Basketball: Another reason New York is dying

The NBA All-Star Game and accompanying hoopla (pun?) is set to begin today in New York City and last through the weekend. For the first time in its history, the events of All-Star Weekend will be split between two venues: Madison Square Garden, home of the New York Knicks and Barclays Center, home of the Brooklyn Nets. This should prove to be a great marketing strategy by the NBA and its new commissioner, Adam Silver, because fans across the world will get an up-close look at not one but two effective ways to run a franchise into the ground.

When it was announced prior to the 2013-2014 season that the 2015 All-Star Game would be held in New York City, both franchises thought they would be boasting a good deal of success by the time the big game rolled around. The Knicks were coming off their best season in more than a decade with superstar Carmelo Anthony as the face of the franchise, and the Nets were sitting pretty in their new Brooklyn digs with their own superstar, Deron Williams, leading a seasoned team with championship aspirations. Now, less than a year and a half removed from those days of relative prosperity and attainable hope on the horizon, the New York Knicks have the worst record in the league and the Brooklyn Nets are fighting for the last playoff spot in a historically weak Eastern Conference. Welcome, NBA fans, to the Mecca of Basketball.

So how did it go so wrong so fast?

After his trumpeted purchase of the Nets franchise in 2010, owner Mikhail Prokhorov looked like a leader that would demand success no matter the cost. He moved the team out of the Jersey swamps into a trendy and accessible part of Brooklyn. He spent a lot of money to retain Williams, and spent even more money and future draft picks to bring in players with nothing more than name recognition and bloated contracts in Joe Johnson and Gerald Wallace. His triumphant claim that the Nets were following a blueprint to greatness was in full effect, and he wasn’t shy about letting New York’s incumbent team know. But there must have been some errors in the schematic or something because it’s been more like a guideline to disaster.

Now owning a team that looks mired in mediocrity with no promise for the future and is hemorrhaging money at a near fatal rate, losing $144 million last season, according to Grantland.com, Prokhorov wants to cut his losses. The Russian billionaire owner wants out of a Nets situation that looks bleak with aging, injured players taking up cap space, and bleaker still that the franchise was never able build a stronger brand and steal more fans from its crosstown rival. The Nets couldn’t capitalize on all the bullshit that Brooklyn and its hipster identity conjures, which is surprising because it seems to do wonders for every other product that latches onto the borough’s namesake. (I’m looking at you, Baked in Brooklyn chips.) So being a smart businessman who got to where he is today by making smart business decisions, Prokhorov is looking to sell, according to ESPN, and started fielding offers for his stake, which includes 80 percent of the team and 45 percent of Barclays Center. (Shoutout to Jay-Z who out-businessman’d Prokhorov by selling his share of The Nets and Barclays Center in September 2013.)

Then there are those businessmen who aren’t smart, don’t make sound business decisions, and fall ass backwards into success. Ladies and gentlemen, Knicks owner, James Dolan.

Where to begin with this guy. His track record of failure isn’t hard to unearth as it spans several industries, but his negative impact on the Knicks pretty much began as soon as he took over for his father as primary owner of the team in 1999. His ineptitude continues to hurt the franchise to this day. From insisting on being more hands-on than any owner should, to shelling out exorbitant contracts with little justifiable cause, to relying on his emotions when dealing with players, if there’s a way to do something wrong, Dolan has almost certainly done it. For good measure, he was also embroiled in a sexual harassment scandal involving a female Knicks executive and former Knicks president of basketball operations, general manager, and coach Isiah Thomas. Quick summary of that story: The asshole fired a woman because she reported being sexually harassed at the workplace.

Again, not the only time Dolan has reportedly treated other people like they don’t exist. A story almost two years ago floated around that alleged Dolan threatened to fire a Madison Square Garden security guard because she didn’t recognize him and then proceeded to ask for his ID, which he wasn’t wearing. That story again: Dolan tried to have a woman fired for doing her job.

