A blog on sports ... and maybe more

Month: April 2020

Chasing Popeye: A Story About a Savant, a Midget, and The One True Team

“If you ain’t first, you’re last!”

Ricky Bobby, Tallegega nights: the legend of ricky bobby

It was cold and late, and I was dejected. We had lost – again. It was past 11 on a Saturday night in early March 2019, in River Forest, a Chicago suburb I visit once a year for the sole purpose of participating in this event. This year’s contest had ended about 10 minutes earlier. I’d said my goodbyes to my five teammates, muttered the obligatory “we’ll get ‘em next year,” and made a beeline out to my car in the parking lot at Trinity High School.

As I drove home, I thought, “maybe that’s it.” The team I captained had competed hard – we beat 100 teams and lost to one. By any measure, that’s pretty good, and we were pretty good. I’d captained various editions of this team in this event in eight of the last nine years and we finished first twice, second five times, and third once. Objectively, not bad – always on the medal stand. But on that night in 2019 it hit me that the prospect of ever again walking out of that gym in first place – as champions, carrying the traveling trophy reserved for winners – was waning.

The juggernaut that had me pondering retirement was known as Popeye Jones’ Ugly Brothers. Popeye first entered the tournament in 2013 and promptly dethroned my team – The One True Team – by the narrowest of margins. The One True Team reclaimed the title in 2014, with Popeye finishing third. Then, Popeye went on a run. It finished first out of 72 teams in 2015 (we were third); first of 84 teams in 2016 (we did not enter); first of 92 teams in 2017 (we were second); first of 102 teams in 2018 (we were second); and first of 102 teams in 2019 (again, we were second). A five-peat for Popeye. The One True Team had settled in as a bridesmaid – or groomsman, I suppose.

It wasn’t just that Popeye was winning every year; the margin of victory was growing. From 2017-2019, Popeye won by 4, 7, and 14 points, respectively. We were losing ground. Popeye was Secretariat in the last furlong in the 1973 Belmont Stakes – and we were the horse in second, destined to be forgotten. We’d tweaked the roster and tried different approaches. But nothing seemed to work. As I headed home, I wasn’t sure I’d be back 12 months later.

A Trivial Pursuit

If you see photos of The One True Team and of Popeye Jones’ Ugly Bros. – and you will, if you keep reading – you’ll figure out that the contest I am writing about does not involve physical prowess of any kind. No one will look at those pictures and say, “I want those guys on my side in a street fight.” More likely: “Those guys need to get out in the sun a little more.” There may not be a single elite athlete among them, but sports is very much at the center of their competition – more specifically, they compete in the not-so-rough-and-tumble world of sports trivia. If you’ve ever attended a trivia night fundraiser, you know the drill. Get some friends together, have a few drinks, play a little trivia. This contest is like that – but on steroids. And all about sports.

The aptly named St. Giles Men’s Society is made up of a group of men who are parishioners at St. Giles Catholic Parish in Oak Park, which borders River Forest. Before the explosion of Sports Trivia, the SGMS was best known (to me, at least) for its “Retreads” men’s basketball league. Team captains actually draft teams and they compete over the winter in the church gym. The elbows fly, lungs burn, and hamstrings pop. Local orthopedic offices greet the start of every season with the same refrain: cha-ching!

Sometime prior to February 2009, some SGMS genius came up with the idea of staging a sports trivia contest on a weekend night to break the monotony of a long, cold Chicago winter. The idea was elegantly simple: form six-man teams, serve beer and pizza, run a sports trivia contest, and maybe raise a little money for charity – or at least to cover the pizza and beer. The inaugural event in 2009 – Sports Trivia 1 – drew 14 teams and was held in a church fellowship hall most memorable for its linoleum floor. Twelve years later, SGMS Sports Trivia has earned the tagline on its web site: Chicagoland’s Premier Sports Trivia Charity Event. The last three events each drew around 100 six-man teams. If there were any women on those teams, please forgive me for not noticing. At this event, ladies are as rare as a Seth Jones – the unicorn NHL All-Star whose father, Popeye, played in the NBA.

Sports Trivia Teaser 1

Which Chicago Bear scored the team’s last points in the 46-10 win over the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XX? What uniform number did he wear? Where did he play in college?

Trivia brought to you by the one true team

After first graduating to the church’s gym, Sports Trivia ultimately got so big that it was moved down the street to Trinity. The organizers ramped up the silent auctions and raffles, brought in late-night snacks, wooed corporate sponsors, and goosed the entry fee – these guys are Catholics, after all, hard-wired to raise money. At some point, the proceeds from the night were earmarked for a school – Christ the King College Prep – on the West Side of Chicago. In recent years, the drum corps from the school gets the jam-packed assembly of 600+ trivia nuts hyped at the start of the night.

For sports trivia geeks, this is the night that vindicates years of poring over box scores, reading Pete Maravich biographies, playing in fantasy leagues, and watching meaningless games on cable. And, for the less socially inhibited (most of the crowd), it’s simply an awesome night out with some buddies. Good old fashioned guy time. As American writer Chuck Palahniuk said, “We don’t see a lot of models for male social interaction. There’s sports and barn raisings.”

Among other things, Sports Trivia participants are treated to the stylings of hands-down the best organist in the history of Chicago sports (with apologies to current Blackhawks organist Frank Pellico).

The incomparable Nancy Faust

Nancy Faust was the long-time organist for the Chicago White Sox, keeping fans entertained at the variously named Comiskey Parks between 1970 and 2010. During those 41 seasons, she missed five games – apparently dialing up some lame excuse about giving birth to a son. She also played the organ at the old Chicago Stadium for the Bulls and then the Blackhawks between 1975 and 1989 – among many other gigs. Now retired, Nancy moved to Arizona with her husband and tends to a couple of donkeys. One more fun fact about Nancy: she attended the same high school in Chicago – Roosevelt High – as my mother, father, and oldest sister. (Wikipedia rules.)

Some genius – again, the SGMS is full of them – thought to track down Nancy and ask her to provide the running sound track for SGMS Sports Trivia. For the last five years, she and her husband have made the trip back to Chicago every winter, lugged her organ out of storage, showed up at the gym, and entertained the masses before, during, and even after the event. Her ability to play snippets of songs in real time that track the questions is uncanny. A question relating to the Yankees or Mets might prompt her to belt out a few bars of “New York, New York.” One year, a question about a penalty assessed in a golf tournament brought “I Fought the Law (And the Law Won).” Whatever SGMS is paying Nancy, she’s worth every penny.

For all the pomp and circumstance, the key to the success of the event is the questions. Each year, SGMS curates a set of questions so balanced it would make Olga Korbut proud. From reasonably easy to really hard, from current events to decades ago. Baseball, basketball, football, hockey, soccer, tennis, golf, racing, Olympic sports, boxing, cycling. College sports, actual amateur sports, professional sports. For sure, the questions tilt to the four major American sports, but you name a category, and at some point it has been covered, and many are covered every single year.

The gym buzzes at the start of the night, as teams of six wander into the gym with bags of snacks and settle themselves into wobbly folding chairs in a sea of round tables. The questions are broken into between six and 10 themed rounds. By themed, I mean a round might be titled: “Color My World” and the answers or questions might include some reference to a color – perhaps A.C. Green, Vida Blue, Eric “the Red” Davis, Downtown Freddie Brown, or the Alabama Crimson Tide. The questions sometimes call for multi-part answers, and partial credit is given. It’s not multiple choice – you need to come up with the answers cold. After questions are read, teams confer in whispers and answers are written down. At the end of each round, answer sheets are turned in, scores tabulated by an army of scorers in referee shirts, and the standings are projected – thanks to yet another unsung SGMS genius who keeps the tech humming behind the scenes. In terms of overall difficulty, most teams in the competition nail at least half the questions; the winners usually answer about 80% correctly. After 12 years, the night runs like the 10:05 from Munich to Augsburg.

Mike Andolina, the face of SGMS Sports Trivia

The face of Sports Trivia is a guy named Mike Andolina. Mike’s a friend, and will forever be  known in New Jersey high school hoops circles as the Jelly Donut Guy. Mike was a sturdy, skilled point guard who was a dead ringer for the guy in the Dunkin’ Donuts commercial pictured above. Legend has it that rival high school student sections showered him with the “Jell-Lee Dough-Nut” chant whenever he had the ball. Year after year, Mike shoehorns himself into a tux and dishes out the questions from the podium. The fact that he also tries to down a beer between each round makes all participants grateful – especially deep into the evening – that the sometimes nuanced questions are also projected on huge video screens. (Our mutual friend and fellow SGMS committee member Kyle Rettberg deserves some credit for contributing to the questions and, more importantly, regulating Mike’s booze intake.)

Andolina drew me to this event – as a St. Giles parishioner he was among its early Pied Pipers and helps develop the questions.  After occasionally bouncing questions off me for a couple years when Sports Trivia was cutting its teeth, he said, “you know what, you should get a team together this year – it’s going to be great.” I figured, why not? So I formed a team and entered Sports Trivia 3 in 2011.

