“THE LAST DANCE” REVIEWED - EPISODE 2

That Celtics’ series

It’s crazy how many short and mid-range jumpers Jordan hit in this early phase of his career. His jump shot for still looks the same as it did in his college days. It’s still a bit raw and not as refined as it would get later in his career. Also, the guy is hitting no three pointers. It’s all dunks and jump shots. It’s awesome seeing the Celtic legends Larry Bird and Danny Ainge talking about that playoff series. Nothing but praise. They realize that Michael was turning the game into something different. It was a special performance, peak young Jordan. As Bird said, he’s never seen anything like it before or after that series.

Pippen stews

I remember the narrative about Pippen being underpaid and asking for a trade. It was such a transition period for the NBA. In the 1980s you had players who had to have second jobs to support themselves in the off-season. Then the Bulls game through, turned the sport into a pop culture phenomenon, and suddenly the TV and marketing deals just swell up. Everyone wants a piece of what Jordan, Pippen and the Bulls created. But Pippen’s contract was locked in, long-term before the money really started pouring in. He was caught in the middle. He surely deserved to get some more coin for the popularity he was responsible for bringing to the game. Yet, as the documentary shows, the Bulls management weren’t willing to renegotiate. An unfortunate sour note in an otherwise soaring narrative of team dominance.

Late night WGN rebroadcasts

Way back in time, before streaming services, before Instagram, before Facebook even, there were a limited number of television channels. One of the national channels you could get anywhere in the US was the local Chicago station, WGN. So back before League Pass, if you wanted to, you could watch every Bulls game live if you wanted. 

Looking back now, there was something magical about tuning into WGN on a random weekday evening in January. There were no stakes. The playoffs lay waiting far on the other side of winter and spring. But there was basketball, and there was Michael Jordan. It’s funny thinking of this now, in this era of insanely hyped up YouTube mixtapes. On WGN, watching the Bulls was almost casual viewing. The crowds wouldn’t be that hyped in Milwaukee or Charlotte or wherever the Bulls happened to be playing. You would just dive through the worm hole and get to be a fly on the wall in stadiums across the US as Jordan and the Bulls would come to town. There was no fanfare, aside from the local Chicago announcers pulling out their best hyperbole to describe MJ’s latest aerial feat. 

But a lot of the time, the game just kind of dragged. And it was beautiful. You’d see Michael Jordan just moving around the court, sometimes not even touching the ball. But when he did, it was electric. The crowds he was visiting wouldn’t make much noise as he beat up on their home team, but he kept on at a constant clip. Racking up dunks and stats. Slowly building, almost behind the scenes, to something that would add up to be seen by all. These little nightcaps became a comfort food. Something to unwind to after a day of school and an evening of practice. A little competitive snack. Somewhere, in middle America, the Bulls were silently marching.

“THE LAST DANCE” REVIEWED - EPISODE 1

OK here we go. I’m just going to be dropping thoughts and associations that hit me as I watch this thing. I grew up watching Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and the 1990’s Chicago Bulls. Like so many in that era, their story became a part of my DNA. It shaped my mentality as an athlete. It gave me a framework to approach challenges. It gave me an attitude that carried me through high school and college. They were my Beatles. It’s the documentary we’ve been waiting to be released for over 20 years. As Michael Jordan has become a kind of generalized global meme for dominance, I think it’s good to look back at the details. I have distinct memories of watching Jordan throughout his career, and this is gonna be a treasured walk down memory lane.

No one had shown this kind of creativity and flair in basketball before. Young Jordan was a freak of athleticism that looked like nothing else in sport.

“Mike”

As a long time Jordan fan, I remember an MJ that was simply called Mike. Before the statues. Before the weighty legacy. Before the championships. Just from an aesthetic standpoint, he was a guy who jumped off the screen and into your living room. A guy who froze time and demanded to be put up on your bedroom wall. He didn’t look like anyone else. And he sure didn’t move like anyone else. Sure, basketball is a fun game. But culturally, it felt on par or maybe even behind other major sports, until Jordan came along and did his thing. Sure he had influences and peers, but the combination of his swagger, tongue wave, killer shoes, baggy shorts and game high above the rim, transcended anything we had ever seen before. He was different. He was new. He was important. He reached into a rarefied level of our collective imaginations. It wasn’t just basketball. It wasn’t just a sport. It was somehow bigger. And we all bought into it.

Who was this rookie that came out oozing with swagger? Who did this Mike kid think he was?!

Carolina Air

This is a nice refresher seeing all of the North Carolina footage. His championship winning shot over Georgetown gets reposted so much, that you kind of forget just how damn springy he was back then. Soaring into the air to block centers out of nowhere. Finishing two handed alley-oops. His game is rawer and more based on instinct, but you can see all the athletic building blocks that he will just keep accumulating talent onto as we move forward.

The dynamic duo

I know this whole series is about the 97-98 Bulls, but I just have to recount how I remembered them. I watched most of their games. I saw them play in person. And I watched every single playoff game. This is what I remember thinking. Jordan AND Scottie Pippen are unstoppable. Within the triangle offense, they had the two-man game on lockdown. On both ends. They toyed with opponents. It was the most fearsome full-court double team press I’ve ever seen. I mean, that’s not even a thing in today’s NBA. The Bulls pulled out a trap whenever they needed to make a comeback. They made their opponents so jittery. Especially the young teams, who couldn’t stand up to the aura of the mighty Chicago Bulls. But it never, ever, ever felt like a one-man team. Jordan was the global icon and transcended the sport into being a cultural icon, but in basketball terms, Scottie Pippen was a legit, MVP, all-world talent on his own. Hell, he was the second best player on the vaunted 1992 Dream Team. Pippen alone nearly took the Bulls to the championship when Jordan bowed out to play baseball for a season. I think that’s partly what spurred Jordan back to the Bulls. The realization that, damn, they almost won without me. Scottie Pippen was scary good. And I think Jordan himself feared what would happen to his legacy if Pippen were to win a championship or two on his own. So, back to basketball Jordan came. 

You don’t want to face this double team.

Jordan and Pippen as interchangeable parts. Bringing out the best in each other.

Superman, Batman and Rodman

This time, after the dust of the first three championships had settled, the world sensed what they were missing, and the final three championships became a farewell tour for this legendary team.  The media savored everyone moment of it. Sure the Bulls were iconic before. But from 1996 to 1998 they were legit gods, live on tour. Throw in Rodman, for some insane rebounding skill, the dated Madonna backstory and a healthy dose of what the hell is that guy doing here. And the Bulls were off and running once again. This time with a fully expectant, global audience. The Beatles of basketball. There has been nothing as culturally magnetic in sports for that prolonged period of time ever since. Sure teams have piled up great records and won fistfuls of championships. But they haven’t had that intangible, mesmerizing factor that those late 90s Bulls teams did. Everyone else is playing a sport, and maybe at an elite level. But the Bulls were engaging with destiny and legend. Modern myths using 90 feet of hardwood as their stage. This was not X’s and O’s. This was cosmic stuff.

Rodman demanded all the attention along with all the rebounds. His addition to the Bulls added toughness and a healthy dose of tabloid entertainment. The latter era Bulls had it all!

Oh boy, this series is gonna ruin me…

Meet Yojimbo

Yojimbo’s been hurling the rock since before they started keeping official records. According to rumor, he adds a new pitch to his repertoire every spring. Hitters should watch out for his unpredictable split-clawed slurve, unless they want to end up a new strike out meme. #yoyogicrows #baseball #japan

Annnnnnnddd Now.... Your Yoyogi Crows!

Sport may have paused around the world, but that hasn’t stopped the Yoyogi Crows from continuing their hardball dominance. Because the Crows are rebels—and they’re also a highly fictional motley crew of sandlotters. They’ll play nine innings against anyone foolish enough to cross over their chalk lines. For the Yoyogi Nine, hope never went anywhere. Play Ball!

Whether he’s moving up the middle to rob a base hit, or moving his hips to excite the tourists gathered outside of Yoyogi Park, Rockabilly always gives the people what they paid for—rock solid results.

The reliable veteran uses its triangular presence to anchor the diamond and provide leadership that results in constant digs and double plays.

Nothing cleans up the bases like this fully stocked Vending Machine loaded with energy drinks and Japanese performance enhancing elixirs.

Just because you're isolated, doesn't mean you're alone.

Pause On Earth Original T-Shirt

Click here to view Pause On Earth t-shirt in the Oyl Shop.

Click here to view Pause On Earth t-shirt in the Oyl Shop.

Together We Stand Apart

Direction: @mackshepp  
Copywriter: @oylentertainment
Production Support: @nozosandy
#viewfinder @stinkfilms

Dame D.O.L.L.A.

Mamba Forever

Little Routines and Deep Breaths

Without places to go and people to see—time has a way of flattening out. It’s important to create little spikes of nowness in your day. Little moments just because. To have some control over something. To fight a vague sense of dread with a specific burst of passion. Even if it’s just for five minutes. It’s important that we reclaim what we can. Reclaim what is ours. To be present and take back now.

Me, I reclaim my creativity with short writing and drawing breaks. I enter these with no goals in mind—no pressure. I just come to a blank page with a desire and willingness to create. That's what gets me going. I lay down some brushstrokes or colored pencil or start flowing sentences from my pen. Sometimes it leads somewhere else. Sometimes it completes itself. The victory lies in actually carving out the time. Reconnecting with your intentions. Taking back what matters to you. The things that make you breathe.