These are the makings of an evil man. There’s nothing else he could do that would shock and appall you more than you have already been shocked and appalled. Oh, except for this little nugget of gold. Last week a letter written by Dolan to a Knick fan surfaced in which he berates the fan and flings baseless accusations about the man’s lifestyle and reputation, ultimately telling him to start rooting for the Nets because “the Knicks don’t want you.” This in response to a message originally sent by the fan to Dolan criticizing him and his decisions as head of the Knicks. A self-proclaimed “Knicks fan for in excess of 60 years,” the fan wrote of his frustration with the franchise and the common thread that he believes has been woven through the failure: James Dolan. So Dolan receives this fairly tame and certainly honest perspective of one fan’s plight and responds by calling him an alcoholic who, he bets, is a “negative force in everyone who comes in contact with you.” Projecting much, Dolan? Take a look at the email conversation in full if you don’t believe me. This would be hard to make up.

I’m having trouble wrapping my head around Dolan’s actions here. Aren’t people like Dolan, who are not as important as they’d like to think, too busy to read hate mail and then respond to said hate mail with an even hate-ier piece of hate mail? Shouldn’t he be out absorbing companies with his low-ball offers or evading taxes via a complicated string of loop holes? I mean, what kind of evil, billionaire tycoon does he think he is? If he’s going to even dignify a response, at least instill a little fear, make a threat or two. It’s not encouraging behavior from the evil guy in charge of my team. Sure, he hasn’t been running a successful sports franchise in the Knicks, but he was racking up major points as a real life villain and that’s cool. It was at least something to root for. New York City is just a better place when there’s a bad guy we all love to hate, and I for one was hoping Dolan could fill the void. But now I’m concerned Dolan will screw this up, too. It’s no wonder the Knicks have trouble making shrewd trades or luring big name free agents to sign when this mope can’t even do the one thing he’s qualified to do right.

But back to this Mecca of Basketball folklore for a minute. I’ve read countless recollections of the good ol’ days when New York City was the epicenter of basketball, and how anyone who was anyone had to prove their worth here if they expected to play in the collegiate or professional ranks. But as someone who was born in New York City in the ’80s, all I can truthfully lend to that narrative is that there’s a lot of asphalt here and some of that asphalt may or may not have a basketball hoop. There’s no unique basketball pulse that runs throughout the five boroughs, and there are certainly no facilities that set the benchmark for basketball purity and work to cultivate and instill that standard. Believe me, I’ve looked. The basketball sancta that did exist in New York are now nothing more than stops on a very specialized tourist’s itinerary.

Even the talented prospects that once dominated the city’s high school circuit are now choosing to play for schools out in New Jersey or Connecticut. Those schools have the resources, the staff, and the time to mold a teenage prospect into an highly touted college recruit and ultimately an NBA player. What do New York City schools have? Besides old gyms with low ceilings and warped floors, not much else.

I attended a private middle school with Joakim Noah, current center for the Chicago Bulls. In the interest of his basketball career (at the age of 12 or 13), he left that private school to attend a different private school in Brooklyn and then transferred again to a high school in New Jersey that is known for its basketball program. If Noah, whose French Open-winning father and former Miss Sweden mother, needed money and connections to achieve his dream, what chance does Mikey from Bed-Stuy have? Mikey can hoop it up at the court down the block until his Nikes wear thin, but where’s the hope that he can make something of his talent? Where’s the determination and hard work that is borne by that hope?

At least Mikey can still watch professional basketball, you might say, seeing as there are now two teams in his city. Surely that’s accessible. Well, would you like to venture a guess as to which team has the most expensive tickets? The New York Knicks at an average price of just over $129. The same Knicks that are currently the worst team in the league. Nets tickets aren’t much better. And he can forget about going to Sunday’s All-Star Game at Madison Square Garden where tickets on StubHub are starting at over $800.

Mikey shouldn’t waste his money or his time on the Knicks, and he definitely shouldn’t voice his displeasure because Dolan will very quickly and spitefully let him know that the Knicks don’t want him anyway.

What do you think a Grammy is worth these days?

There was a scary couple of months there where I thought I liked Sam Smith’s music. Turns out I only like the songs he steals from Tom Petty.

Phew—huge relief. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I were truly a Sam Smith fan, riding the subway, blasting his melancholy diary entries in my earphones loud enough for me to escape to a really, really sad time but quiet enough so it wouldn’t make me cry. No, I couldn’t lead that type of life.

