So how did you get your start as a pro-wrestler, Anthony?

I got started in pro-wrestling right after high school. I wanted to a be a wrestler ever since I was a kid and joined up at the IWF (Independent Wrestling Federation).

Nice. Who’re some of the wrestlers who really influenced or mentored you during your time at the IWF? Also, what was your finishing move?

IWF head trainer Kevin Knight, Biggie Biggs AKA Rik Ratchet and Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) wrestler Simon Diamond.
My gimmick was a boxer, so I used the KO punch and the TKO where I put the guy on my shoulders, turned him to the side and fell down on him, like the RKO. I also had the Balboa leg drop which kicked ass.

Speaking of Balboa, are you related to Sylvester Stallone? I see that Stallone is part of your ring name and twitter name.

I use the name as my stage name and am good friends with the family. Sylvester’s brother Frank got me into the Celebrity Boxing scene.

How did Frank help you get into the Celebrity Boxing scene?

I talked with Frank about getting me a fight and he put me in touch with a promoter involved in the Celebrity Boxing Federation (CBF). I told him that I wanted to get in there for a fight and that Frank Stallone referred me. He gave me a shot and put me on one of the CBF cards. I fought Devon Moore from PA and knocked him out in the second round.

That’s a great way to start. So what was the CBF like? Can you tell us about any crazy bouts you were involved in?

Yeah, it was a hell of a way to start, haha.
One fight I was supposed to have was with this guy who backed out after he saw me at the weigh-in. The fight was supposed to be on the undercard of Jose Canseco vs. Danny Bonaduce. Also, I had beef with this dude out in Philly named Joe Parkinson. He wanted to fight me real bad and talked to a promoter about it. So of course we fought, I don’t back down. He ended up winning the fight because of a decision, but afterwards we found out he cheated using illegal hand wraps.

Wtf. What’s an illegal hand wrap?
They get hard when hands got wet cuz of the sweat, giving an unfair advantage. He’s been wanting to have a rematch and I would fight him again.

We’ll tag him in Twitter. Let’s make it happen.

I don’t think he has a Twitter. Dude’s a punk.

Watta schweener.

Yeah, he just drinks his life away. He might have a Facebook though. I would definitely put him away this next time.

If he does have a Facebook, we’ll get him.
Also, were you a trained boxer during this time at CBF?

Yeah, I was training down in Newark, NJ.

Nice. That must have helped a lot. Since you didn’t know how to professionally box when you were a wrestler, was it hard to pick up? Especially because you’ve become pretty competitive now.

Yeah, it helped a lot. I trained at Elite Heat Boxing Gym in Newark, New Jersey. It was a tough transition, which is why I joined a boxing gym to learn how to box and move like a fighter. I was already in great shape but developing these fundamentals helped a ton and allowed me to get to a very competitive level.

How was the 2008 Golden Gloves Amateur Tournament? Was it your first big shot as an amateur? After breaking onto the boxing scene how different was it from wrestling? How did you get your name on people’s minds and on fight cards.

The 2008 Golden Gloves Amateur Tournament was my first fight ever as a boxer. I made it to the semi-finals and lost in a decision unfortunately, but it was a great experience to have.
Boxing and Pro-Wrestling are definitely really different though. In boxing, the goal is to hurt your opponent more than he hurts you so you can knock him out or get the decision. In Pro-Wrestling the idea is to make each other look great and end the match safe.
I get my name on people’s minds and on fight cards because I am a draw. I leave a positive impact on the fans and people want to see me in action whether it is in Boxing or in Pro-Wrestling.

Respek.

Also, I saw on your website that you played in a charity basketball game with the Giants. I’m a massive Giants fan and need to hear more about that. Did Coughlin come?

Yeah, I was involved in a charity event with the 1986 Super Bowl champion New York Giants. Coughlin wasn’t there, hahaha.

Damn, How was the event as a whole though? Despite the lack of the HoF’er in Tom Coughlin.

The event was awesome. Byron Hunt from the ’86 Giants is a good friend of mine. He asked me if I wanted to play and I said sure of course.

Did you hear of any cool Lawrence Taylor stories?

No, unfortunately. But it was still great to be around all of those great NY Giants from that Super Bowl season.

Yeah, that was a great team and it’s cool to hear that they‘re still giving back to the community.

Anyways, as a pro-wrestler I was wondering if you ever saw the movie, “The Wrestler”?

Of course! Mickey Rourke played a great part in the movie. Actually, some parts of the movie were filmed where I grew up in New Jersey.

Oh shit! That’s awesome. Are the locker-rooms as scary as they are in the movie?

Nah, not at all.

Really, no must-hear stories? Any shaving cream pranks?

Yes, those happen sometimes.

Good to know that healthy fun is alive and well in locker rooms across the US. So was there any big moment that led up to your decision to transition from wrestling to boxing? Seems like a big move to make.

Yea. Brock Lesnar did what I did also, but he went into the MMA. That was definitely a big move that reverberated around the community. I’m still involved a bit in Pro-Wrestling and made a few appearances in a promotion in NJ 2 times last year.

Did you get banged up a lot in pro-wrestling/boxer? If so, where were the injuries worse?

Yeah, I got banged up in Pro-Wrestling a good amount. I pulled my back, hurt my knee and sprained my neck. In Boxing I broke my pinky, most of my ribs, broke my nose, pulled my shoulder. Hell, this past March I tore a tendon in my foot and I had to have surgery on it on March 30th.

Ouch man, how did you break most of your ribs?

Just dislocated my ribs on the right side after getting punched. I got a good shot landed on me from a heavyweight haha.

Is the pain worse right when it happens or after the fight when you get home?

Yeah, I didn’t really feel it right after. More that night and the next morning.

So what’s your relationship with the Howard Stern Show? I see you trained Tan Mom and were involved with Beetlejuice somehow?

I was there because I helped Tan Mom train for her Celebrity Boxing fight with Milf Mom.

Yeah I’m a big Howard fan so I was just curious. Tan Mom is a favorite of mine. Did she reach out to you for training? How did you get that gig?

Yeah, the Celebrity Boxing promoter called me and asked if I would train Tan Mom. So I did.

Cool. She seems like quite the character. What’s your training regiment like?

Oh she definitely is man. When I train for a fight I am in camp for 8 weeks, 5–6 days a week. It includes a lot of running and sparring with pad work.

That sounds pretty brutal.

Yeah, it is but to win you have to. I am a 2 division champion. CBF light heavyweight champion and WXE Cruiserweight champion.

Is it a good feeling knowing that you can walk into any room and be the toughest guy there?

Haha, yeah it is. I try to keep to myself though and avoid any fights not in the ring.

Yeah man, that’s empowering to have. Like a super power almost, it can be dangerous!

Yeah, you really have to be careful.

Also, I read that you got a head injury in a club, what happened there?

Yes, I did. I was hit with a Grey Goose bottle over the head at the club while the party was ending. I think I was set up though. The cops never caught the guy or people involved.

Damn. That’s some real shit.

Yeah dude. That put me out for like 3 months.

Were you knocked unconscious?

I was taken out by an ambulance. I didn’t lose consciousness but I lost a lot of blood and was fading in an out. I almost died were it not for the great people around me who helped.

Jesus Christ. Why would someone want to smash a bottle of Grey Goose over your head? Do you have any idea why that happened?

There were 3 fights going on. I guess I was in the middle of a club fight at the Providence Night Club in NYC. There was no security around to help.

