Letter to JJ; or, Whatchoo talkin' bout Willis?

hey jj,

Thanks for the heads up on the posse thing. I had no idea, hadn't had a chance this week to check out First Take or Undisputed. Shannon Sharp tried to turn posse into a racial slur and if everyone agrees the original use (had to look into this) of this term is archaic and unknown to most everyone, and we agree that Americans, at least, only know this term from western movies, then it's impossible to characterize the word as racist.

For sure, rap has acculturated the word in song and applied an old west term to refer to their crew, but also misapplied the term to mean outlaw gang. I don't know if before this time posse carried negative weight, but certainly young black people usurped the term and within these counter-cultures the term posse carried positive connotations, but the mainstream most definitely feared this new interpretation of the word.

From a cursory search online i found a term called, "posse cuts" which are music or videos that include such "outlaw gangs," black crews dressed in old west attire running around committing crimes, robbing banks, etc., and the earliest of these go back to the late 80's. So, by the time Michael Jordan is winning championships and Phil Jackson is hitting his stride and being recognized as a "Zen Master," the term would have infiltrated mainstream vernacular, but still would have been largely associated with rap and carry negative weight, which would have been ripe time for someone who wanted to seem hip to start using the term, even if he wasn't part of the counter culture that claimed the term as their own. And so, whalaa, enter Phil Jackson.

At this time, he is relevant and young enough that using the word would endear him to young black players, like look at that crazy old white guy, he understands our language, kind of thing. He's the coach of the greatest of all time and MJ likes him so we can too. Besides, the word posse is relatively new and to have your crew referred to as a posse versus a gang of thugs is probably appealing because the media is beginning to acculturate and accept the usage; albeit still negatively perceived by parents and corporate stiffs. The young, up-and-coming generation is always doing this with language.

Flash forward to 2004 when Jackson makes his comments about a young 19 year old LBJ. Jackson is still using the term posse and characterizing a generation that wasn't even born when the term began to catch fire, and players like Kobe and Shaq are left-over relics of the same time period so when he says this back then he looks like a cautionary sage because he still has that shine of zen master glistening all over him, so he gets away with it. Jackson using this term in 2004 is a little like me when I say, "whatchoo talkin' bout willis." I think it's funny, but nobody else does anymore. But I'm not Phil Jackson, and so when he said it in 2004 people gave him a pass because, you never know, maybe LBJ does get psychologically wrecked. In fact, I'd go so far as to say, these statements from his book go unnoticed except by broadcasters and professional sportspeople (I didn't know he said that), because they're inconsequential and depend on people paying attention for a really long time...or until something happens to make everyone remember.

Visa-vie, 2016. Now Jackson, a failing NBA executive, whose value is rapidly diminishing, uses the word again, effectively negating his prophesy because LBJ is a juggernaut in terms of business and in terms of influence, changed the actual infrastructure of the NBA single-handedly, and now Jackson just looks like an old-headed fool that doesn't realize the only person who can pull of the word, "Word!" is Dave Chappelle on an SNL skit meant to expose the hypocrisy and racist infiltration America is still steeped in.

Ultimately, Phil Jackson has become a caricature of himself, and that would be fine if he was like Regis or Phil Donahue, old dudes sitting at home bitching about the way these young punks are fucking everything up for the rest of us, but he's the GM of the New York Knicks. I love Lebron's statements though, and I'm not sure who versed him in linguistics and connotation but someone did, and it doesn't matter because now he knows how to think for himself a little bit better. It's clear he understands the damage and extent of racism and it is systemic, systematic, and semantic in its application, and if we think 150 years of emancipation has erased 400 of slaveholder/slave dynamics we are laughably underestimating our corporate institutions and cultural traditions. 

Well, i do believe that sound is the sound of the mic dropping homie! Word...

seacrest out!

Love,

Ozone

Ridin' the Rails

Some of Ollie's favorite things. Riding his bike, and walking along the tracks to the Nadrazi. We saw four trains today, plus a couple cars shunted together. Especially good because it's our last time for another year as we are off to the middle east for a while. Teaching the boy a little country living techniques. He's a natural!


watch it here...Last day in Slany

Bleedland...Go Cavs!