Luckily for me, it was revealed that Smith bit the Tom Petty song “I Won’t Back Down” real hard when he wrote “Stay With Me.” The hooks are basically identical. Now, if I so choose, I can listen to that Smith song whenever and wherever I want and tell people I’m listening to Tom Petty. That works just fine for me.

But here’s the kicker: that Sam Smith song won the Grammy for song of the year.

You probably weren’t watching the Grammy Awards this past weekend. Neither was I. Instead, I was doing laundry because it seemed like a more fun, better use of my time. However, the way the internet hurls useless “news” at us these days, I came to find out about Smith’s wins—four in total. The problem with the song of the year win is that it’s an award presented to a songwriter for the best written song, as opposed to the record of the year, which rewards a song’s performance and production.

So can someone explain how a song that isn’t original and straight up stole the melody for its most recognizable and catchy portion wins that award? Doesn’t seem to fit the criteria. Give him the best stolen song of the year or most whiny British singer of the year, but not best song. Tom Petty didn’t even win a Grammy for “I Won’t Back Down.” I think that has to be a prerequisite if any stolen song wins a Grammy—the original must have also won a Grammy.

Sam Smith could probably care less. Sure, he’s got to give Petty and Jeff Lynne (Petty’s co-writer) a 12.5% stake of the song’s royalties, but he’s now a multi-Grammy award-winning artist who will use that superlative to make all that cash back and then some. He’ll presumably continue rising in popularity and wind up connected to some type of noble cause until he’s one of the more respected musicians in the UK. Put him on a mantle next to Elton John and Boy George, two men whose composite image would probably produce an exact replica of Smith. And as far as gay British musicians go, that’s a comparison to royalty—the Queen and the Queen. But he doesn’t get there without the help of that damn patriot Tom Petty. You think Smith would have given Petty a nod in one of his four acceptance speeches because, you know, he’ll be knighted any day now as a result.

Nope, no acknowledgment. No respect. Which segues perfectly into the other piece of noteworthy discussion that the internet told me happened at the Grammys. Apparently Kanye West did that really cute thing he loves to do where he interrupts people’s acceptance speeches because he believes his opinion is not mere opinion but fact, and he will insult a person right in front of his or her face to let his fact be known. What a lovable son of a gun!

The only difference between this spectacle and the other time he pulled this stunt is that this time he didn’t actually steal the microphone and tell everyone who he thought should have won. I guess his stroll up to the stage and then very noticeable realization that he shouldn’t go through with it again was enough for people to realize that he thought Beyoncé should have won. We all get it, Kanye, you looooooove Beyoncé.

But what if Kanye was right? It’s not something people usually say, I know, but I didn’t listen to Beyoncé’s album or Beck’s album, which won the award for best album of the year. So what do I know about which album was better? What I do know though is that Grammys aren’t always given to the most deserving nominee. In 2001, Steely Dan won the best album award when Radiohead’s Kid A was clearly the best album. I mean, that Steely Dan album was, for all intents and purposes, some old guys getting the band back together to see if they still got it, and Kid A was one of the best albums of all time! Kanye knows what I’m talking about. Similarly, in 1998 Will Smith won the Grammy for best rap solo performance with “Men in Black” when there were a lot of real rappers nominated alongside him. You mean to tell me that a corny theme song to a movie he also starred in was better than even the worst tracks Busta Rhymes, LL Cool J, Missy Elliot, and Biggie, the other nominees, ever released? That’s just flagrant. Biggie had been murdered less than a year before the award was given out. You think they would’ve given it to him to honor his life if nothing else, not to mention how much better his “Hypnotize” was than Smith’s brand of sterile, doesn’t-scare-the-white-people rap. Even Chris Rock, who presented the award that year, couldn’t believe it. 

I read portions of the rant Kanye went on after the ceremony where he explained why Beyoncé should have won. In short, he says that if real talent isn’t recognized by the voters and the awards are handed out because of legacy, or artists earning their due, or simply because the voters aren’t eclectic enough to consider all forms of music, then why should the artists continue to put so much stock in the award? Of all the Kanye rants I’ve heard, this is certainly the best, if not most coherent.

