In Defense of Lebron

"Should I be who you want me to be?"

I started reading "The Triangle" for the first time last week. It's a new concept blog, driven by a vibrant young writing contingent, and molded in some parts by sports media maven and Boston native Bill Simmons. The Triangle's pioneering article was a weighty one, a violent dialogue bent on rocking America's general sensibilities. Carles (our mononymous author) brought forth a sermon on "awareness", challenging NBA players to be champions of transparency. Of course, this carries the air of excoriation, implying that some (or most) of them just don't "get it", that these athletes refuse to become "accessible."

Hmm.

Carles echoes a sentiment that I advanced two years ago in a psychoanalysis of Kobe Bean Bryant. I admit that I saw Kobe’s career as an elaborate ruse. "Kobe shows us what he wants to show us…doing so in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions," I said back then. "He’s always maintained his façade, never allowing his innermost feelings to enter the public domain."

Funny enough, I still see Kobe's career as an elaborate ruse. He gives us what he chooses to give us, and we have to make peace with that. However, can we make peace with the fact that after all these years...Kobe Bryant might have actually been right?
Robert Frost once said that "the road less traveled has made all the difference". But I'm not so sure Frost ever took into account the possibility of the "road less traveled" evolving into the "road most traveled". Generations X and Y have created a world with many protagonists and anatagonists, but no calming forces to make sense of these new pillars of thought.

This is the world that has created Lebron James.
Only a few years ago, this was a world that made "NBA Inside Stuff" a hallowed basketball TV program. Back then, it was rare to get a glimpse of our heroes carrying out routine tasks. I mean, just seeing a shoot around before a game was restricted to the ardent followers with big checkbooks. Michael Jordan and Ahmad Rashad shared a kinship that was unknown to most media personnel, and we were given access to "His Airness" that best tickled our senses without exposing MJ's incendiary rage.
Today, we have multiple media outlets to feed our daily sports binge. TMZ and Twitter pick up where ESPN and NBC leave off. Media dust paths have become unfettered expressways, and locker room access once deemed off limits is now taken for granted. I mean, guys can't even dress without pushing boom mics from their mouths.

I was listening to sports radio as I drove, only to hear the shock jock excoriate Dwayne Wade for being "too aggressive" in Game 6. Really? His team's about to lose the NBA Finals, D-Wade is playing with a weakened hip (thanks to Brian "Dad" Cardinal), his team's about to lose, and he's getting criticized for being "too aggressive"? Sometimes, it seems like mass media can't ever cut a guy a break.

Lebron was birthed into this rapidly changing media world. He was the first high school athlete to have his games be appointment viewing for a national audience. He had meetings with Nike, acquaintance with the professorial Worldwide Wes, and ESPN's bounty at his fingertips. He was 16 years old.

It's amazing that Lebron has lived up to the hype, but what's more amazing is the fact that he has surpassed even our great expectations. We expected him to be among the best, but he has become THE best. We expected him to be the prototype for the postmodern athlete, but Lebron has become the gold standard. We expected to see James on cereal boxes and underwear ads, but he went ahead and became a global icon instead. We gave him the United States, but Lebron TOOK the world.
Unfortunately for him, the world he took is a world of constant access and the 24/7 news cycle, a world where someone can seemingly become newsworthy and irrelevant in the same sentence. Kobe became a global icon by letting his game and the media run its course; Lebron accelerated the hands of time with bombastic rhetoric, shrewd marketing and professional savvy.

But for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction...and it has been fierce. We saw the worst of King James when the going got tough. Because he forced all the cameras in his direction, Lebron's fragility was revealed with the precision of an electron microscope. And when the heat became unbearable, Lebron revolted, cursed those whom he allowed this access, and took his talents to South Beach...while burning every bridge along the way. Now, everyone hates him.
But should we be surprised? It's been YEARS since Lebron has made a decision without scrutiny. 10 years, to be exact. I was astounded by his intellect and poise as a 16-year-old, but he hasn't grown since then. A 16-year-old may be smart, may be taking AP courses, and may be advanced beyond his peers...but he's still a 16-year-old. There's a reason car insurance companies wait until you're 25 before lowering your co-pay. Life needs to happen. Adversity needs to strike and mistakes need to be made to stimulate growth.

