Community is a show that rewards its viewers for having a childhood in which they consumed the same media that the writers did.

Every sports fan has their favorite athlete, but their favorite athlete is rarely who they say it is.

If you ask someone between the age of 20 and 40 who their favorite basketball player is, the overwhelming odds are that this individual will respond “Michael Jordan;” and with good reason.  Jordan is one of the most successful players in the history of basketball, and he was a cultural icon.  But as a basketball fan in that generation, I can tell you that all of my friends had a favorite player that wasn’t Jordan.  They all had one player that played the exact way they wanted to play; someone that was exceptionally relatable.

In conversation, our “favorite” athlete often gets translated to who we think the most dominant athlete is.  And while Jordan was unquestionably the most dominant basketball player of his era, my favorite player was actually his teammate.

Scottie Pippen defined the way that I wanted to play the game of basketball.  He was the quintessential role player, and his role literally changed every game.  If he needed to stop the opposing team’s best player, he did it.  If he needed to crash the boards, he did it.  If he needed to be the facilitating guard, he did it.  And if he needed to be the team’s leading scorer (watching Pippen in his only full season on the Bulls without Jordan remains one of my favorite sports memories as a child), he did it.

The most dominant player is the person that deservedly gets all the attention.  Our favorite player is the person that only gets that attention from a smaller circle; the one who is under-appreciated to the point that it is almost baffling.

This analogy is easily transferrable to pop culture.  There is your favorite movie (The Shawshank Redemption), and then there is your favorite movie (Garden State).  There’s your favorite book (Freakonomics), and then there’s your favorite book (Killing Yourself to Live).

When people ask me what my favorite television show is, I almost always reply with South Park.  The show is supremely offensive, but it is offensive to everyone, and most often offensive to ignorant white Americans, which is probably why I love it so much.  But it’s also pretty easy to love South Park.  It’s been around since I was 11, and I know exactly what to expect form it every time I turn it on.

But after 90 minutes of television on Thursday night, I had my grand epiphany.  South Park is my favorite show, but it’s not my favorite show.  My favorite show on television, and after Thursday night, probably ever, is Community.

Community is the Scottie Pippen of television shows.  Every week, Community balances narrating part of their story arc (most recently, the seven main characters’ wrongful expulsion from Greendale Community College, which [in the interest of not spoiling the plot] has severely affected all seven of them) while also either completely spoofing or playing homage to another television show or genre.  I never know what I am going to get from community.  I just know that I am going to laugh really hard.

Last night’s three-part finale was no different.  The first episode felt slightly out of place because it deviated from the plot; but I forgive it for two reasons.  1) Community has a pattern of doing episodes that totally deviate from everything else happening; and 2) It was my favorite episode of the show ever.  90% of the episode was done with the characters trapped inside an 8-bit platform videogame.  This featured a seemingly infinite number of Mega Man and Zelda references, but also featured the characters being themselves in videogame mode.  Pierce couldn’t figure out how the game worked, and subsequently had a meltdown for not being included, Troy wouldn’t stop jumping the entire episode, and Abed started a family with one of the videogame characters.

Community is the Scottie Pippen of television shows.

The finale continued with a one-hour episode that featured an “Ocean’s Eleven” heist to rescue the Dean from captivity, and ended with a spoof on a movie courtroom scene, and an epic boss battle fought between two men in an air-conditioning repair school.  The last note of the season is a montage that shows a tremendous amount of character development, while each character manages to hold onto their fatal flaw.  It was the most brilliant finale since the last “real” episode of Scrubs (more on that in a second).

Community is a show that rewards its viewers for having a childhood in which they consumed the same media that the writers did.  Thus, Community is your favorite show, so long as you are in on the joke.  Unfortunately, not everyone is in on the joke, and it is much easier to watch television shows that don’t force viewers to think as critically as community viewers have to.  The 8-bit episode, which I’ve already re-watched twice, is probably the best example of this.