I’m half-embarrassed and half-proud to say it was not my first rodeo in competitive sports trivia.

My Road

What happened? How did I come to retain a lot of useless information about sports? I think the correct answer is “osmosis” – not the scientific kind, but the other one: “the process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas, knowledge, etc.” Though my wife might disagree, my interests have diversified considerably as I have aged. But to be perfectly honest, I’ve been unconsciously preparing to captain a sports trivia team forever – or at least since I learned to read and to turn on a television set. As I told a reporter once (really) who asked what I did to prepare for SGMS Sports Trivia, you cannot really prepare for a sports trivia contest, you just kind of have to pay attention to sports – like, for your entire life.

Putting aside time spent in school, sleeping, eating, building snow forts, riding bikes, and playing pinball at the Chinese grocery on Irving Park Road, I estimate that I spent around 80% of my childhood playing, watching, or reading about sports. Sports was my best friend. As the youngest of nine trailing the rest of the pack by five years, I wasn’t quite an only child but I was definitely on my own when it came to entertaining myself and filling my free time.

As a kid, I played everything. Counting high school, I competed (meaning playing in organized games or tournaments) in about 10 team or individual sports. And by a wide margin, I spent far more time playing sports in schoolyards, alleys, front yards, back yards, and parks in my Chicago neighborhood. Basketball was my favorite and best sport as a kid, and I played in my yard as long as there wasn’t snow or too much ice on the ground. In a great stroke of luck, an especially heavy, wet snowfall took down our detached garage on the alley, making room for a near-regulation quarter court. My Dad – a big sports fan himself and rare city kid who became an avid golfer – even let me tag along to the dimly lit driving ranges on River Road or at Diversey and Lake Shore Drive to hit golf balls on summer nights, at least until the mosquitoes or an empty wire basket chased us home.

But my passion for sports – and the reason I have accumulated loads of information that is useless for 364 nights a year – had more to do with what I was doing when I wasn’t playing sports. If there was a game on TV, or radio, I watched or listened to it. I was blessed to grow up in a big city, where we got as many as seven or eight channels. I watched everything. The pros: Cubs, Sox, Bears, Blitz, Bulls, Blackhawks, Sting, Cougars, and probably a few defunct teams I have forgotten. I watched college football, Monday Night Football, college basketball, Wide World of Sports, PGA golf, the pro bowling tour on Saturday afternoons (huge fan of Earl Anthony and Carmen Salvino). I rotary dialed SportsPhone over and over to get round by round updates of the NBA draft. You get the picture – and now you are warned to never turn to me for advice on hunting, fishing, tying knots, or myriad other more useful endeavors.

By far the biggest contributor to my accrual of sports knowledge was the thousands of hours I invested reading about sports. Beginning probably in 5th or 6th grade and for many of my adult years, I’ve read the sports pages of my local newspaper front to back, and in my formative years that included the box scores. I was a Sports Illustrated subscriber for almost 40 years, only pulling the plug recently in protest to new owners gutting the editorial staff. I bought and devoured publications like Street & Smith’s, which did annual basketball and football previews. I was an early devotee of Bill James and his revolutionary handbooks on baseball. Sports books? Check. Baseball, football, hockey and basketball cards? Check (I didn’t really collect them, I bought them and read them). Played hand-scored seasons of Strat-O-Matic baseball (a dice-and-card based board game) endlessly? Check.

As a consumer of sports, I peaked in high school and college. I read an article once about how and when we develop our musical tastes and why we so easily remember lyrics to the songs we listened to in high school and college. The basic point of the article was that most people develop a long-lasting affinity for the music they listen to through their teenage years, give or take a year. I am not an expert in cognitive development, but I suspect part of the reason I have sports trivia stashed in my brain is that I acquired a lot of it at a sticky time, cognitively speaking. How else would one explain the fact that I instantly recall the jersey numbers of probably 75% of the roster of the 1985 Bears, but would be hard-pressed to tell you what I ate for lunch yesterday?

Sports Trivia Teaser 2

Four American universities claim both at least one Super Bowl-winning quarterback and a President of the United States. Name the four schools, the quarterbacks, and the presidents.

trivia brought to you by the one true team

I kept playing and watching and reading through high school and college. As a freshman at the University of Illinois, I mustered the courage to approach Illini Hall on John Street, walked down a flight of stairs to a basement, and opened the door that said “The Daily Illini.” Sent to see a cranky upperclassman in an untidy corner of the newsroom who was the Sports Editor, I introduced myself. He said, “So you wanna write?” I said “yes,” and he assigned me to cover an intramural basketball tilt between Sigma Chi and Alpha Tau Omega that night. It was a test. I knocked out a short game story and passed the test. I spent much of the next three-and-a-half years covering games, writing features, writing columns, and working the night desk designing the pages or copy editing. It was exhilarating. I covered the lacrosse club, women’s cross country, men’s golf, women’s basketball and many other sports. Finally – as a junior – I reached the Holy Grail of college sports journalism, covering Big Ten football and basketball shoulder-to-shoulder with people who were doing it for a living. And I actually even made pretty good money doing it – the DI was an independent, self-supporting newspaper that paid students who wrote and edited and sold ads and did everything else it takes to run a paper.

As luck would have it, once in law school I gravitated to a bunch of guy who loved sports too – go figure. We played intramurals (shout out to the Rugworms) and found time to watch a lot of sports on TV, start up a Rotisserie baseball league, and even took road trips to watch early-round NCAA tournament games if our rigorous studies permitted. Some of my housemates may have also dabbled in sports wagering to make the games we watched more interesting – it’s a vague memory, I cannot be sure.

However it came to be acquired, my reservoir of sports trivia ended up coming in handy. As a college freshman, it led me to be recruited by a true sports trivia savant, who told me about a midget.

The Savant and the Midget

I entered Illinois in 1983. On the first day of classes, my bike was stolen from outside my dorm, and I almost choked to death on a piece of leathery beef in the cafeteria at Hendrick House. Otherwise, it was a fine day. My very first semester in college presented the answer to a trivia question: Illinois’ football team went undefeated in the Big Ten, most notable not because it led to the Illini’s first Rose Bowl appearance in two decades, but because that team was the last Big Ten football team to beat every other Big Ten team in the same season.

The Hendrick House cafeteria, where it all began

When Hendrick House residents entered the cafeteria, one of the resident advisors was stationed at a table and checked IDs – the most noticeable was Jimm Crosby. Jimm was in his mid-20s and  pursuing a Master’s in accounting. But he looked nothing at all like someone headed for a Big Eight accounting gig. He was wiry, had a bushy beard, and a shock of only occasionally combed brown hair. And he had eyes that never stopped moving; he was seemingly always on the lookout for … something. He struck up conversations with everyone. And he had an attractive undergraduate girlfriend who lived in the dorm – my friends and I all thought, “what’s up with that?” I also remember that he played underwater hockey – a sport played with a weighted puck maneuvered toward goals at the bottom of a swimming pool. When Jimm was the meal ticket taker, he’d ask me and anyone else passing through the line a sports trivia question. I cannot remember if the questions were particularly hard, but I probably did okay. I didn’t think much of it.

Unbeknownst to me, I was being tested. Jimm was recruiting. One day early in the second semester, he popped the question. “Do you want to be on my sports trivia team?” I’m sure I said something like, “Sure. What’s that?” That was the Eddie Gaedel Memorial Sports Trivia Bowl, an annual trivia contest that was the brainchild of someone at the university’s campus recreation department andwas held at the sprawling Intramural Physical Education building – affectionately known as IMPE. The tournament featured dozens of teams facing off in a bracketed, single-elimination format. Each team had four players who would sit on opposite sides of an aisle, armed with Jeopardy-like buzzers to try to answer toss-up questions. If answered correctly, the toss-ups led to bonus questions.

The competition was named for a midget – Eddie Gaedel. In 1951, Browns owner Bill Veeck – later the White Sox owner – signed Gaedel to a contract. In the second game of a doubleheader, Gaedel, wearing the jersey number 1/8, strolled to the plate and pinch-hit for the Browns’ leadoff man. He walked on four pitches – all too high. He jogged to first, a pinch-runner was sent to replace him, and Gaedel’s major league career was over. He retired with the best on-base percentage in MLB history.

“He was, by golly, the best darn midget who ever played big-league ball. He was also the only one.”

bill veeck, veeck – as in wreck

During each night of the tournament, the organizers would ask at least one question somehow related to Gaedel – maybe asking for his height or weight, the name of the pitcher who walked him, or some other factoid. In addition to me, Jimm had recruited two other Hendrick House residents to be on his team, which was named The Frank Saucier Fan Club. Saucier – Jimm told me – was the Browns’ outfielder for whom Gaedel pinch-hit in the bottom of the first.