And before you knew it someone smashed a vodka bottle over your head?

Yup.

Well thank God you survived that man. On to brighter things, I heard you met Buster Douglas. Want to tell us more about that?

Yea man. Thank God I made it through that night. I did meet Buster. He’s a great guy and a huge influence on me.

Did he give you any advice? Tell you any cool stories?

He told me to just train hard and never give up. I told him, “ Hey Buster, I heard Mike Tyson is still looking for his mouthpiece”. Haha.

Hahaha. Yeah I bet he smiled at that one. Do you want to plug anything that you might be involved in within the next few months?

Yeah, Buster loved that one.
Well right now I am training with no fight date set. I am trying to get a rematch with Mike Davis, the guy I beat for the open WXE cruiserweight title 2 years ago.

You seem like one hell of a focused guy. Before I say goodbye, can you give me one crazy story about Tan Mom?

Hahaha. She’s just a crazy funny woman. I have a clip of her talking about our fights that were coming up and her tooth came out on her lip when she was talking.

Hahahahahaha. That’s ridiculous.
Anyways, thanks for your time, Anthony. I really appreciate it.

Okay. Thanks my man.

Anthony “Stallone” Patanella Talks Pro-Wrestling, Boxing and Tan-Mom was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s August 21st. The Red Sox are 69–53 and comfortably lead the MLB in doubles, hits, slugging percentage, batting average and OPS. They have an arsenal of entertaining, talented young players that GMs dream of. Rick Porcello has randomly become one of the best pitchers in the AL. Tim Wakefield has been reincarnated in Steven Wright. And David Ortiz is still David Ortiz.

All seems well and grand, but something’s missing.

It’s not the starters (well, it might be the starters). It’s not a healthy bullpen (actually, Carson Smith would be nice), and it’s definitely not better awareness of pitching situations and when to utilize certain relievers (could help, though).

We’re missing a movement. One that did so much for the city of Boston in 2013.

We’re missing the beards.

That fateful March, Mike Napoli, Jonny Gomes and Dustin Pedroia began the movement that would define their team and their city. They decided to grow beards. For much of the year, the team was great, but unspectacular. They had led the AL East, but never held more than a 4.5 game cushion for most of the year.

Then, in the dog days of summer, everything changed. The Red Sox soared. On August 24th, they were tied for first in the AL East. On September 15th, the bearded squad was 9 games up and well on their way to an eventual World Series victory.

At the root of all of this? Beards.

Make no mistake about it. In 2014, after the foolish Jonny Gomes decided to start the new year with a freshly shaven look, the Red Sox finished last in their division. In 2015, the Red Sox once again began the year beardless. They finished in last. Again.

The trend is clear. Without beards the team could not fully rally behind their new big signings, Hanley Ramirez and Pablo Sandoval. Each had an awful year without the camaraderie the beards nurtured and catalyzed, leaving the team and the fans in the dust.

At the end of each of these seasons I was not surprised. Without beards this disappointment is inevitable.
No beards → No Love → No Joy → No winning baseball.
It’s an easy formula that Mike Napoli understood, emphasized, and implemented.

Some may find this comical. How could a beard do so much? Baseball is a game of the mind, not of aesthetic features. Correct?

No, not correct.

It’s a new age in baseball and the numbers don’t lie. For the Red Sox, the talent that won the World Series in 2004 and 2007 is no longer enough. It needs to be supplemented. As the current decade has shown us, Beard = World Series. No Beard = prolonged disappointment. I only report what I see, and advanced statistics show that this correlation is striking [See Graph A].

So 2016 Red Sox, I implore you. Bring back the beards. This team is too fun, too young and just too damn good for silly things like proper face hygiene to hold us back. The horrible September collapse of 2012 remains on my mind, and the reason behind it has become cold and mathematical.

No Beard = No World Series.

This team doesn’t deserve that fate. We cannot ignore the facts any longer. The beards must grow.

Below are some recommendations I have for the 2016 Red Sox.

The Need for the Beard was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

An American Love Letter To The EPL

Thank God for The Prem.

No one expects to hear that from an American, but damn do I stand by that sentiment. It’s finally here. On August 13th, my favorite sport season will have kicked off and the Premier league will have begun, albeit 3,000 miles away from where I call home.

My relationship with The Prem is unique. I have absolutely no ties to any British city or, in the case of Bournemouth, town (Oh shit). Hell, the only reason I’m a Liverpool fan is because they’re run by the same ownership as my baseball team of choice, the Boston Red Sox. Even still, I love Liverpool more than anything, and even attempt to speak with a subtle Scouse accent when discussing them. Basically, I’m a typical American fan to all you English purists. BUT! I’m not a City fan; I’m a Liverpool fan, which has to be at least respectable because of the constant misery. Plus, I’m not an Arsenal/Chelsea fan, so I’m not that much of a stereotype.

— Insert transition about how even though I’m a big fan, I haven’t been a fan for very long —

The Prem gracefully entered my life because of timing. I’m an early bird and a mild to heavy drinker. That means every Saturday I’m up by 8 AM feeling dreadful. Before I started watching The Prem, I would cope by drinking lots of water and watching something mindless on Youtube. One morning though, I turned on NBCSN and saw that soccer would be on until the early afternoon. The decision was easy. I quickly converted to watching The Prem.

Soccer soon became a sort of religious tradition for me. Instead of relaxing, I would celebrate the Sabbath by forcing myself awake to watch football at ungodly hours on a Saturday morning. This should have been dreadful but I never felt that way. The beautiful game kept me hooked. As a league where a brief moment of magic can permanently change the trajectory of a game, the EPL has given me some of the most roller-coaster sports memories in my life. Nowhere else can I see Coutinho do this, this and this. Manchester United lose like this, Arsenal blow it once again by pulling off this, and some random person named Jamie Vardy do this from out of nowhere. Watching these incredible goals and ridiculous games ensured that my Saturday mornings were better than ever, despite the sleep-deprivation and unreasonable dehydration.

To someone who had not been interested in soccer before 2014, this whole Premier League experience was incredible. How could I miss out on all this magic every week? “Fuck it, I’ll still set the alarm” became my routine-last-minute-thought every Friday night at 2 AM. But, what really makes the game stick with me is, unsurprisingly, the banter that surrounds it.

As I got into the EPL, I looked for similar American imposter-fans to talk about the league with. However, this conversation with friends rarely became meaningful discussion. Sure, we’d talk a little about the sport in general, but the conversation was about 96.4% insult. The enjoyment I gained from watching Chelsea flounder, Arsenal choke, Manchester City underperform and Manchester United be generally disgusting to watch paled in comparison to the fun I had bringing this up to my friends.

The real gift of The Prem is something more personal. It’s seeing my Chelsea-fan friends stop paying attention in February, my Arsenal-supporting roommate go through all the emotions of a difficult breakup in the month of May and my Manchester United supporting friends refuse to watch their team for the lack of entertainment value. No other league allows me to openly misunderstand why my Irish friend supports Sunderland, and tastefully ignore all Aston Villa fans I run into. It’s hating every single team not named Liverpool. The sport is the part of the game we all watch, but the bants is what we all love. What’s more enjoyable than berating and disparaging friends for the love of sports? Nothing.

Discussing the shit state of my friends’ team, ignoring others talk about the shit state of my own, and obsessing over the non-existent Cheeky Nandos around the corner has meant that over the past two years, I have been able to assimilate into the pessimistic and depressing culture that makes England such an appealing place for me. For that, I have The Prem to thank.