Ultimately, I don’t listen to music based on how many Grammys an artist has won, so it doesn’t matter to me who got snubbed. It just bothers me how much money is tied up in an operation like the Grammys and how people will steal, cheat, disparage, profile, or worse to get their hands on it. Not me though. I’ll be on the subway, earphones in, not listening to Sam Smith.

Wait, women don’t like these things? Well I’ll be.

By now you’ve probably seen the video of a woman walking around New York City receiving over 100 catcalls that is making the rounds on the internet, and if you haven’t I’m sure it’ll make its way into your sphere of internet relevancy by the end of the week. Unless, of course, you’re my mother who just recently discovered a “really great song” called What Does the Fox Say? that was added to the jukebox of the local old person bar where she likes to spend her time. Then you’re probably reading about this for the first time right here.

Since most of you aren’t my mother, I’d like to share with you my insight on catcalling (or more accurately referred to as street harassment) and the myriad ways it affects all types of people living in a metropolitan hub. Because it’s such a one-sided phenomenon, arguments from all sides tend span the gamut, with certain demographics presenting completely misguided points.

Women are the victims here. That much is not up for debate. And although women comprise one homogeneous group as far as gender goes, women are by no means all the same. Right? (This is where I’d normally wait for a stupid response if I were having a conversation with someone.) Of course they aren’t. Race, religion, culture, physical attributes, and so on make women a varied and diverse group, much like men. However, there doesn’t seem to be much distinction when it comes to which types of women are subject to street harassment and which are not. There may be varying degrees, but from what I’ve seen and been told all women encounter this type of behavior. And if the problem is widespread shouldn’t we be looking for a solution?

Let me start out by saying I’ve seen this behavior play out on the streets of New York my entire life. It happens all the time and does not ordinarily take on a creativity that might actually prompt someone to stop and respond to such a solicitation. It’s horny dudes hoping to get lucky, doing or saying the first idiotic thing that comes to mind. Seinfeld summed it up pretty well in one of his monologues about using car horns as a dating tool. Except for a few rare occasions, the catcall is wholly unsuccessful. But it continues because men (warning: this is where I may teeter on the edge of sexism) have been ingrained with the ideology that we are expected to make the first move, and in a world like New York City where you have but mere seconds to make that move, if you see a stunning beauty on the street who you can imagine as the future love of your life, all the grace and dignity in the world can’t save a man from blurting out “You’re pretty,” upon passing a female pedestrian. I think it’s really that simple. It doesn’t justify the practice, but I hope it explains it a little from a male’s perspective.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve catcalled women before. I want to note that it was during my most rambunctious years between the ages of 17 – 23, only happened a handful of times, and was never anywhere near successful, usually in the form of a timid “Hi,” several steps after passing a woman I found attractive. Why did I do it? Probably because I had seen countless men before me do it, and I didn’t see the harm in it. Now that I have a girlfriend who endures this type of harassment on a daily basis, I understand how harmful it actually is.

Which brings me to Michael Che. One of the newest cast members on Saturday Night Live who co-hosts the program’s longest running skit, Weekend Update, made some comments about the catcalling video that many found insensitive. In short, he made light of catcalling comments like “Hi” and “You’re beautiful,” essentially saying they are compliments and women should lighten up. He compared it to people recognizing him on the street and constantly harassing him for autographs and photos. Although I disagree with his comparison in large part because he is a celebrity and public recognition comes with the territory, and in equally large part because he isn’t subject to threatening sexual advances, there is a very, very small takeaway here. New York City is already maligned for being an impersonal city where people want nothing to do with one another. If people are now being told they can’t say hello to one another or wish someone a good day because it’s considered harassment, then where do we draw the line? Maybe it’s best nobody every talks to anyone else ever again. Sure, many “Hellos” said by one stranger to another can really be translated into “Wanna bang?” but not all of them. I have been known to talk to strangers and not because I want to get my rocks off.

Che’s comments indirectly bring up another point about street harassment. It’s not exclusively sexist. It can also be racist, classist, homophobic, and stereotypical. (Now we’re all having fun!) An article in Brooklyn Magazine argues that having a white woman as the focus of the catcalling video doesn’t properly address the problem or do justice for all of those who experience this form of harassment. It’s bigger than a white-woman-can’t-walk-alone-in-bad-neighborhoods problem.

