Four stiffs and a trombone
Sunday, September 16, 2007

An occasional feature where we link to great profiles of four less-than-great athletes and the one star who ties them all together.

We've realized our niche at We Rite Goode--loyal reader, you clued us in. Mediocrity. Let Lion in Oil and Deuce of Davenport celebrate the celebrated. We'll stick to doing bad so goode, it's merely awful.

But we're not the only ones bringing the spotlight to the shadows. Here's a tour of the lousy around the eBays:


Meanwhile, who's our great this week? Let's see if you can parse the connections...

* Like Cota, this man played in two NCAA Final Fours (and against a pre-Cota UNC in one)
* Like Foyle, this NBA big man did a tour of duty in Golden State
* Like Booth, he was a versatile player who could step out and shoot the three (ht: BF.)



* And like Smith, this man was arrested...no, that's hardly fair, our star was acquitted...we'll say that he left D.C. sports fans with awesome highlight memories.

Yes, this week's star is the one, the only (highlight for answer) Chris Webber. As Bullets Forever continues its countdown of all-time greats, click over to read a fond, well-written summaryof Mayce II's Washington days.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 20:45, ,


It's French for 'the dell'
Friday, September 7, 2007

No ex-Washington Bullet role player gets more love than Ledell Eackles. We're sure of it. Wizards fans don't perk up to talk about Doug Overton or get misty for LaBradford Smith. But in the Mid-Atlantic region and among NBA fans of a certain vintage, Eackles just stirs the heartstrings, or something.

And for good reason: The man was blog gold.

Having been reminded of this massive, overwhelming interest, courtesy of the excellent Bullets Forever, we bring you a closer look from "Ledell: The Carnivore's Dilemma." (A biography that we must begin writing, post-haste). Today, we clarify Eackles' infamous holdout of '90.

Chapter Nine: The Contract Dispute


In the summer of 1990, Eackles was coming off his ball-hogging second season (having tallied the aforementioned 29.5 usage rate) and entering restricted free agency; meanwhile, the Bullets had traded Jeff Malone, a 24 ppg shooting guard who was a Rip Hamilton prototype. Though they didn't know it at the time, the roster decisions made that summer would help decide the franchise's future for the next half-decade. After two straight lottery seasons, the team was teetering on the brink of its early '90s tailspin; however, the Bullets weren't that removed from a five-year playoff run, albeit a run that ended five straight times in the first round, so had some legitimacy left and were looking for a bounce-back year.

Statistical analysis being what it was in 1990, the Bullets decided that to contend with the loss of Malone, they needed another "20-point scorer" (forget efficiency) to pair with the aging Bernard King, who had about one great season left in him. And as Eackles had been the team's best bench gunner, he and his agent (a New Orleans judge named Eddie Sapir, who was a real character) thought they had leverage.

They didn't.

Well, maybe they did.

But they sure didn't know to use it.

On his rookie contract, Eackles had earned about $315,000 per year, and Washington was prepared to more than double his compensation to roughly $800,000 per year (these were the days of an $11 million salary cap). Which is why the team was legitimately shocked when an "insulted" Sapir came back and asked for superstar money, at $2 million per season.

Now, forget Drexler and Malone (and Joe Dumars and Reggie Miller and David Robinson and the numerous other All-Stars who made $1 million or less)--a $2 million salary would vault Eackles squarely into Michael Jordan ($2.2 million) and Larry Bird ($1.6 million) territory.

Which was totally reasonable, because all three were in that famous McDonalds commercial (Eackles snuck in and ate Jordan's Big Mac when the other two were trying to shoot it through the window).



