1972

Michael Vick was indicted just as Chris Mortensen said wouldn’t happen, Randy Moss and Tom Brady appear to be getting along fine just like ESPN unilaterally decided wouldn’t happen, and David Beckham is here to energize soccer in America, which everyone knows won’t happen.

Derek Jeter says the Yanks can catch the Sox, which everyone knows they can’t.

Talladega nights won the ESPY for best sports movie, which everyone knows sucks.

Dale Earnhardt Junior is going to replace Kyle Busch in Hendrick racing (probably the first NASCAR related factoid ever divulged on The Sports Maunderer), even though he stinks.

If only the world was as simple as in 1972. Back then, Americans were good guys, Russians were bad guys, and everyone else had to pick a side, rename itself Switzerland, or surrender (only one country chose the latter option, I’m sure you can guess which). Back then, no one had ever heard of steroids, and the Super Bowl was a new-fangled concoction of those dudes whose shoulders looked way too big. Movies were movies (and Al Pacino didn’t look dead), and Harry Potter had never been heard of (its too bad he isn’t dead).

In 1972, Bobby Fischer told the world he would win the World Chess Championship, though everyone knew the Russians always won. He then told the world he wouldn’t play because the cameras had to leave, and most people believed him. He was insane, after all.

He ended up not only playing but capping off one of the great stories of the 20th century. Bobby Fischer was a champion in every possible way; he was called a complainer, a crackpot, insane, reckless, and bordering on otherworldly. He was likely all of these things as well, but they do not diminish his greatness. Indeed, they were likely the reason for his greatness.

In the late 1950s and the 1960s, when Fischer was winning U.S. opens at the age of fourteen and beyond (he played in the U.S. Chess Championship eight times, and won each time), becoming the youngest grandmaster ever at sixteen, mesmerizing former world champions with his play and nearly disappearing on multifarious occasions, chess was hardly on the map of the world, except in the place that owned it: Russia.

Russian chess players were often seen as products of the communist system, and in the sense that Russia had a very good system for discovering and nurturing young chess talent, that was true. They were extremely varied in style and physiognomy, however, not all lining up as boring, mathematical, apathetic geniuses. The man who seemed to embody that saturnine, tedious verisimilitude did end up claiming the World Championship, however, in the form of Boris Spassky. He was the last in an impressively long line of Russian champions. Indeed, after Fischer, that line would start again and has maintained itself to this day. Since 1948, only three years have gone by where a Russian was not the world champion. So in case you haven’t gotten the picture, Russians are very, very good at chess.

So obviously when Fischer was in the midst of thwomping Spassky like a native American drum, the world was slightly interested. The entire career of America’s lone champion was worth discussing, though. It was, very simply, weird. It also contained the Sandy Koufax period of championship chess, and indeed that is a great injustice to Bobby Fischer’s play; not only was he better than Koufax in his prime, he never had a 4.00 ERA in his early career. Bobby Fischer was one of the great chess players of all time throughout his career. For a span of one or two years, he was far better than anyone else has ever been, possibly at anything.

To understand why ordinary people look at Bobby Fischer in a different light is to understand the obvious. He was calumnious, cranky, picky, quick-tempered—you never knew what vicissitudes of countenance he would showcase or what their effect would be. He was churlish, boorish, and in many ways simply a rude curmudgeon. If he had not played chess as well as he did, it is likely he would have been an ostracized crazy man.

To understand why chess players find Bobby Fischer interesting, one needs to understand that he did not simply win the world championship once and then disappear. Oh sure, he did that. But this man dominated tournaments like no one before him or after him has. He dominated match play against the world’s best like no one before him had or anyone after him likely will.

In high level tournaments, draws are inevitable. It is simply impossible to consistently outplay other grandmasters to the point of defeat over and over and over. For instance, a score of 7/12 (a win is one point, a draw is half a point, a loss is zero points) at a strong grandmaster invitational is considered a great outcome. The winner might be 7.5/12, if that. For perspective, 7.5/12 would likely mean a player scored four wins, one loss and seven draws. Draws are merely expected to outnumber decisions at such a level. In match play, where the same two opponents are facing each other repeatedly, draws are even more ubiquitous.

To illustrate the point: In Kasparov v. Karpov, the world championship match in 1981, the format was simple. First man to six wins claims the title, no matter how long it takes. After forty-eight games, the match was cancelled due to the absurd length of the match. Only eight decisions had been derived; forty of the matches were draws! In Kasparov v. Kramnik in 2000, Kramnik eked out a close victory in which Kasparov did not manage to win a single game. For reference, Kasparov is considered one of the best, if not the best player of all time by most pundits. He holds records for highest rating, duration of rating, and numerous other titles in addition to almost twenty years of being world champion. Yet he failed to win once. Instead, he racked up a ton of 1/2-1/2s.

