Tuesday Tidbits – Friday Edition

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- The NCAA tournament is now midway through the Sweet Sixteen and it has been an incredibly anti-climactic run so far. Few upsets, fewer memorable performances, and quite possibly the most boring basketball game in tournament history between UCLA and Pitt. Turnovers, missed shots, and Aaron Gray. Tennessee blew a 20 point lead, Acie Law IV missed a lay up and SIU hiccupped the game away after playing Kansas tough. Bada bing bada boom, and here we are. Both number 1 seeds as well as their number 2’s move on. Billy Packer is happy again. Not much more needs to be said. But, that won’t stop me.


- While we are on Pitt, it is time to note that they are, contrary to reports, a solid and not premier program. Sorry yinzer nation, they just aren’t there yet. Pitt is a top 20 program. They cannot be considered a top 10 program because since the resurgence of the Ricardo Greer led Panthers, they have yet to crack the Sweet 16. Nobody should mention them in the same breath as Duke, North Carolina, UCLA, Kansas, or Florida and you are pushing it if you compare them with programs like Illinois, Maryland, Arizona and in conference players like Syracuse and UConn. The main difference between Pitt and these teams is the growing hurdle that is the Sweet 16. All of these teams have made Elite 8’s or Final Four’s over the past decade while Pitt has yet to do so. How do they fix this? Well, defense is certainly not the problem. They can defend and rebound with any team in the country. They lack a slasher who can create for themselves and teammates off the dribble and a competent offensive game plan. They do a terrible job exploiting match ups and still play an inordinate amount of one on one, despite the departure of Carl Krauser. For instance, last night’s match up with Mata, despite Gray’s general lack of ability, was a huge key for Pitt. Pounding the ball inside to Gray was essential and he did not get enough touches early. Mata had 2 fouls early and had Dixon planned accordingly, could have been rendered useless for the rest of the game. Gray and Mata battled to a draw, Pitt shot the ball terribly from outside and the game was over. This is the single biggest improvement needed by Pitt – in game offensive coaching. They will have talent and defense and once they have an organized offense, this program will climb the ladder a little more.


- Aaron Gray is the most overrated player in America. He averaged almost 10 rebounds per game this year and I am convinced at least 3.5 of those were gathered off his own misses. He is this generation’s Greg Ostertag only not as good. Pittsburgh talk show host Mark Madden claimed Gray had a chance last night to cement his draft status or play his way out of the draft. In battling the great Lorenzo Mata (who looks like Splinter from the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie) to a draw, Gray ensured himself a spot on the bench of the Pittsburgh Xplosion. Some highlights: Having a jump hook blocked by the smaller Mata. Missing numerous lay-ups, some uncontested. The inexplicable way the front of his hair becomes chemically bound to his forehead while the rest bobs almost uncontrollably, giving the appearance of a 7 foot tall 6 year old bounding through the driveway. Honestly, anyone who still thinks Gray will be a starting center in the NBA needs to check into rehab immediately. He has a 2 inch vertical, slow feet, doesn’t block shots and can’t hit free throws. His only chance to even get meaningful minutes is to play along side a Tim Duncan type player who can stretch the D, command a double team and leave Gray open on the opposite block. However, there is something to be said for a free edumacation.

- Sticking with sports, Tiger Woods attempted to have the world’s best Tennis maestro, Roger Federer, watch a practice round from inside the ropes at the CA Championship at Doral. PGA officials, apparently not worrying about their future financial stability, escorted Federer from the fairway and put him back amongst the masses behind the ropes. It’s not like Salamander Jones from Blawnox ran on the course. It was Roger Federer. ROGER FEDERER. Alerted to their error by Woods, Federer was once again allowed inside the ropes. Then he beat the officials unconscious with an unopened can of Penn 5’s. And Tiger Woods ran them over in a Buick Rendezvous.

- Moving away from sports, figure skating is still on TV.

JT, WPD and YS

Remember the Nazgul from the Lord of the Rings movies? The creepy black undead figures who rode undead horses and dragon creatures to chase down Elijah Hobbit and his boys? If for some reason you don’t, check out this disturbingly detailed web-site http://www.tuckborough.net/witchking.html.

More importantly, remember the noise they made? The high screeching whines that made everybody cover their ears? The ones that caused your spine to curve until you were a puddle of yourself in the fetal position? I didn’t remember this noise until last night when I attended a Justin Timberlake concert. However, I am now convinced that we are missing out on our greatest form of man-made energy – the screeching woman. Mariah Carey had nothing on the collective 2 hour squeal that may have very well been responsible for a tsunami on the other side of the world.

Even more importantly was not the fact that I was a 25 year old man at a Justin Timberlake concert (25 year-old man enough to say he was good live), or that I referenced the Lord of the Rings to start this entry. No, more importantly was that I was able to engage in one of my favorite, yet most painful pastimes during the concert. That’s right – White People Dancing.