Anyway, the dispute went on all summer and into training camp, with the posturing between the Bullets' front office and Sapir playing out in the media (even as Eackles good-naturedly visited DC and hung out with the other players and staff). The Washington Post and Times dutifully carried regular updates: Eackles was going to go play in Greece; the Bullets offered to stamp his passport. Eackles would shop his wares around the league; the Bullets said they'd pack his suitcase. And so on. Eventually, as October rolled around and with no other team even biting on an offer sheet, Sapir realized he'd backed himself into a corner. From the Times, on the eve of the Bullets 1990 season opener:

Eackles' agent, Judge Eddie Sapir, originally sought a four-year, $8 million contract but has lowered his demands considerably. He's believed to be willing to accept a deal paying Eackles in the range of $1 million per season. The Bullets' offer apparently didn't come close.

"I bent over backwards to make it work," said Sapir. "The club just isn't going to evaluate Ledell like {Charlotte's} Muggsy Bogues or {Denver's} Michael Adams. Those are guys getting over a million dollars a year. They're getting the market value. You're going to tell me Ledell isn't as good as those guys?"

[Actually, those guys weren't getting over $1 million per year, and yes, they were better than Ledell.-- Crucifictorious]

"It's not that Eddie Sapir is asking for something that is unfair. I'm asking for rock-bottom market value. No way in the world can I give Ledell away. It's just unfair now."


Even if it was unfair, Sapir's demands continued to plummet as the games started and the Bullets played it cool. By the time Sapir finally caved to GM John Nash, several weeks into the season, Eackles was 20 lbs. overweight and left with a deal that was for a year and hundreds of thousands of dollars less than the Bullets' original offer.

Chubby and in the doghouse, another opportunity blown. Such was life for Ledell Eackles.

You can fault Eackles for being selfish and wildly over-estimating his value, but more likely he just got snookered by Sapir, a New Orleans judge/councilman/sometime sports agent. Sapir had cultivated Eackles when the latter was a basketball star at the University of New Orleans, even having Ledell work at his office part-time as a copy boy. While Sapir had a lot of experience negotiating contracts--he was the agent for Billy Martin, the repeatedly hired-and-fired manager of the Yankees--Eackles was the first NBA player he represented.

Given what happened, likely the last, too.

For the Bullets' sake, this wasn't a particularly proud moment; not having Eackles in training camp and the season's first month was clearly a blow to the rotation, as the team got off to a slow start and never recovered. Some of the games without Eackles, the team labored to score; Bernard King put up 45 points in one early loss to the mighty, previously 0-7 Sacramento Kings, while the other 10 Bullets who logged game time combined for just 37 points. Sapir's negotiating mantra had been, "Ledell wants to get paid like one of the players of the '90s." Well, it was a bad omen that Eackles didn't, as the Bullets were hardly players across the decade. The team eventually eked out 30 victories in 1990-1991 and then went another four years before winning even 26 games.

Still, while Nash's tenure as Washington's GM wasn't fraught with success--no playoff appearances and a lot of 20-win seasons, alhough he did bring in Webber, Howard, and Muresan--this was one time when he did shine. When told that Eackles would rather sit out a year than accept Washington's initial offer, Nash replied, "We've been in the lottery the past two years with Ledell. We can be in it without him."

(Of course, Eackles inspired his share of one-liners. After he once scorched the Milwaukee Bucks for 37 points, then-Coach Wes Unseld said, "With Ledell, you never know what you're going to get. Tomorrow, he may not make the team bus.")

Thus informed, we head off to pen our next entry in the Ledell Eackles saga--Chapter 15: Roman Candle--which we will write while wearing our glorious '98 bench t-shirt. Go with God (Shammgod), Wizards fans.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 16:32, ,


Where have you gone, Brian Bersticker?
Tuesday, September 4, 2007

August was Mediocre Month at We Rite Goode...where in the spirit of things, we were only devoting two weeks to celebrating lousiness. And sure, the month's over, but what's the point of being mediocre if we actually followed through on time? Here's another of the awful-yet-great athletes who made us grin or, more likely, groan. I'll let Doctor Dribbles take it away...--Crucifictorious

It was March Madness, 1998, and skinny forwards were totally in style.

Kevin Garnett had just signed his record deal with the Timberwolves. Dirk Nowitzki was a few months away from entering the league. High schoolers Darius Miles and Tyson Chandler were already being eyed by eager NBA executives.

And that's when I saw him.


Entering an ACC tournament game in its waning moments, UNC's Brian Bersticker just took NC State's lunch money. Yeah, it was garbage time, and Carolina was killing State; Antawn Jamison and Vince Carter were long out of the game. But Bersticker, the lankiest ACC big man I'd ever seen, played like he belonged with the first team; in the game's last three minutes, he threw down three dunks (hanging on the rim and taunting the State crowd after one slam) and canned a free throw.

Seven points in only three minutes!?! My mind raced with the 40-minute projections. Clearly, Bersticker was a threat to break Pete Maravich's records, if he only got some playing time. I did a little research on the player; according to my friends at UNC, he was athletic, not to mention had shooting range. With Jamison, Carter, and three key seniors leaving the team after the season, surely Bersticker was the next UNC star-in-waiting.

Unfortunately, despite my hoping and wishing the next four years, it would never happen. Those three brilliant minutes fixed what Bersticker could be in my mind forever. But in those three brilliant minutes, Bersticker, as they say, may have been flying above his pay grade.

As a 6'10", 205-pound high school basketball player in Virginia Beach, he had been overlooked by the major programs--and for good reason. Before his senior year, Bersticker hadn't been dominant (never named to his all-district team) or, foreshadowing his future challenges, able to stay healthy. But a successful summer on the AAU tour attracted schools like Kentucky and Georgia Tech, and the resulting recruiting stampede led one local newspaper to dub Bersticker "the best player you've probably never heard of."

Once at Carolina, Bersticker was to become a mediocre backup center, albeit one with a few moments of brilliance. As a sophomore, he played crucial minutes in the 1999 ACC Tournament--first turning the tide against Georgia Tech, then dunking off a full-court bomb from Ademola Okaluja to seal a win over Maryland. Entering his junior year, the future looked rosy; Bersticker kicked off the year with seven points and seven boards against USC, then put up 12 points (six of seven shooting) in the Maui Invitational championship game. But after scoring four quick points in one minute against the College of Charleston, the team's sixth game, Bersticker broke his foot and things were never quite the same after that.

Following his redshirt year, Bersticker returned to the team but was buried by new coach Matt Doherty well behind Brendan Haywood and averaged a career-low 1.5 ppg. While there were hopes that Bersticker's fifth year on campus would be his breakout opportunity--and it statistically was his strongest season (4.0 ppg)--the year was a nightmare, as Doherty led the Tar Heels to an embarrassing 8-20 team record. Bersticker had to take the court Senior night knowing that he was closing out the worst season in the program's history. What an unfortunate way to go out for a player who, by all accounts, was a real good guy.

And that's where Bersticker's career took a weird turn. In writing about our favorite mediocre players, we were supposed to stick to the pros--and from this website, I'm guessing Bersticker gave it a go overseas. But as Deadspin noted, Bersticker ended up working for UNC's ticket office, selling passes to games. Maybe this was a good move; I understand that Bersticker throwback jerseys can now be spotted around the Smith Center. In some ways, Bersticker the ticket-seller is more beloved by the Carolina community than Bersticker the unexceptional player.

Of course, I wasn't the only one to fall for Bersticker--as a player, the guy apparently had his own BerstickerGrrl fan club and was once a write-in candidate for UNC student body president--but as a Maryland fan going ga-ga over our rival's backup center, I had to be one of the strangest. And I'll always wish he had more of those out-of-nowhere games, even if they came against the Terps.

In his post about Ledell Eackles, Crucifictorious complained that there are no Eackles highlights video on the 'net. Hey, at least he found the guy taking a shot. The best I could do was the brief glimpse of Bersticker in action about 1:10 into the clip, as he works on an ill-fated pick-and-roll.

For Bersticker's sake, I wish I could do better. But maybe it's fitting that I can't.