So clearly, high level play is fraught with draws.

Bobby Fischer’s U.S. Open scores were : 1957-58: 10.5/13; 1958-59: 8.5/11; 1959-60: 9/11; 1960-61: 9/11; 1962-63: 8/11; 1963-64: 11/11; 1965-66: 8.5/11; 1966-67: 9.5/11.

Included rather innocently in that tiny diagram of domination is his impossible 1964 victory at the U.S. Open in which he won every game he played. He did not draw a single game. This is akin to a football team playing an entire season without even falling behind at any point in any game. As a player continues winning, it is the almost understood duty of each player who plays him to at least draw him. Yet they could not. Even with the black pieces (a common misconception is that black and white are equal in chess. They are not. A draw with black is more or less considered a good outcome at the highest levels), Fischer could not be touched.

And none of this takes away from his overall domination at the tournament from the age of fourteen and beyond. He played in eight U.S. Opens and lost three whole games out of ninety!

Well “so what?” you say, he was clearly the greatest American player ever. Indeed, so what. Never mind the fact that no player has dominated a tournament scene like that—what about the Russians?!

For the year leading up to his historic battle with Boris Spassky, Fischer put on a show like none other in the history of chess. To reach the position of world championship challenger, one had to first climb through a succession of zonal, interzonal and match play tournaments. After easily reaching the candidates matches (while posting scores of 19/22 and 15/17 in other, non-championship related tournaments), he played three of the greatest chess minds of the day. To say he extirpated them would be an understatement.

First, he played against Russian Mark Taimanov. Taimanov has an opening named after him, if you were curious as to his ability. Fischer won the match 6-0. Taimanov could not even draw him once. Towards the end of the match, Taimanov contracted a mysterious illness.

Second, Fischer played Bent Larsen, the strongest Danish grandmaster ever. Towards the end of another 6-0 rout, Larsen contracted a mysterious illness. It was dubbed “Fischer fever” and no one could really take it seriously other than an excuse to delay games towards the inevitable conclusion of the match.

The final opponent before Spassky: Tigran Petrosian, the former world champion, considered one of the three strongest players in the world. Petrosian finally offered a bit of resistance, managing a win in the second game and even the score. After a few draws, Fischer won again. Then, he won again. Petrosian was suddenly ill. Fischer finished him off with a four game winning streak. Fischer so dominated his opponents mentally and physically that they all complained of an ersatz illness.

After all, let us not forget it was Bobby Fischer. He never made a match easy. He complained about lighting, about chess sets, about chairs, etc. He would show up late to games, leave for extended periods of time, etc. He was perhaps the most difficult opponent to play in the world completely regardless of his ferocious ability on the board.

And he put his psychological warfare into full force with Boris Spassky. He first refused to attend his own match, then he arrived and refused to play because of the cameras and the spectators, then he forfeited the second game by not showing up. He had now played Boris Spassky seven times, won none, drawn three, lost four—one by forfeit. The world was beginning to think Fischer was as much of a poseur in chess as the French are in war.

But really, Spassky was doomed to lose. After agreeing to play in a back room away from cameras and spectators for the third game, Spassky finally broke and lost to Fischer. Over the course of the match, Fischer would relatively easily defeat Spassky. After grabbing a three point lead, Fischer was content to draw the rest of the games to eventually win by a score of 12.5-8.5 Bobby was the king of the world.

It would not stay that way for long.

It is often believed that chess drives men crazy. A wise man once denied that belief with the clever and indubitable line, “Chess does not drive normal men past the edge of sanity. Chess keeps insane men on the normal side.”

Nowhere was this expressed more visibly than with Fischer, whose disappearances, rants, hate and simply downright lunatic behavior since 1972 show a man who likely would never have been sane but for the board he so thoroughly dominated. For a period of a year, he so utterly crushed all comers that he might as well have played me and the result would have been similar to the greatest players of the day (I exaggerate of course, but if you aren’t enthralled by my hyperbolic cadence by now, you aren’t reading anyway. I am being arrogant of course, but if you aren’t enraptured by my egotistical rambling by now…).

Basically, I can’t write about the Yanks because the last time I did, they fell apart. But I don’t think the story of Bobby Fischer ever gets old. Some puling egomaniacal chess players of today will claim Fischer only won because of the fuss he created around matches. While this is probably absurd, it misses the point. Fischer was a whirlwind of chaos, and he had to deal with it just as his opponents’ did. Fischer was able to overcome everything else and simply win.

The mark of a champion is not upon those whose best is better than their best. You win because your worst is still good enough. At his peak, Fischer’s worst was better than even his opponent’s best. He overcame near-insanity, extremely skilled opponents, endless distractions and the freaking Cold War to dominate like no other.

