Can't Touch This

First thing you notice is that this guy is good. Then, you realize how tiny his apartment his. Then, you see his mother, who's probably seen this a thousand times just goes on knitting.

Can't touch this!

Cold Curry

Stephen Curry was the story of the 2008 NCAA Division 1 Men's Championship.

The leading scorer of the Davidson Wildcats, Curry had scored 30 points a game in the first 3 rounds. Teams that figured out how to contain him in the first half often found him tough to contain in the second half.

Surprisingly, the defense, often little spoken about, kept Davidson close against Kansas. Kansas was harassed and hurried leading to turnovers. Davidson didn't take particular advantage of the turnovers.

The game was only 3 points difference at halftime, and Curry, for once, had scored a decent 15 points in the first half. But those expecting Curry to score prodigiously in the second half were let down. Curry's final stats were 9 for 25. He had perhaps 3 shots at the end of the game where he had good looks to make a 3. Had he knocked these down, Davidson would have had an easy victory over Kansas.

Instead, after being hurried, Curry seemed tired, and the slightest bit off. Shots that had been finding net were now clanging iron. Were it not for Bryant Barr's timely 3-pointers in the second half (he scored 3), Davidson would have been in serious trouble. Indeed, after being the hot hand, Barr didn't much see the ball again in the second half, as the team decided to put its fate in Curry's hands.

In the last few seconds, down 2 points, Davidson managed to get Kansas into a shot clock violation, and had more than 10 seconds to work with. As Curry brought the ball down, Kansas decided that they would let anyone else but Curry beat them. With two guys on Curry, Curry hesitated, wondering if he should take an impossible shot, or pass it off to a teammate, making him make a deep shot. He opted for the second, and the shot missed just barely left of iron.

In the end, Davidson played Kansas that close, and the horse they rode on, Stephen Curry, was finally contained, unable to put up a little more magic in the closing minutes, and letting Kansas wriggle free, using its trio of big men to score points in the paint.

And so this means the rare occasion of four number 1 seeds are now in the final four. Kansas, North Carolina, UCLA, and Memphis. One of these powerhouses is looking to finish off its season in style.

But it was Davidson, that is this year's star.

Youth in Sports

I took a lesson at Rock Creek, which is not like the normal lesson you'd expect, the kind where the teacher corrects you on technique, but more of going through drills, so that you get used to moving and hitting. The group is pretty good. Even the women can hit the ball pretty hard. One guy I had never seen before had really good pace, even if he lacked a little consistency.

Afterwards, I decided to go to College Park where I visited a friend. Shortly afterwards, I went to practice serves. A few weeks ago, they had taken down the fences, and looked like they were going to fix that up. I was concerned it might not be fixed yet, but fortunately, it was fine.

One section of the College Park courts is four wide, meaning there are four courts across. There was a group of four playing doubles on one end that were so-so, and these two other guys playing singles on the other end who seemed half-way decent. I decided to pick the side closer to the doubles so I wouldn't have rolling balls bothering them.

As I practiced, it turns out the fence bounces the ball back pretty well, so the balls were still rolling to either side.

Although you don't expect two groups to know each other, it seemed the two guys at one end (who turned out to be brothers) did know the guys at the other end.

Anyway, the two brothers seemed like they might play on the tennis team (though they don't seem that good, but then I think Maryland may not be that good at tennis).

I've noticed something about kids who are good at sports, especially single sports like tennis. There's a kind of arrogance about them. Some might call it self-confidence. It not only affects their personality, but even how they hit, as if how they hit says "I'm so good at tennis".

I'm sure I'm simplifying matters too much. On the one hand, if you lack confidence, you probably won't play that well. Many top players are arrogantly confident. Few people are just genuine nice guys, though I'm sure more women than men are nice. Secondly, I'm only listening to them play for a few minutes, so it doesn't really convey the full story.

When the tennis balls would roll to their court, they were polite about it. They would say things like "Do you have Dunlops, sir?" ("Sir?"). To be fair, I find the user of sir and ma'am one of the politenesses that's drummed in by strict parents, not due to individuals learning politeness on their own.

I wonder how worldwide this arrogance is (I've mostly observed it in Americans) and whether it changes over time, as teens become adults.

Sexiest Man

People magazine knows its audience.

Women.

Straight women.

Straight white American women.

I was reading some information about a guy named John Krasinski who, I've learned, is an actor on The Office. Apparently, the early parts show his character having an unrequited longing for another co-worker. I don't know. I haven't watched the series.

John Krasinski, much like, say, Dean Cain (of The Adventures of Lois and Clark) or Christopher Reeve, for that matter, is an Ivy Leaguer that's been making a living acting. Krasinski, however, is a lot funnier, and in real life, plays the part of the good looking, funny guy.

As I was reading background stuff, I found he was selected as one of the sexiest men alive in 2006.

Each year, People selects 15 men (or so) that they deem the sexiest men alive, and designate one of them as the sexiest.

I decided to compare the 2006 list to the 2007 list to see the differences. Basically, the list usually consists of white actors. There are no sports figures, or political figures, or anyone much outside the US. Of the 15, 2 are African American, 1 is Asian American (they probably have to work really hard here), 2 are Latino, or really Spanish. The remaining 10 are white, and usually 1 of the 10 is Brad Pitt, who seems to have a permanent spot in the lineup.

In other words, People would like to have 15 white guys, but they realize that would look kinda bad, so they keep it racially diverse to keep its readership happy. It also knows its a magazine about celebrities in movies or television, and so it's not about to select athletes. It mostly picks reasonably well-known celebrities, but it will throw in 2-3 unknown that usually make their one appearance once, unless they suddenly become really big.

The funny thing about this issue is how men react to it. They kinda laugh that so-and-so is the sexiest man alive, and even those who are picked laugh at the idea. Most guys don't even realize there's a list after the top choice, that there are 15 people selected (it's even more, because you also get people submitting photos of their boyfriends, or there's an Internet list).

Even if the list gives a skewed view of who's "sexy", it gets discussion, and that's what People wants.

You know how it goes: it doesn't matter whether it's good news or bad news as long as they are talking.

Back to the Future

Even the best science fiction prognosticators had to kick themselves for not seeing this.

