Well this won’t be quite as good as that, but it’s still funny. Or gross. Depends on your mood.

Andy Murray extended the drought British men have faced at Wimbledon to 76 years after a third consecutive semifinal loss at the tournament. He lost to Spain’s Rafael Nadal, who is the second Spaniard in as many matches to give him trouble.

Earlier in the tournament, when Murray was scheduled for face Lopez, news tore through the media about Murray’s mother Judy having the hots for her son’s opponent, having referred to Lopez as “Deliciano” on her Twitter feed a week before. There’s no need to get into mothers using social media. Nothing good ever happens when mothers and fathers start running in the same circles – virtual or otherwise – as their children. This instance wasn’t any different. It just can’t be helpful for bookies to place 10-1 odds on your mother blowing your opponent a kiss at some point during the match. Athletes don’t think like us regular folk. They’re far more tuned into the task at hand than we would be. They’ve had more practice, they most likely have more of an emotional armor than the average non-athlete. Still, a mom is a mom and most athletes would never assume their own mothers would ever be part of a story, or part of a bookmakers betting package.

Fig.1 – LeBron James’ passing ability is unreal for his height.
Of the top 20 assist-leaders in the game, James is the only “forward-sized” player on the list. If it weren’t for Jason Kidd, James would be the only player 6-foot-3 or taller to be on this list.

Fig.2 – It’s weird if Kevin Love is on the court and he doesn’t grab a rebound.
Think about what this means. For every single rebound available – both on the offensive glass and defensive glass – Love is going to grab one of every five. One. In every five. He plays 37 minutes a game. Unreal.

The True Non-Blake Griffin Rookie of the Year

Fig. 3 – Stop telling me Landry Fields would be this year’s Rookie of the Year if it weren’t for Blake Griffin.
Look at this graph. This measures the Game Scores of both Landry Fields and John Wall through the first 58 games of the season. When Wall is healthy, he absolutely canvasses Fields. Four of the five best games of the season belong to Wall along with 17 of the top 25. The only two arguments you can give me is that Fields has played every game of the season so far as Wall has missed a dozen. That’s true. You’re not lying, but look at the chart once Wall was healthy. From games 30 through 58, Fields has had five better games than Wall. Five. That’s 18 percent of those games. If the dozen games that Wall missed is enough to deny that he has been better than Fields, then why aren’t 23-out-of-28 games enough to settle that Wall has played better than Fields? You could also tell me that Wall doesn’t make the players around him better, and that – according to both team’s records – Landry does. I can’t deny that Wall is on an awful team, but I will argue that JaVale McGee, Nick Young, Al Thornton, Cartier Martin and Trevor Booker are all having their best statistical NBA season. Yeah, but those guys blow. Exactly. You know who doesn’t blow? Amar’e Stoudemire.

Fig. 4 – No more calling Steve Nash old.
And if you do, you’d better call the rest of the Suns terrible, because that’s what they’d be if Nash wasn’t distributing more than half of the team’s total assists this season.

Fig. 4 – If your fantasy basketball team just had guys named Kevin, you’re probably in first place.
Among the 20 most efficient players in the NBA (a good metric for calculating total worth), 17 guys are not named Kevin. You’d have to roster Garnett and Seraphin, which would just be a weird fantasy team, but still … it would be in first place.

No, Derrick Rose Isn’t The MVP

Fig. 5 – … Unless someone figures out how to quantify “Gives A Damn” and creates a stat for it.
Go back into this blog’s archives, searching my LeBron posts if you want to know how I feel about the guy. I don’t like telling you that he’s outplaying Rose. But he is. He just is. I know that Rose has carried the Bulls all season without ever having a healthy roster and I know James has Bosh and Wade, but that helps James’ cause, not hurt it. Rose doesn’t have to share with the same firepower James does. And while the Bulls have a surprising third-best Eastern Conference record, the Heat have the second-best. This is a close race, but the closer you look, the clearer it is that the applause shouldn’t come from Rose surpassing James, just closing the gap a bunch.

