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I just discovered a great basketball website, called Ball In. It used to be a paper zine, and now it's a sassy basketball website that mixes rec-league first person accounts with thoughts about the NBA and beyond. For instance, here's a recent entry about Sheryl Swoopes:

On that note, after our win on Thursday (10/27), over food and beers at the Telephone Bar, I went on an anti-Sheryl Swoopes rant. I suppose that as a "liberal", I'm supposed to lionize the "Lady Jordan" for "finding the courage" to come out of the closet, but I'm having trouble doing it. She seemed fine in the closet in the mid-90s when she was getting the first ever sneaker contract for a woman from Nike, was the poster mom for the homophobic WNBA (she even exploited her own child by naming him "Jordan", after you-know-who), and championed players who were "lady-like". Now, as her career is in its twilight, and she has blown all of her earnings, and has been caught having an affair with one of her coaches, essentially sleeping with the boss, she has come out only after being offered a six-figure endorsement contract by Olivia, a lesbian-themed cruise line.

To me, the real heroes here are represented by the cruise line. They already had Martina Navratilova, a true lesbian freedom fighter, on contract. I also compare Swoopes unfavorably to Sue Wicks, who started in the WNBA out of the closet. The epitome of class, Wicks, now an assistant coach at Rutgers, her alma mater, has set a positive example for me off the court, just like she did with her play on the court with the Liberty. When quoted about the Swoopes story, Wicks was nothing but supportive, noting how important it is for people to be able to be their true selves. In my mind, it's Wicks who deserves the six-figure contract.

One of my favorite things about this whole story? It takes place in Telephone Bar. I used to live in that neighborhood, and a certain TrueHoop reader friend of mine used to be a barback there, before he got the job removing nipples from photographs of scantily clad women that, I swear it's true, led to his successful career in the upper echelons of advertising.

I just discovered a great basketball website, called Ball In. It used to be a paper zine, and now it's a sassy basketball website that mixes rec-league first person accounts with thoughts about the NBA and beyond. For instance, here's a recent entry about Sheryl Swoopes:

On that note, after our win on Thursday (10/27), over food and beers at the Telephone Bar, I went on an anti-Sheryl Swoopes rant. I suppose that as a "liberal", I'm supposed to lionize the "Lady Jordan" for "finding the courage" to come out of the closet, but I'm having trouble doing it. She seemed fine in the closet in the mid-90s when she was getting the first ever sneaker contract for a woman from Nike, was the poster mom for the homophobic WNBA (she even exploited her own child by naming him "Jordan", after you-know-who), and championed players who were "lady-like". Now, as her career is in its twilight, and she has blown all of her earnings, and has been caught having an affair with one of her coaches, essentially sleeping with the boss, she has come out only after being offered a six-figure endorsement contract by Olivia, a lesbian-themed cruise line.

To me, the real heroes here are represented by the cruise line. They already had Martina Navratilova, a true lesbian freedom fighter, on contract. I also compare Swoopes unfavorably to Sue Wicks, who started in the WNBA out of the closet. The epitome of class, Wicks, now an assistant coach at Rutgers, her alma mater, has set a positive example for me off the court, just like she did with her play on the court with the Liberty. When quoted about the Swoopes story, Wicks was nothing but supportive, noting how important it is for people to be able to be their true selves. In my mind, it's Wicks who deserves the six-figure contract.

One of my favorite things about this whole story? It takes place in Telephone Bar. I used to live in that neighborhood, and a certain TrueHoop reader friend of mine used to be a barback there, before he got the job removing nipples from photographs of scantily clad women that, I swear it's true, led to his successful career in the upper echelons of advertising.

I just discovered a great basketball website, called Ball In. It used to be a paper zine, and now it's a sassy basketball website that mixes rec-league first person accounts with thoughts about the NBA and beyond. For instance, here's a recent entry about Sheryl Swoopes:

On that note, after our win on Thursday (10/27), over food and beers at the Telephone Bar, I went on an anti-Sheryl Swoopes rant. I suppose that as a "liberal", I'm supposed to lionize the "Lady Jordan" for "finding the courage" to come out of the closet, but I'm having trouble doing it. She seemed fine in the closet in the mid-90s when she was getting the first ever sneaker contract for a woman from Nike, was the poster mom for the homophobic WNBA (she even exploited her own child by naming him "Jordan", after you-know-who), and championed players who were "lady-like". Now, as her career is in its twilight, and she has blown all of her earnings, and has been caught having an affair with one of her coaches, essentially sleeping with the boss, she has come out only after being offered a six-figure endorsement contract by Olivia, a lesbian-themed cruise line.

To me, the real heroes here are represented by the cruise line. They already had Martina Navratilova, a true lesbian freedom fighter, on contract. I also compare Swoopes unfavorably to Sue Wicks, who started in the WNBA out of the closet. The epitome of class, Wicks, now an assistant coach at Rutgers, her alma mater, has set a positive example for me off the court, just like she did with her play on the court with the Liberty. When quoted about the Swoopes story, Wicks was nothing but supportive, noting how important it is for people to be able to be their true selves. In my mind, it's Wicks who deserves the six-figure contract.

One of my favorite things about this whole story? It takes place in Telephone Bar. I used to live in that neighborhood, and a certain TrueHoop reader friend of mine used to be a barback there, before he got the job removing nipples from photographs of scantily clad women that, I swear it's true, led to his successful career in the upper echelons of advertising.