The cyberpunk movement of the 1980s saw a world of the near future, where technology, far from being the great savior of mankind, was merely an everyday tool, set in a near-future dystopia, mankind's baser motives on display. The near-future was cool, sheening, with its dark anti-heroes wearing mirrorshades, managing shady dealings with unsavory people, showing that while technology changes, man's baser self does not.

But they missed the Web, didn't they? They missed social networking, didn't they?

The web snuck up on us so quickly, and yet so subtly, that even as people like me can't imagine life without the web, and yet often underplay its impact on society. Inventions seem to be like that, right? Imagine the way the telephone changed society, who had been used to writing laboriously long letters, penned with care, traveling great distances over great time. It was a time when penmanship and wording mattered.

Sometime at the end of February, I must have crossed some mythic boundary, where I blogged here for the thousandth time. There's something about 1000, a round number in some base that was picked because our finger and our toes made 10 a special number, and man, who seems to crave patterns, found powers of 10 to be alluring.

The web, with its search engines, the key to the myriad of doors that would otherwise be impossible to navigate, allowed me to find people by dint of their name.

A few months ago, I found someone I had gone to college with. More recently, someone I went to high school and even junior high with.

I suppose I've seen Jack, the guy I went to high school with, far more recently than I saw Mike, the guy I went to college with. I'm sure we bumped into one another in Tennessee, when his family still used to live there, back some Christmas, in the early 90s, shortly after we had all graduated.

That's still edging close to 20 years ago.

It's times like this that I wonder, what the hell have I done these past twenty years. When I talked to Mike, he seemed wistful. He got married. He had kids. He made decisions. He's in a relationship, which entails compromise, the price we pay for a bit of companionship, maybe even love.

The movies never talk about that. They romanticize love, much like fairy tales, with Prince Charming rescuing Sleeping Beauty. Indeed, love is everything in these relationships.

But relationships in real-life is work. You would think movie makers and book writers could simply look at their own lives and find that it's more mundane than their stories would imagine, but so powerful is the myth of the perfect relationship that it ignores inconveniences like this.

Mike seemed to long for a time when life was idealistic, when he could do his own things. But he had made his decision long ago. Hours in the day were filled up tending to his kids, earning his keep, making payments. This was not the 1950s, where men could rule their household. He had someone else's opinion to consider...

Now that Jack and I have started talking to one another, and by that, I mean emailing one another again, I get a touch nostalgic.

Many nerdish types look at their high school experience with loathing. They remember thick-headed louts who had nothing better to do than torture them or make fun of them because they weren't cool enough. They remember hormones raging, how others seemed to get who they wanted, while they had to content themselves with longing.

I don't really recall that time period with either hate nor love. I was pretty awkward and shy, and knew a lot less of the world than I know now.

I remember Jack as being someone who looked like he was going places. He was interested in international politics. I didn't quite envision him as a politician, since he lacked the glad-handing and pure ambition that seems needed by anyone who wants to deal with media scrutiny. Maybe someone more behind-the-scenes, a technocrat, a policy wonk.

We'd mostly interact through people I was a little closer with. Initially, that was Nick, because Nick was a huge fan of D&D and video games, at least, until he became hooked by theater. Later, it was Ray, when Ray would invite us to his house where we'd watch Tennessee play some bowl game, and his mom would cook us a combination of Chinese dishes, and American desserts, and listen to his dad exhort the Vols to a win.

Through Ray, we'd play tennis. Ah, tennis. That is something that I really have to thank mom for. I'd played no sports as a kid, and I was reluctant to take lessons, but once my brother and I started, we were hooked. One day, prom night, senior year, Ray and I and Ronnie were out playing tennis.

Ronnie was a junior who had liked Evelyn (she's insane, as only Asian American girls rebelling against conservative dads are insane) and thought they would go to the prom. Evelyn, if I recall, when out with David to the prom, an unusual pairing, now that I reflect back. Ronnie was hitting as well as he ever did, fueled mostly by rage. Last I recall, Ronnie married an Indian girl, and that's getting close to 20 years ago.

Jack used to take a long time to warm up. 30-40 minutes of hitting before he felt he could play a game. Eugene used to play too. His serve was not so reliable, so he'd stand a few feet behind the baseline to knock a serve in. David would punch his serve skywards so it would clear the net by a bit, and land in the service box. We didn't know that much about tennis, but it was enough to play. We weren't Peter, who played on the tennis team. Something about playing on a team that encourages a kind of narcisstic self-importance.

Since college, I knew Jack had gone to South Carolina, eventually gotten his Ph.D. and at one point was teaching there. Then, it seemed, he had disappeared. I had thought he had gone to work at a private company. Indeed, I have no idea where a few other high school friends are now. Peter (a different one), Rob, Erik, who I used to lunch with frequently (they were all above 6 ft so they towered over me). Peter, I went to college with, but a year separated and a different major meant we didn't interact that much. For all I know, Rob's family still lives up the street from my parents.

But for some reason, the email for Jack still works, and so we've been talking a little. His life has gotten busy enough that we can't quite get as caught up as I'd like, but the good news is, unlike keeping up with other folks, Jack does try to send an occasional email back. You'd think, in a day where modern communication is so easy, this would be straight-forward. I recently made contact with a guy I went to grad school with. He sent email to two other people we knew trying to get together. That has fizzled, with no follow up.

With communication so easy, you'd think people would do it more. Certainly, this generation of teens use IM all the time, and they've learned, I suspect, to trim down what might be dozens of different people they want to talk to, to just a small number. Honestly, I have no idea how all that is managed.

IM seems like a defining moment. Folks of my age might use it a lot, or might not use it at all. In that respect, I'm one of the frequent users of IM, but I can see other people my age finding that technology a little strange (of course, I can really see people thinking Twitter is even stranger, and those are people ten years my junior).

While I'm thinking about high school and tennis and the intervening years, I realize I wouldn't have been able to get in touch with Jack had his name not been slightly unusual (Ray's name is nearly hopeless, and David's name is hopeless) so I could find it, and that the email was still good, and that Jack had some interest in keeping in touch.

I remember my brother, who loved to keep in touch with people, would send literally dozens of snail mails, and await replies. He discovered, perhaps not surprisingly, that women were far more likely to send replies than men, which has lead, not surprisingly, to my brother keeping in more contact with women.

(I also recall Jack had a younger brother, though I recall that he seemed quite different in personality to Jack).

Ultimately, these kinds of reunions, even virtual ones, are about a reflection of where we were then, and where we are now.

All that because the Web made finding people a lot less painful than it was before the Web.

Little Fish

Here's a really short SF story to read. Go ahead and read it, then read the rest.

Unlike novels, where there's a chance to develop characters, a short story, especially once this short, is about a feeling, a clever idea. You don't know that much about Asteroid McAlmont, except the one crazy idea.

With such a short format, every word counts, and the build up is nearly poetic:

Twenty-five years ago they spotted it, fifteen years ago they plotted it, and five years ago they tried to stop it but the nukes weren't enough.

Everything about its style screams the fifties, from the bizarre hubris of the action, to the choice of sport, to the topic of armageddon, to the use of the word "nuke". It's to take the last thing that would happen to the planet Earth, and juxtapose it with a sport, deciding, in the waning moments, to think of it like a pastime, and go out swinging.

Science fiction, especially good science fiction, nails the idea of the strange and familiar. It comments about the here and now by positing a future where things that will likely never happen, or won't happen anytime soon, happen, and how we, in the here and now, would react to it.

Even if a story is set in the future, the characters seem to harken to now, so that we, the reader, have a reference point to understand who these characters are. They are us, most specifically, for American science fiction, they are Americans of the time the story is written.

Thus, Asimov, writing about a far-flung future, imagines his future worlds populated by visionaries, but really extensions of the well-educated man from the 1940s and 1950s. The thoughts of multi-culturalism, which infected the mindset of authors writing about near-future dystopias in the 1980s, the cyberpunk movement, the near-future prognosticators, was 30 years ahead compared to Asimov at his prime.

The story is then focused on the very big: the extinction of humanity, and the very small, the game of baseball, and putting the two together. It symbolizes, both the small, a crackpot idea to treat this event as if it were some kind of cosmic game being played by some God, and the very large--mankind's desire to want to live, so it can play this game.

It's baseball, after all, on the biggest field possible. And it's not cricket, which emphasizes running, and is utterly foreign to Americans (though, in recent years, not as foreign as it once was, as Indian grad students, with bat and tennis ball in hand, often take to a short stretch of sidewalk to play its national game, far from its shores), but baseball, with its emphasis on the long ball.

And so my review is merely interpretation, and has far exceeded the lucid compactness of the original, but then how could anyone write anything meaningful about something else in a space so short.

Take me out...

David and Goliath

Maryland knew something about Davidson.

Three of the four years, Maryland has made an unceremonious trip to the NIT. Two years, it was dealing with the diva, John Gilchrist, and the turmoil between coach and point guard lead to an underachieving team. Last year, however, Maryland managed to string enough wins together to make the NCAA tournament, where it faced a mid-major team in Davidson.

Davidson's star player was Stephen Curry, son of Dell Curry, a former NBA player. Too short and slight to be considered by most major programs, Stephen decided to take his prodigious talent to this small school.

While Maryland won that game, it did not lead to a better season. Maryland limped to the end of the season, with loss after loss, following a familiar pattern of taking a big lead, before going cold, and losing at the end.

Davidson, on the other hand, rode the hot shooting of Stephen Curry, who seems like this generation's Reggie Miller. Give the man a little sliver of space, and he'll sink 3 pointers with ease. He's not scared to drive to the bucket either.

With so much talent already drifted to the NBA, many college players lack the kind of consistency to hit long shots. So many teams rely on a stout defense to cover those nights where they can't score that much, due to lack of superior talent.

Davidson started off challenging the original mid-major, Gonzaga, which has yet to reach the dizzying heights from ten-fifteen years ago. These days, Gonzaga struggles to get out of the second round. Davidson had the country's long win streak, at 22 games. And often, a huge win streak leads to a lot of confidence, heading into tournament time.

Although Gonzaga was the higher seed, Curry had too much for them. Most people felt, for certain, that Georgetown, with its Big East pedigree, its son of the famous coach, its Princeton-style offense, would end the Cinderella story for Davidson. Despite a huge lead, Davidson managed to come back and beat Georgetown at the end, as Georgetown whined about the fans that were more for Davidson than Georgetown.

Davidson could perhaps not wish for a better opponent that Wisconsin. Not blessed with a tremendous amount of talent, Wisconsin plays tenacious defense, and tries to keep the score down. This is the kind of team which Davidson could beat, provided Curry could get some good looks.

And, boy did he. Scoring 33 points, Davidson took a game that was touch and go for most of the first half and early into the second half, and stretched the lead to 10 points, and even close to 20 points.

They won 73-56, and now await the winner of Kansas and Villanova. Kansas has looked as dominant as it has in recent years, and many people think they have a clear road to the final four.

Is this the year of Stephen Curry? The year of Davidson? The year of the dominant mid-major thumbing their finger at the selection committee?

Curry's become the poster boy of the 2008 NCAA men's division 1 basketball tournament, and we are all merely witnesses.

(EDIT: I had made the comment from a Nike ad about Lebron James "we are all witnesses". They kept focusing on this guy in the audience, who I thought was Stephen Curry's dad, who looked awfully young. Turns it out wasn't Dell Curry at all, but one Lebron James, who had taken a break to catch this potential star of the future. True, Lebron has intimidating size and talent to match, where Curry is slight of frame--but wasn't Reggie Miller similarly slight? So I found it more amusing that it was indeed Lebron watching, and that he too, was a witness).

Teaching Tennis, Part 2

These days, you probably don't find too many people that haven't dabbled with some sports here or there. Given that people generally fall back on what they know, it's not surprise that when learning to play a new sport, you're likely to use other sports as a frame of reference.

Yesterday, I was teaching Raj to play tennis. His main background in sports is badminton. He's used to hitting a ball that's over his shoulder, and using the forearm, bending at the elbow. For the most part, tennis requires a moderately straight arm, and a bent wrist (at least, these days). Although it's wristy (these days), it's a confined sort of wristiness (not like the slap shot of racquetball). Once you hit the ball, you follow through to keep the momentum going.