I don’t take a moral high ground with MVP awards. The Most Valuable Player should go to the best player. LeBron James is the best player in the league (dammit). He could be much, much better. Rose might not be able to be much, much better. I will say this though, Rose hit less than 0.5 threes per game last season. This year, he’s sinking 1.5. Like runaway robots in sci-fi horror movies, it’s …. learning. Also, Rose and James averages the same amount of blocked shots each game (0.6). James is five inches taller than Rose. That’s about as close as I can get to proving that James doesn’t play nearly as hard as Rose. Watch the two of them. It’s not even close. I’d give the MVP to James, but the Bulls are 2-0 against the Heat this season, which might prove to garner Rose much bigger accolades down the road.

The long and short of it is that there are some people in a position of power in Miami that don’t like the idea of accepting donations from a group of people only getting rid of their items because they are no longer wanted. Unlike places like the Salvation Army and Goodwill that are choke full of items people wanted to keep forever and ever. And ever. Presumably these people in a position of power aren’t the homeless. I was under the impression Mike Bibby was the only basketball jersey they collectively agreed to boycott. No one is willing to publicly admit to disliking the idea of a bunch of hobos sporting wearing the old LeBron on their backs, but such people must be out there.

“It seemed very well-intentioned, but it’s not gonna happen right away,” Rita Clark of the Miami Coalition for the Homeless said. “I’m trying to help them be better-received here in Miami.”

Presumably, this poor reception stems from certain people uncomfortable accepting donations made from a place of aggression, but this hits pretty far off the target, doesn’t it?

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I’ll never forget the time I wore a Bruce Springsteen shirt to my retail job at a local bookstore. Usually, I just wore polo shirts or something, but this time, I was feeling particularly raucous (and roll-ish). Indie bookstores are a great place to meet people, freely exchange ideas, compare Hemingway tattoos and Buddy Holly glasses, so when a hipster asked me if I like Springsteen, I ignored my initial impulse to question why someone would wear a t-shirt of something they did not personally endorse and answered simply, “why yes indeed, friend.” Remember: this was a hipster, and I recall him wearing a Q-Bert t-shirt. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that in his world, people wear things without even knowing wat the hell they are. Anyway, I tell him that I really like Springsteen. Like a lot. His response, “Yeah. I never got into him. He’s kind of annoying.”

… And that, your honor, is when I killed him.

This exchange happened years ago, yet I’ve never let it go. Why would he ask about my shirt just so he can tell me he doesn’t like what’s on it? That’s like paying admission just to boo the performer. Or, like performing in a city, just so you can boo its most famous inhabitant.

Enter Sir John Mayer. He of the douche-y song lyrics, womanizing antics and illogical sleeve tattoos. He played a concert in Ohio last week, and performed his encore in a Cleveland Cavaliers jersey. I’ll skip over the part where I berate Cuyahoga Falls for demanding an encore from Mayer and get to the part where he promises the Ohio crowd that on his tour closer in Miami, he’ll perform wearing the very same jersey.

Out of solidarity to the good folks of Cuyahoga Falls, you see? Because LeBron James left Ohio to play basketball in Florida, you see? Mayer wanted to get in on that action. For the sake of Ohioans.”Because sometimes you gotta stir [expletive] up,” says Mayer.

I was wondering when someone was gonna mention LeBron’s exit to a group of Ohioans.

And this is what I pondered all weekend. Sweet Jesus, why? Why bother? Why poke this bear? No one from Ohio is going to be in Miami, bro. There’s only so many times a person can hear “Heartbreak Warfare” without wanting to break out into real warfare. And he’s going to get a reaction in Miami, because my understanding of Floridians is that they’re either 90 years old or 26 and blitzed on ecstasy. Either way, a Cavaliers jersey is gonna make ‘em go schizoid. But this isn’t his fight. He grew up in Connecticut, man. What the eff?