Taking this path has stunted Lebron James' growth. As Skip Bayless said after Game 6, LBJ has the body of a 26-year-old but the mind of a 16-year-old. The dark side of 13 going on 30.

Perhaps Kobe was right to keep everything to himself.
M.B, II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Magic, Larry, and the "Form/Function Debate" (Part 3)

(If you haven't read PART 1 or PART 2 as of this post, you should go back in order to get more clarity on this theory's origins. Thanks.)

Earvin “Magic” Johnson was a basketball player that embraced Africana “form” in basketball, and exists as the purest “formal” basketball player in the NBA’s storied history.

Magic, like my father, was born in 1959, a tumultuous year in our world’s history. Field Castro had just usurped power from Batista to begin his socialist regime in Cuba, A Raisin in the Sun premiered on Broadway, and a young Magic was born into a large, working-class family from the streets of Michigan. Johnson’s father was a factory man for General Motors and his mother was a school custodian. Magic was the sixth of ten children, and often sang on the street corners with his boys. However, it was clear to his neighbors and friends from the outset that Magic developed his persona through a genuine love of the game of basketball.

Just like my father, one of Magic’s favorite players was Earl “the Pearl” Monroe. The kid they called "Junior" or "June Bug" could be seen on neighborhood courts as early as 7:30am on many mornings. In an interview with USA Weekend, Magic famously quoted that "I dribbled to the store with my right hand and back with my left. Then I slept with my basketball." Young Earvin’s passion for basketball superseded a love shown by most kids, which propelled Earvin to unimagined success on every level of rigorous competition.

A Lansing sportswriter gave the nickname of “Magic” to Earvin after watching one of his tremendous high school games where he saw the prep star notch 36 points, snag 16 rebounds, and dish 16 assists. At first, the nickname went against the wishes of his mother, who was a devout Christian and believed it to be blasphemous. However, the “Magic” moniker stuck, and further endears fans to Earvin "Magic" Johnson to this day.

Like any top-notch basketball magician, Magic was heavily recruited by an abundance of coaches and scouts for the top collegiate basketball programs in the nation. Interestingly, Magic chose to attend his hometown school of Michigan State over the UCLA Bruins and Bob Knight’s Indiana Hoosiers because coach Jud Heathcote promised to allow the 6’ 9’’ Magic (a prototypical height for a forward) to play the point guard position. Even in this early career choice, we see that Magic refused to confine his “formal” skills to the prescribed template for college basketball success. Often, collegiate coaches stifle the growth and free-flow expression of young athletes because of their insatiable appetite for temporary victory. (I will come back to this concept later on in my series).

Because of his fortuitous decision, Magic was able to blossom into a superior “formal” player – becoming the best point guard of all-time.

However, while Magic excelled as this purely “formal” player, functionality still existed as the premier teaching strategy in basketball. And as I mentioned in Part 1, no region of America was more heavily based in this “functional” approach to hoops than the great Midwestern plain of Indiana.

However, another great player emerged out of this functional abyss – Larry Joe Bird. Bird was born in West Baden, Indiana, a town that demographically remains staunchly White to this day (94% in the 2000 US Census). I make this statement not to criticize West Baden from their lack of diversity (after all, American is still 65-70% White), but rather to illustrate the fact that Larry Bird was birthed into a town devoid of features found in Africana traditions and meaning-making. Simply put, “The Hick from French Lick” learned basketball in an environment conducive to “functional” basketball training.