I just discovered a great basketball website, called Ball In. It used to be a paper zine, and now it's a sassy basketball website that mixes rec-league first person accounts with thoughts about the NBA and beyond. For instance, here's a recent entry about Sheryl Swoopes:

On that note, after our win on Thursday (10/27), over food and beers at the Telephone Bar, I went on an anti-Sheryl Swoopes rant. I suppose that as a "liberal", I'm supposed to lionize the "Lady Jordan" for "finding the courage" to come out of the closet, but I'm having trouble doing it. She seemed fine in the closet in the mid-90s when she was getting the first ever sneaker contract for a woman from Nike, was the poster mom for the homophobic WNBA (she even exploited her own child by naming him "Jordan", after you-know-who), and championed players who were "lady-like". Now, as her career is in its twilight, and she has blown all of her earnings, and has been caught having an affair with one of her coaches, essentially sleeping with the boss, she has come out only after being offered a six-figure endorsement contract by Olivia, a lesbian-themed cruise line.

To me, the real heroes here are represented by the cruise line. They already had Martina Navratilova, a true lesbian freedom fighter, on contract. I also compare Swoopes unfavorably to Sue Wicks, who started in the WNBA out of the closet. The epitome of class, Wicks, now an assistant coach at Rutgers, her alma mater, has set a positive example for me off the court, just like she did with her play on the court with the Liberty. When quoted about the Swoopes story, Wicks was nothing but supportive, noting how important it is for people to be able to be their true selves. In my mind, it's Wicks who deserves the six-figure contract.

One of my favorite things about this whole story? It takes place in Telephone Bar. I used to live in that neighborhood, and a certain TrueHoop reader friend of mine used to be a barback there, before he got the job removing nipples from photographs of scantily clad women that, I swear it's true, led to his successful career in the upper echelons of advertising.

Who, we have been wondering, would save the Sacramento Kings from that rumored move to Las Vegas?

Ladies and gentlemen, the answer is one Tom Ziller of Sactown Royalty.

A few weeks ago, we at TrueHoop begged someone to speak up for Sacramento fans. Well, kids, I'm here to tell you that dreams really do come true. SacTownRoyalty fired up a whole jamboree.

There's a mission. "What do we want? Our Kings. Our Sacramento Kings. That's it."
There's also a rallying cry, fighting words ("eff that ess"), a petition to sign, some comedy, and a SONG.

They wear purple and white
Sometimes cat-vomit gold
They shoot lots of threes
And run the pick and roll

Yes, original, world-changing musical work. Like Woodstock, only to the tune of Weezer.

My fellow NBA fans, please join me applauding this great American.

Who, we have been wondering, would save the Sacramento Kings from that rumored move to Las Vegas?

Ladies and gentlemen, the answer is one Tom Ziller of Sactown Royalty.

A few weeks ago, we at TrueHoop begged someone to speak up for Sacramento fans. Well, kids, I'm here to tell you that dreams really do come true. SacTownRoyalty fired up a whole jamboree.

There's a mission. "What do we want? Our Kings. Our Sacramento Kings. That's it."
There's also a rallying cry, fighting words ("eff that ess"), a petition to sign, some comedy, and a SONG.

They wear purple and white
Sometimes cat-vomit gold
They shoot lots of threes
And run the pick and roll

Yes, original, world-changing musical work. Like Woodstock, only to the tune of Weezer.

My fellow NBA fans, please join me applauding this great American.

Who, we have been wondering, would save the Sacramento Kings from that rumored move to Las Vegas?

Ladies and gentlemen, the answer is one Tom Ziller of Sactown Royalty.

A few weeks ago, we at TrueHoop begged someone to speak up for Sacramento fans. Well, kids, I'm here to tell you that dreams really do come true. SacTownRoyalty fired up a whole jamboree.

There's a mission. "What do we want? Our Kings. Our Sacramento Kings. That's it."
There's also a rallying cry, fighting words ("eff that ess"), a petition to sign, some comedy, and a SONG.

They wear purple and white
Sometimes cat-vomit gold
They shoot lots of threes
And run the pick and roll

Yes, original, world-changing musical work. Like Woodstock, only to the tune of Weezer.

My fellow NBA fans, please join me applauding this great American.

Who, we have been wondering, would save the Sacramento Kings from that rumored move to Las Vegas?

Ladies and gentlemen, the answer is one Tom Ziller of Sactown Royalty.

A few weeks ago, we at TrueHoop begged someone to speak up for Sacramento fans. Well, kids, I'm here to tell you that dreams really do come true. SacTownRoyalty fired up a whole jamboree.

There's a mission. "What do we want? Our Kings. Our Sacramento Kings. That's it."
There's also a rallying cry, fighting words ("eff that ess"), a petition to sign, some comedy, and a SONG.

They wear purple and white
Sometimes cat-vomit gold
They shoot lots of threes
And run the pick and roll

Yes, original, world-changing musical work. Like Woodstock, only to the tune of Weezer.

My fellow NBA fans, please join me applauding this great American.

One more thing I'm thankful for--this Thanksgiving week something happened that almost never happens: two major sports magazines have simultaneous articles on exactly the same topic.

On Friday the two were in my mail together. Sports Illustrated with an Ian Thomsen feature about Milwaukee Buck guard T. J. Ford. And ESPN the magazine with a Chris Broussard feature about... Milwaukee Buck guard T.J. Ford. (Annoyingly, the online version of this magazine, which requires paid subscription and registration, is not current as of late Saturday night, so I can't link.)

And that means we get a little peek behind the curtain at the strengths and flaws of two good NBA writers. (For once, magazine articles that don't have to be judged in a vacuum!)

So, here's the TrueHoop report on the Broussard/Thomsen head to head:

• Both articles mention a lot of the same things: Ford's spinal stenosis, the collision with Mark Madsen that nearly ended his career in his rookie year, his three previous episodes of numbness in his limbs, his near triple-double in his first game back, the fact that the Bucks are much better when he's on the floor, and his excellence in crunch time.
• Incredibly the two articles give a very different slant to the most important question of all: after his career-threatening spinal injury, is T.J. Ford's health and career at significant risk? Thomsen reports in SI that:

  Ford and the Bucks have been told by their medical advisers that he is at no greater risk of paralysis than any other player.

  Broussard's ESPN piece, on the other hand, says:

  "When doctors finally cleared T.J. to for noncontact drills in April, they did so with one warning: that he is still at slightly more risk of spinal injury than the average player. According to Harris, though, doctors told Ford that if he gets injured, the result need not be "catastophic."

  We need a real answer to that question, and because of all the specifics he supplies, I'm inclined to believe Broussard's slightly more worrying version of events.
• Broussard's ESPN article was allotted slightly more space, so you have to expect him to have more color and detail, which he delivers. There's a little recurring thing about his brother's rapping about T.J.'s recovery etc. that's not really integral but sort of fun. There's this really strange and amazing fact: as part of rehab, John Lucas made T.J. Ford run quarter-mile laps in the scorching sun backwards. (He had to beat 2:20. I'm inclined to try that next time I'm on the track to see how hard it is.) We get to meet Candace Dixon, the mother of T.J.'s child, and hear about the crying they did on the phone together when the going got tough. We learn they live together "in a four-bedroom house on two acres in the woods of suburban Milwaukee." We get to find out, for what it's worth, that he drives a white Cadillac CTS. Thomsen has precious little of that kind of stuff, but the detail he does have counts: for instance the Miami Heat's Jason Williams making sure Ford is okay after he gets the wrong end of Alonzo Mourning's elbow is an important sign that people are worried about him around the league.
• Beyond all that, Broussard scores points for fairly in-depth coverage of something that Thomsen never really touched: Ford's childhood. His dad came close to being a member of the University of Houston's famous Phi Slamma Jamma team featuring Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon. He tells us that Ford and his backup, Maurice Williams, have been close friends since the ninth grade and in recent years used to hang out together at clubs called Swank and Ja'Stacy's. And then there's my favorite fact of all: T.J.'s parents tore the hoop off their garage, because the crowds watching the family games in the driveway were ruining the lawn. Thomsen doesn't have anything like that.
• SI's Thomsen gets credit for specifics about the last time Ford's body went all numb after an accident. Thomsen describes the exact head-to-thigh collision Ford had with his college teammate Royal Ivey, who now plays for the Hawks. Thomsen tracked Ivey down, and Ivey remembers Ford "kept saying he couldn't feel his legs, his fingers, anything... He was scared." Broussard doesn't even have Ivey's name.
• SI also wins for some key statistics in a sidebar: the Bucks have an effective field goal percentage of 47.1% when Ford is on the floor, vs. 41.9 when he is off. They average 106.8 points per 100 possessions when he's on the floor, and 101.4 when he sits. They also get eight more free throws per 48 minutes with Ford on the floor. Those are great numbers to know, and Broussard and ESPN don't have them.
• Speaking of numbers, Thomsen says that John Lucas had Ford take 50,000 jump shots this summer. Broussard goes out of his way to make clear that he heard Lucas had Ford make 50,000. A very different proposition. (On the other hand, I bet no one counted them all anyway, so who really knows.)
• As for writer's flair, Broussard gets some credit for coming up with the description that Ford is "Tyronn Lue with some offense." Thomsen counters with the cutesy "he has gone from endangered to highly dangerous."
• Thomsen scores what is perhaps the only broadly applicable point from either article. There's this quote from John Lucas, who says Ford is blessed that he was injured:

  "Because of his injury, he got time to improve his basketball skills and see life from a different perspective--to see that he can live with or without basketball. He wound up light years ahead of where he would have been otherwise."

  If that's really true, why doesn't every young player take a year off to be a camp counselor or something? Seriously. Something to think about. (Was Ricky Williams right all along?)

The Bottom Line
Which article is better? It's close. Broussard's tells more, but most of that is because of his unfair advantage of a longer word count (by my eye-balling at least--I didn't count). But in the end, Thomsen's glossing over of the potential for future injury issue appears to have been a major blunder, and one that makes me inclined to declare Broussard's ESPN article to be the stronger of the two.

Chris, watch your mailbox for information about TrueHoop's black tie awards ceremony.

One more thing I'm thankful for--this Thanksgiving week something happened that almost never happens: two major sports magazines have simultaneous articles on exactly the same topic.

On Friday the two were in my mail together. Sports Illustrated with an Ian Thomsen feature about Milwaukee Buck guard T. J. Ford. And ESPN the magazine with a Chris Broussard feature about... Milwaukee Buck guard T.J. Ford. (Annoyingly, the online version of this magazine, which requires paid subscription and registration, is not current as of late Saturday night, so I can't link.)

And that means we get a little peek behind the curtain at the strengths and flaws of two good NBA writers. (For once, magazine articles that don't have to be judged in a vacuum!)

So, here's the TrueHoop report on the Broussard/Thomsen head to head:

• Both articles mention a lot of the same things: Ford's spinal stenosis, the collision with Mark Madsen that nearly ended his career in his rookie year, his three previous episodes of numbness in his limbs, his near triple-double in his first game back, the fact that the Bucks are much better when he's on the floor, and his excellence in crunch time.
• Incredibly the two articles give a very different slant to the most important question of all: after his career-threatening spinal injury, is T.J. Ford's health and career at significant risk? Thomsen reports in SI that:

  Ford and the Bucks have been told by their medical advisers that he is at no greater risk of paralysis than any other player.

  Broussard's ESPN piece, on the other hand, says:

  "When doctors finally cleared T.J. to for noncontact drills in April, they did so with one warning: that he is still at slightly more risk of spinal injury than the average player. According to Harris, though, doctors told Ford that if he gets injured, the result need not be "catastophic."

  We need a real answer to that question, and because of all the specifics he supplies, I'm inclined to believe Broussard's slightly more worrying version of events.
• Broussard's ESPN article was allotted slightly more space, so you have to expect him to have more color and detail, which he delivers. There's a little recurring thing about his brother's rapping about T.J.'s recovery etc. that's not really integral but sort of fun. There's this really strange and amazing fact: as part of rehab, John Lucas made T.J. Ford run quarter-mile laps in the scorching sun backwards. (He had to beat 2:20. I'm inclined to try that next time I'm on the track to see how hard it is.) We get to meet Candace Dixon, the mother of T.J.'s child, and hear about the crying they did on the phone together when the going got tough. We learn they live together "in a four-bedroom house on two acres in the woods of suburban Milwaukee." We get to find out, for what it's worth, that he drives a white Cadillac CTS. Thomsen has precious little of that kind of stuff, but the detail he does have counts: for instance the Miami Heat's Jason Williams making sure Ford is okay after he gets the wrong end of Alonzo Mourning's elbow is an important sign that people are worried about him around the league.
• Beyond all that, Broussard scores points for fairly in-depth coverage of something that Thomsen never really touched: Ford's childhood. His dad came close to being a member of the University of Houston's famous Phi Slamma Jamma team featuring Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon. He tells us that Ford and his backup, Maurice Williams, have been close friends since the ninth grade and in recent years used to hang out together at clubs called Swank and Ja'Stacy's. And then there's my favorite fact of all: T.J.'s parents tore the hoop off their garage, because the crowds watching the family games in the driveway were ruining the lawn. Thomsen doesn't have anything like that.
• SI's Thomsen gets credit for specifics about the last time Ford's body went all numb after an accident. Thomsen describes the exact head-to-thigh collision Ford had with his college teammate Royal Ivey, who now plays for the Hawks. Thomsen tracked Ivey down, and Ivey remembers Ford "kept saying he couldn't feel his legs, his fingers, anything... He was scared." Broussard doesn't even have Ivey's name.
• SI also wins for some key statistics in a sidebar: the Bucks have an effective field goal percentage of 47.1% when Ford is on the floor, vs. 41.9 when he is off. They average 106.8 points per 100 possessions when he's on the floor, and 101.4 when he sits. They also get eight more free throws per 48 minutes with Ford on the floor. Those are great numbers to know, and Broussard and ESPN don't have them.
• Speaking of numbers, Thomsen says that John Lucas had Ford take 50,000 jump shots this summer. Broussard goes out of his way to make clear that he heard Lucas had Ford make 50,000. A very different proposition. (On the other hand, I bet no one counted them all anyway, so who really knows.)
• As for writer's flair, Broussard gets some credit for coming up with the description that Ford is "Tyronn Lue with some offense." Thomsen counters with the cutesy "he has gone from endangered to highly dangerous."
• Thomsen scores what is perhaps the only broadly applicable point from either article. There's this quote from John Lucas, who says Ford is blessed that he was injured:

  "Because of his injury, he got time to improve his basketball skills and see life from a different perspective--to see that he can live with or without basketball. He wound up light years ahead of where he would have been otherwise."

  If that's really true, why doesn't every young player take a year off to be a camp counselor or something? Seriously. Something to think about. (Was Ricky Williams right all along?)

The Bottom Line
Which article is better? It's close. Broussard's tells more, but most of that is because of his unfair advantage of a longer word count (by my eye-balling at least--I didn't count). But in the end, Thomsen's glossing over of the potential for future injury issue appears to have been a major blunder, and one that makes me inclined to declare Broussard's ESPN article to be the stronger of the two.

Chris, watch your mailbox for information about TrueHoop's black tie awards ceremony.

One more thing I'm thankful for--this Thanksgiving week something happened that almost never happens: two major sports magazines have simultaneous articles on exactly the same topic.

On Friday the two were in my mail together. Sports Illustrated with an Ian Thomsen feature about Milwaukee Buck guard T. J. Ford. And ESPN the magazine with a Chris Broussard feature about... Milwaukee Buck guard T.J. Ford. (Annoyingly, the online version of this magazine, which requires paid subscription and registration, is not current as of late Saturday night, so I can't link.)

And that means we get a little peek behind the curtain at the strengths and flaws of two good NBA writers. (For once, magazine articles that don't have to be judged in a vacuum!)

So, here's the TrueHoop report on the Broussard/Thomsen head to head:

• Both articles mention a lot of the same things: Ford's spinal stenosis, the collision with Mark Madsen that nearly ended his career in his rookie year, his three previous episodes of numbness in his limbs, his near triple-double in his first game back, the fact that the Bucks are much better when he's on the floor, and his excellence in crunch time.
• Incredibly the two articles give a very different slant to the most important question of all: after his career-threatening spinal injury, is T.J. Ford's health and career at significant risk? Thomsen reports in SI that:

  Ford and the Bucks have been told by their medical advisers that he is at no greater risk of paralysis than any other player.

  Broussard's ESPN piece, on the other hand, says:

  "When doctors finally cleared T.J. to for noncontact drills in April, they did so with one warning: that he is still at slightly more risk of spinal injury than the average player. According to Harris, though, doctors told Ford that if he gets injured, the result need not be "catastophic."

  We need a real answer to that question, and because of all the specifics he supplies, I'm inclined to believe Broussard's slightly more worrying version of events.
• Broussard's ESPN article was allotted slightly more space, so you have to expect him to have more color and detail, which he delivers. There's a little recurring thing about his brother's rapping about T.J.'s recovery etc. that's not really integral but sort of fun. There's this really strange and amazing fact: as part of rehab, John Lucas made T.J. Ford run quarter-mile laps in the scorching sun backwards. (He had to beat 2:20. I'm inclined to try that next time I'm on the track to see how hard it is.) We get to meet Candace Dixon, the mother of T.J.'s child, and hear about the crying they did on the phone together when the going got tough. We learn they live together "in a four-bedroom house on two acres in the woods of suburban Milwaukee." We get to find out, for what it's worth, that he drives a white Cadillac CTS. Thomsen has precious little of that kind of stuff, but the detail he does have counts: for instance the Miami Heat's Jason Williams making sure Ford is okay after he gets the wrong end of Alonzo Mourning's elbow is an important sign that people are worried about him around the league.
• Beyond all that, Broussard scores points for fairly in-depth coverage of something that Thomsen never really touched: Ford's childhood. His dad came close to being a member of the University of Houston's famous Phi Slamma Jamma team featuring Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon. He tells us that Ford and his backup, Maurice Williams, have been close friends since the ninth grade and in recent years used to hang out together at clubs called Swank and Ja'Stacy's. And then there's my favorite fact of all: T.J.'s parents tore the hoop off their garage, because the crowds watching the family games in the driveway were ruining the lawn. Thomsen doesn't have anything like that.
• SI's Thomsen gets credit for specifics about the last time Ford's body went all numb after an accident. Thomsen describes the exact head-to-thigh collision Ford had with his college teammate Royal Ivey, who now plays for the Hawks. Thomsen tracked Ivey down, and Ivey remembers Ford "kept saying he couldn't feel his legs, his fingers, anything... He was scared." Broussard doesn't even have Ivey's name.
• SI also wins for some key statistics in a sidebar: the Bucks have an effective field goal percentage of 47.1% when Ford is on the floor, vs. 41.9 when he is off. They average 106.8 points per 100 possessions when he's on the floor, and 101.4 when he sits. They also get eight more free throws per 48 minutes with Ford on the floor. Those are great numbers to know, and Broussard and ESPN don't have them.
• Speaking of numbers, Thomsen says that John Lucas had Ford take 50,000 jump shots this summer. Broussard goes out of his way to make clear that he heard Lucas had Ford make 50,000. A very different proposition. (On the other hand, I bet no one counted them all anyway, so who really knows.)
• As for writer's flair, Broussard gets some credit for coming up with the description that Ford is "Tyronn Lue with some offense." Thomsen counters with the cutesy "he has gone from endangered to highly dangerous."
• Thomsen scores what is perhaps the only broadly applicable point from either article. There's this quote from John Lucas, who says Ford is blessed that he was injured:

  "Because of his injury, he got time to improve his basketball skills and see life from a different perspective--to see that he can live with or without basketball. He wound up light years ahead of where he would have been otherwise."

  If that's really true, why doesn't every young player take a year off to be a camp counselor or something? Seriously. Something to think about. (Was Ricky Williams right all along?)

The Bottom Line
Which article is better? It's close. Broussard's tells more, but most of that is because of his unfair advantage of a longer word count (by my eye-balling at least--I didn't count). But in the end, Thomsen's glossing over of the potential for future injury issue appears to have been a major blunder, and one that makes me inclined to declare Broussard's ESPN article to be the stronger of the two.

Chris, watch your mailbox for information about TrueHoop's black tie awards ceremony.

One more thing I'm thankful for--this Thanksgiving week something happened that almost never happens: two major sports magazines have simultaneous articles on exactly the same topic.

On Friday the two were in my mail together. Sports Illustrated with an Ian Thomsen feature about Milwaukee Buck guard T. J. Ford. And ESPN the magazine with a Chris Broussard feature about... Milwaukee Buck guard T.J. Ford. (Annoyingly, the online version of this magazine, which requires paid subscription and registration, is not current as of late Saturday night, so I can't link.)

And that means we get a little peek behind the curtain at the strengths and flaws of two good NBA writers. (For once, magazine articles that don't have to be judged in a vacuum!)

So, here's the TrueHoop report on the Broussard/Thomsen head to head:

• Both articles mention a lot of the same things: Ford's spinal stenosis, the collision with Mark Madsen that nearly ended his career in his rookie year, his three previous episodes of numbness in his limbs, his near triple-double in his first game back, the fact that the Bucks are much better when he's on the floor, and his excellence in crunch time.
• Incredibly the two articles give a very different slant to the most important question of all: after his career-threatening spinal injury, is T.J. Ford's health and career at significant risk? Thomsen reports in SI that:

  Ford and the Bucks have been told by their medical advisers that he is at no greater risk of paralysis than any other player.

  Broussard's ESPN piece, on the other hand, says:

  "When doctors finally cleared T.J. to for noncontact drills in April, they did so with one warning: that he is still at slightly more risk of spinal injury than the average player. According to Harris, though, doctors told Ford that if he gets injured, the result need not be "catastophic."

  We need a real answer to that question, and because of all the specifics he supplies, I'm inclined to believe Broussard's slightly more worrying version of events.
• Broussard's ESPN article was allotted slightly more space, so you have to expect him to have more color and detail, which he delivers. There's a little recurring thing about his brother's rapping about T.J.'s recovery etc. that's not really integral but sort of fun. There's this really strange and amazing fact: as part of rehab, John Lucas made T.J. Ford run quarter-mile laps in the scorching sun backwards. (He had to beat 2:20. I'm inclined to try that next time I'm on the track to see how hard it is.) We get to meet Candace Dixon, the mother of T.J.'s child, and hear about the crying they did on the phone together when the going got tough. We learn they live together "in a four-bedroom house on two acres in the woods of suburban Milwaukee." We get to find out, for what it's worth, that he drives a white Cadillac CTS. Thomsen has precious little of that kind of stuff, but the detail he does have counts: for instance the Miami Heat's Jason Williams making sure Ford is okay after he gets the wrong end of Alonzo Mourning's elbow is an important sign that people are worried about him around the league.
• Beyond all that, Broussard scores points for fairly in-depth coverage of something that Thomsen never really touched: Ford's childhood. His dad came close to being a member of the University of Houston's famous Phi Slamma Jamma team featuring Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon. He tells us that Ford and his backup, Maurice Williams, have been close friends since the ninth grade and in recent years used to hang out together at clubs called Swank and Ja'Stacy's. And then there's my favorite fact of all: T.J.'s parents tore the hoop off their garage, because the crowds watching the family games in the driveway were ruining the lawn. Thomsen doesn't have anything like that.
• SI's Thomsen gets credit for specifics about the last time Ford's body went all numb after an accident. Thomsen describes the exact head-to-thigh collision Ford had with his college teammate Royal Ivey, who now plays for the Hawks. Thomsen tracked Ivey down, and Ivey remembers Ford "kept saying he couldn't feel his legs, his fingers, anything... He was scared." Broussard doesn't even have Ivey's name.
• SI also wins for some key statistics in a sidebar: the Bucks have an effective field goal percentage of 47.1% when Ford is on the floor, vs. 41.9 when he is off. They average 106.8 points per 100 possessions when he's on the floor, and 101.4 when he sits. They also get eight more free throws per 48 minutes with Ford on the floor. Those are great numbers to know, and Broussard and ESPN don't have them.
• Speaking of numbers, Thomsen says that John Lucas had Ford take 50,000 jump shots this summer. Broussard goes out of his way to make clear that he heard Lucas had Ford make 50,000. A very different proposition. (On the other hand, I bet no one counted them all anyway, so who really knows.)
• As for writer's flair, Broussard gets some credit for coming up with the description that Ford is "Tyronn Lue with some offense." Thomsen counters with the cutesy "he has gone from endangered to highly dangerous."
• Thomsen scores what is perhaps the only broadly applicable point from either article. There's this quote from John Lucas, who says Ford is blessed that he was injured:

  "Because of his injury, he got time to improve his basketball skills and see life from a different perspective--to see that he can live with or without basketball. He wound up light years ahead of where he would have been otherwise."

  If that's really true, why doesn't every young player take a year off to be a camp counselor or something? Seriously. Something to think about. (Was Ricky Williams right all along?)

The Bottom Line
Which article is better? It's close. Broussard's tells more, but most of that is because of his unfair advantage of a longer word count (by my eye-balling at least--I didn't count). But in the end, Thomsen's glossing over of the potential for future injury issue appears to have been a major blunder, and one that makes me inclined to declare Broussard's ESPN article to be the stronger of the two.

Chris, watch your mailbox for information about TrueHoop's black tie awards ceremony.

This year I'm thankful for basketball books. Seriously. I have shelves full of them and I read them all the time. (Unless you count a brief dalliance with toy elephants as a child, books about basketball are the only things I have ever collected.)

Sadly, there's not a lot you can do with that kind of experience, except tell people about some of your favorite basketball books. So with the help of my new affiliate status at Powells.com (that's right, you click and buy 'em, I laugh all the way to the bank) here are my picks as the best basketball reads:

• My Losing Season by Pat Conroy. This is the only book I have ever read that really gave the emotional sensation of playing basketball and being on a basketball team. It's also an incredibly painful true story about the author's abusive childhood.
• Loose Balls by Terry Pluto. The bible of good times in the ABA. Picture Marvin Barnes entering the locker room in a fur coat, eating fast food, moments before tip-off, bellowing "game time is on time!"
• The Last Shot by Darcy Frey. It's the story of Stephon Marbury as a freshman in high school, bumming rides in the back seat of Darcy Frey's car around Coney Island. Marbury's teammates are the most sympathetic, and sadly one of them went on to be seriously hurt in a car accident. More than anything, I like the way Frey writes.
• The Breaks of the Game by David Halberstam. Of the books that are generally regarded as some of basketball's, this is the only one about the Portland Blazers, so it makes the list.
• Money Players: Days and Nights Inside the New NBA by Armen Keteyian. This is the book I want for Christmas. Yes, it's true, I haven't even read the damn thing yet, but it's on my list anyway, because so many people I respect have told me it's good, and I have seen enough of Keteyian's other work to have high expectations.
• Sense of Where You Are: A Profile of William Warren Bradley by John McPhee. McPhee fawns over Bill Bradley in a way that's almost uncomfortable at times. But you can learn a hell of a lot about basketball from this book. McPhee is the man who wrote the greatest sports article I have ever read, "Centre Court," which is about Wimbeldon and appeared in Playboy in 1971. (I read it in the indispensable, but basketball-free Best American Sports Writing of the Century.)
• The Inside Game by Wayne Embry. This book gets no love, and no one has read it, but it's incredibly honest about how things happen in the executive suite in the NBA. The dirt is dished with a smile, from a classy author who is still an important figure in the NBA. I blogged about this before here.
• Operation Yao Ming by Brook Larmer. I know, I had some serious nerve putting Money Players on the list when I hadn't even read it, and now here's a second book I haven't read. But I can tell you this: I thought I had done some homework on Yao Ming, until I read one chapter of this that was excerpted in Sports Illustrated. I know enough to say that this is the authoratative Yao Ming book, and it's not close.
• They Call Me Coach by John Wooden. This book is here because if I don't put it here people will question my credentials as an expert on basketball books. And, through all the rubble of coaching advice, I find Coach Wooden's to be some of the most practical and true. For instance: don't worry too much about how much sleep your players get the night before the big game--they won't sleep well that night no matter what. But the night before that makes a big difference. No kidding, this is useful to know. Nervous about a big meeting on Wednesday? Make sure you sleep well Monday night. It works.
• The Miracle of St. Anthony by Adrian Wojnarowski. Everyone says it's the Friday Night Lights of basketball. That's a horrible oversimplification... but accurate enough for a short little synopsis like this. I like this one better because it takes place in Jersey City where I lived for a while.