Before I get too emotional, I have to point out that the EPL’s best days are still to come. With the new TV deals, teams are able to afford more great players than ever before. Stoke City can become Stokelona, Manchester United can spend almost £89.3 million on making Pogba a super-villain, and Arsenal can still decide to buy absolutely no-one! The Mancs are as Mancy as ever, with legendary ex-Barça and ex-Bayern manager Pep Guardiola coaching an overpriced City squad, and United somehow being able to pull in Mourinho, Pogba and Zlatan to their train-wreck of a team. Chelsea should actually be good this year. Arsenal will probably be able to tragically fall short yet again. Tottenham is supposed to be good, which means they won’t be. And Liverpool will be great for like 4 weeks (just watch).

Oh yeah, and Leicester City is the defending Premier League Champion. What the actual fuck. This is awesome.

Kickoff on the 13th marks the beginning of a new season, but it signals so much more. Incredible highlights and rollercoaster games waiting to be seen. Teams will surprise and underwhelm. Boring Brits like Charlie Adam will pull off insane goals against league-favorites. And, most importantly, the Bants will be had.

So, here’s to The Prem. There will be times where you will show me more disappointment than I thought possible. Times where you will give me false hope that the future manager of Celtic will give me that elusive title. Times where I will be absolutely emotionally crushed by my friends for this false hope. Times where I will return the favor and mention how Chelsea and Hull City will play the same amount of European soccer this year. And times that are once in a lifetime.

Prem, thank you for existing. And thank you for not getting in the way of any American Football games, you’re perfect where you are. My early mornings with you on my computer couldn’t be any better.

An American Love Letter to the EPL was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

If you’re an NBA nerd like me, you know Sam Hinkie well. He was the Philadelphia 76er’s General Manager from 2013 to 2016, known for his rebuilding plan monikered “The Process.” His strategy was simple:

- Build a team with the full intention to bottom out and finish with the worst record in the league.
- Enter the lottery with the best odds.
- Draft the most talented player on the board.
- Rinse and repeat until you have a young talented core
- Inevitably win the NBA championship or move out of Pennsylvania immediately.

This was an appealing plan to most basketball big-heads for a while; Hinkie even received three ‘Executive of the Year’ votes this past season, in which the 76er’s finished 10–72. Though the record is appalling, Hinkie’s praise is mostly collected in June, when his tanking strategy reaps its rewards. This year, the 72 losses landed the 76ers Ben Simmons, another top talent, who now joins Nerlens Noel, Jahlil Okafor Joel Embiid and (sometimes) Nik Stauskas as the only players on the team I can name off the top of my head. Hinkie had yet another top ten pick to stockpile, develop, and mold into what would become the future of the 76ers. This would have (and should have) been the case were it not for the flawed nature of “The Process.”

What this plan didn’t seem to account for was the very uncertainty of being awful in the NBA. Not only did the purposely terrible 76ers have to outperform other bad teams at underperforming, but they had to deal with the league’s uncertain lottery system. Philadelphia’s luck was at its lowest in the 2014 draft, when Cleveland, a team that won 14 more games than Philly, was awarded the first overall pick. That pick became Andrew Wiggins, who eventually became Kevin Love, and the rest is history. God’s rare gift to Cleveland pushed the 76ers down to the third overall pick, where they missed out on ideal wing players in Jabari Parker and Andrew Wiggins to complement Nerlens Noel. As consolation, Hinkie decided to collect another defensive-minded center in Joel Embiid. Though this situation wasn’t ideal, it was still workable; “The Process” still seemed logical. Instead of a Kobe-Shaq situation, the City of Brotherly Love was going to be home to two of the best defensive centers in the NBA after Embiid and Noel developed. The twin tower framework that worked so well three years prior in LA was about to repeat itself in Philly.

Then, injury struck. Embiid needed surgery for his Navicular Stress Fracture soon after his big draft day and was sidelined for the entire season. A year removed from the mishap, Philadelphia had another high chance to win the lottery, along with a bundle of unanswered questions. What if Embiid never got healthy? Was his impressive twitter game enough to warrant a multi-year commitment? Did the 76ers really have the big-men of their future? Or should they roll the dice on a talented Karl-Anthony Towns or Jahlil Okafor given their inevitable high pick? In the face of these questions, most projected the Sixers to select D’angelo Russell, a dynamic passer with a quick 3-pt shot: the seemingly perfect compliment to their front court forest.

On June 25, 2015, though, these questions were abruptly answered when the infamous lottery struck again. The 76ers dropped to the third overall selection for the second year in a row, and film major D’angelo Russell was snatched by the Lakers with the second overall pick. When Philadelphia’s name was called, Jahlil Okafor remained on the board, a player that many pundits felt was a once in a lifetime post-threat offensively. Valuing talent over team spacing, Hinkie went on to make grumpy Jahlil Okafor a 76er.

To me, this was the professional equivalent of hitting autopick on your fantasy football draft. Sure, everyone considers Jamaal Charles the best player available, but having him, Adrian Peterson, Le’Veon Bell, and Eddie Lacy is simply not what you’re supposed to do. Instead, a good GM should evaluate what positional need is most dire for his team, and make the best decision to accrue talent in that area, ignoring the inevitable criticism. This is what Hinkie ultimately failed to do. He really should have traded down and/or rolled the dice on a lower top ten pick and a veteran roleplayer. The 2015 draft was deep enough for flexibility, and Okafor was talented enough to demand a tantalizing bounty. Even if Philly couldn’t find any suitors willing to give up the proper value for Okafor, drafting a sharpshooting unicorn in PorzinGod, prospective 3 & D players in Stanley Johnson or Justice Winslow, or a long range threat in Mario Herzonja would have fit the 76ers’ bill much better. They would have been able to roll out all 3 of their great young players this past year (if they turned out to be healthy) at the same time, and expedited the arduous development period.

But that’s not what the “The Process” calls for. Instead, it demands the best assets, who will become useful regardless of position from trade value. Unfortunately, Sam Hinkie clearly didn’t pay attention to diminishing returns while getting his MBA from Stanford. By the end of the 2015–2016 season, Philly was the worst team in the NBA once again, Joel Embiid was still suffering from the injury bug, Jahlil Okafor hated playing for the team, and Nerlens Noel wasn’t fitting within a congested front court. But Hinkie’s adamant followers still seemed to trust him. He had a reason for this part of his plan. He was too smart not to. Eventually, he’d land a generational talent in Ben Simmons, pull the loose ends together, and see his idea come to fruition. This is what geniuses like him were supposed to do. Rome wasn’t built in a day, amirite?

Perhaps passionate Hinkie disciples will claim he had this aforementioned plan, but we will never know. Shortly after a 76ers board meeting this April, Sam Hinkie released a 13 page resignation statement and Bryan Colangelo, the 2005 and 2007 Executive of the Year, was brought in to bring the 76ers back to relevance. “The Process,” with Hinkie at the helm, was finally over, leaving many with one longing question: Did it actually work?

Despite the esteem he seems to herald, Hinkie didn’t really do anything for the 76ers except build a bad team in order to draft talent. Many people seem to ignore that the roster he compiled lacks a compatible core. Philadelphia has great young players, but they’re all big men. Nerlens Noel, Joel Embiid and Jahlil Okafor are all best at the center position. Even 6–10 Ben Simmons — arguably the most exciting and unique talent of them all — makes the most sense playing PF in the modern NBA given his poor shooting ability. Hell, I haven’t even mentioned Dario Saric, the 22 year old 6–10 PF/SF Croatian prospect who recently signed with the Sixers. This means that either the 76ers clog the court, playing one of their true centers at PF while having Ben Simmons play as their point-small forward, or, alternatively, seriously risk stunting the development of their talent.