So we played. And we won. And Jimm was ridiculously good. His recall of dates and lists and winners of MVP awards and first-round draft picks was otherworldly. I mean, I thought I knew a lot about sports, and I knew a fraction of what Jimm knew. It became clear he was … different. In early rounds, we would destroy teams. Four kids from some dorm would sign up, walk in, and we’d beat them like 410-50. If you buzzed in for toss-ups, you were on your own – no help from teammates. We had Jimm. He typically owned the toss-ups, but I’ve never forgotten one he missed – it tells you a lot about Jimm.

The question was: what time of the day did Bobby Thomson hit the famous ‘shot heard ‘round the world?’” (In 1951, Thomson of the New York Giants hit a homerun off Ralph Branca to win the National League pennant in the first-ever nationally televised baseball game.)  Jimm buzzed in and blurted out:  “3:04!”  The emcee said: “Incorrect,” and gave the other team a chance to steal. Before the time expired (the other team had no idea), Jimm leaned toward me and whispered in a pained voice, “he’s right – it was 3:58 – I gave him the time Flight 191 crashed.”  I looked it up, and it so happened he was right – American Airlines Flight 191 went down at 3:04 p.m. after taking off from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport bound for Los Angeles on May 25, 1979 – it was one of the deadliest air crashes in U.S. history.

So, yeah – Jimm was pretty good – maybe even a sports trivia savant. He had, like me, been a voracious consumer of sports growing up on the South Side of Chicago. In the later rounds of the Gaedel tournament, when the competition got tougher, he (maybe) needed the help his three teammates could provide, particularly on a few sports that were not in his wheelhouse. We won the competition in 1984 and 1985, shortly before Jimm alighted for The Ohio State University to pursue some other degree. Three years later, I tucked the Eddie Gaedel experience into the “Other Interests” section of the resume I used when I was seeking work as a summer associate at law firms. Occasionally, someone would bite and ask me about that item. Especially if the interviewer was a sports fan, the rest of the interview tended to fly by.

The One True Team is Born

I didn’t have the time or inclination to take Jimm’s approach to assembling my squad for Sports Trivia 3 in 2011. I was 26 years removed from my last sports trivia competition – the second of our two Eddie Gaedel wins – and I had no idea what level of competition to expect. I knew there would be beer and pizza, and that was enough. I quickly signed up three colleagues — Kevin Fee, Chad Schafer, and Dave Johnson. We were still two players short of the allowed six, and Johnson offered up his son, Erik. At the time, Erik was in his mid-20s and spent a lot of time playing on-line poker and watching sports on TV – so he was perfect. (If you ever assemble a sports trivia team, recruit some youth and, ideally, underemployed youth.) We never got a sixth man, and it cost us. We lost the competition by one stinking point, and it will forever haunt the five of us. We missed a question that fell in the “fairly easy” category: who was the first foreign-born basketball player not to have played in college to be drafted #1 overall in the NBA? The answer – so painfully obvious – was Yao Ming. We overthought it and guessed Andrea Bargnani – who was drafted #1 overall, but four years later.

Johnson the Elder was responsible for naming our team. Dave is a devout atheist, and the only one I’ve known to  read the Bible cover-to-cover, for fun. The name pokes fun at our Roman Catholic hosts – devotees of the “one true church.” As a Lutheran, I was on board with the name choice.

Sports Trivia Teaser 3

Christian Laettner famously hit a turnaround jumper at the buzzer to beat Kentucky and send eventual champion Duke to the Final Four in 1992. Four-part question: (1) How many shots — including free throws — did Laettner take that game? (2) How many did he make? (3) Who threw him the pass before “the Shot”? (4) Which Kentucky freshman’s chest did Laettner stomp on in the first half – earning a technical foul but not a deserved ejection?

trivia brought to you by the one true team

“Who can I get?”

The one-point loss in Sports Trivia 3 irked me. Shorting the team one player likely cost us – anyone I would have added surely would have known one answer the rest of us could not pull. For the next several months, I thought long and hard – “who can I get to round out The One True Team?” To be honest, it was more like “who can I get to put us over the top?” At some point, I had the Eureka! moment: I needed Jimm Crosby.

I’m fairly certain I never spoke to Jimm between the Spring of 1985 and late 2011. Our friendship turned out to be transactional – it was all about sports trivia. He left for Ohio State, I finished college and went on to law school. Our paths never crossed and we didn’t have any common friends. But I decided to take a flier. I went to an online U of I Alumni Association directory and searched. There was one hit for a James Crosby. A South Side street address. No phone number. No email address. So I wrote a letter and sent it to him in the U.S. Mail, not even sure it was the right James Crosby. I didn’t keep a copy of the letter, but I’m sure it started: “You probably don’t remember me, but …” About three days later, an email from Jimm hit my inbox, “Of course I remember you!” I had told Jimm about the SGMS contest in my letter, and he badly wanted to play.

Before I officially invited Jimm to join The One True Team, I took him to lunch and we caught up. As it turned out, the fact the letter reached Jimm at all was somewhat miraculous. The address was his father’s, and Jimm happened to be in town at the time staying with him. He told me that after finally running out of degrees to pursue he had spent his career in various teaching positions – many focused on preparing foreign-born students for the placement tests they need to take to enter American universities. Jimm, a bachelor, has worked all over the world and has visited 153 countries. If you need a guy to head off to Rwanda for a year and prepare Rwandans to enter American universities, Jimm’s your guy. Since our reunion in 2011, he has traveled back to Chicago from Rwanda, Mongolia, and Saudi Arabia to participate in Sports Trivia.

Adding Jimm made a difference; we were first of 43 teams in Sports Trivia 4, the last of the pre-Popeye contests. Jimm was still very, very good at Sports Trivia – but maybe not quite as dominant as I had recalled him being in 1984-85. He admitted that he read less and watched less sports than he had earlier in life – owing in part to his globe-trotting in the name of diversifying American universities. One thing 2012 taught me was that it takes a village – or at least five guys – to win SGMS Sports Trivia. I’d added Jason Coyle, a friend and digital sports media impresario, to the mix. So Jimm, Jason, Dave, Erik and I manned the table (still short-handed due to Kevin’s late scratch), and we won by a half point (don’t ask how that happened, I don’t remember).

The next several years are something of a blur, but SGMS’s awesome web site helped me piece it together. In 2013, Popeye showed up and promptly won. We took second of 51 teams by a single point. By 2014, I finally managed to put together a full team. Jimm and I were the only holdovers from the 2012 champs. Dave Johnson will falsely accuse me of “banishing” him, but it’s more like he was recruited over. That’s actually not true – Dave moved out of state and started spending winters in Las Vegas, so he fell out of the rotation. Erik started a real job that kept him away for several years. Jason had a conflict, so Jimm recommended Matt Scalise, a “kid” in his mid-30s from Jimm’s South Side circle. Youth! I added Eric Mennel, a college friend whose arrested social development has led to him spending many weekends well into his 50s in Lincoln Park bars watching sports. I recruited Jeff Carroll, a second-career lawyer and former sportswriter. I also added Peter Brown that year, a kids’ baseball acquaintance recommended by a mutual friend as an ace. We were good. That version of The One True Team won its second crown and Popeye somehow stumbled to 3rd of 58 teams.

The One True Team – 2014
Standing from left: Matt Scalise, Eric Mennel, Jeff Carrol, Paul Veith, Peter Brown
Kneeling: Jimm Crosby

Now firmly entrenched as a Sports Trivia force, teams were coming for us. Besides Popeye, teams made up in part with employees of the Big Ten Network and ESPN Radio entered. The level of the competition was ramping up. (Public service message: there are very few teams full of freaks like The One True Team and Popeye Jones – maybe a half-dozen or so. Don’t be scared off if you want to enter this event in the future – you’ll do fine and have fun.)

In 2015, we lost Peter to a work conflict and Popeye’s five-year run of dominance began.

Popeye Jones’ Ugly Bros. donning their championship swag following Sports Trivia 9

From that point, The One True Team’s roster morphed a bit. Erik came back, freed of a restaurant managing gig. A client, John Calkins, came on board somewhere along the line. Jimm, Matt, Jeff, and Eric were firmly in the rotation. One year we found ourselves short and Jeff dragged along a guy who was touted as a Cubs expert. Narrow, deep knowledge of one professional team doesn’t cut it. I don’t remember his name; he did not return.

Heading into 2019 the The One True Team comprised seven “regulars” – and that year marked the first year someone had to voluntarily sit out because all seven of us were available. It didn’t matter though; Popeye just kept winning and winning. The other teams – many of whom come back year after year – were starting to get annoyed. Now, when the Popeye Six strolled up to the stage to accept the prizes doled out to the winners, some in the crowd showered them with (mostly) good-natured boos and catcalls. No one really noticed that, in most years, The One True Team was lurking nearby.

Late in 2019, when I got wind of the date for 2020, I recalled my flirtation with the thought of dropping out. But for whatever reason, I decided to give it one more shot.

Sports Trivia 12

As always, I forwarded the “save the date” email from SGMS to what had become the regular crew – Jimm, Erik, Matt, Jeff, Eric and John, meaning we had seven guys for six spots. If all say, “I’m in,” I have to figure out who is going to sit out – not something I relish. Eric had graciously offered to sit out in 2018, so in fairness he needed to be back in.