Similar to Magic Johnson, Larry Bird also had a tough upbringing. The Bird family was poverty-stricken, and Bird’s parents were often forced to make tough choices. In a 1988 interview with Sports Illustrated, Bird mentioned that “if there was a payment to the bank due, and we needed shoes, she'd get the shoes, and then deal with them guys at the bank. I don't mean she wouldn't pay the bank, but the children always came first.” While his adoring fans may have called him the “Great White Hope”, a player constructed to dominate individual of other races, Bird never saw himself as a basketball imperialist. Bird was a timid, country guy who was simply a savant of the hardwood.

However, Larry Bird did have one distinct characteristic that set him apart from his functional companions: “Basketball Jesus" was incredibly clutch. While the clutch attribute remains an immeasurable attribute to categorize (along with being “in the zone”), there was no question among basketball fanatics of Larry Bird’s ability to come through at the most opportune times.

Unlike Magic, Larry received an athletic scholarship to Indiana University. However, upon attending Indiana, Bird was harassed by current Hoosier star Kent Benson. After a tough semester, Bird decided to drop out and return home. Bird spent the next year working for the Street Department and playing AAU basketball. His game caught the attention of Indiana State, who invited Bird to attend the school.

Meanwhile, Magic Johnson was tearing through the collegiate ranks. After his freshman year, Magic was named among the top ten returning sophomores by Sports Illustrated, and went on to average 17 points, 7.6 rebounds, and 7.1 assists during his collegiate career. During his final season, Michigan State raced to the NCAA Championship game. Similarly, Larry Bird’s Indiana State squad dominated their side of the tournament bracket, setting up an epic matchup between the two titans of amateur basketball – Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. In a game that still holds the record for television viewership, Magic’s Spartans defeated Bird’s Sycamores 75-64. Johnson was designated as the tournament’s Most Outstanding Player and drafted first overall by the Los Angeles Lakers. Bird, already drafted a year prior by visionary Red Auerbach, joined a powerhouse Celtic franchise in the East.

And the NBA’s greatest rivalry was born.

While Bird and Magic would battle for years in the NBA, with Magic grabbing five titles to Bird’s three, a more important battle ensued in the basketball undertow. Magic’s arrival and success on the big stage invariably shook the “functional” foundation of basketball, leading to a rigorous debate between “form” and “function”. The debate raged throughout the 1980’s, with tensions rising and falling with each Laker/Celtic championship battle.

The argument saved the league from extinction, but the debate was never fully resolved until one exceptional player graced the league stage in 1985. This man showed the basketball world that the answer to the “form/function” debate was not predicated on a choice of one theory or the other, but rather a fusion of both basketball elements. When Magic famously said that "there would never, ever, ever be another Larry Bird" at the Celtic forward's retirement, he was right. Because of this next man, "functional" basketball would never again exist in its purest state in the National Basketball Association.

Enter Michael Jeffrey Jordan.

Michael A. Benjamin II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Examining "Form" Theory's Origins in Africana

[Before we get started, there's some housekeeping to attend to:

First, for all of you American football and tennis fanatics, here's my Monday column that was published in the Hilltop, Howard's daily black newspaper. Secondly, my friend and fellow black scholar Obehi Utubor is directing a stage production of Toni Morrison's classic novel, "The Bluest Eye", at Georgetown University. Check out the Facebook "event" or access GU's Fine Arts website directly for more information, and I hope to see you there! Lastly, have you been introduced to Dr. Dunkenstein? Enjoy.

IS THERE ANYBODY ALIVE OUT THERE? I hope so, because here comes Part 2! (I love it when "the Boss" yells on stage...)]

(Oh yeah, if you haven't read Part 1 yet...just stop, about face, and READ THAT FIRST. Trust me, you won't fully understanding this "note" if you don't...)

Before the 1980s – the decade that changed basketball – the “form” and “function” arguments in basketball dominated common sport discourse and symbolized the glaring differences between blacks and whites in American society. Organized basketball in the NBA and ABA gave blacks and whites heroes to emulate and admire.