And it is true that street harassment comes in many forms. As mentioned earlier, my girlfriend will routinely be asked to smile more when walking alone, but when we walk down the street together now I’m the one who’s being told that I have a beautiful woman and I should take care of her, or that we’re a beautiful couple and we’ll have beautiful children. Seems like an odd thing for a stranger to tell me. Sometimes when I’m walking alone I’ll be asked by an Orthodox Jew to hop on his mitvah tank for a rousing session of prayer even though I’m not Jewish. Occasionally I’ll pass an elderly lady or group of ladies who just can’t help but tell me how handsome I am. (Shout out to Ethel.)

Point I’m trying to make is that it’s not an everyday thing for me, and I’m a 30-year-old white guy. I don’t endure the same type of verbal abuse as other groups. (Or do I?) I can deal with the rare random compliment or infrequent misplaced stereotype, but if I had to incorporate that into my daily routine I could imagine getting fed up rather quickly. Nobody should be expected to tolerate harassment. It should be up to those doling out the harassment to understand that no, sir, you are not a catch, and also it’s time to grow up. So roll that tongue back up into your mouth, place your protruding eyes back in their sockets, and act like a decent human being. Think you can do that?

Hipster punk or corrupt cop? You decide. Actually, no — I’ll decide for you.

There’s a long list of things I hate about New York, and as a native New Yorker I feel entitled to every single one of these things. In my unofficial top ten portion of said list I would be remiss not to include Williamsburg (and anything associated with it) and subway performers. (I can go into glorious detail about these and other items on the list, but I’ll save that for another post.)

So as luck would have it, I stumbled across a video this past weekend of these two annoying items crammed into one — a hipster doofus performing tired classic rock songs on the Metropolitan station platform. What’s not to hate?This “struggling artist” is “told” by one of New York’s “finest” to to quit the hippy sh*t and pack up. Instead of following orders, our Billyburg friend decides to cite a law that gives him the right to sing “How I Wish You Were Here” on that and every other subway platform he damn well pleases. Take a look.

Here’s the thing: as much as my skin may crawl at the site of another naive transplant thinking he or she is living the true New York lifestyle by performing on dirty subway platforms instead of realizing that their clean and cozy parent’s house in Nebraska is much better option, it’s not what I hate most about the video. It’s the continual abuse of power of New York City cops that I hate. It’s the enormous egos some of these cops have. And it’s the unwavering stubbornness they display, refusing to follow the letter of the law (aka their jobs) if it means taking a hit to their pride.

Now, I grew up around many good people who worked for the NYPD, and in no way do I want to make a blanket statement about every man and women who puts on that uniform everyday and helps keep our city safe. But things are getting out of hand. Cops are killing teenagers in their own home and fathers who are sitting on the street. They’re choking out kids who are smoking cigarettes and pushing pregnant women to the ground. The police are supposed to protect and serve, so why are they doing the opposite?

Earlier this month, NYC’s top cop, Commissioner Bill Bratton, held a press conference to tell the city and the world that he was going to clean the force up and remove “dirty cops.” In fact, in perhaps an homage to Domino’s Pizza’s recent self-loathing marketing campaign, Bratton showed images of some of the high-profile NYPD SNAFUs and promised to eliminate that type of behavior from the force. “The reality is at this moment that there’s some in the organization who shouldn’t be here — not the right fit for the NYPD of 2014,” Bratton said. “There are a few, a very few, in a very large organization who just don’t get it.”

I’m sorry, Mr. Bratton, but it seems that you are the one who doesn’t get it. What makes someone a bad fit for the NYPD in 2014 as opposed to 1995 when you first served as commissioner? Might it have something to do with the ubiquity of social media and the fact that the frequent abuse of power is now more easily documented? Methinks it is. So he’s basically saying to his minions, “Don’t get caught.” Way to lead, Bratton.

So here’s where I have to apologize to Andrew Kalleen, the singing man in skinny jeans and a fedora who only wanted to share with a small corner of Brooklyn his melodic tunes and maybe make a buck or two while he was at it. I may not agree with your lifestyle, but gosh darnit I’ll defend to the death your right to live it. Just don’t expect me to give you any money, look in your general direction, or clap when you’ve finished a killer tune if by some chance we run into each other on an underground subway platform.