Colangelo, the heir of the all-mighty Hinkie Plan, is thus left in a very sticky situation. Sure, the 76ers roster is as talented as it could be because of Hinkie’s decisions, but Philadelphia’s young core is not the core of their future. By stubbornly drafting what were the consensus most-talented players off of the draft board, Sam Hinkie muddied what was supposed to be his future super team with incoherent choices and ill-fitting pieces.

The front court backlog in Philly means that Colangelo’s first order of business will be to flip one of his talented young big men for a young wing or point guard to develop alongside the remaining core. The problem is, Colangelo is a seller in a buyer’s market. Everybody knows that the 76ers have to trade one of their centers, forcing Philadelphia into a situation with almost no leverage. Therefore, these top young talents are not being treated as such. Opposing GMs are devaluing the 76ers’ trade assets because they know that in order for Philadelphia to succeed, one of them has to go.

Exasperating this situation is that in the 76ers’ prospects need to play big minutes against NBA competition to properly develop and attain maximum trade value. Since a lineup of Jerryd Bayless (the savvy vet of the organization at this point), Simmons, Okafor, Noel and Embiid is impossible to roll out in today’s NBA, this is hard for the 76ers to do. Philly can’t play lineups that give NBA scouts a realistic look at these players’ skill sets without reducing their minutes. This is a Catch-22 that no one wants, and one which no one expected “The Process” to leave the Sixers organization in.

Even worse for Colangelo is that there is a timer he needs to keep in mind. At the end of this year, Nerlens Noel is a restricted free agent, meaning that the 76ers either have to commit to him long term, or let him go to the team that will inevitably offer him something close to a max contract for 5 years. If Colangelo does not make a move by then, one of two unappealing situations will play out.

Option 1: The 76ers can sign Nerlens Noel, a supreme defensive talent for the long term, and consequently devalue Embiid and Okafor, as opposing GMs will know that there is only enough room for one of them.

Option 2: The 76ers let Nerlens Noel walk for nothing in order to open up rotation time for Embiid and Okafor at their preferred center position. This is an especially risky move, as Okafor is known to be an average defender at best, meaning Embiid, yet to play a minute in the NBA, will be forced to be an NBA-ready defensive prospect.

If a trade isn’t completed by the time Nerlens’ restricted free agency begins, the 76ers are guaranteed to lose one of their players for an unfair price, whether it be through expired contracts, or opposing GMs logically devaluing players like Okafor and Embiid.

Traditionally, free agency could be seen as another solution. Philadelphia has a TON of cap space, with $25 million in room before they even think about going up into the luxury tax. No one on the 76ers has a salary of over $10 million a year. The only players on the books for the 2017–18 season making more than $5 million a year are Joel Embiid, Ben Simmons and Gerald Henderson on an expiring contract. There is an INCREDIBLE amount of room for growth in Philadelphia, as Hinkie did do a good job of making sure there were no bad contracts on the team before he resigned.

Of course, this is great news for Colangelo. A clean slate with dynamic young players is every GM’s dream. But attracting top players to Philadelphia may be harder than some think. The rising cap has allowed already great teams to have the room to sign additional all-time talent (See Durant, Kevin) and the cap is due to go up again next year, when the free agency class is even better. As recent history has shown: winning > money for the top free agents in the NBA. So why would they go to Philadelphia? Boston will offer the world in assets to pull off a sign and trade to get that next piece to fit next to Al Horford, LA is LA, and a frenzy of other teams with cap space are really just a star away from being championship contenders (P.S. I’m a Pistons fan not so-subtly talking about Detroit, @BlakeGrffin/@PaulMillsap/@SergeIbaka). Philadelphia seems ions away from a deep playoff run to any NBA player right now. Convincing a star in their prime to come to Philly to be a mentor for its young stars thus seems like a long shot to me, and I wouldn’t bank on Philadelphia being able to pull a coup like Russell Westbrook off.

Therefore, the only realistic option for Philadelphia to improve before this summer forces them to give up on one of their young bigs is a trade. Unfortunately, the way “The Process” left the 76ers makes this situation an unflattering one for the same reason I mentioned above. No one wants to offer much to trade for a player they know they can get for free if they just wait a season.

This leaves Colangelo in a situation where he needs to flip one of his excess centers for talent fast. It’s not that simple, though, considering that he has to pick the right pieces to keep, get a solid return on the one(s) he decides to trade out of Philly, and do all of this before the summer of Nerlens’ free agency. In order to maximize the Sixers’ long term potential, everything needs to work itself out in the coming year, and ideally in the coming months so that the assets Colangelo chooses to keep and acquire have more time to build on court chemistry with each other.

This year, it is not enough for Philadelphia to just be the showcase for fringe NBA starters to inflate their numbers (thanks for Ish Smith, though). Outright tanking is not the answer, as pieces need to be moved and acquired for what should become the core players of the future 76ers. The rotation needs to be opened up for the high ceiling centers that call Philly home for their development to continue, or, in the case of Embiid, begin, and their potential to be reached.

At the end of the day, “The Process” Hinkie made famous was intended to make rebuilding as easy as possible for the 76ers. They would get once in a lifetime young talent year after year to build a team on cheap contracts that would naturally develop into contenders. But the flaws of the plan are now making themselves apparent. Just getting talented players in the draft clearly wasn’t enough. Smart-drafting, focused team development, and utilizing roster space is paramount for any team, regardless of how talented the players you draft are. This is the situation Colangelo has taken over. Hinkie’s rebuild has simply transitioned into an opportunity to rebuild some more. Colangelo’s Plan will be one with better pieces to start with, but it’ll have to be a rebuild process nonetheless. Though the words may haunt the city of Philadelphia once again, I guess the best course of action is just to trust this process…

Processing “The Process” was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Phil Mickelson shot a bogey free round on the last day of the 2016 British Open, finishing the tournament a whopping 17 shots under par. The next highest score was 8 under par. But that still wasn’t enough to take the Claret Jug home. It just so happened that this 2016 British Open, Henrik “The Swede” (disclaimer: not a real nickname) Stenson put up a final round of 63 strokes, subsequently ended up with the best total round score in Majors history (264) and finished the day an incredible 20 shots under par. Consequently, Mickelson ended up second best. Again.

This is often the case with Phil Mickelson. His career is the image of heartbreak. Sunday was just another tragic loss in what has became an unfortunate trend for the lefty. He routinely puts in his best outings on the biggest stages in golf, yet rarely crosses the finish line first. Over the past 4 years, Phil Mickelson has finished a Major in second place 4 times. That’s a 25% chance it will happen at any given Major. Furthermore, “Lefty” has finished second best in ELEVEN Majors over his career. Ironically this is the second most runner up finishes in the history of Golf. Only Jack Nicklaus has finished second more times than Phil, an astonishing 19 times. But Jack Nicklaus’ inability to close at times is overshadowed by the fact that, well, he was better at closing than any other golfer in the history of the sport. Phil has won 5 Majors to be fair, so his place as one of the greatest golfers of all time is clearly cemented, but DAMN this place in history must hurt.