WPD is actually a syndrome which affects approximately 67% of the Caucasian population, with approximately 88% of those affected being of the female persuasion with a typical age range of 12-30. Its onset is usually hidden until puberty, but its symptoms may be detected earlier depending on the carrier’s exposure to certain kinds of music. For instance, last night even before JT took the stage I viewed what, at least to that point in my life, was the best example of WPD I had ever seen. It is common practice for a random play-list of various popular songs to entertain a crowd in between acts at concerts. Last night was no different.

A few thumps of a base drum and a bad riff on a synthesizer worked the mostly Caucasian crowd into a frenzy. Meaningful lyrics such as what follows helped to introduce me to what would become my appetizer to a stunning main course of WPD:

Meet me in the trap its goin down

Meet me in the mall its goin down

Meet me in the club its goin downA

ny where ya meet me guaranteed to go down

This caused a scene the MTV TRL people would have died to see. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RivhqwOo61Q Pay particular attention to the time between 1:37 and 1:45 of the video which is the move where Young Joc is able to simulate riding a funky motorcycle to either side. This is what approximately 12,000 people did simultaneously for 4 minutes, causing me a near fatal seizure. Some gyrated more violently than others, but the age range was perfect for WPD researchers. In fact, a group of 12-15 year olds in front of my executed this move so brilliantly, I myself was almost drawn into meeting in the trap.

Then, it was time. Time for JT. Time for a former boy-bander to … if you answered, “Do a shot of tequila,” you are right on target. I, for one, was caught of guard by this. So was everybody else. The youngsters were clueless, the teenagers in awe, the twenty-somethings shocked, and the parents appalled. It was his version of Britney Spears’ “I’m not that innocent,” line. He grew up, wore some tight clothes, and took a man’s shot. And in case there were any questions left about Justin’s boy-band beginnings, he left any ambiguity in the dust with the simulated mounting of a female dancer. From behind. This caused at least 7 people’s heads to completely leave there bodies.

But entertaining as he was, JT could not compete with what was the surf and turf of WPD. From the outset, my view of the stage was impeded by a green shirt (tied in the back), big hair, and what turned out to be the worst dancing performance since, well take your pick: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpbXl5Sp-Wc&mode=related&search=.

Fast beat or slow, the dance was the same. One hand in the air, pointer finger extended for the “number 1” celebration, other arm flailing haphazardly to the side with unfailing wrist action and inadvertent neighbor slap, head (by way of the neck) moving side to side and finally, hip rolling. Constant hip rolling. Hip rolling that would make Shakira pass out. It is important to note that a good variation on the “number 1” sign is the wagging of the “1” finger. It is precious. And it was everywhere. I chose to concentrate on the quartet in front of me, mostly because they were blocking my view of the good dancing happening on the stage, but it was the same in every section of the entire arena: flailing arms and junior cases of whiplash coupled with off beat hip rolling.

A typical side affect of WPD is what is called Yell Singing, or YS. Yell Singing often accompanies bad dancing and usually drowns out the voice of the person performing. Again we are looking at the 12-30 year-old age group, but some exceptions are made when alcohol is involved. And again, I did not have to go far to witness YS. Part of the quartet in front of me was a diminutive girl who apparently knew she lacked rhythm (and left the dancing to the green shirt girl) but thought she had a big league voice. She did, if you enjoy listening to a violinist warm up into a boom microphone attached to your earmuff headphones. It completely drowned out at least 2 songs and made drastic alterations to many others.

As quickly as it had started, the dancing subsided. The culprit? A beat-less song. Something seemingly impossible to dance to. The YS remained, terrible monotone notes banging my eardrums at alarmingly high decibel levels, but the dancing, for the moment was gone. For the first time since he came on stage, I saw JT. And then it happened. The tied green shirt girl rose from the musical ashes of a slow song, resurrecting WPD in one terrifying moment. Clutching her hair with both hands, arms bent to diamond shape in the attempt to be sexy pose, she came out of her chair – hips rolling to a beat that never was. Her hands slid down her face as her hair fell back towards the gravitational pull of her shoulders. The hands continued toward her waist, at one point stopping to make it look as if she were making out with someone, doing the hug-yourself thing with hips rolling all the while. They continued farther south, eventually reaching her knees when … she tootsie rolled. I saw it. I don’t need anyone else to believe me, but the girl sitting in front of me with the tied green shirt, crazy hair and sickening inability to catch a beat, tootsie rolled. The hands started on the knees, bringing left and right knee together. Just as the insides glanced off each other, jean leg on jean leg, her hands came off, arms bent at the elbows into “v’s”, followed by the knees bowing out again away from each other. Somehow, she managed to keep her hips rolling during this time. Lather, rinse, repeat. She did it again. I saw it again. Keep in mind, there was no beat at this point. In fact, as far as she knew there was no music. I don’t remember anything else from this point of the concert on. I came to about halfway to the car and, although a little groggy, pretty sure of what I had seen. I confirmed this with my girlfriend as we drove home. I have no visual evidence, but I am pretty sure it looked like this: