What LeBron James and my college application process have in common

I applied early decision to Stanford my senior year in high school. No other school matched it's unique blend of academics, athletics, warm weather, and proximity to Hawaii. It was my holy grail of higher education.

I had initially dismissed applying because my GPA was solid, but not immaculate. I secured a recommendation from a trustee, scored well on the SAT and SAT 2s, and -- the trump card -- I had a positive meeting with the Cardinal Crew Coach, who was impressed with my US Junior National Team kayaking background, and agreed to talk to the Admissions department on my behalf. By the time the letter arrived from Stanford a month later, I was convinced it would announce my acceptance.

It did not.

I calmly expressed my frustrations by punching a hole in my bedroom wall and went into a two month depressive funk, convinced my life was officially ruined.

It was not.

I iced my knuckles, swallowed my pride, and put the stunning rebuke behind me. I sent out applications to a number of schools, got accepted to a few, and eventually selected Pomona College.

Pomona was the polar opposite of Stanford. Stanford had over 18,000 students. Pomona had 1,500. Stanford played in the Pac-10. Pomona played in the SCIAC (I still don't know what that stands for and, frankly, don't think anyone does). Stanford was located in the heart of Silicon Valley. Pomona was located in the heart of the Inland Empire. In fact, Pomona was completely different than the type of school I envisioned when I started the college search.

It was also the perfect school for me.

I needed a school where I could make mistakes and still wind up on my feet. A school that helped me figure out who I was and what I wanted to do. I would have been lost in the shuffle at Stanford. Drowning in the deep end of the pool. Pomona's small size and tight knit student body provided the ideal setting for me to develop emotionally and intellectually. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change a thing, rejection and all. Suck it, Stanford. (As you can see, I'm still very mature about the ordeal.)

Now, twelve years later, my favorite basketball team, the Chicago Bulls, is on the precipice of a similar life altering decision. They spent the last three years dismantling a failed playoff contender, cutting ties with productive players in preparation for the summer of 2010 and the unprecedented free agent class. Now, it's senior year. Time for the Bulls to submit their applications, and, much like me back in High School, the Bulls have a clear favorite.

The Bulls are applying early decision to LeBron James University, the Stanford of the NBA. No other player can match his unique blend of athleticism, size, speed, strength, scoring, shooting, passing, rebounding, and defense. He is the holy grail of professional basketball.

Two months ago, I never considered LeBron a possibility for Chicago. All sources confirmed that he wanted to stay in Cleveland, his hometown. But that was before the playoffs. Before his unceremonious second round exit, the meeting with the Stanford Crew Coach of LeBron's decision making process, if you will.

Then rumors started swirling. Sources close to LeBron said he would consider leaving. Now, it's a different story every day. On Monday, the New York Times quoted an Eastern Conference General Manager saying that LeBron James to the Bulls was a done deal. On Tuesday, Stephen A. Smith reported that LeBron would join Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh in Miami. Today, the Cleveland Plain Dealer announced that the Cavaliers still have the edge to sign LeBron. (Plain Dealer? Really? If your primary newspaper is the Plain Dealer I think it's safe to say you're not a major metropolitan area. Thanks for playing, Cleveland.)

The only thing anyone can confirm is that no one has any idea where LeBron is going, possibly including LeBron himself.

But here's what I do know: The Chicago Bulls offer LeBron the best chance to win, both now and in the future. They have the necessary cap space to sign him and another premiere free agent to maximum deals (NBA regulations set the maximum dollar amount and contract length to which a player can sign). They have a budding superstar in Derek Rose, a top-5 rebounder and defensive center in Joakim Noah, an underrated swingman in Luol Deng, and a great hustle player and rebounder in Taj Gibson. No other NBA franchise can offer LeBron James the same combination of cap space and talent. If LeBron wants to win, the choice is clear.

Unfortunately, that leaves me in the same unsettling position I found myself in twelve years ago: I have utterly unrealistic expectations about a complete uncertainty. In 1999, Stanford's admission rate was approximately 12%. I'm only kidding myself if I think LeBron's chances of signing in Chicago are any higher. Yet, I am both confident and excited that LeBron James will join the Chicago Bulls. Anything less will be a complete letdown.