As the emails flowed back, my lineup problem was solved, with a punch to the sternum. Jeff was out, something about tickets to a Lumineers concert, a wife, and yada yada yada. Jeff’s good – that’s a big loss. More surprising, Jimm was out. This year, he was in Somalia or Somaliland (if those are two different things) and had not been able to finagle a trip back to the States from his employer.

So while one problem was solved – no one had to sit out – I was back to recruiting a sixth man. Somehow, I remembered a few random conversations I’d had in recent years with a neighbor and golf buddy, Kevin Hartbarger. I sensed Kevin had stored up some trivia along the way – I knew that to be true of music trivia, and had some inkling it might be true for sports as well. I asked, he accepted. So we were back to six.

I read a quote a couple years ago to this effect: whether you are happy in life is a function of the comparison of your expectations and your reality. In other words, if you have low expectations, you are less likely to be disappointed by your reality, and generally more happy. Heading into Sports Trivia 12, I had low expectations. Not – oh my God, Jimm and Jeff are out and we’re going to finish 50th expectations, but I did not think there was any way we could catch Popeye. Sure, we had been second several years running, but we were missing two “starters,” and Popeye had just grown stronger in recent years.

My low expectations set up perfectly for a really enjoyable, low-pressure night. Drink some beer, eat some food, play a little trivia. Maybe try to stay a step ahead of the team named Five Lawyers and Someone You’d Really Like – which featured several friends of mine.

The first two rounds came and went, and to my surprise we were neck-and-neck with Popeye. The vibe at the table was great. Everyone was contributing. The sometimes chaotic chatter which led to educated guesses on the toughest questions was less chaotic than usual. On one occasion, Kevin very calmly corrected me on an answer I’d written down that he (correctly) was firmly convinced I’d gotten wrong. I came up with a buzzer-beating answer as the scorecard was being whisked away when I recalled that the 2001 NL saves leader with the palindromic last name was – of course! – Robb Nen of the Giants. And each of us pulled answers that impressed our teammates. The One True Team was, truly, a team that night. We were ham-and-eggs, peanut-butter-and-jelly, chips-and-salsa, Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance.

To make a too-long story short. We took Popeye down, ending an amazing run that earned that squad my undying respect. How’d we do it? Well, it turns out The One True Team pays attention to obscure sports logos. Most years, the organizers designate a “speed round.” They pass out a packet with pages containing visual clues and you write down answers to written questions about the images. The clues might be old trading cards, or magazine covers, or some other such thing. This year, we were simply asked to identify the teams associated with several sheets of team logos – some still used and relatively recognizable, and some very obscure. College teams, defunct teams, and random sports-related logos of all sorts. And we nailed it. I was able to identify the logos of the Fort Wayne Mad Ants (an NBA G League team) and Wabash College. Kevin knew the Montgomery Biscuits’ logo (minor league baseball). I think Eric pulled the University of San Diego Toreros. I bet every person at the table knew at least one or two logos that others would not have known. Of 52 logos, we got 45 correct. That gave us a little bit of daylight ahead of Popeye, and we held on to win.

To the victors …

At the end of the night, Andolina stepped up to the podium to announce the winners. He starts with fifth place and works backwards – Miss America style. When Popeye Jones’ name flashed on the enormous screens next to the words “Second Place,” a cheer went up through the gym – the streak had ended! No one else likely knew or much cared that it was The One True Team that had dethroned the champions – those who cheered were just happy to have a different name on top. Nobody roots for a dynasty.

Our table, of course, erupted. Low Expectations + First Place = Much Happiness. We each received a nifty official NFL football bearing the Sports Trivia 12 logo, a three-buck medal (that are decidedly not made of metal), and a hat. And that elusive traveling trophy. And – totally unexpectedly – the trophy’s generous cup was chock full of miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. My favorite candy and, since I am the custodian of the trophy, all mine.

The One True Team – 2020
From Left: Kevin Hartbarger, Matt Scalise, Eric Mennel, John Calkins, Paul Veith, Erik Johnson
Drunk Guy in a Tux Creepily Lurking Behind Us: Mike Andolina

A Postscript

The One True Team has now won three times – 2012, 2014, 2020. We have had 14 players over the years, and 11 of them have won championships. Every single player has brought a passion for sports to those cramped tables and wobbly folding chairs. Each of us brought a bank of knowledge to draw from that is a function of many things – age, where we grew up, which teams we followed, the schools we attended, the books we read. We’re not all savants, but we’re all pretty good. And in 2020, shorthanded, we proved something to ourselves – that no streak lasts forever, and that paying attention to obscure logos can pay off.

As I write this, most everyone has spent the last month at home thanks to your run-of-the-mill global pandemic. I can only imagine how much sports trivia the members of Popeye Jones Ugly Bros. are consuming, itching to get back on top. I presently captain a team of eight former champions – for six seats. Depth is good, I guess. I hope a gathering of 600 in a high school gym will be possible next February or March, and that we’ll have a chance to start our own streak. It will be nice to be the hunted, for a change.

I’m not insane. I do have a life. I realize that at most every level, winning a sports trivia contest doesn’t matter. The SGMS event is truly about fellowship and fun and – in recent years – helping out Christ the King. But I won’t make any excuses either; The One True Team will always play to win. After all, as Vince Lombardi said, “If it doesn’t matter who wins or loses, then why do they keep score?”

(And by the way – the horse that finished second to Secretariat in his Triple Crown-capping win at the Belmont in 1973 was Twice A Prince. 31 lengths back. I knew the margin, but I didn’t know the horse.)

-30-

Answers to Trivia Teasers

Q1. #70, Henry Waechter, a defensive lineman, tackled Steve Grogan for a safety in the fourth quarter. He played at Nebraska.

Q2. Stanford (QBs Jim Plunkett, John Elway; POTUS Woodrow Wilson); Miami (Ohio) (QB Ben Roethlisberger; POTUS Benjamin Harrison); Navy (QB Roger Staubach; POTUS Jimmy Carter); Michigan (QB Tom Brady; POTUS Gerald Ford)

Q3. (1) 20; (2) 20; (3) Grant Hill; (4) Aminu Timberlake (from Chicago’s DeLaSalle High School, and no relation to Justin)

trivia answers courtesy of the one true team

Will COVID-19 Change Things Forever?

Nobody knows. That’s the answer. But don’t stop reading.

Dr. Anthony Fauci, rock star public health expert, was interviewed on The Wall Street Journal’s frequently enlightening podcast, The Journal, earlier this week. It’s 24 minutes of Fauci answering questions posed by a Journal reporter, uninterrupted by politicians or captains of industry or anyone else. I think the podcast is well worth your time. Dr. Fauci was asked, among other things, what we can expect over the coming weeks and months as the nation aims to return to “normal.” Dr. Fauci did not pretend to have all the answers – that’s one thing that makes him endearing, I think. He did say that things won’t return to normal suddenly. He said transitioning from our present state to normal is not like a “light switch, on and off.” In his view, it would not be advisable to “jump in with both feet.” None of this is particular alarming, surprising, or ground-breaking. As far as specifics go, Dr. Fauci talked about the possibility that we might see restaurants re-open but with tables spaced out, as one of several examples of how we might get from here to “normal,” gradually.

What Dr. Fauci said that few would dispute is that American life will eventually – albeit gradually – get its mojo back. He pointed to the availability of a vaccine, which he is hopeful (even optimistic) we’ll see in 12-18 months. He thinks a vaccine is the “game-changer” for truly getting back to pre-COVID normal. But Dr. Fauci also said, “I don’t think we’ll ever get back to completely normal.” For example, he suggested that the practice of shaking hands as a common form of greeting may never come all the way back, and that obsessive hand-washing may remain in vogue long after this particular strain of coronavirus stops infecting people. In that respect, I suspect Dr. Fauci was projecting what he hopes will be a lasting impact of COVID-19. Given his chosen profession and what he has seen over the years, he has probably been anti-hand shake and pro-hand wash for a long time.

Even before I listened to that podcast, I have been semi-obsessed thinking about the question of how COVID-19 will change the American way of life in the long term – starting, say, two years down the road, when we’re all back to work, back to attending sporting events, concerts, festivals, and weddings without worrying that we are putting ourselves or others at risk.

In the short term, the impact is plain for all of us to see. In the mid-term (say the next two to eight months), I suppose we’ll see a “gradual” return to normal. I think we’ll see sports come back, but maybe initially in venues that exclude or severely limit the number of fans allowed to congregate. I’m not sure buffet lines come roaring back in the mid-term. I don’t think cruise ships will swell with passengers any time soon. When those of us who play golf are allowed to golf again, I suspect at first the length of conceded putts will expand to avoid forcing golfers to touch the flagstick or retrieve a golf ball from the cup. (I am personally 100% behind generosity on the greens in the name of public health and safety, by the way.)