Honorable mention: I have read a million player and coach autobiographies, and they are all kind of fascinating and terrible at the same time. They are all about content more than form, and they all have long passages that could be summarized "I worked really hard at the gym," "my childhood was not easy," and "I played really well that night." But they're all fun to read and full of the kind of colorful detail that makes people think you really know a lot about sports. My favorites are Chamique (you think it's tough to grow up as a boy who's into sports?), Shaq Talks Back (no one understands the big fella, but he makes perfect sense after you read this), Bill Walton (decades ago Bill Walton's friend Jack Scott wrote a hard-to-find tell-almost-all, rich with tales of everything from homeopathic remedies to the FBI), the other Loose Balls by Jayson Williams (he wrote it with Steve Friedman, who is far more talented than your average ghost writer, and the book is crisp and funny--complete with a fantastic tale of Clifford Ray having sex in a hotel bathroom), Phil Jackson's The Last Season (funnier than ever now that he's reunited with Kobe Bryant, who gets short shrift in this book), Charles Barkley's I May Be Wrong But I Doubt It, and My Life by Magic Johnson. That last one is a pretty ordinary book--who dreamed up that fancy title?--but Magic Johnson's an extraordinary guy, and pretty frank. (For instance, he tells us that his name, Magic Johnson, was his nickname in the bedroom. Get it? Now you know why the people closest to him call him "Earvin" or "Buck.") When I first read this in college I made all my friends read it. I like to think we're all richer for the experience.

In any case, read in good health.

Happy Thanksgiving.

This year I'm thankful for basketball books. Seriously. I have shelves full of them and I read them all the time. (Unless you count a brief dalliance with toy elephants as a child, books about basketball are the only things I have ever collected.)

Sadly, there's not a lot you can do with that kind of experience, except tell people about some of your favorite basketball books. So with the help of my new affiliate status at Powells.com (that's right, you click and buy 'em, I laugh all the way to the bank) here are my picks as the best basketball reads:

• My Losing Season by Pat Conroy. This is the only book I have ever read that really gave the emotional sensation of playing basketball and being on a basketball team. It's also an incredibly painful true story about the author's abusive childhood.
• Loose Balls by Terry Pluto. The bible of good times in the ABA. Picture Marvin Barnes entering the locker room in a fur coat, eating fast food, moments before tip-off, bellowing "game time is on time!"
• The Last Shot by Darcy Frey. It's the story of Stephon Marbury as a freshman in high school, bumming rides in the back seat of Darcy Frey's car around Coney Island. Marbury's teammates are the most sympathetic, and sadly one of them went on to be seriously hurt in a car accident. More than anything, I like the way Frey writes.
• The Breaks of the Game by David Halberstam. Of the books that are generally regarded as some of basketball's, this is the only one about the Portland Blazers, so it makes the list.
• Money Players: Days and Nights Inside the New NBA by Armen Keteyian. This is the book I want for Christmas. Yes, it's true, I haven't even read the damn thing yet, but it's on my list anyway, because so many people I respect have told me it's good, and I have seen enough of Keteyian's other work to have high expectations.
• Sense of Where You Are: A Profile of William Warren Bradley by John McPhee. McPhee fawns over Bill Bradley in a way that's almost uncomfortable at times. But you can learn a hell of a lot about basketball from this book. McPhee is the man who wrote the greatest sports article I have ever read, "Centre Court," which is about Wimbeldon and appeared in Playboy in 1971. (I read it in the indispensable, but basketball-free Best American Sports Writing of the Century.)
• The Inside Game by Wayne Embry. This book gets no love, and no one has read it, but it's incredibly honest about how things happen in the executive suite in the NBA. The dirt is dished with a smile, from a classy author who is still an important figure in the NBA. I blogged about this before here.
• Operation Yao Ming by Brook Larmer. I know, I had some serious nerve putting Money Players on the list when I hadn't even read it, and now here's a second book I haven't read. But I can tell you this: I thought I had done some homework on Yao Ming, until I read one chapter of this that was excerpted in Sports Illustrated. I know enough to say that this is the authoratative Yao Ming book, and it's not close.
• They Call Me Coach by John Wooden. This book is here because if I don't put it here people will question my credentials as an expert on basketball books. And, through all the rubble of coaching advice, I find Coach Wooden's to be some of the most practical and true. For instance: don't worry too much about how much sleep your players get the night before the big game--they won't sleep well that night no matter what. But the night before that makes a big difference. No kidding, this is useful to know. Nervous about a big meeting on Wednesday? Make sure you sleep well Monday night. It works.
• The Miracle of St. Anthony by Adrian Wojnarowski. Everyone says it's the Friday Night Lights of basketball. That's a horrible oversimplification... but accurate enough for a short little synopsis like this. I like this one better because it takes place in Jersey City where I lived for a while.