Thank You Bleedland

When Kyrie hit that three with 53 seconds left, my mind stretched back through the years of heartbreaking moments wherein this exact thing happened to us. The moment when you realized, “It’s over!” Except this time it was us breaking hearts. I had this crazy hope and yet I couldn’t allow myself to hope, after all Jordan’s shot over Ehlo still threatened my dreams…Curry and Thompson and Draymond were still on the floor. And then James hit his second free throw and I almost believed we got this. But then I remembered Byner’s fumble and Jose Mesa’s choke in the 9^th and reigned in my excitement. There was still 6 seconds left and GSW was inbounding and Curry got the step and the shot...time stopped...he missed, a mad scramble and Speights put up a hilarious prayer and all the times I’ve watched Cleveland do this exact same thing vaporized and even though I was alone I clinched my fists heartily, I was already standing pacing the floor and ripping my hair out, but I clinched my fists and punched the air.

I’m happy LBJ got the MVP, but while I have no analytics to support this, I seem to remember Irving being the more clutch player. It seemed that when Cleveland really needed something to happen he was the one to do something big. A shake-n-bake with a step-back mid-range…a down-hill drive with a crazy left-handed, high-off-the-glass lay-up…an off-screen behind the arc crowd-deflating/inflating three…or some ridiculous ankle-breaking handle that made even the Oracle ooh and ahh! I understand LBJ dominated the last three games and that’s why he got the MVP, that’s what allowed Uncle Drew to do his thing and “get buckets,” but holy hell batman, Kyrie-diculous was a killer in this series.

I watched the playoffs in Germany with League Pass and this is a strange experience because you get pure game, no hype, no commercials, and the sounds of the game are often times devoid of the network propaganda. When I saw the end of the game and Lebron’s reaction it almost seemed contrived to me. I know this is a crazy notion because he wanted this really badly. It seemed to me he was trying to invoke the spirit of Michael Jordan’s first championship in Chicago. The difference, and one that’s hard for me to swallow, is that LBJ left Cleveland. Jordan stayed and fought until he won, then he won three and quit to go play baseball. It’s not a fair comparison I know…Jordan was older, wiser when he went to the NBA. He graduated college, got a degree, played four years in North Carolina. James came out of high school. When he failed to overcome adversity he was still young and let Wade convince him to “take his talents to South Beach.” Maybe if James had gone to college for four years he wouldn’t have been so naïve. He was just a kid so, while I didn’t watch basketball in 2011, I still forgave him. In a way I was happy for him. Finally a player who was writing his own destiny, vs getting traded, moved and manipulated like so much chattel. I never burned the shirt that bore his name.   

Watching the games on League Pass there are no commercials, no hype. In time outs the camera pans the crowd, aims at the on-court cheerleading, t-shirt tossing, and parachute dropping that when you’re in the stadium you would be subjected to. But they turn the volume down and whatever music is playing on the loudspeaker is funneled down through the broadcast without the background of the crowd. It’s like you’re there but not really there. Like I said, devoid of hype and the feeling of being there. I watched it alone in my apartment. My wife and son had already moved to Slany, Czech Republic and I was alone to clean, repair and paint the flat to ensure our three month deposit is returned in full. Nothing but my bed, a small table for my computer and cleaning and paint supplies. The games usually started at 3:00 AM. I’d wake up most games a little before tip-off and watch the whole game. In the case of the finals, this was agonizing. You can imagine, the shouting and pacing and exuberating cheers and howling…all of this echoing through my vacant flat…my neighbors already thought I was a lunatic. I watched with JJ. He was in Portland and we WhatsApped throughout the playoffs. The League Pass broadcast, to my surprise, was a little delayed compared to network broadcast, and at times he was tipping me off to events to come, it was a little like seeing into the future. Sometimes that was a good thing, other times, not so much.

JJ was definitely the more optimistic. I kept reminding him that throughout Cleveland’s run, they never really faced anything comparable to what lay in store for them from the West. I actually feared OKC more than GSW. Even though James has Durant/Westbrook’s number, they really looked like they’d figured it out. And if not for the hero ball tactics over the last two games they should have won. JJ kept reminding me during the finals, it’s not over yet! I kept remembering last year, and 2010 when Lebron seemed to give up in the Boston series. It seemed to me he was giving up. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t taking control, why wasn’t he playing with urgency. After game four I was sure it was over. The way they played winding down the fourth quarter looked like they thought they were in the lead. My last WhatsApp to him after that game… “What a Joke!”

I told myself I wasn’t going to get up at 3 AM and watch game five, but I did anyway. Game six I said I’ll sleep until the fourth quarter and see what’s what, but I woke up at 3 and watched the whole thing. I was so excited all day Friday. On Saturday I watched games 5 and 6 a couple times each while making memes of Draymond Green as Bubba Blue from Forrest Gump. I tried to infect the Cavs fb page with multiple posts of the same image but it never took hold. I was sitting alone in my flat making memes and posting them secretly laughing to myself about how clever I was. It was fun, but nobody got it.