Pre- or Post-COVID-19, that is a gimme

In the medium-term, people will experiment with all kinds of accommodations to make people feel better about returning to work, and restaurants, and public places generally. And those among us who are skittish may wear masks. I, for one, won’t judge anyone who wears a mask in any setting for a long, long time – maybe forever.

It’s “forever” – the long-term – that interests me most. When it comes to permanently-life-altering events, essentially no one alive today has lived through something quite like this pandemic. In my memory, the last event that had a lasting, noticeable impact on daily life in this country was the coordinated terrorist attack of September 11, 2011. But I’m not sure 9/11’s impacts were even that life-altering. To be sure, traveling through airports is different. The security process is more time-consuming. 3/1/1. Limits on liquids. No lighters. No pocket knives. Take off your shoes (prior to the godsend of TSA Precheck, at least). You can no longer access the gate areas without a ticket. I think all these changes can be traced to 9/11, but are these really life-altering? Essentially, we have all had to learn how to modify how we pack a suitcase unless we want to check a bag, and maybe leave for the airport a little earlier – to be safe. For enhanced safety, not a bad tradeoff.

Beyond that – what else? Office buildings in large cities are certainly more secure – security desks are now common. Enhanced security at high-rise buildings is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. But no security desk or array of armed guards could have prevented what happened at the World Trade Center. Incidentally, the only time I visited that complex was in July 2011, and I found it to have the tightest security of any building I had ever visited. I am sure others – obviously those who lost family or friends, and particularly New Yorkers – could point to other ways in which 9/11 altered everyday life in America and had noticeable cultural impact. But in the end, I’m not sure 9/11 had a tremendous impact on the way Americans go about their daily lives. To be sure, we are all probably a little more anxious when we fly, more aware of our surroundings, and most of us are more tolerant of the government snooping around to prevent the next attack. But mostly, we got back to normal.

The long-term impact of COVID-19 remains to be seen. I am, however, 100% confident in each of the following predictions for the coming months:

  • Politicians at all levels from all parties will take credit for having taken actions that saved lives.
  • Politicians at all levels from all parties will blame politicians from other parties for failing to take actions that would have saved lives.
  • Some people will say that “we” – Americans, as directed by our leaders – overreacted to the COVID-19 pandemic and that social distancing directives and shut-down orders went too far.
  • Some people will say that by practicing social distancing as directed by our leaders, we collectively saved lives. (Incidentally, this article has an interesting discussion of the certain debate between the “we saved lives” and “we overreacted” camps. As the article points out, some people will say that the epidemiological models over-estimated the number of sick and dead as proof that we overreacted. Others will argue that our good, conscientious behavior caused us to achieve better results than the models predicted. It will be kind of aggravating to watch that debate, which will mostly take place between cocksure panelists on night-time cable news channels. My bet: few of them will be experts in medicine, public health, statistical modeling, or any other relevant discipline.
  • We will be smarter and better, next time. Driven by better data than has ever been available concerning a pandemic and tremendous ability to process that data, an explosion of important, intelligent, science-based, peer-reviewed work studying our experience dealing with COVID-19 will be published – making us better prepared to deal with a threat like this in future, as long as the right people pay attention at the right time.

The balance of this post is dedicated to answering a twist on the question that sits at the top of this post:  “How will COVID-19 make our lives different two years from now – on the weekend of the 2022 Masters?”  I pick two years because I am optimistic that vaccination and/or herd immunity will have mostly gotten us “back to normal” by then. Let me start all this by saying this: most Americans are resilient and adventurous sorts. We like our personal liberties and hate being told how to live our lives. Many hate being told to do something demonstrably proven to be beneficial to your personal health and safety. There are many people who still refuse to wear seat belts or motorcycle helmets – actions that clearly, measured broadly, save lives and reduce injuries. So I have little doubt that we’ll get back to normal – because normal was pretty great.

Here’s my take on how COVID-19 might change our lives down the road – admitting these are nothing more than guesses. I encourage you to share your thoughts in the Comments.

  • People who wear masks in public won’t be dismissed as weirdos. In the past, public mask-wearing has not been a super-common thing in the USA. On the five or so times I have traveled to Asia, I’ve seen many masked travelers in airports and subways – likely in part because Asian countries have more experience with virus-borne and transmitted illnesses. Going forward, anyone wearing a mask gets a pass from me – perhaps unless you are approaching a bank teller. Those with compromised immune systems and those themselves suffering from a malady causing them to cough or sneeze who must nonetheless be out and about should probably wear masks. I could even see an industry of fashionable masks developing. We’ll see.
  • Hugs ‘n Kisses? Maybe not so fast. Dr. Fauci doesn’t want anyone shaking hands, so I suspect his head would explode if some random member of the public sees him in an airport in a couple of years and approaches to give him a bear hug in appreciation for his public service. My guess is that handshakes in a business setting come back all the way – except that it will be more common for people to beg off and say, “I’ve had a bit of a cold, so if it’s okay I’m not going to shake your hand.” And I think all of us will be absolutely okay with that. Not a slight. Among bro-friends, the fist bump had been on the rise – I think it continues to gain popularity. But what about the huggers and cheek kissers among us? Will they be shunned? Eventually, I suspect the practice of hugging a close friend or family member comes back – I mean, it feels good if someone thinks enough of you to offer a hug, right? But begging off or pulling back a bit will, I think, become more common and won’t be judged as an affront.
  • “Self-quarantine” will become a thing if you’re sick. There are people who take pride in never missing a day of work. Through thick and thin, coughing, hacking, sneezing, and wheezing – they show up and answer the bell. The Cal Ripken of the Accounting Department. I think this will change. If you’re sick, stay home, ride it out. I think people riding public transportation who cough or sneeze repeatedly will be viewed as having committed a felony. I can imagine angry words being exchanged – heck, can you imagine if someone breaks the church-like silence of a quiet car on a Metra train with a big, hacky, coughing fit? That could lead to fists being thrown. I think most people get that now, and will be quicker to stay home if they are symptomatic. Especially because …
  • The practice of working remotely will increase. Over the last month or so, many of us have been forced to work from home. For those of us in office/desk jobs, this isn’t a big deal. With high-speed internet at home and the proper hardware and software, not a big deal at all. With connectivity tools, face-to-face meetings are possible. Conference calls? No problem, obviously. Access to materials? Most come and go electronically, anyway. I will admit that before this experience, I was a little old school about this. I think there is value – at least in a large law firm – to being physically present and interacting with colleagues. Plus, I have always thought I am more productive in the office than at home. But I have surprised myself – and I save two hours per day otherwise spent commuting or making myself look presentable. I look forward to getting back and seeing my colleagues – but I think I will be a little more open-minded about working remotely in the future. For businesses in which mentoring, interacting with colleagues, etc. is not a really big deal – I suspect what was already a trend toward remote work will pick up steam. Commercial real estate experts, is this a worry? Will we drive a little less? Could this actually be a positive development in reducing pollution?
  • The practice of socializing remotely will increase. My 89-year-old tech-challenged mother who is quarantined in an assisted-living facility learned how to use FaceTime the other day in about five minutes. I have attended several Zoom “happy hours” with friends near and far. I have hosted on-line poker games with the participants engaged in banter during via companion Zoom meetings. Technology has made this all really, really easy. Particularly for folks separated by distance, the group meet-up options are now super-easy. The increased use of these tools will stick. That’s not to say the Zoom meet-up with people who all live within a mile of one another is going to take the place of an actual party – but where great friends and family are spread far and wide, there is no longer a good excuse to not “get together” every so often.
  • We will all have cleaner hands, forever. In the future, I cannot imagine any public establishment not having hand sanitizer available to its guests. And I think more of us will stop and take a squirt of sanitizer. Likewise, we will linger a little longer at the sink – and use soap. In the interest of having cleaner hands, I think we’ll all use cash less – even less than now. And the practice of swiping or inserting a credit card into a machine will likely give way to holding it close to devices that allow contact-less transactions.

I’ll end with one final comment. That regal looking mutt at the top of this post is our family dog, Ellie. COVID-19 changed her life for the better in the short-term. More companionship, more attention, more walks. Long-term impact? I think not. Ellie will eat her two scoops of Purina Pro Plan twice a day, get walked around the block two or three times, and sleep a lot. Her owners’ lives might change modestly. But post-COVID, a dog’s life is will continue to be pretty great – of that I am confident.

Ellie contemplates life after COVID-19

Two of a Kind, Part 2

This is the second of two companion posts.

Even before I started to write this post, I got blowback. Tough crowd, but at least someone is paying attention.

The argument:  “Duncan Keith and Marian Hossa are not role players – they are freaking Hall of Fame talents! You cannot re-define ‘role player’ to suit your own purposes.”  Fair argument (but I kind of can re-define the term, it’s my blog).

Here’s my point in singling out the 2009-2010 Blackhawks: they were exceptional because Duncan Keith and Marian Hossa selflessly played their roles better than anyone else in the game at that time. Sure, hockey jargon is full of names for role players: sniper, creator, two-way center, stand-up defenseman, fourth-line grinder, and enforcer, to name a few. Duncan Keith was really none of those things.  He was a puck-possessing, rush-stopping defenseman. Nor do any of those descriptions do justice to Hossa: let’s call him a dogged, puck-retrieving two-way forward. But before I defend my take on the players, let me talk about the team.