Community is a show you need a DVR for, and that’s probably the biggest reason (save the god-awful 8:00pm Thursday timeslot) that the ratings struggle so much.  The absurdities of these scenes provide most of the laughs, but the storytelling has always been what drives the vehicle.  This rarely achieved television combination has left the show with one of the most remarkable cult-like fan followings in recent television history.

But Thursday night wasn’t just great because it featured three great episodes.  It was great because Community had their 1993 Scottie Pippen moment.  When these episodes were shot, Community had been taken off television and put on a “hiatus.”  The cast, writers, and show creator Dan Harmon all thought the show was going to be cancelled.  Therefore, they wrote and shot the season’s final episodes as if they were going to be the series’ final episodes.

Because of the hiatus, NBC’s only option for ending the Community season was tossing three episodes on in one night.  So on Thursday, Community was thrust onto center stage, playing the featured role on NBC’s Thursday night lineup for the first time ever.  It was a great time to hit a grand slam.

Now, we have to go over the weird part.  Two weeks ago, NBC renewed Community for one more (abbreviated) season, and has moved the show to Friday nights at 8:00pm.  Fans are already concerned that Community will die a slow and painful death in its fourth season because NBC doesn’t appear to have much invested in it, and it has been moved to the worst primetime slot on television. 

The strength of the season finale combined with the gloomy picture already painted by the NBC’s plan to handle the fourth season has led me to wonder whether or not Community should really strive for #sixseasonsandamovie.

Because of the heavy-handed finality with which Thursday’s one-hour season finale was written, it’s hard to imagine the show moving in a better direction after this.  I can’t be the person that says “DON’T BRING COMMUNITY BACK,” because I realize that puts hundreds of people out of work.  But I have the same concern for Community that I had for Scrubs, another great show that did a series finale, only to find out that it wouldn’t actually be the series finale, and subsequently get cancelled the next year.

Like I did with Scrubs, I will still make time to watch every new episode of Community, and I will still be enthusiastic about the characters and the writing.  But I almost think it will be impossible for Dan Harmon and company to top what they did on Thursday.

Community will never be everyone’s favorite show, because there aren’t enough people that watch television for shows like Community; just like there aren’t enough people that watch basketball for guys like Scottie Pippen.  But I speak for the community (pun absolutely intended, so there!) of people that watch television shows like Community when I say that after Thursday night, this show has unquestionably entered my favorite category.

(Troy and Abed handshake)

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* Am I the only person who thinks that Andy Pettite is coming back to the New York Yankees for another reason besides his “still having the fire to pitch?”  I will be the first to admit I thought the near 40 year-old looked fantastic for someone pitching on over 570 days of rest. If you ask me, Pettitte already punched his ticket to Cooperstown before he decided to come back.  But I think what’s taking place off the field is the real reason the lefty came back to the Bronx.

Pettitte's numbers should get him in the hall of fame on the first ballot, but what's happening inside a courtroom may determine his future as a hall of famer.

Roger Clemens’ perjury trial has garnered mainstream attention, with Pettitte, his former teammate, being called to the witness stand.  In his testimony two weeks ago, Pettitte claimed that Clemens told him he used HGH, only to say at later time that he may have misunderstood their conversation.  Pettitte agreed with a lawyer that there was a 50/50 chance he misunderstood the discussion with Clemens, which took place over a dozen years ago.  His testimony angered the judge in the case, who subsequently referred to him as “conflicted.”

Clemens is the one on trial, but Pettitte is by no means innocent himself.  And I think the real reason for Pettitte’s return to the hill is his public revelation of his own HGH use in his career, combined with the Clemens trial as well as the constant debate regarding the cleanliness of elite players from his generation.   MLB record holders like Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, and Sammy Sosa may not get the necessary votes to get in the hall of fame; but Pettitte wants to prove he deserves it.