To the thirty-fifth anniversary, here here,

The Sports Maunderer

Just Wait. Chess will make a comeback.

But before it does, I need to maunder for a bit. About what? I don't know. But I'm the Sports Maunderer and it has been a while since I have done any maundering. So I will now. I will not cop out like Posthill and close for the summer season. I will ramble and I will do it without having a clue what I am going to ramble about. But this used to be what the Sports Maunderer was, and I need some old school reminiscience.

(BTW, as wimpy as Posthill's attempt at covering the naked posterior of zero posts was, his latest incarnation was still outrageously funny--and irreverant and insulting and probably amoral but still--outrageously funny. [however, the Federer/Nadal hell he speaks of was a little uncalled for. Just because H.R. Williams mistakes all foreigners for illegal aliens {a blight upon society that Williams thinks needs to be eradicated with chemical weapons} doesn't mean he needs to mercilessly libel them. Even though he mercilessly libels everyone not named Ronald Reagan])



The NBA is having a bad year. I mean, when you have a bad year, it is probably something like "dang, my Christmas bonus was a little smaller than I was hoping". The NBA's bad year has involved a retarded ball-switch (does no one remember that they began this year with different balls?), a reneging on said switch, a Carmelo suckerpunch, a dreadful regular season in which 1/3 of the teams thought losing was winning (and were actually right), a postseason in which the finals were played in the secound round (and won by the wrong team due to stupid suspensions, horrible officiating and things we will get to later), the finals were over before they began and drew about as many viewers as "That 70's Show" re-runs, the draft lottery ended up shipping the two jewels of the draft to places no one will ever watch them, and to top it all off, we learn that the NBA, often portrayed as league of thugs, is actually controlled by the mafia!

What a year. As Bill Simmon's points out, no one will ever watch an NBA game the same way again. Think about that. The mob determined the outcome of the 2007 postseason! Tim Donaghy might have (and the "might" can be forgotten as far as public perception goes) purposefully made incorrect calls in the pivotal third game of that series. Can you believe it?

Surely, none of the other leagues are having image problems like that, right?

Heh...

Heh...

Heh.

Baseball is watching this guy (yes, that is him, before and after the AEDs [acne enhancing drugs]) tear down a hallowed record while ESPN tries to decide whether to slurp him (Steve Philips) or kill him (uh... wait, no, can't think of any ESPN analyst who holds Barry in a low opinion). For that matter, this "Barry Bonds, the greatest player ever" stuff is nonsense. Completely regardless of steroids he isn't even in a sane person's top five. I understand baseball is a sport where one guy can't win a championship. But shouldn't the supposed greatest player of all time have won at least a single championship? Thought so. Ruth won. Dimaggio won. Mantle won. Of course, being a Yankee helps.

In the NFL, Michael Vick was indicted (just so you know, our beloved Chris Mortenson assured us Michael Vick would not be indicted) for trafficking in illegal dogfighting. Yikes. He could go to jail. I mean, think about that. We have had players who didn't live up to their ultra hyped potential because of injury (Ken Griffey Junior), players who didn't live up to their potential because their potential was simply never there (Ryan Leaf) and players who have not lived up to their potential because they didn't work hard enough (ironically, Vick). But have we ever had a player who didn't live up to his potential because he got thrown in jail? I am really not sure. I have never heard of anything like this before. Imagine him being thrown in jail and missing out on the prime of his playing years. Wow.

So just remember. Though life may seem dim without The Sports Maunderer pounding out articles every other day, life could be much much worse. You could be David Stern, Bud Selig, Michael Vick, or you could be mentioned in Posthill and have a last name other than Reagan.

Until I detail the greatness of Chess' Sandy Koufax, this has been

~The Sports Maunderer~

Forgetfulness and salary caps

Well some things are too perfect to invent, and this was one of them. In a post titled: “Salary caps and forgetfulness”, I completely forgot to talk about salary caps. This makes sense, as my sports mood right now is scattered and lackluster. The summer is a complete sports void if your baseball team sucks. My baseball team sucks. Hence, the summer is a complete sports void. (How’s that for you amateur logicians).

While I could scream and inveigh and pule about the Yankees as I have done many times before, I believe that this would be pointless. They are wasting a monstrous A-Rod season, they are wasting a $20,000,000 Roger Clemens contract, and basically, I blame two people: Joe Torre and Bobby Abreu. As usual, Torre has destroyed the bullpen. However, Abreu’s year has been one of tremendous significance. Red Sox fans should send Bobby Abreu Christmas cards, and they should stuff them with cookies too. He obviously likes them. The fact of the matter is that Abreu has sabotaged this team (notice how during his own decent streak, the Yankees went 11-2) and I don’t care to relive his atrocious half a year by yelling about it. Though I just did, so...