The Blackhawks

Again, Covid-19 provided me an opportunity to re-watch several 2010 playoff games and inspired my decision to feature this team here. Yay Covid-19, I guess. Then I did some research. (Author’s Note: if Hockey Reference or Baseball Reference or Basketball Reference had existed when I was a child, I may never have gone to school. I had playing cards and Sports Illustrated, that’s about it.) The 2009-2010 Blackhawks finished the regular season with 112 points, second in the Western Conference (to San Jose) and third overall (to the league-leading Capitals, who got bounced in Round 1 by the Canadiens).

The Hawks then dispatched the Predators in six (more on that later), the Sharks in four, the Sedin Sisters in six, and the Flyers, of course, in six, to win the franchise’s first Stanley Cup since 1961 – a 49-year wait.

A couple of things stand out when you dig in to Hockey Reference.  First, the balance. Offensively, third out of 30 teams.  Defensively, fifth out of 30.  Six guys who scored at least 20 goals, none of whom scored more than 30.  (Kane 30, Toews 25, Sharp 25, Hossa 24, Brouwer 22, Versteeg 20.) Second, the youth. My guys Hossa (31) and Keith (26) were basically old men on this team. Of the 31 guys who played for the Hawks during the regular season, John Madden was the oldest at 36 and Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews the youngest at 21. But here’s the kicker:  24 of the 31 players were 28 or younger, and 14 were 24 or younger. That’s bonkers, and it’s the answer to the meatheads’ favorite question:  “why in da hell didn’t we keep Ladd, and Byfuglien, and Bolland, and Brouwer?”  (And later, Panarin, Teravainen, and Leddy.) The answer is really painfully simple:  You can’t keep together a group of players who achieve so much at a young age. In the hard-cap NHL, players who achieve success early in their careers become too expensive to keep.  If you have four or five to re-sign, you’re good. But you cannot resign 12 guys. You pick your horses and ride – and the horses the Hawks rode to two more Cups were prrrrrretty, prrrrrretty good nags.

The first game I re-watched recently is one that is on my personal Top 5 All-Time Sporting Events Attended In Person list (no spoilers on the other four, I see a blog post in the future here). Game 5 of Round 1, at the United Center. The Hawks were tied in the series 2-2, and down by a goal to Nashville late in the third period. With the goalie pulled, Hossa draws a five-minute major for boarding behind the Predators net – very uncharacteristic of him to take a bad penalty. Depression sets in. Then Kane miraculously ties it (kind of) shorthanded in the last minute, Hossa does his time in the sin bin into the overtime period, skates out of the box directly to the side of the Preds’ net, collects a wayward/deflected shot and buries one into a near-empty net. Big Hoss slides on his knees at the near boards, the bench empties and piles on top of him, pandemonium ensues.

That win was the springboard to the Cup. People forget how close the Hawks were to a first-round exit. Nashville was good, and being forced to win Games 6 and 7 was not something the Hawks relished. Alas, Kane and Hossa saved the day. The Hawks went on to eliminate the Sharks in four and Sedins in six, and they closed the deal on the road in Game Six in Philadelphia.

OK, so you’re up to speed. But what was so great about this Hawks team – they did win a couple more, right? Well, I suppose part of me is a sucker for the fact that the 2010 team was the first to raise a Stanley Cup banner in nearly 50 years. But I was also struck by the comparisons to the 1996 Bulls in this way: the response to “remember that 72-win Bulls team?” absolutely has the names “Michael” and “Jordan” in the answer. And, especially after their dominant playoff performances, “Toews and Kane” will roll off the tongues of most casual fans when asked about the 2010 Blackhawks. But just as Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman played an enormous part in that Bulls team’s success, it’s hard to imagine the Blackhawks raising the Cup without Big Hoss and Duncs. The ultimate role players. (Ducking.)

 Picture by HockeyBroad/Cheryl Adams

#2 and #81

My singling out Keith and Hossa as ultimate role players should not be taken as some sign of disrespect. They are two of my three favorite Blackhawks of all time, and both should enter the hockey Hall of Fame someday. If your definition of “role player” is the “journeyman, limited minutes, limited skill set,” then there are a gaggle of 2010 Blackhawks you would call role players without catching flak. Names like Madden and Sopel and Eager and Fraser come to mind. But that’s not Keith and Hossa.

The Blackhawks in 2009-2010 – and really throughout the Stanley Cup run – thrived on puck possession. They routinely got out-hit and didn’t much care. (Which made it especially fun when the meathead sitting a few rows down would yell at the top of his lungs for Patrick Kane to “hit someone!!” and would implore Brent Seabrook loudly to “Shooooot!” from the point on the power play notwithstanding the fact that four sets of shin guards separated him from the goal.)

For a team valuing puck possession, it was critical to have guys who were incredibly skilled at (a) moving the puck from the Hawks zone to the offensive zone, and (b) retrieving the puck if the other team had the audacity to possess it. I give you Exhibits A and B, Keith and Hossa. I like to think of hockey players having a radius of impact when they are on the ice – a measure of their ability to impact plays when the puck is within a certain distance. To my eye – and I have no advanced metrics to back this up – Keith and Hossa impacted the game seemingly whenever the puck was anyhere in the same zip code. Harvey Keitel’s character in Pulp Fiction was The Wolf – the guy who cleaned up the messes. I don’t know why it popped into my head, but I think The Wolf is a pretty good comp for Keith and Hossa – they cleaned up messes, and made things right. And got the puck back where it belonged – in the other team’s zone.

Trivia.  In 2009-2010, the Blackhawks had two US-born players who played all 104 games (82 regular season, 22 playoffs). One led the team in regular season goals and the other tied Patrick Sharp for the team lead in playoff goals. Who were the two Americans, and where were they born?

TRIVIA QUESTION BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE ONE TRUE TEAM

Duncan Keith won the Norris Trophy as the league’s top defenseman in 2010 – another nice point for those wanting to ridicule a guy who labels him a “role player.” He was second on the team in scoring with 69 points (14G, 55A). So, yeah, he could play. What Keith did better than anyone else that year, and maybe anyone I have ever seen – is possess the puck. On the defensive end, his insanely active stick was his weapon. He is not a hulking presence like Chara or Pronger. But come within a stick’s distance of Keith on the rush, and the puck was probably being knocked off your stick. And 26-year-old Keith’s speed and skating ability seemingly allowed him to always take away your “time and space” (as Eddie Olczyk would say). Once the puck was on his blade, it was leaving the Hawks zone. He’d skate it, or pass it – whatever it took. And let’s not forget this morsel: in the regular season Keith played 26:36 a night, and in the playoffs a ridiculous 28:11. Imagine how demoralizing it must have been for opposing coaches to look up and see him on the ice so damn much – kind of like when you are coaching youth basketball and the jackass coach of the other team has his star 10-year-old play every second and take 47 shots. Duncan Keith played several roles, but the role he played better than anyone else was Chief of Puck Possession.

Marian Hossa only played 57 games in the regular season, and still managed 51 points (24G, 27A). Not shabby. At times, he was a highlight reel. (If you follow that link, I recommend the “catch and release” clip.) But what I loved most about Marian Hossa – and what the Blackhawks sorely missed most about him when he stepped away – was his work as a back-checking, puck retrieving forward. To call him dogged defensively doesn’t do him justice. I wish I had a reel of highlights like this: (a) Hossa carries the puck at center ice or in the offensive zone in traffic, (b) the puck comes loose and an opponent seizes the puck and starts the other way, and (c) Hossa stops on a dime (no lazy circling around) or makes a tight turn and chases the puck-carrier as if the guy had taken his passport two minutes before Hossa’s honeymoon flight was boarding. I saw this play out literally hundreds of times, but they don’t turn plays like that into highlight reels. There was no one in the game who did this better, and I know because my eyes were glued on Big Hoss on every shift. Sure, Hossa won three Cups, made five All-Star teams, and has a ridiculously long Wikipedia page, but the fact that he never won a Selke Trophy as the league’s best defensive forward is a criminal omission. Again, for the Three Cup Blackhawks puck possession was everything. Marian Hossa did it all – but the role he played best was Chief of Puck Retrieval. If you want to possess something, and you don’t have it, you go get it. That was Marian Hossa.

Argue it. Debate it. Disagree. Whatever. That’s part of being a sports fan. But give me this: the “old men” on the 2009-2010 Blackhawks wearing sweaters #2 and #81 made them champions, because they made sure the Blackhawks had the puck more than the guys on the other side.

 Trivia Answer:  Buffalo’s Patrick Kane led the Hawks with 30 goals in the regular season; Roseau, Minnesota’s Dustin Byfuglien tied Sharp with 11 goals in the playoffs.

trivia answer brought to you by the one true team

Two of a Kind, Part 1

This is the first of two companion posts.