I guess that’s why it bothers me so much, Mayer insinuated himself into a fight that doesn’t really exist, that he certainly isn’t a part of for a payoff that won’t, um, pay off. Unforgivable. Like that time you made Jessica Simpson think it was okay to be a brunette. You’re a bad man, John Mayer and I hope those 26-year-olds all lick your face.

I can’t tell you how much I hate that his jersey is No.83. No one on the Cavs ever wore No. 83. No one in NBA history ever wore No. 83. He wasn’t born in 1983 or wear a size 83 shoe. It’s as dumbfounding as someone who can absolutely shred on guitar insisting upon playing “Wonderland” a thousand times a year to make his money.

Video of Mayer’s promise here.

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From left: Cook, Favre, Werder (I swear this was the coolest picture of Werder I could find)

How do you prefer your Band-Aid removed? With a quick, painful jerk that uproots body hair along with it? The kind that provides an agony that is much worse in the seconds leading up to the removal than the removal itself? Or do you prefer the cautious, calculated removal that distributes pain in measured doses for an elongated period of time? Because I assure you America, you’re gonna have to suffer through one.

LeBron James’ decision to play for the Heat? We may still be talking about it … okay, I. I may still be talking about it. But, really, it’s over. He’s a Heat. (A Hot? A Heats? No, he’s a Heat.) James isn’t forcing us to discuss it. Matter fact, I bet he’d love us to stop. That Band-Aid got yanked two weeks ago, the pain should be long gone. Brett Favre? He never wants anything to stop. Ever. He pulls the bandage 1/3 off, then re-applies the pulled part just so he can do it again. Forever.

As much as I’m angry with James and have decided to stop returning his phone calls for a little while, I’d prefer his shenanigans to Favre’s, who, once again is kinda, sorta hurt and kinda, sorta not sure his old man bones have it in them to play football again. And he’s kinda, sorta not sure when he will know, so just keep checking in periodically* to see if he’s made a decision.

* once per hour … forever.

This is the fourth year the man who’s won only one more Super Bowl than I have has spent his summer playing catch in Mississippi in front of an ESPN camera. And I’m bored. And you’re bored too. And a little hungry, which is bound to happen when you skip lunch, you workaholic, you. But you know who’s more than bored? Favre’s agent James “Bus” Cook.

From the newest issue of Men’s Journal :

(I should warn you, Cook’s language is a little blue, so be sure to cover your children’s ears as they read this.)

“Brett talked to goddamned Ed Werder at ESPN, says he needs ankle surgery. Now why did he do that?” Cook asked.  “I’ve got [Brad] Childress calling. I’ve got reporters calling all damn morning. Goddammit, why does he have to be such a goddamned drama queen? Play, don’t play, goddamn, people are getting sick of it. I’m getting sick of it!

Why does he have to talk to these people? What good does it do? Ed Werder at ESPN! What’s he ever done for anybody other than say, ‘Look, look, Mommy, I got this first, ain’t I special?’ You got problems with surgery, talk to your wife. Why talk to goddamned Ed Werder?”

Eat it, Werder.

You know, if you’ve been paying attention (pay attention!) you’ll notice the common thread with Favre and James is one World Wide Leader in Sports. If ESPN would stop hiding the the bushes of every superstar with a decision to make, maybe we wouldn’t be forced to choose between pulling off the first-aid bandage strip quickly or slowly. Maybe the entire world would simply be able to take a dip in the pool and let the soaking bandage un-affix itself and lie at the bottom of the shallow end. Wouldn’t that be nice?

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Photos courtesy of Flickr

“We’re not really sure how Stephen will fit into our organization,” Miami’s assistant director of player personnel Dickie Montero said on Sunday. “He’s all I keep hearing about over in the MLB and on that basis alone, he seemed to be someone that we are supposed to want on the team.”