Game seven came and I slept through the first three quarters. I couldn’t bring myself to watch, I was so certain they’d choke…Cleveland always chokes. We’re always the ones left staring at the screen. Like at the end of game four, when Cleveland was cooked and they went on that fouling barrage in the last two minutes hoping for anything and the entire Q arena stood, no one leaving, everyone simply staring slack-jawed and feckless at the tragedy unfolding before them. That’s the way our seasons end in Cleveland. I woke up and JJ had shot a few WhatsApp’s at me and I was encouraged. By the time I logged into League Pass, the fourth was just about to start and it was 75-75 or something like that and I sat straight up in bed, made a coffee and started messaging JJ. What’s going on man? What you think? What’s the vibe? He was positive in his responses. GSW hitting 3’s and CLE battling straight-ahead LBJ style basketball to keep it close. I scanned the box-scores during time-outs and it looked good except CLE’s 3-point shooting was terrible.

Well the rest, as they say, is history. I told JJ before game seven that LBJ coming back and trying to recreate history wouldn’t work. It’s like getting back with an old flame, the moment’s passed, it never works out. But the difference here is that James didn’t come back…sure he returned to Cleveland, but the relationship was with his team, not us. We are all only witnesses to this, and it’s good enough for me. It’s LBJ and Kyrie. Irving and Lebron. These two guys should have been given the MVP together. Without James, Kyrie is just a really awesome scorer, and without Kyrie, James is all alone and runs out of gas (i.e. 2015 finals).

I love Cleveland. I remember the first time I watched a football game. My dad and I watched it on my little black and white TV in the kitchen. They were playing the Vikings and my dad was explaining to me how the game is played and by the time the game was ending I was hooked. Cleveland was leading and time was running out and my dad and I are screaming at the TV and Fran Tarkenton threw a hail-mary bomb down the right sideline. The ball was tipped around and bobbled and finally landed in the hands of a Minnesota wide receiver. I was crushed. It was my initiation into Cleveland sports. It wasn’t long after that our family started attending Indians games at old Municipal stadium. I’ll never forget the field opening up as we came out of the concourse and into the stands…the bright green field and the contrasting rich brown base paths. That moment resonates every time I walk into a professional baseball stadium. There were times it seemed like the stadium was empty, the lone drummer beating his impotent drum in the bleachers. A spattering of boo’s ran around the stands after the opposing team ran off this pitcher or that, and when something good did happen in the game the sounds of clapping barely registered in the cavernous stadium. It became a running joke that every time the Esterles attended a game the Tribe was sure to lose. I remember, Go Joe Charboneau! and Here We Go Brownies, Here We Go! The Tribe’s alive in 85! The Kardiac Kids! Mark Price, World B. Free. I remember going to watch the old Barons play and even had a pennant from them that I think I kept until I was in my 20’s. We went to an Indians game once in Minneapolis with my aunt and uncle to watch them play in the then brand new Metrodome. The ceiling would breathe up and down as the doors flung open at the end of the game. I caught a foul ball that day. I remember going to a Cavs game once with my friend Matt and Jon and JJ was there too. Matt’s dad got into an accident, it was winter and we were driving out route 303 and his dad swerved, lost control and ended up in the ditch. Somehow we got to the game. The old Coliseum seemed to come out of nowhere after driving along that old two-lane highway through the Cuyahoga national parks. Suddenly the forest around opened up to a gleaming edifice with white lights pushing out the darkness.

Going to these games, events, transcended the outcome. It was being with friends, or the times I’ve gone alone (and there were many) the atmosphere was enough company to outshine whatever happened in the game. But, every single season of my life, childhood and adult, has ended in “Why?!” or “There’s always next year.” or “Man, so close!” or “They got robbed!” or “F#$%’in Jordan!” or “Browns Suck!” or any number of appellations. Not this year suckers! This year we get to cheer. We get to be happy about our team doing something no one thought possible. We get to read the newspapers, watch the news, read the fb posts, and live in this moment. Thanks for the memories CLE! Thanks for doing what I began to think would never happen in Cleveland! Thanks for kicking ass! Go Cavs!   

Oliver's way home...

We went to Paul and Emma's kindercafe last weekend and Ollie decided to take a different way home and of course it was a good decision.



Long Way Home...

Ollie's first taste of chocolate, and he doesn't want to relinquish his quarry.

Chocolate Monster!

Here we are at the spielplatz near the where I work.

Spielplatz!