Raj stops swinging the racquet just as he makes contact. Despite telling him to follow through, he seemed mostly unwilling to do so, figuring on his first few tries that the ball wasn't going where he wanted.

While he had some idea how to hit a forehand, he had no idea how to hit the backhand. So he simply ran around the backhand the whole time.

Were I to teach him more seriously (unlikely), I'd have to work to straighten his arm, and get him more aware which way the racquet face is pointing, and more importantly, he'd have to listen.

Again, surprisingly, when he hits the top of the racquet, it seems to go in. The miracle of modern racquets, I suppose.

Ravi's wife seems to take direction far better, and adjust her strokes accordingly, while Raj seems more adamant about hitting the ball the way he wants to.

I've noticed that Stan seems to be plateauing some. He made a lot of progress, but now, he's mostly at the same level. That, I suppose, is not so unusual. Many people play weekend doubles, and never get much better, year to year, mostly, I assume, because they don't set any goals, and partly because they don't know how to achieve the goals, even if they set them. They're just out to have fun, and getting better doesn't seem to be part of that fun.

Exhibitionist

A while back, I remarked how close Sampras played Federer in an exhibition. I recall hearing John Feinstein comment of this. He covered tennis for a year, back around 1991 or so.

He said the whole thing is a setup. He says that McEnroe and Agassi played a series of exhibitions and they never had a straight set win. Given how common straight set wins are, and given Agassi would be in much better shape than McEnroe in those days, he should have had his fair share of straight set wins.

If there was some fakery, Federer must feel ultimate confidence, because the third set, which is usually where both players take it seriously, had Federer down, but not quite out. Federer fell down a break, and was down in the tiebreak, before coming back. If that's faking it--and I'm not saying it isn't--then Federer must feel he can turn it on whenever and defeat Sampras, which is a pretty risky game to play.

Go Fish

Mardy Fish. Heard of him? I've seen him, actually. Seems like he and James Blake are buddies.

He's ranked 98th in the world. When does a player, ranked 98th, just play out of his mind for a whole week.

At the Pacific Lite Open, Fish ran through as impressive a tournament as anyone. In the second round, he defeated top 10 player, Nikolay Davydenko. In the third round, former number 1, Lleyton Hewitt. In the quarterfinals, Wimbledon finalist, David Nalbandian. In the semifinals, world number 1, Roger Federer, in straight sets, easily. Finally, in the final, he succumbed to number 3 and current Australian Open winner, Novak Djokovic, in three sets.

As surprising a tournament run as anyone I know has ever had, for a guy ranked so low.

How on earth did that happen?

Teaching Tennis

I took a tennis lesson right around Thanksgiving last year from a guy I'll call Joe. Joe takes an unusual approach to teaching tennis, which goes to show you that tennis can be taught in a wide variety of ways.

In particular, Joe believes that the racquet has, for lack of a better phrase, a mind of its own. OK, that's exaggeration. He believes that you throw a racquet, meaning, let the momentum of the racquet do the work. That's an intriguing thought, and I like the idea.

I find, when I end up teaching tennis, that I end up teaching a little bit the way I like to hit the ball, and the way I was taught to hit the ball when I first started learning to play tennis.

Let me go back to those days of yore. I was taught to play tennis by a guy who took classes by Dennis Van der Meer. Van der Meer, I've discovered, was instrumental in coaching Billie Jean King during her battle against Bobby Riggs, and that notoriety lead him to some fame in Tennis magazine, and his own camps.

He felt that tennis could be broken down in several steps, and would tell people to do those steps. Now, Van der Meer was old school. He taught players how to hit a flat shot. The classic way to play tennis is to hit with a closed stance, which means your front foot (for a rightie, that's your left foot when hitting a forehand, and the right foot for a backhand) is in front of the back foot. In other words, when you hit a forehand, your belly button points to the right wall/fence, and points to the left fence when you hit a backhand.

Ever since Borg was number 1, two things have resulted. Open stances and heavy topspin forehands.

Most teachers, these days, opt to teach you a modern style, which leads to open stances and heavy topspin.

It's rather difficult to learn to hit spin, though it seems easier, depending on your background, to learn slice shots than to learn topspin, probably because topspin requires better timing (you come "over" the ball, which can often lead the ball to be hit in the net).

If you start by hitting shots flat, the question is whether a modern stroke, which is meant to be used with topspin, makes sense.

One of my coworkers and his wife have been learning to play tennis. I find it much easier to spot her errors than his, partly because they are so contrasty. While he has very long strokes, and moves reasonably well, her strokes are too short, and she doesn't move so well.

The "throw your racquet" approach seems to encourage waiting until the last second to hit a shot, then making a quick loop with the racquet. That works OK, if you have time, and to be fair, I am guilty of preparing late too. It's just that, over the years, I've learned to speed up my stroke to handle fast pace. But even so, I know I need to get the racquet back earlier.

So, I'll give a quick laundry list of problems that she's had (and gotten past, somewhat). Initially, she had a very whippy forehand that had very little follow-though and also very little backswing. It was the whip motion that was getting her the pace on her shot, when she could connect, and yet, I felt that this whip was hard to reproduce consistently.

My first piece of advice was to tell her to have a bigger follow through. This would, in my mind, elongate the stroke so it didn't suddenly stop short, lacking pace. She's been able to make the follow-through a bit longer. I will say, most pros, have a VERY long follow-through, but I wouldn't recommend that early on. I advised making it somewhat longer, not the windshield wiper, flip approach that most pros seem to favor.

Today, I covered two other aspects, mostly affecting her backhand. I'd notice that the racquet would only go back when the ball got near her, and then she'd swing really fast. If the ball came too quick, she didn't have enough time to prepare. So I wanted her to get the racquet back and wait for the shot to come to her. That way, she didn't have to time the backhand nearly as accurately.

As she's learning this, there is a tendency to revert back to her way of hitting, which is to again wait and then swing. What I'm trying to figure out now is how to get her to think about hitting the ball with the racquet perpendicular to the ground. Right now, her tendency is to flip the racquet up thus causing the ball to aim to the sky.

