Right Down Peachtree

Hey all, sorry for the couple days' absence from these parts. Had a big deadline for the Braves book, so I've been living in 1995 for the last few days. I sure wish that O.J. trial would just wrap up and find him guilty like we all know they're gonna do anyway.

Anyway, back in 2008, the Hawks wrapped up their outstanding playoff run with a butt-whipping at the hands of the Celtics, and general manager Billy Knight gave the city a gift by deciding not to come back to the team when his contract runs out June 30. I've never met Billy Knight -- seen  him a few times in the hallways at Philips, but never had the chance to talk to him -- but I think that the evidence shows that he simply didn't get the job done in Atlanta. The Hawks were one fortunate bounce from missing the playoffs yet again; if the Hawks hadn't gotten the #3 pick that became Al Horford, they would have forfeited the pick to Phoenix as a result of the Joe Johnson deal. And except for Horford, Knight's drafting record was abysmal.

This being the Hawks, though, they're gonna screw it up. Word is that they're considering the 76ers' Billy King, one of the few GMs who comes with less cachet than Knight. And other word is that this means Coach Mike Woodson's job is safe for another year. This, in a year when two of the last four coaches of the year are available. Why, that's almost as stupid as drafting another 6' 7" swingman when Chris Paul and Deron Williams are still available!

My article on the birth of the Atlanta Dream is in the current issue of the mag; they'd probably prefer you pick it up in stores, but you can read the piece by clicking here. (Click on a couple ads here and there, too, to make everybody feel better.) It was a bit of a strange piece to write, because I had to approach the subject not from a sports perspective, but a sociological one. (I also had to ditch the wiseassery; that stuff doesn't play nearly as well in the "serious" section of the magazine. See how lucky you are to get the primo stuff here?)

Anyway, the WNBA is a tough sell in any market, and especially so here in Atlanta. So the founding braintrust of the Dream has tried a different approach:

Watch an NBA game, or any professional sport, long enough and you may start to wonder what the point is, why we reflexively lavish civic praise on largely indifferent athletes, why we’re thrilled when they toss a sweaty postgame jersey into the crowd or spend an hour on a hospital tour for the cameras. What if someone turned the typical city-team relationship on its head? What if, instead of a basketball team serving as a community inspiration, you put together a team of community leaders who just happened to play basketball?

The first games begin later this month, and hopefully there'll be enough success to justify the years-long effort that went into this.

What happened to our lovely Braves starting rotation? We're here on the first day of May, and the rotation that had everybody stoked -- hell, one idiot even said we'd have three fifteen-game winners -- is in complete tatters. And since I finally got around to watching the Cloverfield DVD last night, I noticed some similarities between our pitchers and the poor little folks that face down the monster. (Spoiler alert: if you haven't seen Cloverfield, read no further.)

The guy on the bridge that gets stomped into the river three minutes into the siege: Mike Hampton. Hampton didn't even make it into the season before falling apart, and that kid is probably ready to kill his agent after getting killed in the film's first reel.

The chick that gets bitten and then explodes: John Smoltz. She soldiered on as best she could, but finally blew to bits. Smoltz: ditto.

The guy who goes back into the monster zone to rescue his girl: Tom Glavine. He could've re-signed with the Mets, but he came back here thinking he could rescue the Braves. Oooops.

The girl who gets rescued, but eventually gets blown up by the military as collateral damage: Tim Hudson. He was doing so well, and then got caught up in all this horror. Poor bastard.

The girl who gets away in the helicopter (we hope): Jair Jurrjens. He might be the only one to survive this whole mess.

The guy watching it all unfold before him until he gets eaten by that jackass beast in New York: Us.

A few quick-hit bits this Wednesday afternoon:

• Will Smoltz head back to the bullpen? I dunno, but damn, the promise of this season has crumpled in a hurry, hasn't it? [AJC]

• I know, I know, it's sacrilege to talk about this kind of stuff right now, but Avery Johnson is suddenly available, and I can think of one team that really could use a new, more inspiring coach ... [ESPN]

• Some must-read stuff on the split between sports blogs and mainstream media. Will Leitch of Deadspin got ambushed last night on HBO, and the way he was bludgeoned by Bob Costas and Buzz Bissinger created a huge divide where there didn't need to be one. [Deadspin, video on Awful Announcing]

More later. Go Hawks!

 

The Hawks played their finest game in a decade last night, and all of a sudden, the mighty Celtics are -- well, not on the ropes, certainly, but not exactly mouthing off too much. And you know what? I picked this two weeks ago, folks:

The longer the series goes, the more the odds work in Atlanta's favor. Once this series hits 2-2, we need to get the mainstream media to start running those "choke" stories--none of the Big Three have ever reached a Finals; KG, Pierce, and Jesus Shuttlesworth can't win the big one--and get all up in their heads. Hey, if Atlanta can reach the playoffs, anything is possible.

So allow me to start the pile-on here: the Boston Three Party is gonna chooooooke! Come on, who's with me? First the Patriots, now the Celtics, next the Red Sox! We're gonna end this Boston hegemony once and for all!

Okay, I can't find any verification of this anywhere, but it's such a good story I'm going to run with it anyway and throw a big RUMOR tag over the whole thing. I was flipping through the stations this morning and heard Rude and Perry on 680 The Fan discussing a story about how the Atlanta Hawks prevented Boston fans from infecting Philips Arena with their self-important, entitled whining. According to rumor, the Hawks told Celtics fans calling for blocks of tickets that there weren't any seats left, even though there were seats aplenty at the time. (The game did eventually sell out, thank heaven.)

If this is true, I say bravo! Good job, Hawks. This kind of gamesmanship is sorely missing from Atlanta. It's like seating the student section right behind the opponent's bench, which most colleges used to do until the students morphed into raving, can-tossing psychopaths.

I've made no secret of the fact that I'm down on Atlanta fans, who seem to go out of their way to embarrass the city with their indolence and paper-thin loyalties. But this is a good story, and you know what? I'm going to go ahead and say it's true. Nice job, Hawks!

A couple weeks ago, NBC Sports rounded up a bunch of bloggers -- it was a pale, pasty bunch, believe you me -- and had us participate in a mock NFL draft based on the teams we follow. With a variety of options out there, I went with QB Matt Ryan. Here's the lede:

With this pick, it's as much about starting a new chapter -- or a new freakin' book -- as it is filling a need. Sure, the Falcons D could use a Glenn Dorsey or Chris Long, but Ryan will give Atlanta something at the QB position that it hasn't had in quite some time: hope.

And it goes from there, with assorted dogfighting and Brett Favre references. Ryan has fallen out of fashion in the last few days -- sportswriters are worse than middle-school girls when it comes to fickle allegiances -- and my colleague Dave over at The Falcoholic will probably throw up blood at my selection, but what the heck. Whatever the Falcons do, it couldn't possibly be worse than the Hawks passing up current MVP candidate Chris Paul for yet another 6'7" swingman a couple years ago. (No, we will never forget that one.)

Anyway, draft starts tomorrow. Will I be prophet, or madman?