And if you’re on the fence about whether or not he belongs in Cooperstown, let’s take a look at his numbers.  Pettitte is one of only twenty starting pitchers in history who have had at least fifteen winning seasons; but he’s the ONLY player in history with that many winning seasons and ZERO losing seasons.  He’s the only pitcher since 1930 to win at least 12 games in each of his first nine seasons in the big leagues.

In his playoff career, Pettitte boasts a 19-10 record with a 3.83 ERA and 173 strikeouts.   He holds the record for most starts (42), wins (19), and innings pitched in the playoffs (263), and joined Derek Lowe as the only two pitchers in the history of the game to win three series-clinching games in the same postseason (2009).  All those numbers should get him in the hall of fame on the first ballot, but what’s happening inside a courtroom may determine his future as a hall of famer.

With all the talk of him “misremembering” conversations, it’s hard to believe that Pettite has been completely honest.  But Petttite has the ability to do something none of the aforementioned players did; he has a chance to come back.  Will he be the same pitcher?  Only time will tell.  But if he’s successful at this stage of his career, he should prove most of his doubters wrong.  Pettitte knows this is his chance to clear his name for good, and if he wins in the Bronx, he may just do that.

* Across town, David Wright has emerged not only as the captain of the Mets, but the heart of the Mets as well.  It seems like Wright has been with this team through everything.  There has been one constant from Beltran, to Delgado, to Reyes, to Glavine, to Pedro, to Wagner, to Johan, to K-Rod; and that’s David Wright.  He’s like the employee at the factory who has seen everyone leave for other opportunities, but has stayed loyal to the cause waiting for his turn.

Well it’s his turn now.

This team is young, and Wright is taking what he learned from his predecessors, and is now being the “man” in the clubhouse.  I see his blowup with Terry Collins over being pulled as a positive, despite the media coverage on the incident.  A lot of times in baseball you hear the expression “team first,” and the incident with Terry Collins exudes that.  Wright wanted to be in the game, he wanted to show his team he was with them, and that he was “1 of 25.”

I completely understand why Collins took him out.  He was worried his superstar was going to be hit, after Ryan “The Hebrew Hammer” Braun was plunked an inning prior by DJ “Tanner” Carrasco.  But despite the angry nature of the conversation, Wright showed wisdom beyond his years.  He let his teammates know that he was just as invested as they were.  That’s the kind of leadership that Mets clubs in recent years really didn’t have; and I think as this team continues to play together and grow, the results will ultimately be positive.

 

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A Requiem for a Compliance Director

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Remember the San Antonio Spurs? The team that won four NBA championships in the span of nine years? Well, you’re about to be reintroduced, and the reintroduction will fly in the face of contemporary and conventional NBA wisdom.

You know how pitchers can sometimes lose the plate? Well, Albert Pujols has lost the plate (Photo by Chris O'meara/Associated Press)

The Spurs were second in the NBA in points per game this season, second in point differential, first in field goal percentage, first in three-point percentage, even fourth in assists per game. They were also in the top ten in rebounding. What they’re doing doesn’t just impress me, it fascinates me. This is the same team that won those four championships in nine years; but at the same time this is an entirely different squad.

Those championship teams were Tim Duncan’s teams. Everything went through him. He won three Finals MVPs of the four awarded to a Spur, and two league MVPs in championship winning seasons. In Duncan’s MVP seasons, no other Spur got a vote. He finished in the top five if MVP voting every year from the 1999-2000 season to the 2004-2005 season; then finished eighth, fourth seventh and eleventh through 2009. He was an elite player, one of the best of all time.

This isn’t meant to be a retrospective piece; Duncan is not done being productive, though he is done being elite (he actually did get a little consideration this season for MVP, finishing 14th in voting).  But this context makes the Spurs’ shift away from Duncan, and their continued success after doing so, even more fascinating.