Two months ago, I would have been ecstatic with Chris Bosh or Joe Johnson. Even Carlos Boozer in a Bulls uniform would have given me a momentary erection (look, it's been a long time since we had a low post scorer and, no, that is not a euphemism). Now, it's LeBron or bust.

But what does bust mean? And is it really the worse option in the long run?

Without question, LeBron James gives the Bulls the best chance to win a championship. But he's not really our basketball player. He belongs to Cleveland. He grew up in Cleveland. He was drafted by Cleveland. He's played his entire career in Cleveland. If he became a Bull, we'd be leasing him from the state of Ohio. It might be a lease with an eventual option to buy, but it's not a guarantee. He may never truly belong to Chicago.

Michael Jordan played his entire career for the Chicago Bulls. (The years with Wizards never happened. You got that? NEVER HAPPENED.) As Bulls fans, we watched him grow and develop into the greatest of all time. We watched him learn. We watched him work. We watched him struggle. We watched him lose to the Pistons in the playoffs again and again and again. Finally, we watched him dismantle the Pistons and the Lakers to assume what we always knew was his rightful place atop the NBA.

Would that first title and the subsequent decade long run of dominance mean as much to me if Michael Jordan was drafted by the Trail Blazers instead of Sam Bowie and spent the first six years of his career in Portland before signing a free agent contract to play with the Bulls in the summer of 1990?

I honestly don't know.

Put a different way, if LeBron decides to join the Bulls and leads the team to it's first post-Jordan Championship, will it be as satisfying as the first six?

Again, I honestly don't know.

Maybe, in the long run, it would be better, from a fan's perspective, to sign a lower tier free agent like David Lee and let Derrick Rose continue to develop into a superstar and team leader. They wouldn't win a championship right away, and they might never win one, but if they did, it'd be because Derrick Rose developed into a transcendent superstar and we'd get to experience the joy of watching that championship grow and develop. The destination made that much sweeter because of the journey.

Right now, I don't believe that. I want LeBron and I want him badly. I want the opportunity to watch the best player in the world, once again, play for the Chicago Bulls.

But twelve years ago, I thought I wanted to go to Stanford.

So, in one week, when LeBron announces he is staying in Cleveland, I'll think of twelve years ago and hope the Bulls find their Pomona. I'll also try not to punch a hole in my wall. Because that really hurts.

Everything you never wanted to know about the NBA

This week, I sat down with JBorhood regular, Matt Kolsky, the new PR Director and TV color commentator for the Bakersfield Jam, the NBA D-League team you've undoubtably read about on Deadspin.com(Read more here). We discussed the NBA Trade Deadline, the outlook for the 2010 free agent class, and whether anyone can derail the impending Lakers-Cavs NBA Finals.

So sit back, relax, and crack open a frosty horchata...

JBorhood Podcast - 2/26/2010

The Annual Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza 2010

When I was growing up, my life revolved around Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. (To be fair, I was only ten when the Bulls won their first title, so beer, breasts, and XBox Live hadn’t entered the picture yet.) I only wore Michael Jordan shoes; I let my tongue hang out when I played basketball; I memorized all the words to the “Be Like Mike” song; I literally thought I was Michael Jordan’s younger, whiter, clumsier, less athletically gifted, little brother from another mother. Basically, Michael Jordan without the height, strength, jump shot, vertical leap, lock down defensive ability or any discernible talent whatsoever. But if the NBA awarded points for recklessly traveling while flailing your limbs and haphazardly throwing your body into other players like a blind chicken with octopus arms (aside from the 2006 NBA Finals, of course), I’d be putting the finishing touches on my Hall-of-Fame career right now.

As the Bulls laid waste to the league in the 90’s – rattling off 6 straight titles (the two non-Jordan years never happened, just like MJ’s supposed comeback with the Wizards never happened) and winning an NBA record 72 games in a season – and Michael cemented his legacy as the most gifted player ever, I lived vicariously through the Bulls and enjoyed the finest period in my history as a sports fan. I watched the greatest player ever lead the greatest team ever and dominate the league so thoroughly that, by the end, even his early detractors could no longer deny their respect for him. On a nightly basis, no matter what you were doing, if Michael Jordan was playing, you canceled your plans. You never knew when he was going to do something you’d never seen before and might never see again.

Jordan didn’t make baskets.

Jordan made history.