(Side Note: I believe that early black players such as Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain served as “integration” players for the black population. In other words, these two players showed white audiences that blacks could, in fact, have success in basketball on any level and afforded them access on the traditional organized level (NBA, ABA). While they did have "form" characteristics to their game, Wilt and Bill laid the foundation for later players like Earl Monroe and Walt “Clyde” Frazier to exist as purely “form” players without repercussions from the controlling organization (NBA). But, it's just a theory, which may need to be tweaked. I invite anyone to discourse with me on the topic.

Michael Alphonso Benjamin, Sr. is a man that goes by a lot of titles – minister, professor, deacon, songwriter, co-worker, son, and most importantly (to me), father. However, few people know this one of many impressive designations to my father’s personal resume – college basketball player. My dad is a man that learned and played basketball amidst social and political change that enveloped New York City in the 1970s, and parlayed his God-given talents into success, a success that provided him an opportunity to experience basketball on the collegiate level. Whenever any research theory is hypothesized, any ardent scholar would agree that the best source of information to back up one’s assertion always comes from a primary source, a person who lived and experienced the full breadth and scope of one’s idea.

And to me, there is no better primary source of knowledge than my dad.

“Well, that Earl ‘the Pearl’ Monroe – he was pretty good,” my dad said to me over the phone. “Monroe had an array of moves that left you speechless and seemed to always be whirling and twirling.” I asked my dad about other players that he admired during his teenage years, and he responded with a litany of talented players. “I enjoyed watching Oscar Robertson, of course,” pausing for a moment then continuing, “then you’ve gotta go with Walt ‘Clyde’ Frazier, Dick Barnett, ‘Pistol’ Pete [Maravich], Wes Unseld, and the mighty Lew Alcindor from the Bronx!”. At that moment, I imagined my dad smiling through the receiver, grinning as he replayed each moment in his memory bank. But, I was confused. Why Dick Barnett?

“Well, [Dick] Barnett had this funky delivery to his jump shot,” my dad continued. “Barnett would kick his legs up, then follow through with his release. It was just – interesting.” Then, I asked about Alcindor, Frazier, and Maravich. “Lew – I mean, you know him as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar – was exceptional with that sky hook. It was just unstoppable. I liked Frazier because of his style. Frazier was a cool, smooth guy in real life, and it carried over to his game on the court. Frazier was quick and controlled. And you know, 'Pistol' Pete. He was just so inventive with the basketball.”

After talking with my dad, I realized that the creative, free-flow, “form” idea of basketball is a concept that doesn’t just apply to black people. Even white players exhibited some notions of “form” basketball in their play (like Dick Barnett’s “funky” release to his jumper) and were also innovators that influenced the evolution of the sport’s “aesthetic qualities”. Echoing my father, I believe that ‘Pistol’ Pete Maravich was an atypical white player who fully embraced the characteristics of “form” basketball, immersed himself in the style, and made it a defining aspect of his game. “Pistol” Pete’s style and unmitigated love of the game was a style that dually endeared him to white and black people during his professional playing days.

However, while I agree that the “form” concept can be embraced by all basketball aficionados regardless of color or creed, I argue that the “form” characteristics of basketball are rooted in the traditions of Black Americans – a tradition that can be traced back to the African aesthetic.

Robert Farris Thompson, in his book African Art and Motion, talks about the idea of African “form” and artistic aesthetical expression by looking at traditional dance. He met with seventy (70) traditional experts on African dance and said that this group “discussed [African dance] style with saliency, voicing comments about [the importance of] timing, finish, dress, thematic balance without hesitation”. Thompson talked about the specificity of the Yoruba evaluation process in regards to dance, but pointed out that the Yoruba “were never so technical as to destroy the flavor of the motion as a work of art”. Thompson concluded that Africans contains a sense of “artistic cultural solidarity”, and that his research showed that respondents “talked about the beauty of the dance” in terms of this Africanness. African art stems on the idea of “vital aliveness” and carries over to a variety of different expressive forms.