They were two Chicago teams in different sports, separated by 14 years and a turn of a century. They shared a city and an arena. They both won championships – one in the middle of Chicago’s greatest basketball decade, and one at the start of the city’s greatest hockey decade. One did it with the greatest basketball player of all time (apologies to no one) and a precision-fit supporting cast; the other with a roster so young that playoff beards – for many – were just rumors.

Sporadic joy. That is all I ask in return for my investment as a fan. The 1995-1996 Chicago Bulls and 2009-2010 Chicago Blackhawks are unrivaled in delivering me joy. What set those teams apart was something that sets iconic teams apart in all sports: a great player or two complemented by the complete buy-in and acceptance of roles by his or her teammates. Basketball and hockey are all about flow and momentum. Games are fluid and decisions are made on the fly, without much real-time guidance from coaches. In each sport, five players (setting aside the hockey goalie) need to act singularly.  While set plays and individual battles exist in all sports, basketball and hockey lack football’s role-defining play-calling and the hyper-importance of baseball’s pitcher/batter duel.

These two teams were athletic orchestras – one on hardwood and one on ice. They brought me joy and achieved greatness in large part because of brilliant performances by role players. Not just any role players – arguably the greatest role players I have ever seen, role players who also happen to have had Hall of Fame-caliber careers: Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman of the Bulls, and Marian Hossa and Duncan Keith of the Blackhawks.

I know, I know. I hear you already.  “Wait a second! How can you say Pippen and Rodman and Hossa and Keith were role players? That’s crazy.” And, “What about the 1985 Bears and 2016 Cubs and 2005 White Sox? Didn’t they bring you joy?”

Let me answer the second question first. Of course, those teams brought me joy. The 1985 Bears were a supernova; they fielded the best defense I have ever seen and an unrivaled collection of characters. That was a special group, and they did what they had been assembled to do – pummel everyone standing in the way. I don’t begrudge anyone who places the 1985 Bears on a pedestal. But I would feel a lot better about that team had it climbed the mountain at least once more. And I have grown a tad tired of the canonization of all things ’85 Bearsssss, including the head coach. You can try, but I am not sure you can convince me that Mayor Harold Washington would not have led the 1985 Bears to their Super Bowl win — as long as Buddy Ryan was left alone. The defense was that good. I mean, did you watch the playoffs?

As for the baseball teams? Special, obviously. The 2016 Game 7 Cubs’ win will likely never be displaced as the most cathartic, soul-cleansing win by any team I’ll ever follow. And while I am in the minority of Chicago fans who defend being a fan of both baseball teams (“why not?” is my argument), I am not a White Sox diehard and won’t pretend it was important to me as it was to others.

The Bulls

By 1996, the Bulls had already won three titles – during the Michael Jordan-Scottie Pippen-Horace Grant half of the dynasty. You know the story: Jordan retired in 1993 after the tragic murder of his father, dabbled in baseball, and then came back late in the 1994-1995 season wearing a strange new number (45) and a lot of rust. The Bulls bowed to the Magic in the playoffs.

The 1995-1996 season was MJ’s first full season post-(first) retirement. He had apparently shaken off that rust. The Bulls set a since-eclipsed NBA record with 72 wins. They won the NBA title after a 15-3 playoff run that included sweeps of the Heat and Magic. During the regular season, they led the league in scoring, allowed the third fewest points per game, were first in offensive efficiency, and first in defensive efficiency.

Trivia Question: Four Bulls on the 1995-96 playoff roster were born outside the USA. Name them. Answer later.

trivia Question courtesy of the one true team, three-time champion of the st. giles men’s society sports trivia night

MJ was, well, MJ. He essentially picked up where he’d left off in 1993. But what elevated the 1995-96 Bulls to be the best of the six Bulls’ champions of the Nineties was Jordan’s supporting cast. Pippen was, of course, arguably the best wing man ever. He finished the season second on the team in per game scoring (19.4), third in rebounds (6.4), first in assists (5.9), and second in steals (1.7). Thanks to a little pandemic downtime, I recently watched some of the 1996 Bulls’ playoff games. MJ was, well, MJ. A cold-blooded killer. Unstoppable offensively. Relentless defensively. A force, just as I had remembered. You don’t forget Michael Jordan.

What I had forgotten – a little bit – was Scottie Pippen’s grace and greatness. Imagine yourself pouring a few tablespoons of cooking oil into a frying pan. The oil glides across the surface in all directions, eventually covering every square inch of the pan. That was Scottie Pippen on the basketball court. Gliding effortlessly, everywhere. Covering every inch of the court with his impossibly long, loping strides. Defensively, he was always in the other team’s way – either on the ball, or in a passing lane. Offensively, he deferred to Jordan quite a lot – but somehow still made his presence known. Bouncy, spectacular, versatile. On both ends, he seemed to have the length of someone 6-11, and the mobility of someone a foot shorter. 

That Jerry Krause-built team had only three guys average in double figures — Jordan, Pippen, and The Waiter, Toni Kukoc. Steve Kerr came off the bench and was the fifth-leading scorer (8.4). Krause assembled the perfect set of complementary players for Jordan – in addition to Pippen, the team featured a collection of relatively young/relatively unproven guys (Kukoc, Luc Longley, Jason Caffey, Dickey Simpkins), mid-career journeymen keenly aware of their limitations (Kerr, Bill Wennington, Jud Buechler, Randy Brown), guys on the back nine of their careers who gladly fell in line with however the coaching staff and Jordan wanted them deployed (Ron Harper, John “Spider” Salley, James “Buddha” Edwards), and one towel-waving cheerleader (Jack Haley).

Did you notice the guy I did not mention? Dennis Rodman. He really does not fit into any of those categories. Imagine, Dennis Rodman, Non-Conformist. By then, he was not a kid, but also not yet done.  He was Dennis Rodman, rebounding savant. And he had an exceptional basketball IQ.  “You’re saying Rodman was smart?” Uh – yeah. Watch one of those playoff games in 1996. When he joined the Bulls, Rodman essentially stopped shooting – he took on average less than five shots per game in the regular season. That’s an insanely low number, considering he averaged nearly 15 rebounds a game, with 5.6 per game coming on the offensive end. Rodman would often pass up on put-back attempts after gathering a rebound – hurrying the ball back to Jordan or Pippen on the perimeter as if he was allergic to leather. What he did was played the exact role the post-Horace Grant Bulls needed – rebounding machine. His positioning on both ends of the court, awareness of spacing, anticipation of where the ball was going, knack for setting screens – all off-the-charts good. Sure, he could be a goofball and draw a technical foul or ejection occasionally, but when he bought in to what the Bulls were doing and followed Jordan and Pippen’s lead, the Bulls went from being the best team in the league to arguably the best team in history.

So beat me up if you want – tell me Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman were not role players. But hear me out first. A role player, to me, is not simply a John Salley or Jud Buechler – someone who mostly sits on the bench and plays a few minutes a game as a backup, often in garbage time, or as a last resort if someone is injured or in foul trouble. A role player in basketball is anyone who clearly does less than his talents allow him to do, who sacrifices for the sake of the team.  Next to Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen was always going to play second fiddle. Next to Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman was always going to be the non-scorer, counted on to do everything else – and especially to get them the damn ball back when someone missed a shot.

As great as Jordan was, the first several years of his career proved he could not win championships on his own. For the sake of his legacy, he was lucky to have played alongside Pippen and Rodman and the many others who bent to his will and played supporting roles. Jordan was known to be a gambler. In playing with Pippen and Rodman in 1996, he drew pocket aces.

Trivia Answer: Bill Wennington (Canada), Luc Longley (Australia), Toni Kukoc (Croatia) and … get this one … Steve Kerr (Lebanon).  (Kerr’s father, Malcolm, was President at the American University in Beirut. Malcolm Kerr was murdered when Steve Kerr was in college at the University of Arizona.)

trivia answer courtesy of the one true team

This Ain’t No Party, But This Ain’t No War

Unsettled. Anxious. Uncertain. A little bit scared. Disoriented.

That’s a summary of my feelings about the Covid-19 pandemic. But something good – maybe – came out of Covid-19. I cleaned my closet, and my long-threatened blog became a reality because there is no time better to start a blog than a once-a-century global pandemic. I don’t plan to make this a Covid-19 diary chronicling the existential questions I find myself facing every day, like “Should I shower today?” “Did I shower yesterday?” “Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?” “Do I watch Better Call Saul or Homeland tonight?”  “Two episodes or three?” I promise to move this blog to other topics soon, but humor me for now.

For whatever reason, a lyric came into my head the other day as I was thinking about our nation’s engagement with Covid-19. It was part of the soundtrack of my college years: “This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around.” I did know that the lyric came from a Talking Heads song; what I did not know was the name of the song in which those lyrics appeared: “Life During Wartime.”  It starts:

Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons, Packed up and ready to go

Heard of some grave sites, out by the highway, A place where nobody knows

The sound of gunfire, off in the distance, I’m getting used to it now

Lived in a brownstone, lived in a ghetto, I’ve lived all over this town

“Life during wartime,” the talking heads, 1979

Fighting the “Invisible Enemy”

Is this wartime in America? I don’t think so. To be sure, you may have heard politicians on television likening our current situation to war – albeit war against an “invisible enemy.” And politicians are not the only people who have compared pandemic to war – Bill Gates did the same in 2018, when he warned of the need to prepare for a pandemic (you know, the pandemic that no one could have predicted).