Anyway, I was thinking to myself as the Spurs were labeled a dynasty by idiots and the NFL labeled as full of parity by morons and baseball labeled as broken due to no salary cap by stupid people... I thought to myself (...SELF! [BAM! {Le Betard!—tell me how many of those you got—}]) that not only are the people clamoring for a salary cap simply mad that no one cares about their teams, they simply don’t understand sports. At all.

The NBA, which has a salary cap, also has no parity. At the start of the year there are three teams that have a legitimate chance at a title—maybe a fourth some of the time—and that is it. That is the list. (Never mind that they all live in the West; each of the big three has one conference that dominates the others). The vaunted salary cap has not kept the Spurs, Mavs and Suns from dominating the league consistently. It didn’t keep the Lakers from dominating the league consistently. And the East is hardly better in terms of parity. All the teams are worse, but Detroit has reached the conference finals five straight years. Now is any of this a reflection on the money system of the NBA? Perhaps in the sense that good GMs know how to manipulate it with better results, but that is true of anything, anywhere. The lack of parity really only attests to the fact that a dozen players in a decade are good enough to take their team to the title, and the chances of those players changing teams are extremely low. In one of the rare cases where it did happen—Shaq—the team he moved to soon won a title.

In the NFL, the super salary cap and myth of parity are no different in falsity. Once you get past the shiny Brummagem they project, the NFL has no parity at all. The Colts, Patriots, Colts and Patriots have completely dominated the league for the past six years. Why? Hunh. I wonder. Might they have the two best players in the league at the most important position? Yes they might. In a similar situation to the NBA, where the East sucks, the NFL’s weaker conference also has a team or two that has dominated for the last half a dozen years. The Eagles in particular. Now granted, the titles are more spread around in the NFL than in the NBA, but that is because A) the NBA plays a series in the playoffs, and B) the NFL has 53 players on a team, tons of changeover from year to year, and regardless of a salary cap, it is made so that teams wont win for as long (players even break down faster. Great running backs are done by the age of 31. Great guards hit their prime somewhere around there). Both of these leagues have salary caps, neither have parity, and yet...

Baseball, the land of ultra unpredictability, is decried as being behind the times for its lack of a salary cap. Lemme see... How many teams have won two titles in the past eight years? Uh... none? How about in the past twenty? Two? Baseball doesn’t need a salary cap because for one thing, the idiotic first round allows a hot hitting team to win a bad game or two and get by a superior team before either side has even blinked. It doesn’t need a salary cap because baseball is inherently more luck based in a short series than basketball. It doesn’t need a salary cap because buying a team obviously doesn’t *work* over vast periods of time (no one remembers this, but the Yankees only stopped winning World Series’ when they started spending money). One player can’t dominate for years the way a Shaq or a Jordan or even a Peyton Manning can. If they could, the Twins would win every year.



Closing the Gap? This nonsense about Rafael Nadal "closing the gap" with Federer cracks me up. That's all I have to say. Really. Did anyone watch the fifth set? Before the fifth set, Federer stunk to high Heaven and he still won two out of four sets. When he flipped the switch in the fifth set (granted, it took him longer than usual to flip the switch), he made Nadal look like an amalgamation of n00b, L0s3R, and aMat3_R. Plus, Nadal looks like a girl. Federer wins all around.



In a really funny story I heard just the other day, apparently when Pete Sampras was dominating Wimbeldon (7 out of 8 years he won), and was closing in on Borg's five in a row record, Bjorn called the man who beat Sampras and thanked him for saving his record. Who was that man? Yes, it was Roger Federer. Who the heck would have guessed back then that Bjorn really owed him no thanks at all, since a few years later Roger would finish the job? I mean... wow. i-r-o-n-i-c.

In Women's Tennis News... Normally I would not deign to discuss the slow motion snore fest that is women's tennis (unless Maria Sharapova was somehow involved...), but I have to ask...

Who the heck is Venus Williams screaming at? Everytime she swings, she lets loose the most vicious, unecessary yelps that I have to wonder if she is being mugged. As if I needed any other reasons to avoid women's tennis.

Home Run Derby. Well. If you can call it that. The Derby produced zero moments of interest, including a putrid 3-2 (3-2!) final round. I guess the only good thing was that due to a lack of dingers, we didn't have to endure too much of the quacking, or clucking, or whatever you call that atrocious cacophony of noise that Chris Berman constantly shouts every time a player hits a--GASP!!--home run in the home run derby.

All Star Game: The AL won. But then, I could have told you that a week ago.

Sorry about the slow rate of posts, but it really isn't my fault that only one sport is going, and that nothing of interest is going in that solely going sport. Err... yeah.

~The Sports Maunderer~