In America, this “aliveness” in form was seen in slavery's songs, the black church, and later on in “swing music”, which is roughly defined by theorist Gunther Schuller as music that “maintains an equilibrium between melodic and rhythmic relationships”. In African (Black) music, pitch cannot exist without strong rhythm. All musical accents are played with equal strength, creating this “youthful drive”. Thompson says that most of Western musical theorists are annoyed by the “loudness” that accompanies African music, but argues that “this is precisely the point.” That’s why jazz and Jimi Hendrix’s early heavy metal is played at such high levels. Loudness accentuates the normally low-played notes by Western tradition and adds the necessary rhythm and equality typified in African art.

Of course, this “aliveness” in African form and “vividness in equilibrium” carries over to the basketball court, with artistic expression key to the transformation of game play. “Aliveness” in young people is praised by Africans, who see it as representative of “fine form.”

Hmm, doesn’t this sound familiar?

The “smoothness” that my dad saw in Walt “Clyde” Frazier comes from the African idea of “coolness”, a strong intellectual and peaceful attitude combined with humor and play. The inventiveness of a Dick Barnett jump shot or a “Pistol” Pete offensive move reminds one of the African idea of “personal and representational balance.” The use of African “flexibility” is even seen in Kareem’s development and execution of the “unstoppable” sky hook (and led him to a role in Bruce Lee's "Game of Death").

Africana “aliveness” has transformed many aspects of American life. The concept and inventiveness found in the African aesthetic transformed the game of basketball, leading to the sport's evolution, and capturing the attention of a talented youth from Lansing, Michigan – Earvin “Magic” Johnson.

(Next, I'll be talking about Magic, Bird, and "form/function" in the 1980's NBA.)
(Again, thanks for the support.)

Michael A. Benjamin, II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Basketball and the African Aesthetic (Part 1)

Before we begin conversing in this P.O.T. blog space this week, I first would like to thank everyone who actually takes the time to read/browse/skim my articles. Last week, I found out from a friend that one of my articles was nominated by the Hilltop staff for the “Best Column of the Year” award given by the various newspaper staffs at HBCUs around the country. When I heard this news, I was absolutely floored, because as a writer, you’re never truly sure if your writing makes sense, if the words weave together like a Shakespearian sonnet, or if you actually inspire/entertain the reading audience. Simply put, getting public recognition from an established college newspaper like the Hilltop was a symbolic but important step in my growing process as a writer. People like me…they really, really like me, I thought.

After my friend told me this information, I felt like I had just ended my first kiss all over again. My mind turned to jambalaya, my head was spinning, and my lips were unable to conceal my enormous grin. So, to every person who has ever scratched their heads after reading one of my many topical jokes, to every person who wondered why I compared Andre Iguodala to Young Gunz, to every person that prayed for me during my travels to Delaware, Mexico, Panama, and Beijing, and to every person who argues my playoff picks to death, I thank you for your support. Last but definitely not least, I thank Jesus Christ for providing me with the inspiration and the skills. You the man, God.

Okay, now that the emotive stuff is out of the way, let’s get to the fun stuff.

Dr. Gregory Carr, professor and instructor of my course entitled “Black Aesthetics” at Howard University, discussed the concept of the “blue note” and its relation to the African (Black) aesthetic. Simply put, the “blue note” is more than just a string of notes and sounds compiled to create enjoyable rock music in America during the 1960s and 1970s. Carr asserts that “blue notes” – or notes played at a lower pitch for expressive quality – are indicative of the full African experience and influence much of Africana (Black) culture, politics, and tradition to this day.