What are you doing to take back your now?

Kyrie

Penny Hardaway

Mamba Up

Kobe rose into our consciousness as I was in the middle of chasing my own athletic potential. And while I played basketball through high school, Kobe’s mentality and work ethic really touched my psyche as a baseball player. From high school to college to having a professional tryout as a pitcher, Kobe's mentality became a template for how I pursued and pushed my craft.  Being a Portland Trailblazer fan, it was a bit of an identity crisis to find myself respecting a Laker so highly—but his passion for training and pursuit of excellence was impossible not to respect. Kobe became my mental standard in how I looked at my preparations as a baseball player.

Watching Kobe and reading articles about his single-mindedness spurred me to compete at every phase of the game. Even in practice. Even in a “walk-through.” Even throwing into a net during an after practice session with no one looking on, I’d find myself thinking, how would Kobe approach this? It drove me to focus and compete for every moment. Every drill. To chase after every morsel of success. To stay hungry about proving myself. I also learned to never be satisfied. Even when the coach says “great job” or your teammates cheer your efforts, Kobe taught me to look inward and ask “was that really your best man?” Because of looking to how Kobe and Michael Jordan competed, I took a daily look at what I was doing.

In recent years, now that my on field days are through, I found myself connecting with Kobe again as a father of daughters. I respected and admired how he was passionate about his girls. How he shared his love of the game with them. And I was just inspired of that immense pride that came through when he would talk about them. Today I mourn the loss of Kobe, Gianna and the others lost. But I celebrate the inspiration, dedication and love that Kobe expressed and so freely shared with the world. The impact and lessons from his life and game will resonate forever.

Tokyo Typhoon Extreme Weather Tourists

The biggest typhoon of the past several decades hit Tokyo last weekend. Living near the center of the city, we were curious what things would be like at ground zero, before the peak of the typhoon arrived.

Before we set out, we looked at a couple of live cams of Shibuya. There were only a handful of people out, toting umbrellas and braving the elements. But the winds didn’t seem to that intense at the moment, so we looked at each other and decided to go check it out first hand.

We rolled over to the bus stop a couple of minutes from our house. Luckily a bus was just pulling up when we arrived so we hopped on. There were only two other riders on the bus. So we could already feel the effects of the evacuation mentality. We rode all the way to Dogenzaka, making no stops on the way as no one was at any of the bus stops.

When we left the bus, it was only raining lightly. It was still sage to use your umbrella and not have it blown apart by high winds. We walked the deserted alleys and streets around Shibuya station. Many of the shops and cafes had fully boarded up windows, giving the whole environment the look of an apocalyptic movie set. We continued on, walking the empty streets and snapping the occasional rare photo of a barren Shibuya.

We were on a scouting mission to see if anything was open. Being around noon, we had lunch on our minds. With the boarded up windows, it didn’t look promising. However as we walked Basketball Street in central Shibuya, we saw a light burning brightly in the distance. As we approached the window, we discovered it was a ramen shop—working at full capacity. Just looking in the window, you wouldn’t guess the circumstances odd at all. Chefs moved in tight choreography. Spinning, draining scoops of noodles, stirring vats of steaming broth. All as happy customers slurped away as on any other day.

And who were all these fools inhaling ramen under these locked down circumstances? Were they all reflections of us? Disaster tourists? Or rugby fans eating off the pain of cancelled games. Or bitcoin miners waiting for the conference to resume.

After a leisurely and dry lunch, we headed back into the streets in search of more nothingness. The rain now more persistent. The drops bigger. But still no wind. We ducked into Don Quixote. The meme-like Japanese super everything store. Whose multi-jingles and enthusiastic staff were on full blast. Ramen and Don Quixote, the two pillars of Tokyo remained unfettered by the weather event outside.

We picked up some batteries and spare lightbulbs because they were on our shopping list. Then we walked on. The rain amping up even more.

At the crossing, cameras and reporters stood in the elements talking to the random handful of folks passing through. We were stopped. They were doing something for British TV, around rugby. But with the games called off, they turned into typhoon chasers. They asked if we were here for the rugby or the bitcoin. Sadly no. They asked if we thought the typhoon was going to be bad. I said something about reports usually being overblown. At which point a gust of wind blew back my umbrella, shattering the skeletal core beyond repair. With any luck, I’m some sort of meme to American ignorance in the UK thanks to the comic timing of a gust from the god of wind.