Whether it be with Tiger Woods for the beginning of his career, or the great talents that have come up to fill Tiger’s unfortunate void, Phil Mickelson seems to spend most of his Major Sundays in an intense fight for first. More often than not, the end result is Phil in second place. Not third, not fifth, but second. He can probably testify more than anyone else that Ricky Bobby’s dad was right; “If you’re not first, you’re last”. Even more painful is that Mickelson rarely throws these opportunities away. Other than the 2006 U.S. Open, Phil usually plays conservative, precise and effective golf to maintain his pace for the lead. However, other players always seem to one up him, leaving Phil’s numerous excellent performances in the dust.

This Sunday was a perfect example of this, as it took an all time performance from Henrik Stenson to keep Mickelson’s name out of the history books. In the 2015 Masters, Jordan Spieth burst onto the golf scene with a masterful performance to keep Phil at bay. In the 2014 PGA Championship, Rory McIlroy won his second Major of the year at Lefty’s expense. In the 2013 U.S. Open, the one Major that has eluded him, Phil Mickelson entered Sunday in first, only to lose to Justin Rose, the only player in the top 5 to break even that day on a very difficult course. The list goes on and on.

These “Oh, so close” moments have become as Phil Mickelson as his handedness. His role in Golf is often that of Jerry West in the 60’s, every single superstar in the NBA not on the Bulls in the 90’s, and the Detroit Tigers of the late 2000’s that could never consistently put it all together. Hell, he’s even the second best golfer of his generation. He’s behind arguably the best of all time in Tiger Woods but still, being told you’re second never feels good.

This unfortunate role in history, however, should never take away the greatness of Phil Mickelson. He is one of the most recognizable athletes, let alone golfers, in the world, one of the few people competitive in Majors in the mid 90’s still able to make deep relevant runs into Sunday and has finished top 10 in a Major THIRTY EIGHT TIMES. Even if only 5 of those ended with Phil brandishing a new trophy or swagged out in that ugly green jacket, that’s impressive. Regardless of how many Major championships he comes up just short of over the coming years, Phil will always be considered one of the best golfers of all time. So, if I were Lefty, I wouldn’t let this painful loss in one of the most entertaining tournaments of golf leave me downtrodden.

He’s due for another great shot at a Major next year anyways.

Lefty’s Curse was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

With the closure of the 2016 Euros, Portugal was crowned the unlikely champions of the second most prestigious competition in international soccer. At the helm of this team, despite his unfortunate substitution in the 25th minute of the final due to injury, is Cristiano Ronaldo. As one of the most polarizing players in the soccer world today, this result cemented his position as the greatest player of the generation for some and infuriated the Barcelona fans like myself who can’t understand the poor logic it takes to put him ahead of Lionel Messi (But seriously, the dude can’t distribute the ball like Messi, is one dimensional, and loves himself more than ‘Ye).

What I can’t argue against, however, is the magnitude of Cristiano’s feat, and what it meant to him and his country. Portugal is not part of European soccer’s highest class and, despite this victory, will not be considered favorites to make even the semi-finals of the upcoming World Cup in 2018. Their team advancing through the Euros and beating France in Paris was frankly unprecedented, but conquering difficult odds has (unfortunately for me) been the theme for Cristiano Ronaldo this summer.

Just this May, Real Madrid, the richest soccer club in the world and probably the second most talented (Força Barça), won the most prestigious trophy in club soccer— the Champions League Cup. If you had told me this on February 20th, just like Portugal winning the Euros, I would have laughed. At that time, Real Madrid was a whopping 9 points behind Barcelona and staring up at cross-town rivals Atletico Madrid in the standings. They had been eliminated from the Copa del Rey the past December for the most embarrassing reason possible, and recent big money signing James Rodriguez barely saw the pitch. Ronaldo had just missed a penalty to win against Malaga (the 11th placed team in La Liga), and their coach was Zinedine Zidane, a legendary French (*cough* Algerian *cough*) soccer player with little managerial experience who had taken the job midseason from an underperforming Rafa Benitez. Madrid looked out of sorts, and it seemed that their biggest rival, Barcelona, was well on their way to completing a second consecutive treble.

Then everything changed. Barcelona’s magical MSN front three finally began to slow down and Real Madrid started playing up to their payroll. The clash of the two giants in El Clasico on April 2nd set the tone for what the rest of the season would become. A 2–1 victory that’s lead came from a Ronaldo goal for a shorthanded Madrid ended Barcelona’s 39 game unbeaten streak at home, and gave Real Madrid the confidence and form they needed for a late push. A little less than 2 months later, Ronaldo and Co. found themselves in the Champions League Final after barely coming up short in the La Liga standings. Their opponent? Atletico Madrid.

Atletico Madrid had an incredibly more arduous path to the final than Real. Their past opponents were Bayern Munich and Barcelona, two of the three biggest clubs in the world. Real Madrid only had to face measly Wolfsburg and inexperienced, out of form, Manchester City. Atletico was playing like a team all year, while Real Madrid’s big egos often fragmented play, leaving them to rely on pure star power rather than teamwork. Consequently, Atletico came into the game as favorites. No one expected Real Madrid to actually figure it out. They were only there because of an easy draw. They didn’t deserve this.

The game was a close one. Atletico equalized late to send the game into extra time and eventual penalties while Real Madrid was being hampered by a rather shit performance from Cristiano Ronaldo. Few of his touches were coming off, his creativity was lacking, and he was hindering Real’s performance by taking away touches from an effective and direct Gareth Bale. But then penalties came about and, as this year’s Copa America showed us, anything can happen. Ronaldo stepped up as the fifth penalty taker with a chance to win the game. He nailed it. Off came his shirt and his poor game performance was flicked away with the sweat. An unfair road to the final didn’t matter anymore; history would forever show that Real Madrid and Ronaldo were the 2016 Champions League winners.

This was how Ronaldo came into the Euros. On the wake of another statistically spectacular, yet polarizing, individual season that oddly blossomed into team success. Many considered him the most threatening player coming into the tournament, but Portugal was still not even close to being favorites. They were lacking squad depth, and their next biggest star was a washed up Nani coming off of a disappointing season with Fenerbahçe in Turkey.

Two weeks into the tournament, Portugal did little to change this skepticism. They entered group F as favorites and ended up finishing third, behind Hungary and (then paltry) newcomer, Iceland. They only just made the next round due to an expansion of the tournament that began this year. Basically, they fucked up. I thought there was no way that the undisputed second best player in the world could bullshit his way past the next round again with his team.

But then everybody else underperformed as well. England and Spain, teams with very high expectations coming into this tournament, both finished second in their respective groups and Euro 2016 consequently featured one of the most lopsided brackets in recent sporting memory. On one side the best four teams coming into the round of 16 were England, Spain, Germany and host-country France. On the other were Belgium, Croatia, Switzerland and… of course, Portugal.

Not to take anything away from Ronaldo and Portugal, but their road to final was very underwhelming given their competition. They beat Croatia by sitting back for 115 minutes before pulling off the perfect counter attack, largely in part due to the efforts of Ronaldo. They needed penalties to get by a poor Polish side, and though their victory over Wales was resounding, that Welsh team was not exactly the most talented to reach the Semi-Finals, especially given that France had just beaten Germany 2–0.