I think that's partly because she's been taught to have her racquet pointed down, behind her. The idea, I know, is to eventually get her to learn topspin, but I think it's messing a little with her mechanics, because she's not understanding that, at the point of contact, the racquet should be perpendicular to the ground. What it does before and after, doesn't matter so much. I think the next time, I'd advise her to stop the racquet just as she it makes contact, to make her see where the racquet is aimed when the ball hits it.

The other part I worked on, and this will take more work, is footwork. Tennis footwork is nearly as important as hitting the ball. If you don't get to the ball soon enough, you are almost always going to hit a bad shot. Her footwork is problematic in two ways. First, when the ball is too far, she doesn't get their soon enough. When it's too close, she gets jammed.

I'm trying to remind her to keep her feet moving. But that's going to take time, because she's accustomed to not moving the feet. I will say she manages to hit the ball at the very tip of the racquet more effectively than anyone I've seen, but that suggests she's not moving close enough to the ball.

One thing that I advised her the last time we played was to start her shots with her backhand. At the time, she started her rallies with her forehand, and was never hitting the backhand over the net. She might hit in 1 in 4 backhands successfully. By starting with her backhand, she at least can get one shot with no pressure, and I feel that's helped her get far more consistent hitting her backhand. Actually, before that, I noticed that her left hand was WAY up on the grip, and that simply looked awkward. She's been hitting it with her second hand touching her first, and that's added consistency too.

I'd actually like her to get her racquet back sooner on her forehand too, but her whip forehand, when she connects, has good pace. Again, if you hit too hard to her forehand, she ends up not hitting it correctly, but that's probably true of everyone.

So these days, I feel that her footwork needs improvement, and that she needs to figure out how to get a perpendicular face hitting the backhand. I might have her aim at the top of the net, when hitting her backhand. Honestly, I need a good video camera to see what's going on (on my own strokes too).

OK, I'll talk about Ravi, but it's much harder for me to critique his shots only because it seems like he's got the motion more or less correct. Unlike his wife, Ravi's forehand is very long. In fact, by contrast, it almost seems too long. At some point, I realized that it was so long, and he was trying to generate so much pace, that he was having trouble timing his forehand.

Ideally, I'd tell him to cut out most of the set up to his forehand and hit with less of a setup, but I feel the loop is eventually where he wants to go, so I didn't want to tell him to get rid of the loop (at least the part leading up to hitting the ball), only to tell him to add it back again. One thing I then suggested was to think of his racquet stroke in two parts, first, there was dropping the racquet down, then moving it forward. By thinking of it in two parts, the first part becomes more of a simple setup, and the second part is where he really hits. That effectively shortens the stroke, so there's less time and movement before hitting the ball. The idea is to simplify the stroke.

With the backhand, it's harder to spot the problem. Ravi alternately has his racquet pointing up and down. When it's up, the ball skies upwards. When it's down, it hits the net. He's again, whipping the shot, which gives pace, but he's not sure when the racquet head is up or down. I think he needs to mentally compensate. If it's too low, hit it a little too high next time. If it's too high, then hit it too low next time. I would probably suggest, similar to his wife, getting him to stop the racquet just at the point of contact, just to see where the racquet is aimed. This is a bit tricky because you really want the momentum of the racquet to carry the motion through the ball.

Since what's good for the goose is good for the gander, let me talk a little bit about my own stroke. When I started to hit topspin, I was working on the upward brushing action. Indeed, I hit upward so much that the ball lacked pace. I've been spending over ten years trying to flatten out the shot. In the past, I had very little means to analyze other people's shots. I used to try to use a VCR, and go slow-mo to see what the pros did. These days, a few intrepid souls have put slow-mo of Federer, Roddick, and so forth on the net, so I can watch it in slow-mo.

I have several issues. One, I tend to use only my forearm to hit the ball, using it to spin the ball. I notice most of the top pros keep their arm fairly straight (not quite lock step), with their wrist cocked, and swing fully, only letting the momentum carry the shot on. I've been trying to practice this for a long time (two months or so), and it's still not quite there.

Second, I need to turn my shoulders more. Most pros, on forehand and backhand, have a significant shoulder turn, and use the shoulder and upper body turn as much as the arm movement. Right now, my shots are landing very deep (too deep). So I still need to work on shoulder turn and depth.

I also realize, with today's lesson, that my toss is still inconsistent and too low.

So that's what I'm up to with my own strokes.

Doubting Thomas

The mark of intelligence, at least when an argument is being presented to you, is doubt. Yet, many people, not trained in debate, often agree with arguments that sound plausible, and often, even far less than plausible. For example, Fox presents its "news" by mostly taunting the opposing side and presenting a slanted one-sided approach, meanwhile, hypocritically claiming that they are "fair and balanced", which is done to raise their credibility. It only shows the gullibility of the viewer who is presented with one side can then be told that there is a balanced presentation.

I am listening to a Google video that says that every recent war (since Vietnam) has had news organizations that fall for administration propaganda, on both sides of the political aisle (although it seems interesting that every Republican president has had a major military mission, from the comparatively small invasion of Grenada, to Manuel Noriega and Saddam Hussein in Iraq, in Bush Sr. and Bush Jr).

But even beyond this, there are arguments made, say, by atheists on atheism. Now, I find many of the atheists' arguments far more compelling than those of religious figures, but I realize that in these situations, I don't have a lot of doubt, trying to figure out holes in the argument. I just sympathize with the argument, and let it go at that.

Reddit posters and readers support Obama. Time and again, anti-Hillary articles pop up. These show, amazingly enough, that every candidate has their flaws, and it's the point of most campaigns to smear the opponent, because their own candidate often lacks the kind of strength and integrity to back. And this is the American left making these arguments, which, in my mind, tends to be more far more reasoned than the right.

Ultimately, this lack of doubt is unintelligent, and many people fall for it because it requires research, it requires effort, it requires energy that they are unwilling to expend. They want other people to convince them of a view, and be swayed by simplistic arguments (if you can even call it an argument, because often it's a taunting of opponents, when good arguments are found wanting).

