part of a group is what enables that group to do incredible things.
"You know, you could get fined for that throat-slitting gesture," someone told
Favre.
Favre grinned. "I'd be happy to pay it."
Welcome to sports in the new millennium. There's no "I" in team.
But there's one smack in the middle of "s-e-l-f-i-s-h."
MITCH ALBOM can be reached at 313-223-4581 or albom@freepress.com. Catch
"Albom in the Afternoon" 3-6 p.m. weekdays and "Monday Sports Albom" 6:30-8
p.m. Mondays on WJR-AM (760). Mitch will sign copies of his books at noon-1
p.m. today at Borders in Novi.
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COLUMN;EGO