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posted by Anonymous @ 09:03, ,


A player so Ledell-icious
Sunday, September 2, 2007

August was Mediocre Month at We Rite Goode...where in the spirit of things, we were only devoting two weeks to celebrating lousiness. And sure, the month's over, but what's the point of being mediocre if we actually followed through on time? Here's another of the awful-yet-great athletes who made us grin or, more likely, groan.

Ledell.

Ledell Eackles.

We assure you--it's a real name.

But try saying it five times fast. Ledell Eackles Ledell Eackles LedellEackles Ledellckles Ledeckles.

It gets better every time, really.

As offense off the bench, the late '80s/early '90s Detroit Pistons had "The Microwave," Vinnie Johnson. The Washington Bullets had a 240 lb., 6'5 shooting guard who was never in shape, frequently disinterested in defense, and missed more practice than Allen Iverson.

(In a related story, those Pistons teams won championships, while the Bullets couldn't even win the lottery).

Eackles wasn't a total chump. Fans loved that he was a 2nd round pick from a small college (New Orleans) who made good, not to mention his ability to score in bunches; in just 23 mpg, Eackles put up about 13 ppg his first four years in the league. Although, the scoring numbers are a bit deceptive--it's easy to score on a bad team, and those Bullets were truly awful (across those four years, their win total consecutively declined from 40 to 31 to 30 to 25). Basketball-Reference.com is a better, deeper gauge of Eackles' playing career; his PER was a wonderfully blah 13.8 and his list of comparable players reads like a roster of all-time mediocre players: Harold Miner, Terry Teagle, and Luscious Harris.

What was best about the young Eackles was his complete lack of hesitation in putting shots up. In his second season ('89-'90), Ledell made the league's top 10 for "usage rate," which is the basketball stat measuring how many of a team's posessions a player uses--either by taking a shot, turning the ball over, or getting to the foul line--per 40 minutes. Basically, how much a player hogs a ball.

Ledell's usage rate that year: 29.5.

(To compare to current players for perspective, that's about the same usage rate as LeBron James last season, and a higher rate than Paul Pierce, Vince Carter, Iverson, Dirk Nowitzki...the list of all-stars goes on. A list that Eackles doesn't quite belong on.)

After that initial run with the Bullets--which included a hilariously overblown contract holdout, where Eackles and his agent asked for a higher annual salary than Larry Bird, Karl Malone, or even Clyde Drexler, and the Bullets basically told him he could sit out a year instead--Eackles hopped in and out of the league, later becoming more of a three-point specialist before fading into Bolivian. However, the name lives on: A Ledell Eackles, Jr. just wrapped his college career, although at 5'9", appears less likely than his pa to make the L.

So why did we love Ledell so? The name? The game? Nah...probably the name.

Plus, there was a charming ignorance about the ex-Juco. Sports Illustrated's Jack McCallum has a great story from his book :07 Seconds or Less; apparently, when Eackles played for the Miami Heat, he tried to fire up the team during a meeting by walking to the whiteboard and writing, "No Your roll." Glen Rice replied, "Sit down, dumbass."

We'd love to leave you with an Eackles highlights package--as he goes on a scoring, or more likely, a pancakes binge--but video is, unsurprisingly, tough to find. So instead, here's a vintage Michael Jordan scoring 51 on the hapless Bullets of '92. Eackles (#21) actually had a decent game that night (28 pts), but his only YouTube appearances come when being a) scored upon and b) hoisting the last shot of the game (a half-court miss).



For us, though...these precious few seconds are enough to bring back a lifetime of memories. Godspeed, Ledell Eackles. Tonight, we will eat four hamburgers in your honor.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 18:30, ,


If Ankiel can come back...
Saturday, August 18, 2007

It's Mediocre Month at We Rite Goode...where in the spirit of things, we're only devoting two weeks to celebrating lousiness. Yes, as August limps to a close, we shuffle along with it, thinking of the most awful-yet-great athletes who made us grin or, more likely, groan. I'll let Jimmy Chitwood take it away...--Crucifictorious