But all finals start 0–0, and Ronaldo and Co. found themselves with a golden opportunity to win the first major tournament in their nation’s history. France was the more talented team, playing at home to boot, but Portugal had Ronaldo. That is, until they didn’t. In what was a cruel moment for any sports fan, Ronaldo fell awkwardly in the 8th minute, attempted to play for another 17 while getting medical treatment on the pitch twice, before having to be stretchered off. One of the most durable players in sports had a partial MCL tear in the biggest game of his international career.

It was a tragedy which I thought sealed the game for France. Portugal would likely sit back as they had practiced against the more talented Croatia in the round of 16, but the frenchmen were too talented for that to work. A Ronaldo-less Portugal was nothing to a France team led by the dynamic Paul Pogba, free-kick-wiz Dimitri Payet, and the greasy Antoine Griezmann. Eventually, someone would make a mistake. A penalty from a rash tackle in the box from Pepe, a slip here or there giving Payet the space for another one of his wonder-strikes; France was not going to lose this game with Ronaldo out.

But Ronaldo never really was absent. He did something unprecedented to me. He led from the sidelines. Fresh off an inspirational halftime speech to his team, a bandaged Ronaldo returned to the field to help his team win a championship. Except this time, his work came from the sidelines off the pitch. More specifically, from the coaching box.

Ronaldo spent the whole second half screaming instructions to his teammates, telling substitutes that they would break the deadlock and, most importantly, showing belief.

Ronaldo made sure that the energy and overt confidence that he brings day-in and day-out never left a Portugal side that desperately needed it against the favored France. Then lightning struck twice. Éder, a player whose past goals for his nation had only come in friendlies, unleashed a rocket towards the bottom left corner in the 109th minute, past world class keeper Hugo Lloris and into the back of the net.

The rest is old news. France’s talent could not overcome Portugal’s well-disciplined back line and France ended up second best on their own soil. Portugal had done it. Ronaldo and his nation put in the performance of the tournament to win what they had never won before.

From his reaction you could tell this meant the world to Ronaldo. A player who I had always dismissed as selfish and arrogant did not seem to care that he wasn’t on the field to reap the direct glory. The team, rather than individual achievement, showed itself to be the most important thing to him, something that was hard to see for a Barcelona fan (but seriously, Força Barça). Heart-filled Instagram posts and images of a tearful Ronaldo hoisting the trophy in Portugal showed just how special this moment was for him, a moment he, the poster child of narcissism to many, was happy to embrace even without his direct involvement.

If you were to ask any of the Portuguese players what the biggest reason behind their victory was, they would all point to Ronaldo. That’s simply a testament to his leadership. If Portugal had fallen flat in the round of 16 as many expected, he would have taken the flack even if he scored a hat-trick in a 4–3 defeat. I guess it’s only poetic justice that he should get all the praise with this unexpected victory. As much as it pains me to say, Ronaldo was the one who instilled the belief that they could win in Portugal, and is one of the few players in the world whose difference was made tangibly apparent even when off the pitch.

You can criticize his road to victory in both tournaments this year and rightfully so — luck played a massive part in him getting to each final — but that doesn’t matter. Ronaldo is used to the criticism anyways. All that matters is that he has the two most prestigious trophies of 2016 on his ever-growing mantle, bringing pride to both country and club when no one expected it.

Take a break Ronaldo, enjoy the special moment you’ve created for a whole nation of people and Real Madrid fans. Hopefully the break goes a little bit into the upcoming La Liga season too; that MCL needs to come back healthy, right? I know it’ll hurt your odds and help the boys in Barcelona, but it turns out that beating the odds is what you’re good at.

February would probably be a good comeback date if you asked me.

The Summer of Cristiano was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Boston Celtics are not a mystery. Everyone knows they have a scrappy and talented young core. Everyone knows they have an affinity for Kevins. Everyone knows they have another two shots at winning the draft lottery courtesy of the Brooklyn Nets. Most importantly, however, everyone knows Danny Ainge, their General Manager, wants to trade. And nobody wants to deal.

After swindling Nets GM Billy King in 2013, Ainge launched a new Celtics empire. In a few short years, the old dynasty, spearheaded by three aging Hall of Famers, had been transformed into a young, exuberant, and forward-looking ensemble. Ainge scoured the NBA ranks for the undervalued, the unknown, and the mismanaged, creating in the process an eclectic collection of spare parts that somehow mesh. That “somehow” can probably be attributed t0 a man with an intellect that rivals that of Albert Einstein: Brad Stevens (At least in ATO’s; No way Einstein would’ve drawn up that Crowder play).

Grasping the myriad of moves Ainge pulled off is no easy task. If you don’t believe me, check out this helpful but difficult chart that details all of Ainge’s trades (Note: Excludes draft picks like Marcus Smart and signings like Al Horford).

It’s a lot to wrap your head around, so I’ll give you my highlights.

1. Isaiah Thomas, a freaking all star on a paltry $7 million contract, came from Marcus Thornton and a Cleveland late 1st round pick. Those two pieces (as well as Dwight Powell, who was later useful in the Rondo trade) came from Keith Bogans. Who the hell is Keith Bogans? Exactly!
2. Ainge ditched an apparently washed-up Rondo and Dwight Powell for a premiere two way forward in Jae Crowder, a Dallas 2016 1st rounder, Brandan Wright (who later became two Minnesota 2nd rounders), and Jameer Nelson (later traded). Also important to note: The loss of Rondo freed up playing time for Avery Bradley to develop into the defensive stopper that he now is. All that for a guy who singlehandedly blew up the Dallas locker room? Another win for Danny.

Ainge is like the biblical God that created the world in seven days except his feat is even more impressive because God didn’t have to compete with Greg Popovich. By winning every single trade and outwitting every GM, Boston turned nothing into something (kind of like God again). But now Ainge faces another challenge— beating himself (or rather, his reputation). The problem with prolonged success is the stigma that accompanies it. Eventually, other teams fear getting ripped off. This was perhaps most notably shown when Michael Jordan turned down the Celtics’ offer of FOUR (4!) first round picks to move up in the draft, only to select a presumable role player in Frank Kaminsky. You can criticize Jordan all you want for being stupid— in case littering the internet with his crying face isn’t enough— but you can’t argue with the track record. If Danny Ainge is trading, Danny Ainge is winning.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. This “Danny-is-just-too-good” idea is not unique. Chad Ford discussed the same conspiracy in an old Grantland podcast (RIP).

“Danny’s got a reputation now as being a guy who’s really smart, so every time that he calls there’s a bit of a “I don’t want to get taken advantage of by Danny Ainge.” Jerry West used to complain about that to me constantly when he was an executive. Jerry West became such a legend as an executive that anytime he would propose anything they would be like, “I don’t want to be the guy that did a deal with Jerry West and got my butt kicked in the deal.” It’s like the pretty girl that nobody will ask out on a date because they’re pretty sure they’re going to get rejected. I think there’s some of that going on with Ainge.” — Chad Ford

Cool Hand Dan (at least it’s better than his old nickname) most recently placed his confidence in Jaylen Brown, the supremely talented but raw prospect, after failing to complete a draft-day trade. In many ways, Brown is the typical Celtics prospect: he’s athletic, excelled out of high school, and has ample room for improvement on offense. Although many fans disapprove of the third overall pick, Brown can, at the very least, play meaningful defense off the bench. Worst case scenario: the Celtics swung and missed on the #3 pick in a clearly labeled two-player draft, but have the Nets’ next two first rounders as consolation. Do what the Philly fans angrily mutter in their sleep every night– trust the process.