While continuing to be a perennial title contender, this team went from Duncan’s team to Tony Parker’s team without skipping a beat. And they did so under the radar. The Spurs rebuilt around Duncan, Parker and Manu Ginobli without having to tear it down, and that’s a rarity in this day and age, not just in the NBA, but in any sport. Plus, they did it without the “necessary” two-star system that every team is required to use to win an NBA championship.

The Heat didn’t think they could win without LeBron James and Chris Bosh joining Dwyane Wade in Miami. The Knicks needed Carmelo Anthony and Amar’e Stoudemire to win (on paper, anyway). Kobe and Shaq did some damage in Los Angeles. Shaq won in Miami with Wade, too. The Celtics had their Big 3 when they won it all four years ago. And with all due respect to Michael, Larry and Magic, their outspoken opposition of coordinating super-teams wasn’t exactly genuine. Scottie Pippen, Kevin McHale and James Worthy were all on the NBA’s top 50 list, as in 50 greatest players of all-time. I think Magic also had a pretty good center with him, too.  Some guy that used to be called Lew Alcindor; maybe you’ve heard of him.

I don’t mean to disrespect Parker or Ginobli. They’re very, very good. But when Duncan was the best player in the league, neither Parker nor Ginobli were considered stars. Only now is Parker starting to break through to that upper echelon, but it coincides with Duncan’s decline.  Ginboli is still just a very good supporting player; not a superstar.

In a couple of weeks, David Stern will hand the Larry O’Brien Trophy to someone. If it’s not a Spur, it’ll be Kevin Durant, who will have had to beat the Spurs to get there. Either way, what the Spurs have done and will continue to do is really a great story. Remember the San Antonio Spurs.

So Mickey Hatcher got his pink slip because Albert Pujols forgot how to hit. I remember Mickey from his playing days. I once asked my dad if he was related to Mickey Mantle. He left Minnesota after the 1986 season, right before the Twins won the World Series in 1987, but redeemed himself as a Dodger in 1988 as a teammate of Angel’s manager Mike Scioscia. Anyway, Pujols isn’t the only culprit responsible for the lack of offense in Los Anaheim, but something had to be done, and Pujols and Vernon Wells have 300 million reasons why they won’t get fired. Sorry, Mick.

Can anyone define “pressing?” What does it mean? “This guy’s pressing.” Trying too hard? Ok, I’ll buy it, but what does it actually do? What has trying too hard done to the greatest hitter in today’s game, and why are we supposed to accept “he’s pressing” as a viable reason? You know how pitchers can sometimes lose the plate? Well, Albert Pujols has lost the plate. For whatever the reason, Pujols’ plate discipline has reached bench-jockey status. He’s offering at fewer pitches inside the strike zone and more pitches outside it, and at an alarming rate.

For his career, Pujols has only swung the bat at about 43% of the pitches he saw. That’s up to 48.5% this season, so he’s not being as patient, but that’s ok if he was swinging at strikes, right? Well, he’s not. At pitches inside the strike zone, he’s swinging roughly 61% of the time, down from his career mark of around 65%. Outside the zone, and this is most alarming, Pujols swings 38.6% of the time, up from his career mark of 21.9%. He’s lost the strike zone. He’s waving at so many pitches off the plate it’s almost unbelievable. It’s worth noting that Pujols is making overall contact at a consistent rate, and also has been steady with his contact when swinging at strikes. But his contact rate at pitches out of the strike zone have skyrocketed 10% more than his career percentage, and what do they teach you in Little League? Wait for your pitch, don’t expand the zone, and don’t get yourself out. Pujols has been getting himself out.

Ideally speaking, Pujols would get a day off before a team off-day and spend two days clearing his head, but the Angels are in the early stages of 20 games in 20 days and don’t have a day off till May 31. If this continues, Scioscia needs to think about sitting him anyway. Or maybe Pujols just needs to get his eyes checked. Black horn-rims might be the answer. It worked for this guy.

More musings next week.

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