How does one recognize memorable cases of mediocrity? By definition, it seems impossible. The most exposure I had in dealing with mediocre athletes growing up was, naturally, collecting baseball cards. My interest in cards peaked in 1989, when I must have purchased dozens of packs of 1989 Topps cards at the legendary local discount store of my hometown (I'll spare you the suspense and tell you the store has passed away into memories). I can picture the '89 Topps design perfectly, from hours of staring at card after card in my room after ripping open the package and finding a couple dozen nondescript, no-talent ass clowns (at least by major league standards). Even my once-prized Ken Griffey Jr Topps Traded 1989 #41T is now worth only $4.86, according to Beckett. Don't feel bad for me; if I sold that card, I could buy 1.64 gallons of gas at the Circle K. That ain't too shabby.

Anyhow, I admittedly had to consult the web to select my perfect paragon of mediocrity from the 1989 Topps set-- a card that I had several of, with high hopes for stardom. You're in luck, Gregg Jefferies Future Star! As a 9 year-old kid, if Topps tells you a player is a Future Star, you tend not to question it. This Jefferies guy was destined for greatness. He's going to break through one of these years. You gotta believe!

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posted by Anonymous @ 17:22, ,


Suckiness is contagious

I hesitate to take credit...but there's indisputable proof.

We've started a trend. Forget Garnett and Allen in Boston; move over, Brandon Webb and Ichiro. All over the blogosphere, writers are playing up the more, shall we say, "lousy" professional athletes. This "month two weeks of mediocrity" thing is catching.

Look no further than the Washington Post's Michael Lee, who recaps Jarvis Hayes' DC career, so much as it was, and wishes him well in Detroit. Like Lee, many will note that Hayes is the latest ex-Wizard to become a Piston (Rip Hamilton, Ben Wallace, Rasheed Wallace, and C-Webb among the more recent to swap uniforms)...Joe D is probably hoping he works out even half as well as any of those guys. Jarvis was a textbook disappointment; a lottery pick whose game (midrange jump shots) seemed perfectly tailored to a NBA niche. Lee thinks that injuries held him back; I think it's because he couldn't make an open shot, but that's just me.

Meanwhile, at MVN's Taking it to the Rack, Steve Weinman (a Doctor Dribbles favorite) goes all...critical?...about Adonal Foyle. I'm not sure we need to hate on Foyle. The man is super-skilled--at stealing Chris Cohan's money.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 14:31, ,


The myths of mediocrity
Thursday, August 16, 2007

It's Mediocre Month at We Rite Goode...where in the spirit of things, we're only devoting two weeks to celebrating lousiness. Yes, as August limps to a close, we shuffle along with it, thinking of the most awful-yet-great athletes who made us grin or, more likely, groan. I'll let Pedro Cerrano take it away...--Crucifictorious

Mediocrity, especially in baseball, has many definitions. Some players are simply average to below-average at everything they do. They do little more than fill roster spots and clutter a boy's card collection, prompting his mother to sell the whole shoebox for $5.

Other players might be a flash in the pan - 1994 AL Rookie of the Year Bob Hamelin, he who stole the award from Manny Ramirez, promptly comes to mind. 3 out of 4 Yankees' minor leaguers who have a good game and thereby become featured on ESPN.com for days also fall into this category (Joba Chamberlain, you're on notice).

But mediocrity has another, far more special, category. These players are truly special as they have a skill that propels them above their peers. And yet they simply cannot even come close to being adequate in other skills. This combination relegates them to the pile of the especially mediocre.

The true exemplar, the very torch-bearer of Mediocrity in baseball, is Russell Branyan. Russell actually has the distinction of being one of the most extreme players in two categories: sheer power and whiffing.

Branyan's towering blasts to deep left, really deep center, and really, really deep right are the stuff of legend. It is almost appropriate to squint just a bit when you look at his name and intentionally confuse him with Paul Bunyan. Like this hero of tall tales, Branyan can swing the big lumber. If chicks dig the long ball, they cannot resist Russell.