These days, many people can do their own research. Google allows people to search for any product they want to buy and find some snippet of information to make decisions. As today's children become tomorrow's adults, will those adults be savvy enough to find other outlets of information. Until Fox came about, Republicans sent email finding news or opinions that weren't being reflected in the news media, until there was a bright-eyed entrepreneur who saw opportunity in a network that would trumpet one-sided approach all the time.

Are people ready to do their own research? Are people ready to doubt?

Easter Tennis

In the 70s, there was this notion that wives of rich men would go play tennis with some young stud tennis pro, and there would be some tryst, as the shallow young men were typically in it for the money, and the lonely wife wanted attention from someone more virile and attentive than their husband.

Implicit in this scenario is that tennis lessons are expensive (also implicit is that the tennis lessons didn't teach much tennis, but that's besides the point).

That's still true today.

I've had two private lessons, from two guys, which I'll call Mark and Joe. Joe's approach to teaching was more holistic. He believed in the racquet doing work, that the hand merely flings across, and its momentum would do the rest. I met Mark this morning before dawn, which had more to do with the prices of the court. While Joe has a deal with the tennis center he works at that allows him to charge the same price regardless of when he teaches, Mark charges based on the cost of the court at that moment. In other words, the tennis center he works at doesn't cut him any deals on court fees, making it more expensive at peak hours, and cheaper at non-peak hours.

Thus, I was up at a little after 5 getting ready for a 6 AM lesson.

Mark's approach is far more conventional. He suggests specific improvements in your game. We started off with my forehand, in which he suggested striking the ball with a straighter arm, and maintaining an angle between arm and wrist. He also emphasized shoulder turn. This is basically how I wanted to hit the ball, after starting at Federer hitting his forehand slow motion.

My tendency is to keep my elbow into the body and let the forearm and wrist do the work, which creates, I suspect inconsistency.

From there, we went to the backhand, where he wanted my arms straighter, and again, a bigger shoulder turn. This felt a little awkward, but I was able to make this adjustment better.

It's surprising how tired I was getting hitting 10-15 forehands in a row. I was literally winded from doing this.

On my serve, he noticed my toss was not that consistent, and wanted me to toss the ball higher.

I felt I was shanking the ball hitting volleys as well.

There's a second contrast between Mark and Joe. Joe thinks coming for lessons every once in a while (once a month or so) is enough. Mark prefers lessons more often, like every week, and more often, if I can help it. While I can "afford" it, I don't want to take lessons that often, partly because of the expense. If he had some deal where he'd do 4 lessons for the price of 3, then maybe. It goes back to the expense of playing that often.

Think of it. If I have a membership at a fitness club, that's say 50 dollars a month. If I have lessons with him once a week, that's 65 dollars a lesson or 260 to 320 dollars a month (depending on the number of weeks in that month).

I think I'll probably end up taking lessons with Mark, partly because of proximity, partly because his hours are all over the place, and partly because I like the specific advice I get, over the more holistic approach Joe takes.

I will say, during the lesson, I felt more uncomfortable with my racquet than ever, but mostly because I felt I was hitting on the wrong places in the racquet. I think I need to pay attention to the old adage of keeping my eyes on the ball.

Now, for some sleepy time. 6 AM is awfully early for me.

Movie Review: Paranoid Park

Ten years ago, Gus Van Sant tried an experiment. He wanted to reproduce Psycho, the Hitchcock classic, shot for shot. He made two changes that would affect how close the copy matched the original. First, he obviously picked different actors. He instructed the actors to give their own interpretation. He didn't want them to mimic the exact performance of the original. Second, he shot in color.

Most critics felt the remake was unnecessary. When movies value originality, copying the original seems less an homage than a pale imitation. Consider how often plays are done and redone, or how music performances, like the New World Symphony are also played again and again. Each time, the actors can provide their nuances and perhaps produce a performance even greater than the original.

However, in film, the original seems like family. No matter how much someone might act like a family member, they aren't the same.

One interesting criticism, made of Van Sant, was as a director. Hitchcock was famous for having a love-hate relationship with his blond actresses. He both loved and yet resented them, and this, an interviewer suggested, came across in his films. Van Sant is gay, and the interviewer suggested that he didn't have that same sensibility, and so lost something in the translation.

Van Sant's sexuality comes across in his films, though typically, not in any overt way. Originally tapped to make Brokeback Mountain before the job eventually fell to Ang Lee, it makes you wonder how Van Sant's interpretation would have gone. Van Sant has taken some detours into ordinary film-making. As entertaining as Good Will Hunting was, it was not a particularly Van Sant film. Neither was the mostly forgettable Finding Forrester.

Van Sant wanted to go back to his roots as an avant-garde filmmaker, stretching the language of film. This includes the series of films: Gerry, Elephant, Last Days, and his latest, Paranoid Park.

I've seen both Gerry anf Elephant but have yet to see Last Days. To watch these films is to see film as something besides conventional plot and conventional characters.

Gerry stars Casey Affleck and Matt Damon, who decide to go out into the desert, and promptly get lost. Much of the film is about them wandering, in a kind of hell, with no real chance of escape. It's as much watching their hypnotic movements as it is trying to understand what the film is all about. His ability to cast Affleck and Damon must have come from directing Good Will Hunting and their willingness to act in the film allowed it, I suspect, to be made at all.

Elephant had a little more of a storyline, given that Gerry pretty much had none. It follows several teens, on a day, very much like Columbine. Critics have complained that the incident was still too raw to film, and that his formalist tendencies was a bit insulting to a real event. There are some odd comic moments, in particular, one characters drunk dad, which gives a kind of levity at the end of the film that is very out of place.

Van Sant offers no answers to why things happened. He posits all sorts of theory. The kids watch some documentary about Nazi Germany. The two teens kiss one another and shower with one another on the fateful day. A kid seems to hear something while at lunch.

Perhaps Van Sant's sexuality explains why he generally doesn't have such developed women characters (not that his characters are terribly developed). He seems to view women as shallow. There is the gawky teen girl which guys don't seem to like. There is the cheerleader types that puke their lunch so they won't get fat.