I believe Ainge believes Brown will be a good player, but I don’t believe he wanted to draft him. By raising asking prices for their own stars (i.e Jimmy Butler and the Bulls), other GMs are hoping to hedge their bets against a lopsided deal with the master of lopsided deals. Unfortunately for them, though, it’s as if they haven’t learned a thing. Ainge’s most formidable quality is his patience, especially when he has the leverage. The next two Nets picks cannot be overstated; the Celtics will only get better and don’t need to force a trade. Eventually, another team will budge. Philly owns four lottery big men in a league that’s shifted towards the 3-point line. Oklahoma City has Russell Westbrook in a contract year with a depleted supporting cast. The Clippers hold Blake Griffin and a team nearly identical to the one that’s failed in five straight playoffs. The question is not if a trade will arise, but if Danny can find the right suitor. He has all the leverage! I expect the Sixers to budge first. Don’t be surprised if you see Jahlil Okafor in a Celtics uniform soon.

Ainge is so good that other teams don’t want to trade with him, but that doesn’t even matter because he has positioned the organization so perfectly that a trade offer is inevitable, but potentially not even necessary. Creating the original big 3 was one of the best moves in league history, but the phenomenal rebuild that Ainge has masterminded is what will ultimately solidify his legacy as an all-time manager. To every Celtics fan complaining about the draft: quit yammering and start dreaming about Draymond Green with a french accent. To every GM (and MJ) reading this article: man up. To Danny Ainge: thanks again, dude.

The Man on Fire was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Nadav Raz: Timmy D huh…

Ribhi El-Zaru: Yea dude. Timmy D. The best power forward of our generation. He’s done now. Oh the times they are a changin’.

N: Yeah Power Forwards don’t even exist anymore.

R: Let’s just hop on Timmy D’s D and not argue about the changing positions of the league. P.S. I’m sure you’re wrong, I just don’t wanna think about it.

N: You just rattled off Greg Monroe and LaMarcus Aldridge (in person) before realizing they are now centers and I’m right.

R: Fuck you dude.

N: SAVE IT FOR THE PAGE.

R: I DON’T KNOWS WHAT THAT MEANS. Anyways, on to Timmy D. If I were to pick anybody’s NBA career to live, he’s number one.

N: I disagree. But let’s go back to the first thing you said. He’s the best PLAYER of his generation and the greatest power forward to ever walk across an NBA court (if you don’t count Bird or Lebron as PFs, or him as a Center), and on my list, the 6th greatest player of all time, only behind Jordan, Bird, Magic, Lebron, Kareem- and DUNCAN, in that order.

R: You love your lists. Tim Duncan is 14th in points, 6th in rebounds and 5th in blocks all time. In 19 NBA seasons he went 5/6 in The Finals (3 Finals MVPs) and had two back to back MVPs from 2001–2003 when he beat Kobe, Shaq, T-Mac, Jason Kidd, Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett (And AI!!!!! — N) out for that privilege. San Antonio did not win less than 50 games for every year in his career- save for one lockout-shortened season- in the NBA. That’s ridiculous.

N: When you said that 50 win stat I swear to mother effin’ god shivers went down my spine. That’s beautiful. That’s basketball poetry. That’s Mozart and Picasso fucked and the orgasm they had, became a 7 foot basketball genius.

R: Jesus Christ dude. I don’t even disagree that much.

N: He’s 50% of why I became a basketball nerd at the very late age of 17, for sports watching standards that is late, usually you become embedded in geeky fandom very young, like religious fanatics. That’s who Timmy D was for me, the Quiet Giant, who kicked your motherfucking ass, and did it with a grace and a sense of absolute respect for everything anyone could find good in the world. He was my basketball messiah, the Great Converter.

R: My first memory of Tim Duncan came in 2007, when he swept a young Lebron James in the NBA Finals. As a Pistons fan at the time, this was the best thing that could have happened for basketball. Even as a stupid 10 year old, I knew that what Tim Duncan did was basketball, not the brutish way with which Lebron scored 27 straight points on my team in the ECF. It hurt, but at least it wasn’t beautiful. (It was kinda beautiful — N.) The Big Fundamental was his nickname for good reason. If he wanted to score, he’d do it in a way that only required a 5 inch vertical. Put some respek on da name.

N: Tony Parker won the MVP for that Finals because he didn’t miss and Duncan missed more than he should have, but Duncan still easily could have been the MVP, he had a 18.3 PPG, 11.5 RPG, 3.8 APG, 2.3 BPG, 1.3 SPG stat line over 4 games. He led the team in rebounds, assists and blocks, tied for the lead in steals and was second in minutes and scoring. Can you hear me say Timmy Deeeeeeeeee.

R: He also dominated the playoffs in 3 different decades, in 1999 he averaged 27–14 with 2 blocks to beat the Knicks in 5. And he led the Spurs to a championship as recently as 2014 when they solved basketball like it was a puzzle and they were the only ones with the pieces that fit. In the middle of that puzzle was of course Tim Duncan, who pivoted and boxed out his way to a 15–10 stat line against the dynamic Miami Heat.

N: That was a deeply cathartic moment for me, but the Playoffs that turned me into a basketball fan and a Spurs fan was the playoffs a year before it. About 3 years before the start of the 2013 NBA Playoffs I was living in Hilversum, a city outside of Amsterdam, in The Netherlands. The NBA to me at that point in my life was my dad watching MJ highlights, and me pretending to be Mugsy Bogues as an 8 year old. My sport was soccer, or football, Man United was my team, and the English Premier League was 85% of my sports purview. Then I moved to Newton, Massachusetts, outside of Boston, soccer was not on TV, so the NBA, and the NFL’s postseason was what I was immediately thrust into. Besides winning a 10/1 odds, Ten dollar, Packers-win-the-2011-SB bet right before the postseason- that my dad told me I should do with my 9th grade physics classmate; as well as my Raz-cursed and inherited Dolphins fandom, I didn’t have much going for me as a sports watcher. I was also incredibly depressed and in a new town with horseshit kids at a horsehshit high school that was only marginally better than my old one. So when the summer came and the NBA had their bout of postseason athletic mastery, it was quite the perfect escape. I didn’t have a team or a player I adored, but I loved how up-close and personal it was, you could see the sweat drip from their faces, you could feel their exhaustion, feel the emotions they felt, feel what they wanted; I was transfixed. But still, I had no team, no player, not a good sign for fan longevity. Until 2 years later Pop and his mighty bandits of cross-continental, multiracial, high-basketball minded savants swept the Kobe-less, Dwight-packed Lakers like they were the JV team at my high school. Pop was hilarious and mean. Timmy was quiet, reserved and deliberate. Tony had a thick French accent and you could tell he got laid. Like a lot. Like all the time. Ginobili was bald and looked 50 years old and somehow made shots that only 20 people in the history of the sport could make. Splitter was tall and his name was Splitter and he was super white but also SUPER foreign. Kawhi was in his second year and still silent, still mysterious, a threat not yet ready to be fulfilled (Larry Bird must hate himself for trading George Hill). Danny Green was so ugly and never missed one three. What a fucking team.

R: The Spurs lost that 2013 finals, when Ray Allen pulled some shit out of his ass and stole a ring from that perfect team. But then they met again the next year. The Spurs finished what they started, and blew them out. They had to finish the job. The style of play too perfect, the Spursgasms too frequent, and Tim Duncan’s bank shot over anybody who dared give him space too ruthless for them to be denied.