The Nationals, who have seen unprecedented growth in popularity in the last two months since Strasburg’s arrival in the league admitted that, while their former star was wonderful for business, he just didn’t fit into the “expected Nationals tradition” adding that the Miami Heat seemed a more appropriate destination for players that “people care about.”

“It’s not unheard of for us to be a popular underdog in April,” Nationals spokesman James Dumpheys said. “But usually by May we’ve reminded all our fans why they hate rooting for us and we go right back to hosting 1,100 hipsters each night who find our team ironic. Strasburg threw our pattern of crippling crappiness out of whack and we had to retool a few things. We think three second-round basketball players in the next few years should bring us back to our tradition of freakish awfulness.”

At the press conference held yesterday, in which Strasburg was introduced alongside the newly acquired “Three Amigos of Miami”: Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and LeBron James, the fireballer looked dumbfounded and more than a little pissed.

“When they said Miami, I thought they meant the Marlins and I was kind of excited. Then I found out they meant the Heat and now I mostly just want to slap somebody.”

Strasburg added,”I mean, the Heat? Really!? Michael Jordan whomped their ass for a decade and they decide to retire his number for it? That’s weak, bro. These bitches just better stay out of my way.”

Strasburg says he’ll spend the remainder of the summer (which has suddenly become his offseason) perfecting his 100 mph bounce passes to LeBron James’ face.

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When Chris Bosh began waxing Dwyane Wade’s Cadillac and it became apparent that “the man” in Toronto was willing to settle for being “a man” in Miami, the horrifying thought that a super team was a-brewing grabbed my synapses and refused to let go until 9:26 pm EST when LeBron completed the unholy trinity. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like I’ve ever thought much of the guy.

I have no doubt I’ll be spending the better part of the summer and autumn articulating why this is awful for the league as a whole, so I won’t waste my word count doing it here. Instead, I’m going to waste my word count extolling on why LeBron James could have become an American hero on Thursday night and instead, chose to become the NBA’s most reviled player.

Think Minnesota Favre. Think Toronto Clemens. Think pin-up Kournikova.

Gambling addicts never see their winnings the same way casual gamblers do. When casual gamblers win $100 bucks at a table, they see it as $100 more than they had when they started. When gambling addicts win $100, they don’t think of it as winning $100. They think of how much they could have won if only they’d bet more. Psychologically, they feel as if they lost. The stakes are higher; winning is impossible. So was LeBron James’ decision as a free agent. He’s a sucker if he stayed in Cleveland, a fool if he went to New Jersey or L.A., a side-stepper if he went to Chicago, a cliché if he went to New York and a punkass coward if he went to Miami.

Punkass coward it is.Mark it eight, Smokey.

I won’t refute this claim. I might rephrase it so that LeBron James is more a phoney and a fool, but I won’t eat your lunch for calling him a punkass or a coward.

Because like those gambling addicts, LeBron James didn’t win by earning advertising revenue for the Boys and Girls Club of America, he lost by hosting this B.S. in the first place. When the media makes a spectacle- they’re doing their job. When he makes a spectacle, he’s being a douche. He wants the Boys and Girls Club of America to reap hundreds of thousands of dollars? Why doesn’t LeBron James just give it to them then? I’ve been hearing rumors that he’s come into a bit of money lately.

Speaking of which, Bron Bron – don’t tout your nobility for choosing wins over a payday when there’s a deal in the works to force Michael Beasley out of a job so that the Heat can afford your max-salary along with your two new best bros. James didn’t take a pay cut, he’s just earning the money differently than he might have with Cleveland.

Had LeBron James gone on national television to announce that he was staying with the Cleveland Cavaliers to finish what he’s started with them for seven years, he would have been seen as a hero – a friend to the everyman. At the very least, he wouldn’t have been seen like this – a turncoat and a chump who just gave up the chase toward Michael Jordan’s legacy. He went on national television to announce thet he was ditching the Cavs. Screw ‘em. Screw the dancing and commraderie. Screw his home and the fans that love him. Screw the one place that treated him like more than a commodity. Basketball, James reminded us several times in his self-imposed television special, is a business.