For a contemporary example, we dissected the music of Mary J. Blige. First off, we collectively agreed - for the purposes of this exercise - that Mary J. Blige does not and has never possessed the greatest vocal pipes in the world. Simply put: Mary J. cannot sing. However, Carr argued that if one listens to “Real Love”, "I'm Going Down", or most of Mary J.'s other songs in her discography, an assessment regarding the influence of the African aesthetic can be made. Dr. Carr proceeded to sing “Real Love” a Capella in class, proving by emphasizing the “blue note” structure in the song that Mary J. Blige has perfected (ahem, mastered) the art of hitting the “blue note”. Because of this mastery, fans of her music can relate to her plight, glide along with the rhythm and motion of her songs, and generally block out her relatively mediocre (less than exceptional, anyway) vocals.

I agree with Doc Carr’s sentiment, and argue that the “blue note” phenomenon easily translates over to the formulation of black identity within the context of basketball. “Blue note” or the need to create an Africana identity is an impulse inherent in the minds and hearts of all African peoples and can be channeled into any aspect of society. I had a conversation with my friend Steve, co-host of the sports talk show “Instant Replay” on Mondays from 6-8pm at WHBC 830am with me, and discussed this influence of “blue note” aesthetics – flow, call-and-response, rhythm, etc. - on any players (most specifically, black players) who apply this “form” concept to basketball. I further argue that these black players generally exhibit a poetical mastery of basketball that remains absent from greater American basketball culture.

Check it out.

Before we deconstruct the attributes of basketball found in African cultural traditions, I must first show you, the reader, the two differing viewpoints in regards to basketball theory. In order for you to follow this paper’s line of thought, consider both basketball theory camps as the two different political parties present in the United States, Democrat and Republican. The first camp - Democrats, for the purpose of our example - possesses those purists who believe basketball should exist solely as a creative, free-flowing, untainted exercise in beauty – simply put, “form” or “poetry in motion”. The second camp (Republicans) believe the best brand of basketball to be a game that serves a purpose, a means to an end, a solution to a problem – namely, that basketball exist as “functional”.

Where can the purest expressions of both theories be located? I’m glad you asked.

“Poetry in motion” or “form” basketball can be analyzed in raw form on the playgrounds of tough inner city areas (Brooklyn, Southside Chicago, Harlem, and Lower East Side). Here, the game is played amidst radios blaring and beautiful women, far away from those seeking to poison its beauty with archaic constructions and mundane structures. (Hey, if you need strong movie examples of the blacktop basketball tradition for greater understanding, I’d advice watching “Hoop Dreams” or the first-half of “Glory Road” (when Coach Haskins travels to recruit black dudes on inner-city courts).

“Functional” basketball can be analyzed in its purest form primarily in the Hoosier state of Indiana, a state largely absent of black influences and African cultural meaning-making. Here, basketball was played largely in school gymnasiums due to the excess of farmland, with repetition and “hustle” (a undefined concept that stems from the rural tradition of "hard work" in Middle America) existing as defining characteristics of those individuals considered spectacular by the masses. (Again, for a generic movie example, watch “Hoosiers” with Gene Hackman).

In my next few blog entries, I’ll talk about the history of the struggle between “form” and “function” in basketball - a struggle that in some ways reflects a loose schism between blacks and whites in American society. After that, I’ll examine the lengthy trails left by both basketball theories and trace “form” and “function” theory to subsequent basketball superstars in the present day. In addition, I’ll argue for the need to society to once again embrace the elements of “form” basketball in our youth, elements that are swiftly being ignored because of rising greed found in individuals and corporate entities seeking to make dollars rather than promote artistic expression. Left unchecked, this outlook can be dangerous and stifle the creative genes that lay dormant in our youth, eroding away the artistry that makes basketball a unique and beautiful sport, similar to the traditions of preceding African societies.

By the way, don’t think I’m writing this to ridicule and attack white people. There are white players who exhibit "form" in their play similarly to blacks. There are also many white basketball theorists that embrace “form” theory in the sport. Anyway, just make sure to check out my next P.O.T. post for more understanding. Rest assured, it’ll pack a punch and help you waste even more quality time.