Sadly, such power does not come without a price. Like Midas, whose golden touch led to his downfall, Branyan's singular ability to crush a tiny ball of cowhide and yarn farther than any human alive is both his blessing and his curse. For in taking his mighty cuts, Russell Branyan strikes out at an unbelievable rate. In his career, Branyan has recorded 1829 official at-bats, and he has struck out 735 times. That averages for a strikeout per at-bat ratio of 0.402, or 2 out of every 5 at-bats. Compare that, for instance, to the 2007 AL leader in strikeouts (as of this post), Grady Sizemore who, in addition to being a far more complete player than Branyan, has 124 Ks in 475 at-bats, or 26% of the time. Contrast it with current player David Eckstein (1 in 20) or former player and Boston whipping-boy Bill Buckner (1 in 21).

In fact, Branyan is at the complete opposite end of the spectrum from these choosy swingers on the Lowest K ratio of all time list. Branyan's career strikeout average is worse than the NL single-season record, and very close to the AL.

There are uses for this, er, skill. Recently, the Cleveland Indians launched MLB's first green stadium initiative by installing solar panels at The Jake. It is rumored that Philadelphia, who picked Branyan up last week, is hoping to hook him up to a generator, allowing this wind machine to power the stadium lights.

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posted by Pedro Cerrano @ 20:37, ,


Mediocrity...it's just so bleh

As hinted earlier this week, We Rite Goode is now officially mediocre.

Well, this time it's intentional.

Yes, August is the lousiest of months, and our riters plan to celebrate the lousiest of professional athletes along with it. We're going to think of our favorite Paul Sorrento and Kevin Duckworth memories; our Ron Mercer and Cam Janssen crushes will be fully aired. We may even share pictures of our Eric Bieniemy throwbacks.

Now, we admit that mediocrity is certainly relative; guys who've made it to the pros are obviously among the elite of the elite. But there's still a big, Cooperstown-sized difference between having, say, Roberto Alomar or Jeff Reboulet as your starting second baseman.

So feel free to join us as we go on this magical, memory tour. Tell us why we need to write about Bam Morris or Jeff Tarango. But know this: We're staying away from the terrible players who may have lucked into All-Star spots (cough, cough Scott Cooper) or ESPN gigs (do I even need to link here?). And while we really want to expound on the mediocrity of Chris Smith that annoying kid who played on our little league team, we'll just stick to mocking the professionals--we figure, they've got whole careers of proving they can take it.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 20:10, ,


Daniel Cabrera should be in pinstripes
Tuesday, August 14, 2007

As we slouch through We Rite Goode's official month of mediocrity (more on that later), it's fitting that the Orioles' Daniel Cabrera should return to Yankee Stadium and sort-of dazzle with a two-hitter.

Now, us few O's fans remember how Cabrera--who's not really inconsistent, just consistently unpredictable--nearly no-hit the Yanks on a magical late September '06 evening. Tonight was Cosa Salvaje's second straight dominating start in New York, or at least as strong as a 6 2/3 IP, 6 BB line can be.

Still, Yankee Stadium isn't especially pitcher-friendly, and the team's been desperate for effective starters, anywhere they can find them. This season, the Yanks have looked deep on the farm (Tyler Clippard and Matt DeSalvo), overseas (Kei Igawa), and even in the twilight zone (Carl Pavano), only to be disappointed at each turn.

If the trade deadline wasn't a factor, now would be the perfect time to turn around and try to deal Cabrera to a team he's dominated. But since it is, I don't think Cabrera would make it through waivers--some team would be seduced by his supposed upside and relatively thrifty price tag ($1.8M) into putting in a claim. Still, what's the worst that would happen if Daniel Cabrera became a Yankee? He'd own the Orioles in one start per year...and blow the game the other three times the teams meet? That's a trade I'd make in a heartbeat. The guy is a taller, slimmer, more talented version of Sidney Ponson. Let some other team bear the burden of unrealized potential.

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posted by Crucifictorious @ 11:43, ,


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