Rant #1,606: That's How the Ball Bounces

I am sure you have heard by now that Derek Fisher, the coach of the New York Knicks for the past season and a half, was sacked yesterday, fired from the job he was supposedly hand picked for.

He is yet another in a succession of coaches that have been chosen to lead the Knicks, the worst run team in professional sports, to the promised land, the NBA championship, something they haven't won since 1973, and the way they are going, probably won't win another one until 2073 at the earliest.

Fisher was supposed to take an under-talented team and make something of it, and he could never do that.

He was a fine player, but a lousy coach, never able to translate his court savvy to his players.

That being said, since he was hand picked by Phil Jackson to lead this bunch of generally nomadic players with little talent, a lot of the blame has to go on the team president for this debacle.

Jackson, who was successful as both a player and coach, with a gaggle of championship rings on his hands--including the last one won by the Knicks--has been an absolutely horrible front office executive.

The only reason why his job hasn't been taken from him is that he drafted Kristops Porzingis, probably the steal of the draft.

But he has put together two horrid teams, one that won a Knick team low 17 games last year, and this year, with a better bunch, might win 34 or 35 games, and that is it.

And Fisher was saddled with that, and he never could take this garbage and make it into gold.

He has had some off the court problems too.

Fisher was exonerated by the NBA in a love triangle fracas between him, Memphis Grizzlies player Matt Barnes, and Barnes' ex-wife, some busty floozy who got the two guys so ensnared that they actually had a fist fight over her.

Barnes has been suspended and fined countless times over his participation in this skirmish--which he evidently started--and Fisher has come out like a choir boy, but nonetheless, he was involved in this, which I don't think the Knicks organization took too kindly to.

He also has said some disparaging things about potential target free agents the Knicks were going after, most recently point guard Rajon Rondo.

On the court, his Xs and Os simply did not translate to winning. The Knicks have lost nine of 10 games with one more game to go before the All-Star break, and they have fallen further and further away from a potential playoff spot.

Their one true star, Carmelo Anthony, seems to be a day to day player now, giving 110 percent when he is out there, but sitting on the bench and not playing many recent games because of various ailments.

Porzingis was a find, but he is just 20, and appears to have hit the wall that all young players hit, due to the brutal schedule they are facing for the first time in their careers.

There have been other assorted injuries that the Knicks have had to withstand, and even though they showed promise early in the season, it was almost inevitable that they would collapse.

And they have, with only two really horrid teams--the Brooklyn Nets and the Philadelphia 76ers--preventing them from falling to the bottom of the standings.

So Fisher was basically the fall guy, echoing the sports proverb that "coaches are hired to get fired."

The real problem is that the Knicks can never see the forest for the trees.

Even in down years, they pack Madison Square Garden with the most loyal fans in professional sports. Actually, the most loyal ... and stupid.

In other cities, the continued ineptitude of this team over the decades would make people stay away, with reams of empty seats every game.

Not the Knicks. Their fans--myself included--pay for their overpriced seats with glee, and management thinks they are doing a good job because every game has been a sell-out or near sell-out for decades.

But it really is a smokescreen--this team is, and has been for 40 years, pretty much a mess, owned by a megalomaniac--the Dolan family, namely poppa's little boy, Jim--who has no clue how to spend the riches daddy accumulated through Cablevision.

The Knicks are a laughing stock, have been for years, and when they hired Fisher, they continued to be a laughing stock, as their first choice, Steve Kerr, bolted for Golden State, and the Warriors won the championship under him last season.

This season, they might set a record for regular season wins and win another championship.

The Knicks ... well, they are going home when their season ends, that's for sure.

Kurt Rambis--another Jackson disciple--takes over the team as interim coach, and the search goes on for a permanent coach.

Woe is every Knicks fan, woe is this organization.

They may has well be the New York Torture, because that is what they continue to inflict on fans all these years after the glory years of Willis Reed, Walt Frazier, Bill Bradley and the others.