Interesting then, that he didn’t take the job that offered him the most money. By that fact alone, it seems as if more than just business played a part in this decision, a fact that Clevelanders from all walks should ponder hard while burning their old No.23 jerseys.

He went on television with the intention of announcing where he was going, but revealed instead, what he was okay with leaving behind. He wasn’t winning a few Heat teammates, he was losing a fanbase.

LeBron really wanted us to believe he’s a good guy in all this. Calling a massive media event, but giving the proceeds to charity. Completing a disgusting super team, but doing it with wins in mind instead of money. Very few will see it that way.  James will make as much as he would have with most others teams, but no other team could have supported three of the league’s top 10 players. In the end, James could have donated money to a dozen of his favorite charities without shamlessly calling attention to the fact that he was doing so if that was what was ultimately most important to him.

And that’s why 9:26 pm EST on Thursday July 8, 2010 will mark the moment James’s role in the sports world changed. This is George Lucas’ Episode One. This is Alex Rodriguez signing with the Rangers. This is David Caruso leaving “NYPD Blue.”

The world held its breath waiting for LeBron James to make a decision.

He did.

Now watch the world turn.

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Here’s a recap of the weirdest or most overlooked sports stories on the Interweb this week. Plus, as you’ve come to expect, “Charm” isn’t a word I’d ever  associate with the Lingerie Football League.

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Monday Wow. Um, yeah but can you do it twice, Bango? Basketball
Tuesday The Top 200 Fantasy Baseball Team Names. Who are the creative masterminds naming their team “The Boston Red Sox?” Baseball
Wednesday This just in: LeBron is still a tremendous jerk. Basketball
Thursday Tiger’s got his own sneaker … and so do all his lady friends too, I guess. Golf
Friday Miguel Olivo is more of a man than you (or, for our female readers, more of a man than your man) Baseball
Saturday The Most Exciting 2 Minutes In Sports. Set your watch to it. Horse Racing
Sunday A Pirates fan vowed to bet $20 AGAINST his team every game this season. Here’s a spreadsheet of how it’s going. Baseball
Eighth Day The Women’s Movement moves right into Charm City (and shoulder pads).

By Sunday, most MMA outlets were awash in outrage over Silva’s behavior, none moreso than UFC president Dana White, who called the main event a “disgrace,” “an embarrassment” adding too that he was “disgusted.”

But let’s pull back the gossamer curtain of immediacy and examine why many feel this way. And because I’ve never been good with keeping secrets, I should warn you that I’m planning on defending Silva in these next 1,000 words.

The 26-4 Brazilian has had a recent history of not giving the fans the type of fight that they paid for – namely, one that quickly moves to the ground and stays there. Instead, Silva’s style is to dominate from his feet – which is what happened for the most part Saturday. Silva showboated (to put it kindly) and taunted (to put it less kindly) his opponent Demian Maia early in the battle. Hands on his hips, standing without using much defense; take a look at the photo up top. It looked exactly like that, only without the threat of Riverdance breaking out. Kid stuff. Disrespectful stuff. Stuff that, frankly, made the fight boring.

And this has been the case for Silva’s last few bouts. He’s that good. He’ll tease ya. Then he’ll bleed ya. And then he’ll calmly leave the ring amid a bluster of witnesses furious that he didn’t sweat more, try harder, move quicker.

That’s “the reason” for the animosity toward Silva, but is it The Reason? No. The reason to be upset is that no one recently has forced Silva to sweat more, try harder, move quicker. Watching Silva fight in the last 24 months is like watching a Corvette idle down a driveway. Don’t blame the Corvette, blame the driver, or the neighborhood, or the laws that dictate a Corvette can’t drive 90 mph in a school zone. In short: give Silva someone to fight.