At a certain level, I get it. By telling people “we are at war,” leaders might hope to convey the gravity of the present situation. “We are fighting a war” makes for a better soundbite than “We are attempting to mitigate a global health emergency by flattening the curve.”  Strangely, using a familiar word like war might even bring comfort to Americans dealing with an unfamiliar predicament.  Some might think: “We’re in a war? Oh, then we’ll be OK. After all, we have the strong, powerful United States military protecting us.”  And, if I can wear my cynic’s hat for just a second, a politician might even summon war and all the best words about war hoping to benefit from what some have called a “rally ‘round the flag effect.” Politicians live to give the voters candy: and who doesn’t want a strong, powerful ally in a fight? Who doesn’t marvel at the spectacle of a big, gleaming military ship sailing into port promising to provide backup hospital beds – even if gathering to marvel at a ship is exactly the wrong thing to be doing right now?

This Ain’t No War

Like many, I have immersed myself in reading about Covid-19. I am powerless to turn away. Give me my candy:  teach me all about things I knew nothing about until recently, like R-naught, shelter-in-place, asymptomatic transmission, N95 masks, PPE, and social distancing. I devour epidemiological models and articles explaining what it means to “flatten the curve.” Some of what I have read has been helpful – mostly stuff written by experts and those who skillfully explain the work of experts. Other stuff I’ve read … not so much. I don’t pretend to be an expert, but I know a heck of a lot more today about pandemics than I did two months ago. Thankfully, I don’t consider myself an expert on war, either. The wars that have been fought during my lifetime are not wars that had a great impact on American life at home the way, say, World War II did on those living in the 1940s.

But from my seat on the couch, I cringe a little whenever I hear our national engagement with Covid-19 compared to war, or when I hear this time compared to war time. This isn’t wartime, and it might be really dangerous to think so.

The differences are plain.  During wars, humans on one team attack humans on another team for the purpose of securing land or resources or a way of life, I suppose. The end goal of a war is submission of one team to the other – surrender.  Wars are fought with bombs, battleships, planes, drones, guns, and tanks – often on some godforsaken far-off battle field in a place we would never think to visit. They typically end with agreements to stop the bloodshed and divide the spoils. During pandemics, viruses attack humans on all teams. While we all can easily visualize enemy soldiers trying to kill our soldiers, it’s not so easy to visualize a virus – or to even understand what a virus is. Try this explanation. Fascinating. What jumps out at me are the numbers. I am a sucker for numbers.

For starters, viruses are easily the most abundant life form on Earth, if you accept the proposition that they’re alive. Try multiplying a billion by a billion, then multiply that by ten trillion, and that (10 to the 31st power) is the mind-numbing estimate of how many individual viral particles are estimated to populate the planet.

see link immediately above

And viruses are described as “very efficient. Viruses travel light, packing only the baggage they absolutely need to hack into a cell, commandeer its molecular machinery, multiply and make an escape.” In short, the “enemy” in a pandemic is way different than an enemy in a war, and viruses don’t much care what team you are on.

During wartime, it’s good to be “strong” and “powerful” and have more planes and boats and guns and stuff to wage an attack on the other team.  Good luck with your planes and boats and guns in dealing with a highly contagious virus. During pandemics, the machinery of war is pretty much useless. Sure, military resources can play a role – the aforementioned hospital ships and the Army Corps of Engineers’ assistance in building temporary hospitals are examples. But for the most part, the weapons of war stand idle when the enemy is a virus.

During wartime, you usually need to confront your enemy to win. We are largely past hand-to-hand combat and it seems much modern warfare aims to keep the warriors off the battlefield. But eventually, to win a war there must be some physical human-to-human confrontation. Beating the coronavirus, as a nation, involves literally the opposite of confrontation. During a pandemic like this one, the only surefire way to defeat the enemy is to take all measure to avoid confronting it. Sure, we might find some pharmaceutical solution – a way to “take the fight to the virus” with medicine. That might help the infected, but the national goal here is to minimize infection.

When history is written about wars, the heroes tend to be the commanders and generals and soldiers – the warriors. That’s not to minimize other contributors during wartime, including the code breakers and medics and mechanics and countless others. But – with a few notable exceptions – the movies are made about the fighters. During a pandemic, the heroes are the caregivers (and those who allow them to do their jobs). The doctors and nurses and paramedics and administrators and medical technicians and lab technicians and janitors … the many, many people who come into direct contact with the sick are the heroes during a pandemic.

During wartime, many of us – to be honest – don’t have much of a direct role to play. Sure, for the general civilian population a wartime effort might involve supporting the troops from afar in many ways – by working for industries at home that provide direct support, buying war bonds, paying taxes, etc. But during a pandemic, every single citizen has a direct role to play – avoid getting and, especially, avoid spreading the virus. This is why social distancing is being encouraged or, in most places, mandated. This is why many of us are working remotely and spending most of our waking hours in sweatpants. Sitting in the same house or apartment, day after day, week after week – it’s not great. But keeping to yourself or your family unit is a 100% surefire way to “beat” the virus – if everyone does it. The old adage of a chain being only as strong as its weakest link applies – and that’s why we get so infuriated at Spring Break revelers and elected officials demonstrate stunning ignorance of the basics. They are weak links.

The Wartime Comparison Is Dangerous

Last Fall, my wife and I stood on the beaches of Normandy where young American men were dropped off into a Nazi shooting gallery.  We stood in the very same concrete bunkers where the triggers were squeezed. During actual wartime, young Americans joined the military in service to their country, got trained up, were sent overseas, loaded on to landing boats, and led to violent deaths on a beach. During the same trip, we visited the American cemetery and its meticulous, staggering sea of white crosses marking 9,388 grave sites over 172 acres.  We also visited small towns and the surrounding countryside where thousands of other young Americans jumped out of airplanes into enemy-occupied France to play their role in winning the war.

Having that experience, it seems incongruous to compare what I am doing – working from home, watching Netflix a lot, eating Klondike bars, and practicing social distancing – with what Americans have done in serving their countries and risking their lives during actual wartime.

But the real danger does not lie in diminishing what the soldiers have done or in pretending like we are doing something heroic. The danger in the wartime analogy is something I alluded to earlier. For most Americans, winning a war is largely the job of others. We are happy to go on with our lives and allow others to be heroes. We will stand and cheer them when they are saluted during sporting events, we’ll vote for politicians who promise to make it a priority to keep our military strong (spoiler alert, every politician makes this promise), and we’ll generally maintain respect for the military as an institution. That’s a small price to pay for the people and the machines that win wars.

Overcoming a pandemic – I use that word because I’m not sure a virus can even be defeated, exactly – is not the job of others. A pandemic does not end until the virus runs its course and stops infecting people. We “win” by reversing exponential growth of the number of infected. Most viruses aren’t a super big deal – they aren’t infectious enough to shut down large swaths of the economy for the sake of saving lives. But this virus is a big deal. I am impressed that most of us – at least in my circles – seem to be taking this really seriously. But I fear what happens when April turns to May, and the weather improves. The pressure to re-start the economy will ramp up steadily. Cabin fever will drive people to leave their homes, to take risks – all of us. Those who lead us – both in the public and private sector – have difficult decisions to make.

Let me wrap up with my old friend: numbers. The focus of the reporting of most models has been on the question of how many Americans will die under various scenarios? The models are all over the place. The “open up the economy” set like some; the “shut it down” folks favor others. The thing about models is that they are, well … models. Predictions based on assumptions; educated guesses, at best. One thing I know is this – our ability to make valid assumptions right now is dubious, at best. We are in uncharted waters. Thankfully, pandemics don’t happen a lot. But the one set of numbers that the federal task force referenced earlier this week in extending the stay-at-home recommendation projected deaths in the range of 100,000 to 240,000. Again, I have no idea – and they have no idea – if 100,000 Americans are going to die after contracting Covid-19. But that’s far from the ugliest estimate, and that’s still a Rose Bowl full of people. And among those who die – among those who already have died – are people who had a lot of life yet to live.

If we get through Covid-19 and only 40,000 or 50,000 or 60,000 die, should be pat ourselves on the back, collectively? Should politicians take a bow?  I think not.  But I know this for sure: the one and only surefire way to make sure that you don’t contribute to that number is to behave as if you have the virus – even if you don’t – and make it your mission not to infect anyone else. You don’t need to be a warrior to do that, you just need to be smart and respectful of others.

If it motivates you to be a good citizen, go ahead and consider this wartime. Wartime with Netflix and Zoom meetings, if you will.  We can agree, at least, with the Talking Heads in this respect: it’s no time for fooling around.

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