Woe is me watching this horrid team ... but like a true Knicks fan, I will continue to watch, continue to hope, and continue to kick myself in my head for wasting time and spending money related to this team.

I, and thousands of others, must be nuts.

Classic Rant #256 (May 10, 2010): It’s Graduation Day (Part 2)

... or it was Graduation Day on Saturday, May 15.

My family and I journeyed to Oswego, New York, for all the festivities surrounding my daughter's graduation from SUNY Oswego, which took place in the afternoon this past Saturday.

It took us exactly--and I mean just about to the minute--six hours to trek the 300-plus miles from Long Island to Oswego, a town which reminds me of Mayberry, but on steroids. There is so much old and quaint about this town, but with a college of this size right in it, it has plenty of the new in it too.

The school had so many graduates (undergrads and advanced degrees) that they had to split up the ceremony into two parts, with some kids getting their degrees in the morning and other kids--like my daughter--getting their degrees in the afternoon.

The morning ceremony was going to have some controversy, as John McHugh, the Secretary of the Army, was supposed to speak, but he decided not to come when his arrival was going to spark a number of protests related to his stand on the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" military stance.

But he wasn't there, and it would not have affected my daughter's ceremony, anyway.

Oswego ran a very tight ship during the ceremony. It lasted maybe 2-plus hours, which isn't much when you consider how many students received their degrees in the afternoon. It had to be at least 500 or so, if not more.

However, they were less tight with their program booklet. My daughter's name was not in there, and I later found out that dozens of graduates' names were omitted from the program. I don't know why.

The guest speaker was writer/activist Naomi Wolfe, and I must say, she was quite eloquent and really not very controversial when she spoke to the assembled throng. She alluded to the situation that was avoided earlier in the day just one time, and very briefly, but not directly, which I think was the way to go.

Finally, it was time to see my daughter get her diploma. We came early, had great seats directly parallel to where my daughter was seated, and she went up with her fellow students and got her diploma, or more to the point, a case for the diploma. She will get the diploma sent to her.

Then, it was over seemingly as quickly as it started. I was so proud of her, and I felt kind of old, in that I now have a daughter who has a college degree, and a son going into high school next year.

In all the hub-bub afterward, it was very hard to get through the crowd, but we found my ex-wife's husband, and he led us to see my daughter so I could take a few photos in her cap and gown for her grandparents.

I saw my ex-wife and her family, said congratulations to all of them, but they did not offer my congratulations. It is pretty much what I expected.

Her mom took our daughter out to dinner after the celebration, and we took her out for breakfast the next day.

Then we bid farewell. My daughter recently got a job as a teaching assistant in Oswego, so she will be staying there at least through the summer, maybe more.

The trip home went well until we approached the George Washington Bridge. With incredible traffic, construction on the Throgs Neck Bridge, and the usual Sunday traffic, it took us over eight hours to get home!

Today, I feel very proud of my daughter, but I am also bushed from the trip. I will make it through today on adrenalin, nothing more.

But it was a great day, and I hope my daughter gets to do exactly what she wants to do with her life.

She worked hard enough to get to this point, and she deserves it.

Psst ... anyone know of an elementary school teaching position that is open ... ?

Rant #1,605: The Enabler

Well, the Super Bowl is over, and we can all finally get back to some level of normalcy.

The snow is supposed to be coming to my neck of the woods, and even though forecasters thought it would be here by now--by 3 a.m., and it is now well after 4 a.m.--it still has not arrived.

That is fine with me.

Anyway, every weekend goes really quickly when you are like me, "working for the weekend" like I do.

Even right now, on Monday morning, I am thinking about the upcoming weekend.

When you have this mindset, little things stick out in your mind, and one little thing stuck out in my mind that happened yesterday evening.

My son worked all day yesterday, and when he has to put in a full day on Sunday, he is kind of "rewarded" with whatever he wants to eat when he comes home and it is dinnertime.

He wanted Burger King, his favorite fast food, so I went to get him exactly what he wanted prior to picking him up.