Paranoid Park is perhaps the best of the teenage angst films. Newcomer Gabe Nevins plays Alex, a skateboarder that is questioned about the possible murder of a security guard. Van Sant pretty much casts unknowns for this.

The film is more about memory, visual surfaces. When most people who watch films concern themselves with figuring out what the plot is, Van Sant almost wants you to watch the surfaces, to create this sense-memory, as he weaves events non-linearly. Working with former Wong Kar-Wai collaborator, cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, Van Sant produces images of crystal clearness, alternating with the haze of low quality digital.

Mike D'Angelo points out a key scene, where Alex is taking a shower, the kind that is often shown when the main character is dealing with some kind of traumatic incident, and yet it's filmed so that you stop paying attention to Alex's problems and stare at the visual oddity, his silhouette in black, with water running down his lengthy hair.

Van Sant repeats his favorite motif, as he follows his characters either from behind or just ahead, and have them walking at least a minute to their destinations. He freezes on close-ups of the Asian-American detective, and Alex, letting the audience figure out what is meant. Does the detective sense that Alex has done something? Or more importantly, since Van Sant is gay, does the detective have something for this kid? He plays a similar scene with a friend of Alex staring at Alex.

Van Sant's not so interested in a plot as he in trying to reproduce the turmoil and detached actions of Alex. By selecting non-actors, he can have everyone underplay what they do. By that, imagine American Idol with folk singers who have deliberately tried to remove all affectation.

Despite his push for naturalism, the main incident, when shown on the screen, is at such bizarre counterpoint to the naturalism, that it seems both shocking, and yet, hardly real.

And, as that interviewer points out how Hitchcock's relation to blondes informed his filmmaking, there is a sense that Van Sant is staring at Nevins. He removes his shirt, his boxers peak out, but all handled perfectly naturalistic, despite the fact it's a film, and therefore is all but natural.

Van Sant takes a more honest conclusion, even if Alex seems oddly detached from what he's done. The closing scenes suggest something about film and creativity, rather than Alex's personal situation.

The film was marred by an audience member, sitting to my right and ahead of me, sighing as if he couldn't fathom what was going on, and was uttering his disapproval. It's not a film for everyone, but has Van Sant at the top of his game.

I'd rate this an A-.

Art Film Pedigree

Art films, those small independent films, who hope to find an audience, without the same kind of fanfare that the latest Spiderman sequel gets, must do with the occasional theater that will show them. Most viewers are lucky that Landmark Theaters, partly owned by Mark Cuban, exists, as they serve as one of the few outlets to watch independent and foreign films.

But even within art films, there are those that seem nice and safe, and those that don't. You get films like Juno, that have critical acclaim, but are more feel good, or you get No Country for Old Men, which, while more violent, has some pedigree. It's been nominated for the Oscats.

In the DC area, there are two Landmark theaters, one in Bethesda, and on in DC. Despite being under the same brand, watch which pictures make it to E Street, and in particular, which ones don't make it to Bethesda. Bethesda gets all the nice safe ones. E Street gets all the good ones.

For example, I plan to watch Paranoid Park. Except for a brief period, where Gus Van Sant made predictable dreck like Finding Forrester, Van Sant has been one of the more experimental directors. You can easily dislike what he makes.

Gerry has barely any plot and any characters. It is almost a purely visual experience, about two guys who are in the desert, and find they can't get out. There's some dialog, but it is strange. It doesn't explain the relationships between the two. They don't seem panicked. Indeed, they seem a bit annoyed, possibly with the situation, possibly with each other.

For every person that finds the film revelatory, there are 20 that wonders why anyone would watch such a film, folks that expect a plot, and a meaning, and the usual cues for feeling good. Elephant seems like an exercise in following people, caught up in the randomness of who gets killed in a school shooting, offering no answers for what happened, a reflection of the incidents at Columbine.

Would they show his film at the Bethesda theaters? Nope. I can find movie after movie that I've been interested in, and it only shows at E Street, never at Bethesda. Bethesda prefers to show yet another week of the same old.

Perhaps even more egregious is the AFI theater in Silver Spring. While it often tries to appeal to connoisseurs of older films, its modern offerings pretty much echo Bethesda's offerings. I'm happy the AFI shows director retrospectives and films like Lawrence of Arabia in its full length, but I'm still not thrilled that they won't show Paranoid Park.

It's funny how this happens. I realize money plays a part in the decision, though they wouldn't show these films if they didn't realize that they aren't going to make blockbuster money. The audience also makes a difference. There are those who love Merchant-Ivory pictures, but aren't ready for Michael Haneke's difficult film of a family under siege, and the films relation to its viewers (this is, Funny Games USA, for those that are curious).

Even the little seen SF brain-teaser, Primer, only had a one-week run at the E Street.

Take a chance Bethesda. Show these films, even for short runs.

Take a chance Silver AFI. Support the truly independent films.

Madness

March madness leads to office pools.

Even non sports-fans can get into March madness. And they can win! Why is that? Why can non-experts win?

The problem is this. The committee that seeds the tournament are already experts. They rank each group of 16 from 1 to 16, with 1 being the team that has performed the best and is perceived the best.

So, given a lack of information, a non sports-fan can simply pick the higher seed each time.

But if you want to be an expert, you want to show how smart you are. This means you need to pick upsets. But I have no more sensible ways of picking an upset than a combination of superstition and intuition. The more upsets I pick, the more likely I pick the wrong one. And picking the wrong one can be like a double whammy. I can fail to pick an upset, and pick an upset when none occurred.

I had thought, just on raw intuition, that Siena might win its game over Vanderbilt. But I really had no good reason to pick the 13th seed over the 4th. So I didn't. Yet, Siena won.

UConn losing? UConn is a traditional powerhouse. I picked wrong again. Now, I could have paid more attention to location of the tournament, trying to figure out who played at home. That is a somewhat reasonable way to pick upsets.

The really tough way to pick upsets is to analyze 64 teams. Who has great guard play? Who has decent speed? Who has good interior play?

Well, I haven't seen many of these games, so I am literally guessing, and guessing against the committee.

And yet, I feel so guilty picking the favorites, which requires no effort at all. I'd rather pick upsets. Well, at least, early on. I, being a chicken, pick the favorites to go really deep, because history says this will happen, and because who knows which upset to pick. There are literally dozens of choices.