I frequently curse my father for bestowing his hopeless love of Chicago sports on me, but truthfully, no amount of heartbreak can diminish the thrill of a decade’s worth of memories, cheering on the greatest player who ever lived. A lifetime of Eddy Currys, Rex Grossmans, Neifi Perezs, Cade McNowns, Dalibor Bagarics, Corey Pattersons, and, dare I say it, Voldermorts (a.k.a Steve “He who shall not be named” Bartman) are worth the pleasure of having watched MJ transcend greatness.

Now, history is repeating itself, and no one is talking about it.

So, lest you take it for granted, I implore you to watch every minute of tomorrow's Super Bowl and savor every second Peyton Manning has the football, because you might never see someone that good, that talented, and that driven take the field ever again. He is reinventing the position of Quarterback and making history with every dropback, every audible, and every touchdown. And whether you eat, sleep, and breathe football or the only football game you watch every year is the Super Bowl (and only for the commercials), you need to watch tomorrow's game and appreciate the display of football at its highest level.

The Colts might not win, in fact, I think the game will be a lot closer than most people are saying, but I guarantee you that Peyton Manning will put on a show for the ages. And maybe that's the crux of the issue. Football is a team sport in the truest sense. One person, no matter how special, does not make a great team. Peyton Manning doesn't play defense; he doesn't catch the football; he can't block for himself. He needs 21 other teammates on offense and defense (and that's discounting special teams and substitutes, aspects of the game the JBorhood often finds undervalued) playing at an extremely high level to win tomorrow's game. On the flip side, Michael Jordan played both ends of the court and only relied on four other teammates at a time to win. Even in baseball, one or two pitchers can single-handedly win a World Series (*cough* *cough* 2001 Diamondbacks *cough* *cough*). But in football, a quarterback can only do so much, which explains why Manning has avoided the level of attention his game deserves.

You know he's incredible. You know he's got a laser rocket arm. You know he's one of the best Quarterback's playing right now.

But you might not know that he's the greatest Quarterback to ever play the game, and I think that's a shame.

So, rather than getting up to use the bathroom during the game like you usually do to avoid missing the Super Bowl commercials, wait until the Saints have the ball or, better yet, pee in an empty beer bottle or plastic beer bottle lying around (Your friends will understand. It's Peyton Manning.). But, whatever you do, don't miss a second of Peyton Manning.

Football doesn't get any better.

In 2006, it was The Ex-Girlfriends Bowl.
In 2007, it was The "It's about more then just the Quarterback" Bowl.
In 2008, it was The Destiny Bowl.
In 2009, it was The "And Pornography Will Save Us All" Bowl.

This year, I'm proud to present the "It's actually just about the Quarterback" Bowl.

Game Breakdown:

I'll save you a long winded breakdown, because I don't think this game needs one.

Both teams feature explosive offenses and fast, undersized defenses. The Saints rely on creativity and mis-direction and the Colts rely on execution and, well, Peyton Manning. The key to slowing down (because, really, you can't stop either one) both teams is to get pressure on the Quarterback. If you only watch one thing on Sunday, watch the offensive lines. As long as they can prevent defenders from running unbated to their Quarterback, their offenses will shine. If either team's line struggles, their team will struggle too.

But I don't think either line will struggle. I think we'll see an entertaining, back and forth game where the team with the ball at the end will win.

But in an even game, I think the advantage goes to the best player. Not just the best player in the game, or the best player this season, but maybe the best player ever.

I think this game will be won by Peyton Manning and we'll look back and remember it as the moment he became the greatest to ever play the game.

(Just remember who told you.)

[Author's Note: Take heart, Saints fans. I've incorrectly predicted the outcome of the Super Bowl for four straight years, so you can probably start celebrating now.]

Simply Great

Greatness is not elusive. It requires no searching or work to find. When you discover greatness, you know it instantly. It may take time to comprehend the extent of the greatness, but you never doubt that it exists.

Like oral sex.

Oral sex is undoubtedly great.

Anyone lucky enough to find themselves on the receiving end of its glorious wonder does not need a moment to weigh its relative merits. They’re too busy moaning in pleasure, giving praises to their deity of choice, and thinking about how much they’d pay for a lightly toasted ham and turkey with swiss (Really? Only me?). From the moment it starts, to the moment it reaches its final, toe-curling crescendo, the experience is undeniably great.