I prefer not to go through the drive-through--just one of my quirks, I admit it--so I went into the restaurant near his work, got what I wanted, and walked out.

As I was getting into my car, this fellow approached me on a bicycle.

He said, very politely, "Excuse me, sir," and I knew that I was in "trouble," so to speak.

"Can you spare some cash? I need my insulin shots, and I don't have any money to pay for it."

Normally, I would not have given him a thing, not a penny, because I think it is being an enabler to do something like this, allowing people to continue on in their lives like this without any direction.

But for some reason yesterday, I reached into my pocket, and told him, "Look, all I have is a little change," and I gave it to him.

He thanked me, rode away on his bike, and I saw him ride around the neighborhood as I left the Burger King parking lot and drove to Home Depot across the street to pick up my son.

Kinda weird, not just the situation, but my reaction to it.

I could have told him to go away, but I didn't, and I thought about the whole thing, and I still don't know why I gave him the money, albeit a very small sum.

Maybe there was the risk factor; if I didn't give him anything, would I be opening myself up to some type of verbal, or worse, physical altercation?

Maybe it was because deep down, I am a humanitarian, upset that a fellow human being was so down and out that he would ask me for some money to sustain himself?

Maybe it is because I, myself, am an idiot, and fell for his lies?

And when I thought about it, it was probably a combination of all three things.

I guess I do feel sorry for people in this situation, and yes, there was the risk factor to consider. I probably did fall for his lies, too.

But you know what? After I gave him the money, I felt good that I had done it.

I guess sometimes you have to be foolish, even though you know it is wrong, to make yourself feel good, and that is what happened yesterday evening.

So I guess I am, deep down, a humanitarian, even though for all I know, the fellow is using the money I gave him not for insulin, but some other type of "shot," if you get my drift.

But giving him the money fed my own ego too, so I guess it was something of a win-win, for both him and me.

So during Super Bowl Sunday, at least in my mind, I was the real winner, the real victor, the real deal.

Now, back to my own work, where pennies are really hard to come by ... .

Classic Rant #255 (May 13, 2010): It’s Graduation Day

Well, not quite yet, but this Saturday, my daughter graduates college, and will receive her undergraduate degree in early childhood education from SUNY Oswego.

We are driving up from Long Island to witness this occasion. It's a long drive, but it should be fun.

The hotels around the college know that this is their time to make money, so they force parents to pay for a two night stay rather than one. Since my daughter is graduating on Saturday afternoon, if things were the way they should be, we could either drive up on Friday, stay overnight, see her graduate and then drive home. Or we could come up on Saturday, stay overnight, and go home Sunday.

As it is, we have to drive up on Friday and stay over on Friday night and Saturday night and leave Sunday morning.

That is how they do it, and I have heard that that is how they do it in just about all college towns during graduation weekend.

And, they also jack up the price for a room.

That being said, this is something that I am really looking forward to. I am very proud of my daughter, and I can't wait for her to get her diploma.

Since she is the child of divorce, she has had a bit of a rough go at it. I tried to see her every time my visitation allowed when she was younger, but as she grew older, we became a bit more distant. I am not going to say her mother's attitude toward me had something to do with that, but let's not mince words--it did (if you are in a similar situation, I think you know what I mean).

However, once she started to drive, things got a bit easier for all of us. She was able to come and go as she pleased, I got to see her more, and things improved between the two of us.

Now that she has been away at college, the distance has grown in both miles and our relationship. Let's just say that it is not at the best point right now.

But even when we disagree, we still say "I love you" at the end of our conversation--and I really do love my daughter.

I truly hope she succeeds in everything she does.

She has taken a summer job in Oswego, so I probably won't see much of her this summer.

But graduation is the start of the rest of her life, and I look forward to the day.

Since I will be traveling tomorrow, my next post will be on Monday. Have a good weekend.

I know that I will!

Rant #1,604: Buper Sowl

The world will seemingly be transfixed on the championship game of the National Football League that is being held this Sunday in California.