Would anyone have suddenly felt they got their money’s worth out of a 90 second fight in which Silva kicked Maia in the throat three times and called it a day? Not only would you not have gotten your money’s worth, but you wouldn’t have had anything to talk about on Monday.

In a sport still in the spring of its development, the fans remain the dictators of what “good MMA” is. Silva really is one of the three best pound-for-pound fighters in the entire sport, but he’s boring. And he’s cocky about his boringness. And he refuses to acknowledge his cockiness and / or his boringness.

But White didn’t fail to acknowledge it:

“Believe me, I’ll answer the questions of what a disgrace the main event was,” said White at the post-fight presser. “To end it the way that we did was an embarrassment for me, the UFC, the Fertittas and the UAE. If you’re that talented, be Mike Tyson. Go in there and finish. I’m so blown away and disgusted and saddened.”

…He forgot to mention greedy. Because this is where White’s anger stems from – future revenue. See, the Cleveland Cavaliers don’t have to worry about sitting LeBron James for three consecutive games, as they have this past week, because those tickets are already sold. And as long as people believe they’ll get to see James when they purchase the tickets, that’s all any of the money men care about. It’s why the D.C. Nationals waited until after the pre-season ticket sale to announce that No. 1 draft pick Stephen Strasbug would start the season in the minor leagues.

MMA doesn’t work that way. You’re only as good as your last fight and because fans equate “fast movement” to “excitement,” Silva is a dud as a fighter. At least UFC heavyweight Brock Lesnar, who painted himself with the same devil-may-care brush as Silva, has the decency to rely heavily on the ground game. He’s a real a knee-to-your-neck kinda fella. He’s the villain everyone wants to see. Silva? Skip ‘im.

I get it. I get why fans want the ground ‘n’ pound game. I get why promoters pop blood vessels at guys like Silva who stand around and pick their spots to strike. Promoting a strategic fighter is like promoting … well, like promoting a pitcher’s duel in baseball. Good luck.

But step back for a moment. Why blame Silva? This is his style. He’s a man who makes a living by winning as many fights as possible. Should Sabathia have grooved one down the middle in the seventh inning after his Yankees had the lead safely in hand on Saturday, just to spice things up a little? No. He’s paid millions of dollars to pitch as close to perfect baseball as he can. What about all the rest LeBron is getting? Shouldn’t he play insignificant games now and risk being injured, if for no other reason than for the sake of the fans who paid to see him? Nope.

And what about this blog article? It’s been nearly 700 words since you last saw a picture or anything visual. Should I just throw in something colorful to break up the monotony of all these words, even if it has nothing to do with Anderson Silva or mixed martial arts?

There. A kangaroo punching a photographer in the face. How was that? You gettin’ your money’s worth now?

Sports are about competition. At least professional sports. The beer league softball games I play in are mostly about the beer. You play to win the game. And in a larger sense, you play to continue winning the games. A tired or hurt LeBron James risks far more damage to the Cavs (and the NBA) down the line than leaving him in street clothes toward the end of the regular season; just as Anderson Silva adopting a ground game or even exerting himself more than is necessary is more harmful to his career (and I believe the UFC) than carrying on as he is.

MMA fans should demand only one thing from the fighters – that their intent it always to ensure victory.

Silva, more than most fighters, has a firm grip on exactly what to do to ensure victory and exactly how to do it. He even said immediately after the fight that he wanted to win, he won legitimately and he’s unconcerned about the rest of it – the way it should be.

“The way I feel,” Silva said, “my mission was completed, I came in and dominated the fight, I did what I had to do, That’s how I feel.”

White may be upset that Silva’s not an exciting fighter, but if he can’t spin this guy into a marketable villain for a future Georges St. Pierre fight than Dana White is not long for his position. And if he’s mad that one of his best fighters is boring, well then, match him with a fighter that doesn’t bore him.