Honorable mention: I have read a million player and coach autobiographies, and they are all kind of fascinating and terrible at the same time. They are all about content more than form, and they all have long passages that could be summarized "I worked really hard at the gym," "my childhood was not easy," and "I played really well that night." But they're all fun to read and full of the kind of colorful detail that makes people think you really know a lot about sports. My favorites are Chamique (you think it's tough to grow up as a boy who's into sports?), Shaq Talks Back (no one understands the big fella, but he makes perfect sense after you read this), Bill Walton (decades ago Bill Walton's friend Jack Scott wrote a hard-to-find tell-almost-all, rich with tales of everything from homeopathic remedies to the FBI), the other Loose Balls by Jayson Williams (he wrote it with Steve Friedman, who is far more talented than your average ghost writer, and the book is crisp and funny--complete with a fantastic tale of Clifford Ray having sex in a hotel bathroom), Phil Jackson's The Last Season (funnier than ever now that he's reunited with Kobe Bryant, who gets short shrift in this book), Charles Barkley's I May Be Wrong But I Doubt It, and My Life by Magic Johnson. That last one is a pretty ordinary book--who dreamed up that fancy title?--but Magic Johnson's an extraordinary guy, and pretty frank. (For instance, he tells us that his name, Magic Johnson, was his nickname in the bedroom. Get it? Now you know why the people closest to him call him "Earvin" or "Buck.") When I first read this in college I made all my friends read it. I like to think we're all richer for the experience.

In any case, read in good health.

Happy Thanksgiving.

This year I'm thankful for basketball books. Seriously. I have shelves full of them and I read them all the time. (Unless you count a brief dalliance with toy elephants as a child, books about basketball are the only things I have ever collected.)

Sadly, there's not a lot you can do with that kind of experience, except tell people about some of your favorite basketball books. So with the help of my new affiliate status at Powells.com (that's right, you click and buy 'em, I laugh all the way to the bank) here are my picks as the best basketball reads:

• My Losing Season by Pat Conroy. This is the only book I have ever read that really gave the emotional sensation of playing basketball and being on a basketball team. It's also an incredibly painful true story about the author's abusive childhood.
• Loose Balls by Terry Pluto. The bible of good times in the ABA. Picture Marvin Barnes entering the locker room in a fur coat, eating fast food, moments before tip-off, bellowing "game time is on time!"
• The Last Shot by Darcy Frey. It's the story of Stephon Marbury as a freshman in high school, bumming rides in the back seat of Darcy Frey's car around Coney Island. Marbury's teammates are the most sympathetic, and sadly one of them went on to be seriously hurt in a car accident. More than anything, I like the way Frey writes.
• The Breaks of the Game by David Halberstam. Of the books that are generally regarded as some of basketball's, this is the only one about the Portland Blazers, so it makes the list.
• Money Players: Days and Nights Inside the New NBA by Armen Keteyian. This is the book I want for Christmas. Yes, it's true, I haven't even read the damn thing yet, but it's on my list anyway, because so many people I respect have told me it's good, and I have seen enough of Keteyian's other work to have high expectations.
• Sense of Where You Are: A Profile of William Warren Bradley by John McPhee. McPhee fawns over Bill Bradley in a way that's almost uncomfortable at times. But you can learn a hell of a lot about basketball from this book. McPhee is the man who wrote the greatest sports article I have ever read, "Centre Court," which is about Wimbeldon and appeared in Playboy in 1971. (I read it in the indispensable, but basketball-free Best American Sports Writing of the Century.)
• The Inside Game by Wayne Embry. This book gets no love, and no one has read it, but it's incredibly honest about how things happen in the executive suite in the NBA. The dirt is dished with a smile, from a classy author who is still an important figure in the NBA. I blogged about this before here.
• Operation Yao Ming by Brook Larmer. I know, I had some serious nerve putting Money Players on the list when I hadn't even read it, and now here's a second book I haven't read. But I can tell you this: I thought I had done some homework on Yao Ming, until I read one chapter of this that was excerpted in Sports Illustrated. I know enough to say that this is the authoratative Yao Ming book, and it's not close.
• They Call Me Coach by John Wooden. This book is here because if I don't put it here people will question my credentials as an expert on basketball books. And, through all the rubble of coaching advice, I find Coach Wooden's to be some of the most practical and true. For instance: don't worry too much about how much sleep your players get the night before the big game--they won't sleep well that night no matter what. But the night before that makes a big difference. No kidding, this is useful to know. Nervous about a big meeting on Wednesday? Make sure you sleep well Monday night. It works.
• The Miracle of St. Anthony by Adrian Wojnarowski. Everyone says it's the Friday Night Lights of basketball. That's a horrible oversimplification... but accurate enough for a short little synopsis like this. I like this one better because it takes place in Jersey City where I lived for a while.

Honorable mention: I have read a million player and coach autobiographies, and they are all kind of fascinating and terrible at the same time. They are all about content more than form, and they all have long passages that could be summarized "I worked really hard at the gym," "my childhood was not easy," and "I played really well that night." But they're all fun to read and full of the kind of colorful detail that makes people think you really know a lot about sports. My favorites are Chamique (you think it's tough to grow up as a boy who's into sports?), Shaq Talks Back (no one understands the big fella, but he makes perfect sense after you read this), Bill Walton (decades ago Bill Walton's friend Jack Scott wrote a hard-to-find tell-almost-all, rich with tales of everything from homeopathic remedies to the FBI), the other Loose Balls by Jayson Williams (he wrote it with Steve Friedman, who is far more talented than your average ghost writer, and the book is crisp and funny--complete with a fantastic tale of Clifford Ray having sex in a hotel bathroom), Phil Jackson's The Last Season (funnier than ever now that he's reunited with Kobe Bryant, who gets short shrift in this book), Charles Barkley's I May Be Wrong But I Doubt It, and My Life by Magic Johnson. That last one is a pretty ordinary book--who dreamed up that fancy title?--but Magic Johnson's an extraordinary guy, and pretty frank. (For instance, he tells us that his name, Magic Johnson, was his nickname in the bedroom. Get it? Now you know why the people closest to him call him "Earvin" or "Buck.") When I first read this in college I made all my friends read it. I like to think we're all richer for the experience.

In any case, read in good health.

Happy Thanksgiving.