The 50th Super Bowl, or Super Bowl 50--notice they did not use the Roman numeral this time, because Super Bowl L sounds kind of funny, but I like the "L" part myself--is taking place this Sunday as the Carolina Panthers take on the Denver Broncos.

Millions and millions of people will watch the game, but don't count me among those millions.

I will be watching something else that night.

I am not a fan, and have not been a football fan for decades.

When I was a kid, I liked the New York Jets.

In fact, the only football game I ever watched with my father was Super Bowl III, or whatever they called it then, when the Jets beat the Baltimore Colts for the championship.

But since the Jets and the New York Giants left New York City for the wilds of New Jersey--and continue to have the audacity to call themselves New York teams--my interest in pro football has waned to nothing.

I don't care about the big game, I am not going to any Super Bowl parties, and I don't have money bet on the game.

I feel that probably about 75 percent of the people tuned into the game really aren't football fans: they are going to parties or they have money bet on the game, so that is where their interest lies.

I understand the significance of the game as sort of a national holiday, but believe me, I celebrate this holiday as much as I do Christmas and Easter.

Not at all.

My family is not into football either, probably because I am not into it.

So what will we do on Sunday night?

Well, there are a wealth of choices.

We could watch a movie on Netflix, or maybe one of those movies I have been digging up on other such services, like YouTube.

We could pop in a DVD, and watch one of those that we haven't been able to watch for one reason or another.

The other TV channels are in operation during this game, so we could see what their counter-programming is. I know that the Decades channel is running a "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." marathon, so that could be a viable option for us.

Heck, there are so many other things to do than to watch the Super Bowl that I am brimming with anticipation at getting to Sunday night and doing what we want to do, not doing something that we are programmed to do, such as watch the Super Bowl.

And the next morning, when everyone is brimming at the water cooler with their own Super Bowl stories, I will be happily on the outside, not wanting to interrupt their supposedly interesting stories about a game that most of them really don't care about, but knowing that I did what I wanted to do that night, and did not succumb to this hubbub.

Enjoy the game, but I will enjoy what I am doing too.

The Super Bowl? It's just another Sunday night for my family and I.

And as the snow cascades down from the heavens in my next of the woods, pitchers and catchers will have reported to spring training by the time the game is over, you know.

Heck, summer is nearly here.

Speak to you on Monday.

Classic Rant #254 (May 12, 2010): Work, Work, Work, Work … Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Playground (?)

Here's another study that bears looking at.

In a study of more than 10,000 British civil servants, researchers have found that working 10 hours or more a day may harm your heart.

People who added three or more hours to a seven-hour workday had a 60-percent greater risk of heart attack, angina and death from cardiovascular disease than those who didn't work overtime. The results support evidence that longer work schedules can lead to poor heath and plays a greater role in heart disease.

Of course, no one would say that working a lot of hours each week can kill you, but evidently, if you want to believe this study, the human body needs time to rebound each day. You can't work all the time and expect that it won't negatively impact your health.

Personally, I think that there are other factors involved in wrecking the human body, but I can't argue that excess work doesn't hurt you. It clearly does. It brings on more stress, and when you have more stress, your sleeping patterns are also fouled up. The body regenerates itself when you are asleep, so if you aren't getting enough sleep, well, the body isn't being given enough time to make itself the best that it can be.

Me, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. each weekday morning, get ready for work, and I am in the office at about 6:10 a.m. each day. I work until 5:30 each day (not including days when I stay a little later for one reason or another), so I have a pretty full workday.

This is my choice. I am a pretty light sleeper anyway, and I have one bathroom with my wife and son next in line to use it. 'Nuff said.

But yes, I am probably not helping myself by working nearly 12 hours each day, not including commuting time.

On the weekend, I sleep a bit more, but my family is always in a rush to get things done, especially on Saturday, and especially if my wife has to work one day on the weekend, which she often does (I work on the weekend maybe two or three times each year).