And that’s the great thing about greatness. It’s simple. If you have to ask whether something is great, it’s not.

Yet, even in the face of this indisputable simplicity, people continue to hold out hope that non-great things will somehow magically improve, evolve, and become great. Like the woman who tells her friends that her ex-con boyfriend has a really great heart and once he gets a haircut, curbs his alcohol abuse, gets a job that doesn’t involve asking whether people want to super size their extra value meal, stops robbing armored cars to pay for his heroin addiction, and quits killing hobos and burying them in the backyard, he’ll make a really great daddy.

But I’m not one to point fingers. I’m the guy that talked himself into believing that Rex Grossman would eventually be a quality NFL starter. (In Grossman’s case, I believe “quality” could be defined as throwing the ball to his teammates more than the opposing defense. *sigh*)

Sadly, us sports fans do this all the time. We so desperately want our favorite players to be great that we ignore all signs to the contrary.

“If Tavaris Jackson would stop peeing his pants at the first hint of pressure, skipping the ball off the turf before it gets to the receiver, and completed more than one out of every ten passes, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Mark Prior could only stay healthy long enough to pitch six innings before complaining of nagging pains in his vaginal wall, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Corey Patterson would learn that no one’s going to take away his dinner if he doesn’t swing at the first pitch, struck out less than a fraternity guy at Lilith Fair, and laid off the neck high fastball, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Tyler Graunke could only study as many lines in his playbook as he snorted off his coffee table, HE COULD BE GREAT!” (That’s right. I went there. Sorry, Tyler. If you “blow” your opportunity to capitalize on the media attention generated by Colt Brennan and make it to the NFL because you were too busy doing coke, you’re gonna get called out by the JBorhood. On that note, I have to pass along my favorite Tyler Graunke story. When Tyler was backing up Colt in 2007, he hit on my buddies girlfriend, M&M, at a bar one night.

Tyler: Hi, I’m Tyler Graunke.

M&M: Who?

Tyler: You know, the Quarterback for the University of Hawaii.

M&M: Isn’t that Colt Brennan?

Tyler: Well…uh…I play too.

M&M: How nice for you.

(M&M walks away)

Let’s just say, after I heard that story, I never expected much from the Graunke era.)

Sadly, this misplaced optimism almost never pays off. Fans keep waiting for their maddeningly gifted, yet tragically flawed idol to take the next step, but it rarely happens. Occasionally, a Brett Favre, a David Ortiz, or a Chauncey Billups will flip the switch and make the leap to greatness, but those players are few and far between. Generally, the great ones are great from day one.

Which is why I’m so excited about Derrick Rose: Because Derrick Rose is great.

From his unassuming 11 point, 9 assist debut to his 36 point, 11 assist, 4 rebound explosion in Game 1 of the Bulls/Celtics series, Derrick Rose has consistently exhibited greatness. That’s not to say he hasn’t struggled – because he has – simply, that in every game, good or bad, you know you’re watching something special. Whether it’s his lightning quick first step, uncanny court vision, or the way he drives the lane, absorbs a hard hit in mid air, and still finishes strong, his uncanny blend of hustle, basketball I.Q., and freakish athleticism are on display at all times.

As a Bulls fan, I haven’t been this excited about a player since, well, since you-know-who. And I’ve been excited about A LOT of players, because the Bulls have had A LOT of high draft picks.

I convinced myself that Elton Brand was the next great power forward (when really, he was like a vanilla ice cream cone: tasty and satisfying, yet wholly underwhelming.)

I convinced myself that Jamal Crawford would be a human highlight reel (when really, his defense made him a human lay-up drill.)

I convinced myself that Eddy Curry would score at will from the low post (when really, he couldn’t even score in the low post with his male chauffeur.)

I convinced myself that Jay Williams would make a historical impact on the NBA (when really, the only thing he made a historical impact on was a utility pole. Ooooohhh…Too soon?).

But, every time I convinced myself that the next player in the long line of disappointing draft picks would be great, I had a nagging sense of doubt. I talked myself into it, but I didn’t truly believe.

Until now.

Now, I’m all in. No doubt about it. 100%.

Derrick Rose is great. The only question left is how great.

I’d stop and think about it, but I’m too busy moaning in pleasure, praying to my deity of choice, and, of course, thinking about how much I’d pay for a lightly toasted ham and turkey with swiss.

