The Postmodern Marvel That Is Sports

So Kevin Garnett finally earns his well-deserved ring, following in the footsteps of his mentor Bill Russell to lead the Celtics to banner 17. And Tiger Woods survives near amputation to win the US Open. You couldn't write better scripts, could you?

Not if you're ESPN or other media outlets, because predicting the news is hard work.

This postmodern world in which we live doesn't seem to live up to the hype, and sports are a fantastic microcosm. It's fascinating, honestly, the way we live our lives nowadays, constantly watching ourselves through a makeshift television every step of the way. Tell me, when was the last time you imagined a play-by-play announcer describing your actions? More recently than you'd care to admit, I'd think (mine was this evening, as my mind's broadcaster narrated my 4-mile jog; the Vin Scully of my skull has also commented recently on my toothbrushing technique - "that's why America loves his smile!" - relationships - "he's the kind of guy you'd love to bring home to the folks" - and job performance - "he just seems to be lackadaisical recently").

Our generation is likely the first to grow up watching more sports than we played, at least for certain stretches, and we're the one most likely to broadcast our own "3....2....1....aaaaahhhhhh" buzzer-beaters, "and he gets his own rebound" and "he was FOULED" mulligans, and other "it's a Cinderella story" fantasies throughout our lives. More awkwardly, we're also the prisoners of the hype that seems to plague sports all too often these days - each event of our lives needs to live up to our preconceived ideas, based in large part on our perception of how we should fit in to the scripts we've come to envision. We want to be star quarterbacks, homecoming kings, dashing leading men, quick-thinking executives... Our lives are designed to follow those of our heroes and role models - straight from high school to the pros, vice president by 40, Bending It Like Beckham and Dating Damsels like Derek. All too often, though, we're disappointed - who can live up to the hype that surrounds us?

Which brings me to the frustrating culprit - sports are a microcosm of that notion, and maybe even a major cause. As we've moved from afternoon games, twinight doubleheaders, bubblegum cards and tape-delayed broadcasts to luxury boxes, primetime-only playoffs, and SportsCenter, the all-encompassing reach of sports media has taken much of the charm out of sports and replaced it with the hallmarks of entertainment marketing. Namely, the hype dictates the story, as the games are a product to be sold, rather than a pastime to be experienced.

Think about this week's top events: The NBA Finals were billed as a classic Lakers-vs.-Celtics matchup, in which Kobe Bryant could elevate himself to Jordanesque status by eschewing the partial shadow of Shaq, or Kevin Garnett could win his long-awaited first title. Accordingly at the end of tonight's game, Michelle Tafoya stood witness to an awkward-would-be-kind display of emotion by Garnett, all the while missing what I'd consider to be the best story of the series - Inglewood native Paul Pierce outplaying the star of his boyhood team - Kobe Bryant - to deliver a title to the team that drafted him. The easy call for MVP, Pierce was not only the series' best player by a longshot, but he did so in compelling fashion, both outscoring and overwhelmingly defending Bryant and doing so for much of the series in Pierce's hometown. Similarly impressive, Rajon Rondo - considered to be a liability for the star-studded Celts all season - played admirably well and earned his share of the championship, while Garnett seemed - for a superstar, at least - to struggle despite how well his team performed. So why the attention on Garnett - by all accounts a great guy and model competitor, to be certain - when the deserved attention ought to belong more to his teammates? ABC/ESPN needed to fulfill its scripts - when you hype a few angles, one needs to pan out.

Similarly, this weekend's US Open reminded us that, just like superhero movies, TV shows made in to films, and Jackie Chan & Chris Tucker vehicles, traditional storylines are safe moneymakers whenever possible. So when Tiger Woods winced in pain during his Saturday comeback, announcers were only too pleased to overwhelmingly make the Willis Reed, Michael-Jordan-flu-game comparisons yet again (which was a story short-lived for Pierce last week, and comes up almost any time a player plays with "flu-like-symptoms" or retreats to the bench only to return minutes later). By the next day, the "is he the greatest of all time" storyline was in full force - overlooking what may have been one of the more compelling stories of the year in golf (which I don't follow religiously, so bear with me). Although Tiger-vs.-Phil never materialized, and networks decided to go with Tiger-vs.-history instead, Tiger-vs.-Rocco was an amazing story - how does a no-name, middle-aged tour player match the greatest-of-all-time shot for shot all day Sunday, all day Monday, and in to a sudden death playoff? Shouldn't Tiger be expected to perform under pressure - after all, his life has been lived under a microscope - while Rocco, a guy much more like us, should fold? The headlines all said "Tiger solidifies reputation as legend", but should have included that Rocco performed like few others ever could in that situation.

My point? Our postmodern sports world has taken a good deal of joy from the events themselves - we're sold a script and then told how the events compare, rather than allowing the action to dictate the story. In this case, how hard is it to believe the Donaghy allegations of fixes in the NBA? The league has a product to sell and billions of dollars at stake;is a phantom foul on Mike Bibby too great an undertaking to ensure that the league's investments produce returns?

Another point on the NBA and its hype machine - it's time we forgot about the Jordan comparisons for Kobe...or LeBron...or anyone else. There will never be another Jordan, or Bill Russell, or Larry Bird, largely because each candidate to replace those legends will be held to a level of scrutiny impossible to live up to. Jordan was able to grow in to his own from within the shadow of Bird, Magic, Isiah, and Dr. J. By the time he took that torch, he had earned it, whereas the newer generation has it thrust upon them first. In Kobe's case, Jordan was always an unfair and unfit comparison - Kobe came too soon after Jordan, and too young at the time, to make the comparison fair, and was put in a situation much, much more analogous to that of Magic Johnson than to that of Jordan. Jordan was the centerpiece of a rebuilding franchise that made its sole purpose to build draft picks to surround MJ with young talent; Kobe came in an 18-year old rookie on an ascending Laker team headlined by Shaquille O'Neal (much like Magic came in as a young understudy to Kareem), and should have been allowed to rise to superstar level gradually. Instead, the expectations grew, the egos grew bigger, and Kobe has been, as my friend Adam from Section F Sports likes to say, a contrived superstar (I'll argue that it's not as much fault of his own - the world expected Jordan and Kobe was young, talented, and competitive enough to want to comply...then he faced backlash...then the Colorado incident happened...then he was blamed for the team's breakup).

Alas, in real life, the story should be developed by the characters, and not the reporters. While a "Jordan for the next generation" or "Willis Reed 2K8" story might sell at the box office, the compelling nature of sports is that it is unscripted, and that 'on any given Sunday', anything can happen. I'll likely never quote Natasha Bedingfield in this space again, but we should embrace sports, and life, because "the rest is still unwritten". Somebody tell that to the producers at ABC/ESPN (and the color commentator inside my head).