Simple, no?

Until then, quit with the tears and vinegar about the classless Silva. He’s different. He’s interesting because he’s boring (I just blew your mind) and he’s good for the UFC.

Just wait until this sport supplies fans with only one type of fighter, playing the same note over and over, fight after fight.

You’ll drop it faster than Anderson Silva would have dropped Demian Maia if he weren’t so bored.

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Top photo courtesy of Yahoo! Sports via Tracy Lee

But after looking at an initial screenshot of the game, a new NBA Jam could face a lot of pitfalls. Because how do you duplicate or improve on a game that was great because of its imperfections?

The original version of NBA Jam didn’t have Michael Jordan. It also didn’t have pick and rolls or reliable goaltending enforcement. But you know what, we liked it that way.

So here’s what we’re hoping for in this new incarnation of a 1990s classic. They can gussy up the graphics all they want, but the gameplay should be true to the original. Otherwise, you might as well go play NBA Live.

Forget three players at a time, put it at two
NBA Jam started off simply as a 2-on-2 game, but its later descendants like NBA Hoopz expanded it to three. That just doesn’t feel right. The more players you throw on the court, the more this game actually resembles a basketball simulation. All you really need in this game is a shooter and a big man, that’s it.

The best way to play defense in the game remain to be shoving
NBA Jam actually hurts itself the closer it gets to realism. And that holds true with calling fouls. They should continue to be nonexistent. Shoving an opponent all game long would get the average NBA player banned from the league (unless you’re Bill Laimbeer), but NBA Jam players should be rewarded for their shoves like in the old days with constant turnovers.

Players still need to score on the corner 3-pointer about 75 percent of the time
Anyone who played this game routinely knows that there are two sure-fire ways to score. The first is to dunk with the big man while holding down Turbo. The second is to spot up in the corner with a 3-pointer. The top of the 3-point line is pretty effective too, but it can’t match the corner for sheer deadliness. That needs to stay true in the new version as well. Because that last minute of every quarter needs to be a mad dash for the corner.

The final team you play should be a pair from the 1990s
This is the final area where NBA Jam needs to call back to its heritage. If a player can beat all the other NBA teams, they should be pitted against an original NBA Jam team. It could be Karl Malone and John Stockton, or Kevin Johnson and Charles Barkley. Even Patrick Ewing and John Starks would be a fun boss to face. But no matter who it is, the new NBA Jam needs to bring back some old faces.

LeBron James and Kobe Bryant need to be absent from the game
That’s right, the new NBA Jam needs to forget including two of its best players.

We all know that the original NBA Jam didn’t have Jordan because they couldn’t secure his rights. I’m assuming there won’t be a similar problem with Kobe or LeBron, but the new NBA Jam needs to forgo its biggest super stars for one major reason: Because the original NBA Jam was actually better due to Jordan’s absence.

If Jordan had been a playable character when the original NBA Jam came out, every kid that wasn’t a Knicks or Pistons fan would have picked the Bulls every single time. The team-selection process would have turned into a mad scramble to pick Chicago first. Could you imagine being that poor kid at the skating rink, trying to beat an older kid with just the Charlotte Hornets. You would have been banished to playing Michael Jackson’s “Moonwalker”.

There simply would have been no stopping a Jordan-led NBA Jam team. But because the game didn’t have him, most of the elite teams (Charlotte, New York, even a Scottie Pippen-led Chicago) were similarly elite enough that you stood a chance in every match up, so long as you didn’t pick a crap team like Dallas. And the game was better because of it.

Now, you could argue that the talent is better distributed nowadays, or that the game’s programmers won’t make Kobe and LeBron unstoppable, but today’s generation will be robbed of a true NBA Jam experience if they have every player at their disposal.  And while not having Jordan in the old days was an obstacle we all had to overcome, you could certainly argue that we’re all better for it.

At the very least, it helped us appreciate the subtle shoving genius of Horace Grant.