So that is how it is. Everyone seems to be working more, but I guess we won't be able to enjoy it, because we will be in the ground from all of this work.

Is it all worth it?

I really don't know.

(It isn't. I didn't get my raise I told you about a while back, but I will ask again in a few months.)

Rant #1,603: The Rhinestone Cowboy Comes Home

The family of singer Glen Campbell announced early this week that they have brought the entertainer back home from the facility he was in, basically so he can live out his last days there.

Campbell has stage 7 Alzheimer's Disease, so they have basically brought him home to die.

Sad? Yes, very very sad.

It depresses me, and I was only a fan of this all-around musician and entertainer.

I can only imagine how hard it is on his family to see him this way, and to care for him as he nears the end.

Twenty some odd years ago, my family went through something very similar with my grandmother, my father's mother.

During that era, very little was known about this dreaded disease, the real-life "Walking Dead" that is way more chilling than any TV series or movie can be.

My grandmother was proceeding through this type of dementia at a slow rate, but it picked up as she got older.

I remember that at my wedding, she looked like she had no idea where she was, and I will bet you that she didn't.

I worked near my grandparents at that time, in Flushing, Queens, and my grandfather would call me at work at times, telling me to come over and help him out with her, even if it was only to throw out papers and papers, and other junk that she refused to get rid of.

He would give me bags of garbage, to throw out behind her back.

Things got really bad, my grandfather was also living his last days himself--he was still sharp as a tack through the end of his life--and my grandmother had to be put in a facility.

The last time I saw her was a terrible, terrible episode.

I went to the facility with my father and my son, who was just a few months old.

We asked the attendant to bring her out to us, and she was there, wearing some type of T-shirt that my grandmother, in her sane years, would never wear.

She said to me, "Hi, Larry, what are you doing here," which I was happy to hear, but then she said, "Who is that man with you, and what about that baby?"

The man was my father, her first born child, and she had no idea who he was.

That baby was her great grandson, a little kid that just a few months earlier, she rocked to sleep in her own arms and hands.

We talked for a little bit, but we found that she was pretty unresponsive to whatever questions we asked.

After a few minutes, the attendant took her back, and the three of us left the facility,.

Upon exiting, my father said to me the most chilling words I ever heard him say: "If I ever get that way, I give you permission to go out and get a gun and shoot me."

Of course, I would never do that, but all these years later, I cannot forget that chilling day, the last time I ever saw my grandmother.

A woman who had a smile that could light up a room was gone, even though she hadn't died yet.

She did pass away shortly afterwards, and let me tell you, it was a mitzvah, a blessing. Nobody should have to live like that.

And Campbell will give his last goodbyes at home. I only wish my grandmother could have done that.

I know I have spoken about this a lot, but Alzheimer's eats away at people, and it doesn't discriminate. My parents actually have friends who have gotten the disease, and they come from all walks of life.

My grandmother was basically a housewife, rearing four very successful children and having many grandchildren and great grandchildren. To see her go down like that was horrible, and I am sure Campbell's family is suffering right now, but at least he is home.

If you have not seen the film "I'll Be Me," about Campbell's last days as a somewhat cognizant person spiraling into Alzheimer's, by all means see this film. It is on Netflix.

It is stirring, made me remember my grandmother and how she was at the end, and quite frankly, I could not watch the whole thing through in one sitting. I split it up into two, watching half one time and the other half a few days later.

It also made me watch for things in my own family. My parents are getting on in years, and while I do believe my mother is OK--she is as vibrant as someone a fraction of her age--my father is kind of slowing down a bit. He still works, but his memory is not what it once was, and he can't hear very well, but he is far, far away from anything I saw in my grandmother all those years ago.

Thank God for that, but I still watch.

And I guess it haunts me, too, and I watch myself also.

Hopefully, there will one day be a cure for this dreaded disease, and much more is now known about it than they knew way back when.

But right now, as Campbell and thousands of others live out their final days, you have to wonder why they have been cursed like they have.

I have no answer to that question, nor does anyone else.