To me, Tim Duncan is — or now was, I guess, wow that’s weird to say — one of the few players you could point at and say, “He’s special” without anybody arguing back. People started saying that he was getting too old to start for a contender back in 2011, myself included, and we were always wrong. His low block prowess, ridiculous efficiency from the elbow, uncanny court awareness and weird ability to block 26 year old “I can jump over cars” studs in crunch time always remained with him. The Spurs were always good, and although his teammates helped a bunch, he was the guy who set the standard for what is now unequivocally the best locker room in the NBA. And he set it like 15 years ago. He made San Antonio forever relevant.

N: Yeah but those 2013 Finals man. I said before that Tim Duncan was 50% of why I started obsessing over basketball, but hating Lebron James and wanting his overzealous Heat team to get destroyed was also like 38% of why I started obsessing over bball. God do you remember that Heat team? I fucking hated that Heat team. Every time Lebron whined, every time Chris Bosh looked ugly, every time Seven Nation Army came on, I just wanted them to DIE. And here were the antithesis of that Heat team, playing their hearts out, The Spurs. No hero ball. No boasting. No arguing. Team. Team. Team. Winning. Winning. Winning. Fuck your press conference, fuck the noise, we’re going to exhaust you with our INTELLECT through 48 minutes, and you better have a miracle to show us or you’re catching a big fat L. Unfortunately, three hall of famers in their prime, one hall of famer in his twilight years, and a deep, well coached roster, handed out plenty of miracles. Those 7 games were the best series I’ve ever watched live, and what ultimately made me a Spurs Lifer. Game 6, even though I was only a Spurs fan for a month at that point, was genuinely heart wrenching. It hurt, physically. I thought about every play for weeks after that game ended. You kind of knew, then, game 7 was almost impossible to win.

R: When you talk about Tim, you have to bring up how great his teams were. That’s exactly how he would want it. He always seemed to convey, with his quiet demeanor, that the team came first. They were the reason behind his success, and he would never take anything away from that. He would never gloat, never make it about him. It was just about the game. It sucks to say goodbye. Long live Timmy D.

N: Alright one more thing!

R: No. This is way too long dude. We aren’t important enough for more.

N: ONE MORE THING. I Love Duncan. I loved how he was always clutch. How he always wanted it. How he would swear and scream under his jersey so his kids wouldn’t see. How he would adjust his game every year based on his ailing physicality and be 97% as potent as the year before. His last 5 seasons he pretty much played on one leg and was still one of the 5 best big men in the league. He was a 7 foot man with a face that screamed teddy bear. He was all class.

R: Alright. We’re done now, right?

N: BUT. BUT. BUT. I was on his wikipedia page a couple weeks ago and a quote he said really irked me. He compared himself to Will Hunting, the Matt Damon supergenius in Good Will Hunting, he said he really related to him. That’s like comparing yourself to a fictional Albert Einstein with a six pack who fucked a young Minnie Driver. Which leads me to my final point. Tim Duncan may have been classy, polite, so down to earth it elevated him above traditional sports elegance, but he was just like all the other greats. Self-obsessed, maniacally driven by winning, except unlike Kobe — his only real competition as his generation’s GOAT — he sacrificed ego and highlights, everyday, every game. That’s what gave him his edge. That’s why he’s on the shortlist of every sportswriter’s “Who Would You Want To Start A Franchise With.” Tim Duncan. My basketball messiah. You will be missed.

R: Respek on da name man.

N: You already said that, this is getting campy.

R: Respek don’t deteriorate. Tim Duncan. First Ballot HoFer. We’ll miss you forever.

Tim Duncan: A Dialogue was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

All hail the vikings! No one believed Iceland would even make it past the group stage. But not only did they prove us wrong, they channeled their inner savage and ravaged England in the round of 16. English football is dropping faster than the pound.

Let’s provide some perspective here (sorry in advance for the math). The population of Iceland is 164 times smaller than England. 164 times. 164 times! A hotwheels car (that costs 99 cents) is only 64 times smaller than a real car. Multiply the size of your Honda 100 times over and compare it to a hotwheels car- you will get a scaled model of the difference in the size of these countries.

Such an embarrassing defeat is unprecedented in head to head competition. England failed in typical English fashion- they choked when it mattered most, playing with no heart or will to win. Leave it to England to find 2 ways to leave the Euro in the span of a week. Despite England dominating possession, despite forcing it into the box on almost every possession, despite the tremendous talent disparity, Iceland felt in control. The only person more flabbergasted by the result than the England players was Tony Kornheiser, the king of PTI and strong advocate of the population theory.

The Icelandic plan was not to just weather the storm like so many assumed, but to outrun it with a strong counter-attack. Watching Iceland play was like watching a cat wrestle a bull- and win. There did exist, however, one instance of true terror- the moment that Jamie Vardy, the sole man as volcanic as Iceland, stepped on the pitch. A plumber before his record-setting year at Leicester, Vardy defied the odds just to make it to the EPL. If anybody was to halt Iceland’s magic it would be the magic man himself. In the 92nd minute, Vardy almost succeeded it. But, alas, the Icelandic defense resisted once again. As an early sunset crept into English minds, the nation of Iceland prepared to celebrate throughout the white night.

Iceland has played with more heart than any other team in the tournament. Their passion is undeniable and irresistible.

That guy in the video screaming is their commentator- he is supposed to be composed. I can only imagine how excited the fans must be if the guy whose job is to calmly relay information reacts like that. As if the story isn’t incredible already, the players are not even full time professionals- they have side jobs as dentists, plumbers, and film directors. Rhode Island has more full time players than Iceland, and you don’t hear about Rhode Island beating England very often. In a world where talent seems to trump all, Iceland proves the world wrong. Through shear determination, Iceland has pulled off perhaps the greatest international upset in European history, and handed England its most humiliating Brexit yet.

In the year of Leicester City, is parity back in fashion? Is soccer headed to a realm in which talent is no longer the sole determinant of success? Examine Chelsea’s dismal performance in the EPL; the reigning champions had all the talent, all the money, and all the fame. But they finished 10th. Manchester United failed in the same way, albeit to a lesser extent. On the flip side of the coin, Leicester City and Tottenham, respectively, grasped the top two spots in the Premier League with a roster (especially in the case of Leicester) of the unappreciated and the unknown. 2016 is the year soccer became fun again, and parity has been the catalyst. Hopefully the English will take note of the rising TV ratings to institute a system to preserve parity at the club level.

English international soccer, however, in stark contrast to the rousing domestic league, perennially underachieves. Today the program reached its nadir. Roy Hodgson, having been on thin ice already, resigned moments after the match conclusion. First David Cameron, and now Roy Hodgson? Who’s next-Queen Elizabeth? In need of a serious retool, the island nation faces difficult decisions. Who is the new manager? Should legendary scorer Wayne Rooney step aside for Jamie Vardy? Is Marcus Rashford prepared for the starting lineup? Is Raheem Sterling actually good? A quick turnaround for the national team seems just about as likely as the MLS becoming relevant. On the day that Italy ended Spain’s historically great dynasty (for now), England’s historically disappointing dynasty ballooned.

Iceland now faces their toughest challenge yet- France. Lucky for Iceland, precedent exists. In 845, the vikings sacked Paris on the French home turf. Hopefully Iceland’s modern day vikings can live up to their ancestors legacy and do the same.

On Thin Ice was originally published in FoulGrounds on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.