[Author's Note: In a failing of epic proportions, I wrote a tribute article to my favorite basketball player (Derrick Rose) and misspelled his name (Derek Rose). Needless to say, I have since corrected the error (and reexamined my practice of publishing articles at 1 AM). Kudos to JBor Kolsky for setting me straight.

And here I thought losing to my wife in the JBorhood March Madness Extravaganza would be my most embarrassing April mishap.]

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Playoff Preview

Sadly, I’ve been so busy with a number of outside projects that most of the opening round series will have played three games by the time I post my predictions. On the plus side, I might actually get a few predictions right this year.

First Round

Eastern Conference

Cleveland Lebrons over Detroit Pistons

Ever since MJ retired in 98 (That’s right. 98. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about Washington. That never happened. You hear me? NEVER. HAPPENED.), basketball pundits have been dying to anoint players “the-next-Michael-Jordan”. Thus far, Kobe Bryant has come the closest, but even he hasn’t had the ability to single-handedly strap a team on his back and win a championship like Jordan did in 98 when Pippen was hobbled by a sore back, Rodman was one line of coke away from stripping naked at halftime in the playoffs and pissing all over the court, Kukoc had gained approximately 75 pounds from gorging himself on Big Macs after leaving Croatia, and the Bulls starting Center was Luc “a poor man’s Bill Wennington” Longley. This year, LeBron has a chance to step out from under the shadow of MJ, strap a scrappy, but largely untalented Cleveland team to his freakishly large back and put his own stamp on the league. First stop, Detroit. Next, the world.

LeBrons in 4

Heat over Hawks

I have to be honest: I can only name four players in this entire series: Dwanye Wade, Michael Beasley, Josh Smith, and Al Horford. When in doubt, might as well hitch my wagon to the superstar.

Heat in 6

Magic over Sixers

The Magic's best player is Dwight Howard and the Sixers best player is Andre Igoudala. If your best player’s name is Igoudala, you have problems.

Magic in 7

Celtics over Bulls

Before this series started, I would have said Celtics in 4 or 5. Now, I’m not so sure. Without KG, the Celtics are vulnerable and the Bulls are young enough and dumb enough to think they have a chance. I think the Bulls put up a valiant effort and the series goes 7 games, but I just don’t see the Bulls winning Game 7 in the Boston Garden.

Celtics in 7

Western Conference

Lakers over Jazz

The most amazing development in Kobe’s game as he’s gotten older is deference. He’s finally learned to trust his teammates (frankly, I’m not sure I could blame him for not trusting his teammates before when the team’s Point Guard was named Smush, but I digress…), and the Lakers have taken their game to another level. Pau Gasol is a perfect big man for Phil Jackson’s triangle offense and when they stay focused the Lakers look unstoppable.

I’ll go out on a limb and say the Jazz win one, maybe Game 3, on a Deron Williams buzzer beater. (Before you get impressed, check the posting date of this article.)

Lakers in 5

Rockets over Trail Blazers

Remember how I said that you know greatness when you see it? Well… I hate to break this to Blazers fans, but Greg Oden isn’t great. He’s a decent rebounder and an average defender who moves awkwardly and can’t stay out of foul trouble. Meanwhile, Kevin Durant is on his way to becoming the league's most dominant scorer. Sorry Portland, but Oden is the second coming of Sam Bowie.

Maybe it’s because I’m still bitter that the Bulls drafted Tyrus Thomas over Brandon Roy, but the Trailblazers do not excite me.

Rockets in 6

Dallas over San Antonio

On the subject of bad news, I hate to break this to Spurs fans, but your run as an elite NBA franchise is over. After playing over 1000 games and solidifying himself as possibly the best power forward of all-time, wear and tear have finally caught up to Tim Duncan. If Manu and Parker were healthy, the Spurs might have battled their way to one last title this year, but after Manu went down, the Spurs decade long run atop the NBA finally came to an end.

At least Spurs fans have four championship blankets in which to cry themselves to sleep.

Dallas in 6

Denver over New Orleans

Chris Paul is incredible (dare I say, great), but he’s a one man show. Plus, the Hornets quit on coach Byron Scott about a year ago.

Denver in 5

I'll post my second round predictions next week, maybe, if we're lucky, before three games have passed in each series.