From the interview on, the weather turned increasingly violent. We turned into the tunnels above and below Shibuya station, and walked their empty halls. Every now and then we’d pass another explorer like us. Earlier we had thought of walking home, but with the winds, we caught a cab. One of a hundred lined up at the station after the buses and trains had stopped. We rode home and looked out the window for the rest of the day as the winds pended. The trust of the typhoon came at night, after the house was asleep. But our photos and videos of a barren Shibuya made our wet excursion to the city center worth it.

Saturday with the National Pastime in Japan

Time was when baseball was the American pastime. It may still be in name, but recently football and basketball have broken away to the top of the American psyche. Baseball is still a major sport, but it no longer holds the urgent, most relevant place in the nation’s heart.

Hop the Pacific Ocean to Japan. Here, baseball has deep roots and a culture unto its own. The major leagues see the fruits of Japan’s baseball culture with the yearly all-world exports that come to America. The culture that is spawning these talented ballplayers runs deep. It’s baseball, but it’s also not an exact copy of the American version. It’s not even called baseball for starters. It’s YAKYU. It has its own rhythm, tradition and strict belief system born out of the Japanese spirit.

Japan has made the game of baseball their own. Transforming it into its national sport on its terms.

Baseball is everywhere. Walk down the streets any day of the week and you’ll notice packs of young ballplayers, in full uniform and helmets traveling around like rabid baseball gangs. With bat bags and gear in tow, they travel in full team packs. They head to and from practice. They stop and take shadow cuts in the alleys. They worship the game. A visual reminder of how pervasive the game is.

On the subways, people of all ages wear the hats of their favorite Japanese league teams. Young school kids hang stuffed team mascots from their backpacks. On game day, people will fully gear up in uniform, hat, holding tenants or plastic team bats. More baseball worship throughout the city.

On Saturdays, working men and women turn out to the local ballparks, in full uniform, to play the game. Here they use a rubber ball and sometimes play double or triple headers. These fully uniformed men and women, looking like pros, glide by on their bikes or scooters, racing to assemble at the fields. Many of them play for corporate, company sponsored teams. They play other companies. Coming together over baseball.

Locals stand and populate the bleachers, watching the hyper local leagues play their games. The talent level is amateur, but it’s full on baseball. Minus the hardball. But they keep at it, weekend after weekend. Holding onto the game in their way. Going through the routines. Swinging bats and limbering up before the game. Watching the previous game finish up. Communing with the gods of baseball. Or Yakyu rather.

In summer, the nation turns its psyche towards Koshien—the all Japan high school baseball tournament that dominates all media. Stars here become legends that endure for decades. Baseball in Japan rewards its followers with immortality.

As I pass by these Saturday games and observe them from the outside of the fence, I tip my cap to their diligent diamond worship. In a country where sport doesn’t hold the same cultural significance as it does in the west, there is something deeply significant with Japan’s connection to baseball. The inspiration and nostalgia moves me. All hail the national pastime. To Yakyu, the vehicle which transports the Japanese spirit. And every weekend, it gains a head of steam, rounds third and heads for home.

The First Rule of Peace Club Is You Don't Stop Talking About Peace Club

I always loved the soap bar graphic from Fight Club. Putting the name of the movie on the bar was such a simple, brilliant bit of visual branding for the film. The movie title was never carved on the soap that appeared in the movie, but only used for marketing purposes. And in that context, it turned into something else entirely. For me, it's one of the things that helped turned the movie into the iconic film that it is. The image of the movie is so strong and solid.

Obviously using the device of carving words into soap has been used over and over again ever since. The other day the bar floated into my mind again, and here I am adding to the endless stream of pop-culture remixes. I guess my mind was reacting to the black and white, us versus them state of the world right now. So I put together a few pixels of art to remind us all to come together, while also referencing one of my favorite films of all time. Peace Club, talk about it, share it--and if you are so inclined, wear it.

Peace and love. Oyl.

Visit the Oyl Shop to see sizes and colors here.

Here Comes Rui Hachimura...

With everyone in NBA circles focused on the hype around Zion Williamson, I think people might be sleeping on Rui Hachimura. While he was a very much heralded lottery draft pick (the first player from Japan to ever go that high) he wasn’t necessarily viewed as a slam dunk. He was seen as athletic, unselfish and pretty much viewed as a defensive specialist. However, this is a guy who has shockingly only been playing basketball for about seven years. And given the leaps he took at Gonzaga in his second and third years, it’s not ridiculous to imagine another leap or two from what we’ve already seen. With his play in the recent FIBA world basketball championships, he showed that he could carry the offensive load, and at times even dominate. This was something he didn’t need to show on a more balanced Gonzaga offense. But now that he has shown the ability to dominate on both ends of the court, I expect his stock to rise even more. There will always be an adjustment period for rookies as their bodies get used to going against much larger and more athletic players. But the flashes Rui has shown could turn into something truly special once he hits his NBA stride.