As for the Super Bowl, I’ve got Arizona over Pittsburgh. I have no real reason to pick the Cardinals other than my man crush on Larry Fitzgerald’s skills. So, deal with it.

And, as my man J-Till over at Fundamentally Unsound would say, “Peace”.

Michael A. Benjamin, II

"The Butterfly Effect" (and some championship game picks)

My ankle socks sit comfortably in the drawer, admitting their uselessness against the natural elements. Colorful T-shirts from gospel concerts, basketball tournaments, and family trips become faithful undergarments, preparing to shield my birdcage from the slicing wind. Baseball caps adorn my closet wall purely for their aesthetic quality, the cold forcing me to wear a wool cap that completely covers my ears. I pray that my gloves will add warmth to my calloused hands, and trudge forth, steely-eyed and temperamental, to face the unbridled beast.

In the nation’s capital, winter has officially begun. I have ice water running through my veins, and not because I’m unconscious like Reggie Miller at the charity stripe or Mariano Rivera in the 9th. To put it clearly: It is freaking cold outside. I pass acquaintances and friends with a quick grin and nod, covering my teeth before the wind turns them into rock candy. With our local meteorologist predicting a temperature of twenty degrees (with the wind-chill making it feel like two), my body pleads with me to reverse direction and lay underneath my sheets, to acquiesce to the discomfort. I refuse, stubbornly vowing that the weather will not seize the joy from my winter months.

For this weekend, amidst the bitter cold, a new president will be sworn. Unlike his predecessors, however, this gentleman possesses quite a few additional drops of melanin. This individual will be the first of his kind to hold the highest public office in our land, a significant event that may change the course of history.

But then again, any event in life can trigger the butterfly effect. Could I have altered history by choosing to eat my absentee ballot instead of penning in my selection? Can circumstances change tomorrow if I order a cheeseburger over the fish sandwich today? Do I have the power to inspire the Arizona Cardinals to topple the Philadelphia Eagles by picking them in my football column? Eh, who knows.

I do know one thing, though. I plan to keep my Honda Civic parked in her space throughout the entire weekend. I plan to steer clear of the crowds that will flood the district. I plan to fill my stomach with junk food and skip Jeremiah Wright’s speech at Howard University in favor of NFC/AFC championship game action. Simply put, I plan to keep a low profile this weekend and watch some championship football. Let’s Go!

Arizona Cardinals (+4) over Philadelphia Eagles (27-21)
There is nothing more annoying than a fan from the city of Philadelphia. Unlike the Boston fan, who will scream at fans of other teams for overspending while their teams invariably spend large sums of money for their players (Kevin Garnett, Josh Beckett), Philadelphia fans have the innate quality of kicking a man while he’s down. Before the Phillies won the World Series, this haughty attitude towards the art of fandom was held in check and reserved for the players of their city. Yes, I’m black. I want Donovan McNabb to win a Super Bowl to prove all of his doubters wrong. But…he’s wearing an Eagles jersey! Plus, I haven’t forgotten about your decision to play phone tag on our sidelines, sir. McNabb, I hope you have an awesome game…but I need the Eagles to lose. You, dear reader, need the Eagles to lose. WE NEED THE IGGLES TO LOSE. Period.

ESPN’s Bill Simmons brought it up in his weekly picks column, but it’s worth restating in this space. The Cardinals have the chance to beat every other bird team in the NFL en route to a championship. So far (since Week 17), the Cardinals have beaten the Seahawks, the Falcons, and will play the Eagles on Sunday. If Arizona defeats the Eagles and the Ravens find a way to win in Pittsburgh, we’ll have a potential Alfred Hitchcock movie on the reel. Wouldn’t HBO have to use this opportunity to televise “The Birds” on a mundane Saturday afternoon in January? Wouldn’t Bruce Springsteen have to allow Birdman an opportunity to freestyle during the halftime show of Super Bowl XLIII? I’m getting giddy just thinking about the possibilities.