OK, we know that George Mason was a really long shot two years ago, and few would sensibly pick them over anyone else. But think about Florida. Who would have picked Florida that year either?

My brackets are a mess, at least, in the first round, and yet, there's an outside chance that if my main pick does well, I could still win it all.

In that respect, a good game lets you do badly at the start, with a chance at the end. And that's as much as you can ask for.

More Krickstein

Krickstein vs. Jarryd. Jarryd was one of those Swedes that didn't quite do so great in singles. He wasn't bad, mind you, but was probably better as a doubles player, often playing with Stefan Edberg.

I've only ever gone to the US Open once, and that was to an opening round. I remember that I was only feet away from Anders Jarryd. These were the days before Monica Seles got stabbed, when literally feet separated you from, well, at least a second tier star.

You can tell Krickstein and Jarryd were a product of the 80s. Their style was effective for the 80s, but not so good for the 90s.

Krickstein, as I've mentioned before, was a product of Nick Bollettieri's academy. He had a power forehand, a two-handed backhand, and an OK serve, and returned all right too. I had forgotten how he used to puff out his cheek as he served.

Krickstein, I feel, has become a bit of a whiner. Nice guy, overall, but he doesn't like being remembered for that match he lost to Connors in 1991. There's been tragedy in Krickstein's life. His sister died of cancer. His wife had cancer, but survived.

For a guy who had a powerful forehand, Krickstein really had as short a takeback as nearly anyone playing. He barely has any backswing. It's almost all follow through. Jarryd isn't that different either. If you ever see Borg (just was how Federer hits), you see how long their forehands are.

I suppose the interesting thing is how much Krickstein plays as he used to. The biggest difference, other than a lack of power that he used to have, is a reliance on a slice backhand.

These days, even Arias is playing the champions tour. Arias was one of those flames burning brightly, who had maybe two good years of play. Krickstein had a good start, back when he was 16-17 in the early 80s, then one pretty good year in 1989, and still played well, even in 1991 when he lost to, yes, Connors.

Arias's backhand, I recall, was this flingy thing that looked like his arm was coming off, and he was being punched backwards. He won the Italian Open, so that was a big deal. I don't know that Krickstein ever did that.

Jarryd, in the match, was injured, so wasn't posing too much challenge. He fought enough to keep it interesting, but not overall.

Watching these players, many quite a few years beyond their prime, you can sort of appreciate how they are able to continue playing, and yet, realize how the game is so different now, a more bullying style from the backcourt.

On Computer Labs

Computer science is a fairly new major for most universities. Most started CS programs sometime in the 1980s, even if departments may have existed ten or more years prior to that.

Computer science is weird because its existence is partly based on a technical device, the computer. Some would tell you that computer science's roots are in math, and they'd be right. When Turing came up with his machine, it was more of an abstract machine. It had a tape to write on, and a set of rules to run. I'm sure, initially, he didn't think of real computers, until they were invented shortly thereafter.

But when it came time to teach it, many universities sought a model for computer science courses. Given the word "science", some adopted the idea of a computer lab, much like chemistry majors have chemistry labs and biology majors have biology labs. But if you're going to code, you need time, and these labs have rather limited hours. A significant project can take 10-20 hours, far longer than a typical lab.

It may have made sense to have labs when computers were expensive, but these days, even art majors have computers. A traditional lab like chemistry and biology still requires special materials like frogs or chemicals.

Jaime tells me that he still runs computer labs, and I have to imagine it's because the computer science department has gotten stale. You can have "labs", but it should run maybe 90 minutes, not a few hours, and have most of the work done out-of-class.

Every Year, The Same

Selection Sunday was 6 PM EDT. As usual, people always, always complain about teams that were left out. This year, the complaint was with Arizona State getting left out. They had a better record than Arizona, and beat Arizona twice. They also lost to teams they shouldn't have.

Why do these pundits care so much about how a team is doing in the middle of the conference? Perhaps they really should have 128 teams, as Bobby Knight suggested. They know ASU and Arizona, but some team like Southern Alabama, they've never heard of, so they have a passion for a fifth or sixth ranked team to make the tournament. Why do they care? Neither ASU or Arizona are going to win, or get close enough that it will matter.

Every year, there's always some team left out. Would 128 teams solve the problem? Partly, yes. The teams left out would be SO insignificant, that they wouldn't defend the tenth team in a conference, right? Of course, if they did it Bobby Knight's way, then maybe Ivy League teams wouldn't make it in.

And, is it even possible to figure out a top 128 teams? The experts know the next, 10-15 teams to add, but another fifty teams? At that point, the differences seem kinda trivial. And how do you properly seed them?

At 65 teams, and really, 34 at-large teams, it gives pundits enough to complain about each year. I would love for them to put John Feinstein on the ESPN show if, for no other reason, to have a dissenting voice, someone who would support the smaller conferences, who would say yea to the Patriot League champ. ESPN's whole crew favors the big conferences, and they seem to worry about the major conferences getting 6 or 7 teams in.

Besides, if they ever let 128 teams in, what would these guys ever complain about?

May Showers

I was thinking of something odd.

Locker room showers.

I told you it was odd. While men showering is common in films, it is decidedly uncommon for women. Why is that? I mean it both ways. Why is it popular at all? It seems like a way to introduce a little male nudity (although these scenes typically use angles to prevent that much from being shown). Perhaps sports movies are common and nearly all sports movies focus on men.

The most famous shower scene for women, that I can recall (in a locker room style setting), is Porky's. That movie was influential, though not in a particularly good way. It set the stage for a lot of movies about teenage raunch, mostly about guys trying to take peeks at girls.

I'm sure one obvious reason shower scenes don't involve women is because the PG rated version would be really awkward. Cameras would focus on the back and above the waist, and it would be hard to do side shots. Even so, despite the increase in women's sports, women locker rooms seem utterly taboo. I suspect another reason is the dominance of men in movie making. As few men have entered women's lockers, it may never have occurred to them to make a film with a shower scene for women.

Perhaps I'll try to ponder a deeper subject next time.