I can’t ignore the 1 Samuel 17, “David vs. Goliath” potential. I can’t ignore Larry Fitzgerald and his propensity to make sensational grabs in the secondary. Who am I to go against a guy who draws pictures of Jesus with his spare time? I can’t pick against this Cardinals team. As Sylvester Stallone said at the end of Rocky IV, “if I can change, and you can change…anybody can change!” The Cardinals…gulp…are your NFC Champs.

Pittsburgh Steelers (-6) over Baltimore Ravens (20-13)
Just like any football pundit, I was elated to see my pick (Baltimore) win on the road, in a tough environment. As my friend Melford wrote on my Wall last week, I even picked the correct spread for the final score (3 points). But let’s be clear…I got extremely lucky. First, Chris Johnson, who was destroying the Baltimore front seven, found himself sitting on the sidelines nursing an injury while Lendale “Fat” White did his best Ron Dayne impression, falling forward for three yards on every run play in the second half. After Alge Crumpler fumbled in field goal range late in the 4th quarter and Joe Flacco got an extra two seconds on the play clock to complete a much-needed 3rd down pass to Todd Heap, I knew that the Ravens would quote “Nevermore” on the Titans’ season. I took a rookie quarterback on the road (a no-no in the playoffs) and got away with it.

However, an inexperienced quarterback against another top-flight defense on the road just isn’t going to cut it this week. Sorry, Ravens fans...but I'm going to have to bail. Unless Sylar Joe Flacco suddenly turns into Tom Brady cerca-2002, I have a better chance of landing a commercial airplane in the Hudson River than the Ravens have of beating the Steelers this week. So, there you go.

(While we’re on this topic, I am perplexed by the amount of praise lavished on the pilot that actually pulled this landing off last week. While the captain did an excellent job of avoiding both the George Washington Bridge and the skyscrapers on the West Side, why are other aerial experts declaring his water landing an impossible feat? Granted, I’m glad to see those passengers safe (with a few minor situations), but shouldn’t we be concerned about pilot training? Check out this quote from the CNN.com story:

"I don't think there's enough praise to go around for someone who does something like this. This is something you really can't prepare for," said former Delta pilot Denny Walsh. "You really don't practice water landings in commercial airplanes. Just the sheer expertise he demonstrated is amazing."

Wow, that's coo...Wait, what? Go ahead and re-read that paragraph. You DON'T practice water landings???? All this time, I thought guys like Jester and Maverick from Top Gun trained these guys on similar tactical maneuvers and all possible forms of expert crash landing. So, though our airline seat cushions have the ability to keep us afloat, most of our pilots probably aren’t
skilled enough to crash land an aircraft into a body of water. To me, that makes plane seat cushions even more useless. What the heck am I paying for? I think John Madden might have the right idea…just drive a bus around the country that emits a huge amount of toxic fumes. Wait, maybe I’m just overreacting. Can someone provide me some clarity on this issue in the comments section?)

Anyway, the Baltimore Ravens are like the Sarah Palin of the NFL Playoffs. Sure, Sarah, you were big news during the election (Wild Card Weekend), creating executive fashion trends and funny Halloween costumes, and you took this nation by storm (Ed Reed’s monster game). Heck, you even found a way to hang around on our news wires (yes, I’m looking at you, MSNBC) a little longer than we expected after the election’s end (beating the Titans). But the excitement has worn off, sister. Let’s stop the charade. You are officially old news. Trust me, it’s okay to walk quietly into the sunset of irrelevance. We forgive you for wasting our time. Hasta la vista, baby.

To all of my Washingtonian brethren (and sistren), be safe on the streets this weekend. Don’t get trampled by the influx of Barack Obama supporters on the Mall. And if you need a buddy to hang with until the wave passes over our city, you know who to call.

Just make sure not to wear those darned ankle socks. It’s freaking cold out there.

Mike Benjamin, II